Remember Courage Healing Hearts

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REMEMBER COURAGE
HEALING HEARTS
GINNY STERLING
 C O NT E NT S

Introduction
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Ginny Sterling
Remember Home (Lawfully Gifted)
Remember Love
Remember Laughter
Tempting the Billionaire
 INTRODUC TION

Dylan Luka has a job he loves. Seeing different parts of the world and hanging out with his best
friends are the biggest perks of his career. Everything has always come easy to the handsome soldier
armed with a devastating smile, but when he’s diagnosed with a medical condition, he struggles with
maintaining the discipline he needs to survive. Winning over the lovely barista that has enchanted him
is another matter altogether!

Eva Morrison cannot believe the gall of the man before her. He thinks if he flirts with her, she
will fall immediately for his magnetic appeal all while serving him a hot cup of coffee. When his
repeated attempts to ask her out fail, will a silent cry for help shatter the wall surrounding her
determined resolve? Can she fight the chemistry between them—or will she have enough courage and
patience to capture his heart?
 PRA ISE F OR GIN N Y STERL IN G

What can I say except I absolutely loved this story, I laughed out loud and I shed emotional
tears.” – Amazon Reviewer (Remember Home)

“This series has quickly become one my favorites. Love the storyline, love the characters,
love the back stories and love the sweet romance between each couple.” – Amazon Reviewer
(Remember Love)

“What an amazing start to a new series, Healing Hearts, a clean contemporary and extremely
emotional tale. I loved the characters, the angst, and the honest discussions, along with the
chemistry and interactions. The people are broken, but with encouragement, friendship, and
the added benefit of animals, it is the beginnings for healing.” – Amazon Reviewer
(Remember Hope)
Dear Reader,
I wanted to share with you this story after hearing of something similar with a family member. I
was stunned to hear that you could be diagnosed as a Type 1 Diabetic as late as thirty years old. I’d
always heard that stereotype ‘only children get it’ or ‘you must be wrong, it’s Type 2’. In
researching, apparently it’s not uncommon to have a case of ketoacidosis be the first instance of the
person discovering that they have it.
This book is in no way, shape, or form giving medical advice whatsoever. Rather, it’s a reminder
that every story has a second side to it and fiction gives us a chance to escape our daily lives. As you
read, I hope you enjoy the banter between the characters as the story develops for them.
I know I certainly have.

If you’d like more information on Diabetes – please check out some of these websites that I used for
research:

www.Diabetes.org
www.MayoClinic.org
 CHAPTER 1

September 2015
Ghazni, Afghanistan

“P OST , you sly dog! Who’s the pretty lady? Where’d you meet her?” Dylan asked his friend, staring at
the beautiful dark-haired woman climbing into the helicopter. He was just a part of the cheesiest
interview for some stupid reason and now was heading back to the barracks. Listening to his CPO
talk during the interview about his pen-pal made him realize that maybe the older man was a lot more
cunning than he ever realized. CPO Griffin had been exchanging letters with a mysterious woman for
a little while now, and Dylan had seen quite a change in his temperament.
The man actually smiled now and had a personality.
Post was still hung up on his girlfriend back home.
Dylan was alone and trying to hide it behind a macho attitude.
“What? Lucy? She’s just a girl I grew up with back home,” Post replied, shrugging. “She’s pretty
but I’m in a committed relationship.”
“Well, I’m not!” Luka grinned, “Hook me up with her number or email, buddy. She’s incredible
looking. Did you see all that smooth, dark, brown hair? And those legs? Oh my gosh! She looks like
she could be on the cover of a magazine.”
“I didn’t think Neanderthals could read,” Post quipped easily. Dylan immediately elbowed him in
the midriff playfully.
“Seriously – she’s awfully easy on the eyes.”
“I guess so.”
“Dude – are you blind?” Dylan screeched, holding out his hands in front of him openly. The
woman looked like a goddess. Dylan had always had a thing for girls with dark hair, and that
gorgeous reporter checked off every box on his mental checklist.
“No, I’ve got an angel waiting for me back home so I’m not looking.”
“It must be something in the water back home if you are surrounded by incredibly hot women and
you aren’t even noticing it. Do all the girls from your hometown look like her?”
“Who? Annabelle?”
“Nawww – the lovely Lucy.”
“Maybe? Sorta?”
“Geeeezzzz,” Luka groaned, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “You are pathetic, Post. You need to
hurry up and marry your girl before your rose-colored glasses fall off your purdy face.”

AUGUST 2016
“You’d better go get it before I do because that will be the last dime you will ever get from me,”
Post whispered flatly before hanging up the phone so hard you could hear the bell inside the base
chime noisily.
Dylan had been in line to call his parents just to say hello and was instantly awash with guilt.
He’d teased Jamie about his ‘rose colored glasses’ several times and now he was a bystander of
them being ripped off the man’s face. There was no one more steadfast, easy-going, or loyal than
Jamie when he put his all into it – and no one else Dylan would rather have protecting his back.
“C’mon man, let’s shut your account and drinks are on me tonight,” Dylan said gently, patting
Jamie on the back. If he’d been betrayed like that, he’d want to get plastered drunk until he forgot
everything – including how to breathe.
“Call your family first,” Jamie whispered in a broken voice and Dylan just shook his head.
“You are like family, brother. Let’s get you taken care of first. The phone will be here later, unless
you just broke it.”
Dylan was glad he’d suggested staying with Jamie. He hated to leave the man alone when he’d
been so obviously blindsided. They’d gotten to the bank and his friend was having a hard time
answering some of the teller’s questions. He didn’t know if Jamie was ashamed, embarrassed, or
what was running through his mind, but Dylan had no problems stepping up to the plate.
“Look, you don’t need the ‘why’s’ or ‘how’s’ of it all – my man is asking you to close his account,
transfer his stuff to another one, and take one ‘Annabelle Lawson’ off of every single scrap of paper
you’ve ever seen. Got it?”
“Do you have any I.D.?”
“We’re soldiers. You’ve got our fingerprints and blood type. I’m not asking for any money or
withdrawing anything. I want to move his money from spot A…” Dylan said hotly, gesturing with a
tape dispenser on the desk. He picked it up and moved it over a foot.
“… To spot B… right now. There is about to be another withdrawal on his account and that
creature has gotten enough of Jamie’s money.”
“Sir, here’s my I.D.,” Jamie spoke up, pushing his card onto the desk. Dylan felt so bad for him
because he looked utterly shattered. It was like he couldn’t focus right now. He was staring at the
desk unseeingly, and not in a good place mentally.
“Do you want to press charges or go after her for the money?” Dylan said quietly. Jamie shook his
head.
“No. What’s done is done.”
“You sure, man?”
“Positive. The sooner I can put it all behind me – the faster I will heal.”
“You know what heals a broken heart?”
“What?”
“Another one,” Dylan said with a wink, trying to make Jamie laugh. He hated this side of his
friend. Usually he was so lighthearted and like a big brother to them all. It hurt to see him in such
heartache.
 “You need to find yourself some girl, before finding yet another girl, and another. I’ve got friends
all over the world that simply want my company and a handsome smile,” Dylan bragged, knowing he
was lying through his teeth but if it drew Jamie out of his funk, it was worth it.
“That’s not me.”
“It’s not me either, but you’d be surprised how easy it is to kiss another girl when the moment is
exactly right. You ought to give it a try – find someone to replace Annabelle when you are ready.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Dylan.”
Dylan looked away from the sad look in Post’s eyes, feeling like a complete charlatan as his
friend walked off towards the barracks they shared, leaving him standing there alone. He hoped that
Jamie didn’t mope too long as the atmosphere on the makeshift base fluctuated as much as the dunes
they patrolled. One minute they could all be laughing and cutting up; the next moment one of them
would receive news from home that brought everything to a crushing halt.
Dylan knew that his bragging was all bravado and talk. He felt bad that Jamie had lost his girl, but
in a way… he was a little jealous too. Jamie actually had someone in his life, whereas he had no one.
All the girls Dylan had ever talked to or dated were interested in something he wasn’t ready for.
He was a good-looking guy and had been told more than once that ‘he was hot’ – even if he didn’t
believe it. They wanted intimacy and he was embarrassed at how old-fashioned his beliefs ran on the
inside. He wanted to marry for love, have a relationship, and find that special someone he could
share his innermost thoughts and feelings with.
So far – that wasn’t anyone he’d met.
Each date with a girl he asked out ended the same way. He’d thank them for a nice time and they
would try to kiss him. He’d kissed a couple of them, but he was surprised at how brazenly forward
they could be too.
He told the guys at the barracks that he ‘didn’t date a girl more than twice’ – because in a way – it
was true. Once he’d turned them down for anything further than a kiss, his evening usually ended
pretty quickly – sometimes quite badly. He’d been yelled at, insulted, disgraced, and rejected more
times than he could count for his beliefs.
Dylan just never bothered to call again.
“There’s got to be someone out there that understands,” Dylan breathed softly, crossing his arms
over his chest protectively and staring off into the sky as the sun dipped behind the hills in the
distance, casting an orange glow across the sandy expanse that surrounded his location.

TYLER, Texas

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘SUSPENDED ’?”

Eva whispered quietly into the phone, turning away from her coworkers. Unfortunately, her phone
at home had been cut off for non-payment so she was needing to use the line at work to call the
school. She’d gotten a letter in the mail and it sounded like a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbos talking
about the ‘board’ and ‘failure to advance’.
She understood that part and the reason behind it. She was working two full-time jobs to pay for
her classes at the university. That’s what sucks when you grow up in the foster system and no one
wants to adopt a problem child. Eva had always stuck up for herself and others, classifying her a
‘backtalker’ or ‘a child with aggressive tendencies towards those in charge’.
She struggled to fit in and was still discovering who she was. She’d bleached her hair, another
time she’d shaved her head, and even got a tattoo just over her ear. She was no saint, whatsoever, but
wanted to provide for herself and simply ‘do better’.
“Miss Morrison, you’ve been on probation from the school for two semesters now due to your
grades. The dean has seen fit to suspend you for a semester, giving you time to straighten out whatever
has caused you to not take your academic career seriously.”
“I’d say that paying five thousand a semester in cash is a pretty darn serious commitment,
wouldn’t you?” Eva snapped, her voice raising an octave and grabbing the attention of her coworkers.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. It would do no good to get herself fired for cursing out
the college receptionist in front of customers at her job.
“It’s only a commitment if you can apply yourself and pass. You cannot buy your way into a
degree,” the uppity, nasally voice intoned.
“I’m not trying to do that,” Eva gritted out between clenched teeth, squeezing the earpiece in her
hands.
“If you’ve got some medical reason, some extenuating circumstance, or other factor that would
require some consideration by the board to reevaluate your case…”
Eva hung up before she screamed and quickly wadded up the letter angrily. They would not get
another drop from her. She would wait the semester that had been forced upon her. That would give
her time to save up for classes at maybe the local community college instead.
She’d been considering transferring her credits anyhow, only to find out that her grades were so
low, they didn’t qualify. The idea of having paid for four semesters already and it wasn’t good enough
to use them elsewhere made her feel ill – but it also motivated her to keep going.
She didn’t want to live in a studio apartment forever, scraping by from check to check. She had
dreams and wanted to be a positive influence in another person’s life. She wanted to be a teacher or a
counselor, so that way if someone needed to talk – they could turn to someone who would listen.
Pushing back her short, hot-pink hair, she clocked out and grabbed her things out of her locker.
She didn’t have the luxury of quitting a job she hated. Instead, she got to clock out and go to another
job that she hated too. Grabbing her apron and a baseball cap, she headed towards her car.
Eva had learned long ago that you worked to pay for things you wanted – and she wanted security.
A roof over her head, a dependable vehicle, and food in her stomach. She’d slept in her car several
times in the past and rolled pennies for gas money. There was so much more she wanted in her life
and that drive, that determination, pushed her in a way no one would ever understand.
Getting in her vehicle, she felt the overwhelming exhaustion hit her. She’d slept five hours in the
last two days and was ready to drop, but if she called in at her job, there was a good chance she’d be
written up this time. It was like everything was against her sometimes and she just needed a break.
She wanted a friend that she could confide in who didn’t automatically think the worst of her.
Stereotypes, judgement, frustration, and assumptions seemed to plague her at every turn. She had to
fight for everything in her life – and she was so tired of the battle.
“If you are listening upstairs,” she began softly, wiping her eyes and pushing down the swamping
fatigue that beat at her. “I could use some help and someone that just understands me.”
 CHAPTER 2

February 2017
Ghazni, Afghanistan

DYLAN CHECKED his watch repeatedly and looked back over to the empty bunk that Jamie had.
Something had to be wrong. So far, he’d been able to keep his commanding officer off the trail but he
was starting to wonder what had happened to his friend. Jamie had come to borrow his boots hours
ago and he’d immediately questioned him.
“Why?”
“Lucy apparently wore heels to the desert.”
“Oh gosh - and with those legs…” Dylan closed his eyes and immediately got punched in the
shoulder by Jamie. His eyes sprang open and he stared at the man in shock.
Jamie looked angry.
“You like her,” Dylan asked, stunned and pleased at the same time. This was the first moment
where he’d really seen any reaction from the calm man, other than laughter when Lucy had mailed him
a freeze-dried ice cream bar and Midol.
“That’s none of your business. Can I have your boots or not?”
“They’ll be too big. I wear a ten.”
“I know – she apparently almost does too.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Jamie grinned, glancing at Dylan.
“Is she nice? She seemed nice when we did that stupid interview with Ol’ Man Griff. What’s it
been, a year?”
“I’m not sure – but she’s waiting. Now, boots or not?”
“Yeah - and take a pair of socks so she doesn’t get blisters.”
“Or foot funk?”
“Shaaaaddup – I do not have ‘foot funk’. Where are you taking her?”
“I’m going to run our rounds from yesterday that we just cleared so it’s safe and I’ll be back
later.”
“Do I have to babysit the cameraman? He’s going to want food and I don’t know if he should be
out on the streets alone. I told him as much too and thought he was going to wet himself.” Jamie and
Dylan grinned at each other as he let out a loud sigh of defeat.
 “Go spend time with your beauty queen. I’ll go toss a few beers and feed him. I want details – if
there is any – and if there isn’t, get me her phone number.”
“No.”
“Then I definitely want details,” Dylan said firmly, getting to his feet and grinning at his friend.
Jamie laughed out loud and shook his head before ducking out of the tent without answering.
Dylan got to his feet and grabbed a bottle of water, knocking over a few empty ones that he’d
perched strategically next to his bunk. He was starting to wonder if he was starting to get sick because
he couldn’t quite get rid of how thirsty he felt all the time.
“Time to feed the tagalong,” he muttered under his breath, tucked his gun into his pants, and pulled
his shirt over it to keep it hidden. He then dumped all the bottles into the recycle bin set up near one
of the main buildings.
That had been almost twelve hours ago.
Jamie was incredibly smart and resourceful, but if something had happened – Dylan needed to get
him help. He wondered if he would come upon something between the two of them, since they’d been
gone so long – or if something had truly happened. He couldn’t take that chance and the desert wasn’t
forgiving in the slightest.
“Guys, I need your help…”

IN NO TIME they were loaded up and racing through the desert. Thank goodness Dylan had enough
foresight to ask Jamie where they were headed before he’d left. They were following their plan from
before since the breeze seemed to have made part of the tracks disappear overnight. The tracks that
they did find didn’t match the tires on any of the convoy vehicles, which didn’t bode well.
Dylan pushed down the feeling of sickness inside of him, chalking it up to fear or food poisoning.
The food and beer he’d eaten last night with Lucy’s cameraman must disagree with his stomach
because he’d been sweating buckets, guzzling water, and in the bathroom all night long.
“Dude? Are you alright?” Tobin asked him, leaning away like he had the flu or some sort of
contagious disease.
“I’m fine,” Dylan replied, trying to focus, “I think I got something bad for dinner last night in
town.”
“What was her name?”
“Ha ha. Very funny, Tobin. Hody? Watson? Anyone else want to chime in?”
“Nope. That was a good one.”
Dylan looked at the other men sitting across from him and shook his head. His mind felt so fuzzy
and his stomach ached terribly. Grabbing his canteen, he held it up to his mouth and was stunned that
he’d already drank most of it. He would need to refill it from the truck before they set out, he thought
as they came to a stop suddenly.
Climbing out of the truck, he winced against the glaring sun beating down on them already. There
was evidence that two vehicles had been here and one of them was obviously the convoy truck. The
tracks were quickly blended with another, showing that they drove off together. Was Post being
followed? Scanning the area, he saw nothing remained other than the smoldering remains of a bonfire.
“You think there’s anyone waiting in the caves again? Remember when Ethan lost his leg in this
valley…” Hody said quietly, looking around. Dylan didn’t think that it needed to be said aloud and
obviously neither did Watson.
“Shut up, Hody. I’m already on it with Paladin. Y’all check the caves and watch your steps. First
one that finds them, radio in. Did anyone try the radios already?” Tobin ordered.
“Yeah, there’s nothing.”
“Luka, are you sure you’re okay? You can wait in the truck, buddy.”
“I’m fine.”
Dylan picked up his rifle and quickly refilled his canteen before setting out behind the others.
They were already scaling the cliffs and inspecting the area of signs that someone had been there. He
stood there for a moment, looking around. If he had to hide quickly, he wouldn’t have picked a lower
cave. He would make the rebels work to reach him. Glancing up, he saw one cave was quite a way up
and definitely accessible for them but could Lucy have scaled the side of the hill? Slinging his rifle
over his shoulder, he immediately began to pull himself upwards.
He felt a wave of dizziness hit him at one point and shook his head. It would be extremely bad for
him to faint right now. He stopped and quickly downed half of his canteen, ignoring the urge to use the
restroom again. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get checked when they got back. He’d never
peed this much in his entire life – even as a kid.
“Luka?” Jamie’s voice questioned, making Dylan breathe a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he was
there!
“What are you doing here? Are the rebels gone?”
“You two are sure hard to find,” Dylan blustered, pulling himself upwards onto the ledge so he
could rest for a moment. The dizziness was getting worse and he might not make it back down at this
rate.
“I’ve tried to keep things quiet looking for you two knuckleheads while we spread out to search
the hillside. FYI – the truck is gone and Logan is going to have your tail in a sling for that one.”
“I just did what he ordered.”
“Spent the night in a cave?”
“No,” Jamie extended his hand as Dylan got to his feet. He hated to rush things but he was going
to have to get back down quickly. He needed to lie down somewhere and was feeling pretty terrible.
“Lucy – we’re safe. You can come out.”
Hearing Jamie call back to the beautiful reporter, Luka suddenly grinned again, elbowing his
friend. Her face flushed red and he wondered if Jamie was the reason behind that blush.
“Dude, she’s so worth it then,” Dylan whispered to Jamie.
“It’s not like that.”
“No, it’s not,” Lucy blurted out hotly. “We were inspecting the area for my story and heard a
drone just before the rebels found the truck.”
“Suuuure,” Luka drawled weakly, winking at Jamie. “Afghanistan is a perfect place for a stroll. I
take all my dates here. Now, can we go?”
“Are you alright?” Lucy suddenly blurted out.
“Luka, are you sick?”
“No. Just feeling a little peckish,” Dylan said, wondering just how bad he actually looked. This
was the fourth, or was it fifth, person to ask him that within the last few hours.
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know,” Dylan said, wiping his brow. “I’m actually feeling pretty rough and just want to
get out of here. I think I need to eat something.”
“We need to go while its clear,” Jamie agreed quickly, waving Lucy forward. They quickly
scrambled out of the cave and began their descent.
“How many are out here?”
“Just our squad – no brother gets left behind,” Dylan said, knowing that if Jamie got reported as
AWOL or missing there would be an alarm raised immediately.
They were scrambling down the side of the hill towards the others in a fairly quick fashion. He
had to stop to catch his breath and felt like he was ready to vomit. Reaching the valley floor,
everything spun and his ears sounded like there was cotton stuffed in them. He could see that the other
guys’ lips were moving, meaning that they were talking amongst themselves, but he couldn’t hear a
thing.
“Jamie,” Dylan tried to say but the word wouldn’t come out of his lungs. He stepped forward and
it was like dragging his leg through mud. His body wasn’t cooperating anymore, he thought as
everything went black.

DYLAN FELT himself waking up and tried to assess the damage to his body before he opened his eyes.
Everything ached and the last thing he remembered was trying to scale down the hill. He thought he’d
made it to the valley floor but maybe not? Everything was so fuzzy and so confusing.
“How are you feeling, Luka?”
A voice nearby pricked at his consciousness. He recognized it but couldn’t put a face to the sound
yet. He lay there relishing the feeling of the cool sheets as he took stock of his condition before
opening his eyes.
“Pretty terrible,” Dylan admitted, looking around through cracked eyes. He was in a small looking
room with a sheet pulled forward to block his view. Several monitors were beside him, beeping
steadily.
“Do you know where you are?”
“In bed.”
“Where?”
“Afghanistan – I think.”
“What year is it?”
Dylan started at that question, twisting to look at the soldier standing at his bedside with a
clipboard. Maybe that was why he felt so bad, because he was injured and had amnesia?
“Did I hit my head?”
“Year, soldier!” Houghton snapped. Dylan recognized that voice and remembered the man. He had
the bedside manner of a cold fish and rarely ever smiled.
“2017.”
“Good. I need you to sit up when you get a moment so we can run a few more tests. You think you
can do that? Do you remember how you got here?”
Dylan sat up slowly, feeling much better than he had the past few days. He realized that he’d been
stripped down to nothing and garbed in a hospital gown. Only his dog tags around his neck remained
out of the gear he’d been wearing into the desert. His stuff was piled on a chair haphazardly nearby.
“What happened to me?”
“You passed out in the middle of nowhere and got carried here by your squad – who is currently
outside in a state of panic. Now if you will sit still, I’ll tell them you are going to be okay, and then
we’ll have a long talk.”
“Yeah. I’m not moving yet.”
“Good.”
Dylan sat there for several minutes in silence, taking inventory of the room and himself. He had an
I.V. in his arm and a couple of Band-Aids on the other arm. He felt like he’d had the hardest nap in the
world because his head still felt a little fuzzy. He thought about getting up to look in the mirror but
decided against it. He didn’t want to pass out again and still had no idea what happened. The door
opened and Houghton returned to the room, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
“Still feeling okay?”
“I’m starting to feel much better. How long have I been here?”
“A few hours.”
“That’s it?”
“It doesn’t take long when we know what is going on right away,” Houghton began and sighed.
There was something in his expression that made Dylan feel extremely uncomfortable. Houghton
looked disappointed at what he was about to say to the man before him.
“Does anyone in your family have diabetes?”
“Wow. Um, not… not that I know of? Wh-what are you saying?”
He hated how panicked his voice sounded and the stammer in his words. His mind was racing.
His parents were perfectly healthy, if not a little overprotective. That was part of the reason he’d
signed up for Afghanistan – to get away and have an adventure he could control himself. His
grandmother had high cholesterol and high blood pressure – but no one had diabetes.
“Are you sure?”
“Luka, when you arrived you were completely unconscious. We started to do a full panel on you
to see what happened when I caught wind of your breath. You smelled strongly of Fruit Loops, my
friend. That is an indicator that your blood sugar was high. I had them pull your levels immediately
and your count was over six hundred. Do you know what diabetic ketoacidosis is?”
“You are speaking gibberish to me, doc. In plain English, sir – you are scaring me,” Dylan blurted
out, feeling a rush of panic hit him as his heart hammered in his chest. Was he saying that he was
diabetic?
“Luka, you’ve got diabetes. I suspect it’s Type 1 but I won’t know for sure until all the tests are
completed. You didn’t start to respond to stimulus until we got your blood sugar down significantly.
We’ll test you again shortly to see what your reading is. We normally see this in children, but it can
happen up to the age of about thirty and you are what… twenty-seven? I need to ask you some
questions and then we need to talk about your future.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are going to have to focus on taking care of yourself and maintaining your blood sugar in an
acceptable range. I’m going to start the paperwork shortly for you and recommend some classes to
help teach you how when you return home.”
“What are you saying?”
“Luka, with diabetes you will be discharged from the military.”
“No,” Dylan whispered painfully, shutting his eyes. “Go away.”
Ignoring the man, he reached back to the bed where it was elevated, using it to brace himself so he
didn’t yank his I.V. out by accident. He laid on his side facing away from where the head nurse,
Houghton, sat. Dylan heard the other man get up and leave, just before the sheer overwhelming panic
truly hit him.
 He was going to be discharged?
“I’ll be back in ten minutes and we’ll take your levels again to see how you are doing,” Houghton
said quietly.
Laying there, Dylan tried to calm his breathing as he fought against the panicked gasps that were
escaping him. Hot tears started to fall uncontrollably and he pinched his eyes shut painfully. He hadn’t
broken down and cried like this since his grandfather passed away.
Why was this happening to him?

TYLER, Texas

EVA FILLED out the application at the café that had just opened up in town and waited patiently for the
official interview to begin – and she didn’t have long. Paula walked into the café and joined her at a
table in the corner.
The building was in an excellent location and they were looking for staff to work the odd hours. It
was from five in the morning until just after lunch. She’d met with the owner by chance, who
happened to be one of her customers at the Home Depot she’d been working at, and struck up a
conversation.
Paula was looking for someone dependable to run the counter at her business while she focused
on opening other branches nearby. The city was growing and expanding quickly, with plenty of
opportunity for growth – as well as overtime. Paula wanted a ‘take charge person that could
function as a shift manager’, she’d described the position.
This could be a dream job for her. If she could get overtime, then she could cut it down to just one
job, and slowly begin to take classes again to finish her bachelor’s degree.
She kept waiting for the bad news to hit about the job as the other woman talked to her. There was
no uniform other than an apron, Eva had freedom to talk and chat with customers which she already
loved doing, and the ability to make suggestions for improvements or changes.
Nervously, Eva sat there trying to keep from fidgeting as the older woman looked her over, staring
her down. She wasn’t sure how many people that Paula planned on interviewing, but hoped she had a
shot at it.
Eva knew what must be running through her mind. The woman had seen her dabble with her
appearance several times over the last two years. She’d had hot pink hair, bleached blonde (which
actually turned greenish at one point) and settled on a shade of black that had since faded up to her
natural color of dark brown. Her tattoo along her hairline, by her ear, had faded into the dark tresses,
making it not quite as noticeable anymore.
Her wild days were fading into her past and she wanted a chance at a new beginning someday.
She hoped that her appearance wouldn’t be held against her because she didn’t look like management
type in the slightest and that is what Paula was looking for.
“What do you think, kiddo?” Paula asked her quietly.
“It sounds perfect and I hope you pick me,” Eva admitted, clenching her hands together under the
table in the nearly empty coffee shop. Paula turned and held out her hand, gesturing to the rest of the
seating area.
 “What’s the first thing you would do in here? Sales are down – so how would you increase
traffic?”
Mind racing, Eva swallowed hard and tried to not let the panic show. She was being tested to see
if she was a good fit.
“The building looks great, and it’s in an ideal location, but…”
“…But what?”
“I would focus on coffee and snacks instead of fancy luncheons. You want quick and easy items
with a high profit margin. Also, you need to make the shop known a little bit more. I’ve seen this
place a million times and the signage at the road is tiny.”
“You don’t think word of mouth could make an impact in a small town?”
“Tyler isn’t so small anymore. You need to be seen and frankly? I don’t think they are discussing
your coffee shop, because some people are getting free coffee at McDonalds and other places. You
need to match it to be competitive.”
“‘High profit margins’ and ‘give it away free’ – that seems quite counterproductive, wouldn’t
you say?”
“You’ll make it up on the back end of the business, in the flavored, fancy coffees and snacks like
cupcakes, breads, pies. Give the plain coffee away for free to get them in the door. Promote it for law
enforcement, veterans, and senior citizens to get the word out.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Positive. Restaurants want you to pick the salad cause the profit margin is so much higher than it
is with the steak. Less effort, more results. It doesn’t take much to wash the lettuce and dress it up. So,
we need to whip up something that is small, looks incredible, and mark it up big time.”
“Where’d you learn all of this, kiddo?”
“High school economics.”
“Really?”
“That – and I like reading a lot.”
“You read management and economics books?”
“No, I read self-improvement books.”
“Interesting. So how fast could you develop a menu and marketing plan?”
“Does that mean I have the job?”
“You had it when you walked in,” Paula admitted, finally smiling. “I’ve seen you busy working
your rear-end off for the last two years at Home Depot… and over at the greasy burger shack near the
college. People notice dedication and drive. The fact that you are reading self-improvement books in
your spare time means you are going somewhere with your life, kiddo.”
“I want to do more with my life than just struggle.”
“I understand,” the older woman said, getting to her feet. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at five so
we can open the shop together. I’ll expect you to develop that menu by Friday, Eva.”
“I’ll be here,” she vowed, knowing full well she was scheduled at the fast-food restaurant
already, but with what Eva had offered her, she could afford to quit that job.
“Good.”
 CHAPTER 3

Dylan spent the last year of his life getting things in order. He’d moved home after his discharge but
only for a short amount of time. He loved his parents so much, but he couldn’t handle all the attention.
He knew his mother meant well, but she was smothering him with her concerns and worries.
He was normal and wanted to be treated that way.
One afternoon, he’d emailed all of his squad to let them know what was going on in his life since
things had happened so quickly. He knew Jamie was aware but wasn’t sure if he’d said anything to
anyone else. That was the hardest email he’d written. He felt ashamed that his body had betrayed him
and that he’d let down his team, his brothers.

HEY GUYS ,
I wanted to reach out to everyone because I feel it’s important to stay in touch with each other.
You guys have been my family the last nine years and it’s hard to believe that I am not there with
you. Life has a way of jerking the carpet right out from under you – and for those of you that didn’t
know… I was discharged because I’m diabetic.
I’m back in Seattle right now, trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I swear, if my mother
doesn’t stop asking me if I’m okay fifty million times – I’m gonna lose my cool. I wouldn’t hurt her
feelings for the world and need to get my feet under me so I can be on my own.
Anyone got a relative that’s hiring?
(It’s a joke – sorta? Sorta not?…)
Please write when you can – even if it seems like nothing, just know that I wish I could be there
with you all. You’re my brothers, but our motto (and my body!) failed me this time - I had to get left
behind. Let me know where you’re at and what’s going on in your lives – be safe! – and if you’re
ever in the area, drop me a line.
Dylan Luka

HEY DYLAN,
Minter, Wilkes, Cooper, and I are all living near Tyler, Texas. What a great idea for us to all
keep in touch. I’m glad you emailed. Get down here right away, soldier – we are hiring and you’d
be a great fit.
 That’s an order, mister!
John Griffin

L UKA !
Good to hear from you buddy – sorry about the news, but hey! It could be worse… right? You
could have Wilkes shove you into a landmine (Colin, you’ve had that one coming for a long time
now buddy! LOL) and pout for months on end before you finally pull your head out of your…
well… you know. Seriously, though – come join us down here in Texas and we’ll help you get
started on your own.
No one ever gets left behind, brother!
Ethan Minter

CHEAP SHOT THERE , Ethan!!

Seriously though Luka, what time does your flight land? I will pick you up. My wife said she’d
make dinner for us all and she’s an incredible cook. I don’t know about working with Griffin
though – the man is getting a little pudgy in his old age.
Colin Wilkes

WHAT ?!? I’m not pudgy – Lily calls it’s her ‘sweet padding’…
John

UGH … I think I will scratch my eyes out now. Thanks for the visual, Griff.
I just ate dinner too… (gag)
Mike Cooper

‘DITTO ’ what Coop said! - And who knew the man could read and write?
I’m glad you are doing much better, Dylan. You had us scared there for a while, buddy. I’m
throwing my vote in with John on this one.
My vote is Texas.
You should be with your family, but we consider you that too. You could always go visit your
mom anytime. Texas isn’t as far away as Afghanistan. Plus, I plan on going back there to visit when
I get a chance someday and I’d love to see you. I was there for Colin and Ava’s wedding – and
she’s obviously crazy(about him).
Miss you, Luka.
Jamie Post

HEY NOW! No insulting my wife… don’t make me come out there!

Colin

BRING IT …

DYLAN SAW the flurry of emails from the team over the next several days as each of the guys kept
hitting reply-all on their emails. It was so good to hear from them and really made him feel a part of
something again. He wondered if he should try starting his life over again out there in Texas. He knew
he was trying to find a way to feel like himself once again.
He’d gotten his eyebrow pierced and let his facial hair grow a bit in an effort to assert himself
and regain some sort of identity. No one made him ask permission before doing it like they did in the
military – but then again the sheer loneliness that he felt, and missing his friends, was tough.
Hands trembling, Dylan made his decision and hoped his mother would understand. He knew she
had been hounding him about writing down everything he ate, testing his blood sugar every few hours,
and doublechecking his insulin shots before he injected. It made him feel like an incompetent three-
year-old boy instead of a twenty-seven-year-old man. She meant well, but he needed a bit of distance.

J OHN – I just filled out the application online for the police department. I will have to get cleared
by medical, so do you have something there I could do in the meantime to earn a living? Do you
mind asking or putting in a good word for me? I’d feel better if I knew I was landing on my feet
when the plane touches down there.

COLIN – my flight lands this Saturday at 4pm and I could use the lift you offered. Tell your wife not
to bother cooking or be insulted if I can’t eat some of it. I’m still working with a dietician to keep
things under control and will need to find one there ASAP. In fact, I need to go ahead and work on
transferring my records to the VA there.

ANYONE GOT a couch I can borrow until I get a place? I’m excited for the first time in months and
can’t wait to see you all.
 Dylan

S PEAKING FOR ALL OF US : we’ll figure it out, buddy… just get down here.
See you Saturday!
John

AS DYLAN GOT off the plane in Tyler, he hauled his large duffle bag onto his shoulder and walked
towards the baggage claim to get his other suitcases. He brought what he could and his mother offered
to mail the rest once he got settled.
Thankfully, that conversation didn’t go as bad as he thought it would. She was worried and hated
to say ‘goodbye’ again – but when he offered to have her visit, and promised to do the same, she
seemed to be excited to see how happy it made him.
Grinning, he looked up and saw Colin’s blond head above the crowd since he was the tallest of
the lot. Dylan then realized that the ‘crowd’ around his friend was actually their gang. Ethan was there
holding a sign saying ‘Welcome Home Luka’ that made tears spring to his eyes, that he quickly dashed
away and laughed happily. His former CPO saluted him, only to have a dark-haired woman and a
blond run out to him and boldly hug him.
“Welcome to Texas, Luka. I’m Lily Griffin – John’s wife.”
“I’m Daisy Greenwell – Ethan’s fiancée. This is Ava and Cora – Colin and Mike’s wives. We are
all so glad you decided to come down and be with us.” A small dark-haired woman linked arms with
another lady, as they all circled around him, hugging him enthusiastically like they’d known each other
forever.
The four men joined in, all of them creating a massive circle of friends, blocking the way right
there in the middle of the airport. Dylan realized that this was just what he was looking for.
Home.

THE NEXT FEW weeks were a flurry of activity as Dylan got settled in. He was staying with Ethan for
the time being since he spent most of his free time with Daisy at her place. He only slept at the
apartment, or so it seemed.
He was hired on at the police station as a dispatcher until he had a chance to finish the physical
requirements needed to pass and graduate to officer. The physical exam part was no problem, it was
his medical records. His doctor recommended restricted duty for the time being to allow him to judge
for any severe hypo or hyperglycemia events to qualify him as fit for duty.
The department was wonderfully understanding and accommodating, with the effort focused on
him being able to perform the duties needed as an officer. Dylan understood that and wouldn’t have it
any other way. He could have died in Afghanistan if the squad hadn’t been there to get him treatment
quickly.
 Becoming a dispatcher gave him ample time to learn the codes, the neighborhoods, and develop
friendships – in fact, today, he was going to lunch with John. Glancing up from his desk, he smiled as
his former CPO walked in.
It was sometimes weird to be buddy-buddy with a man that had ordered him around, but it was for
his own protection and that of the team when they were in the desert. He understood that now and
marveled at the change of personality that becoming a civilian, and marrying Lily, had wrought in the
man. He was easy going and that was just not like him a few years ago.
“Whatcha up for today, Dylan?” John asked lightly, “It’s your turn to buy lunch and wherever we
go, I need to grab something nice for my girl.”
Dylan smiled, thinking of how enamored the guy was. He knelt down and let Radar sniff his hand
again, watching the dog warily. John told him it was okay to pet her because he’d worked with Radar
to relax a bit around others.
There were several K9 dogs that you simply were not allowed to pet. They were all business and
didn’t take well to strangers. Dylan had never really been close to Radar and when Lily had told him
about the time she’d seen the dog in action – he had a healthy respect for those long canines in that
animal’s large muzzle.
“Something easy, please. There’s a coffee shop nearby that is supposed to be pretty nice. I know
Perkins said it was great yesterday,” Dylan replied, tossing his thumb over his shoulder towards the
older man sitting at the desk nearby. He pulled his headset off and set it down, getting to his feet.
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Let’s go.”
 CHAPTER 4

Dylan followed John into the coffee shop his coworker had recommended and caught his breath.
Perkins had said that the café had amazing free coffee for officers and several different menu items.
He noticed that the older man had been there almost every day for the last two weeks for lunch and
the crowded parking lot was a good indication that what he’d heard was true. Walking in, he stopped
in his tracks.
Gosh, he had a weakness for dark haired girls and the one behind the counter was utterly amazing.
She had flawless skin and high cheekbones with icy-blue eyes that met his for only a second before
looking away. As she tucked her hair behind her ear, he noticed that her haircut was wild – making
her even more intriguing. One side was chopped close to her head and the other was long, falling into
her face.
“Man, it smells good in here,” John said quietly, disrupting his thoughts. Dylan realized it actually
did smell divine in the café. The aroma of coffee beans, gingerbread, and fresh-baked bread hit him
like a ton of bricks. Man, this was an amazing place and he would have to thank Perkins for the
suggestion when he got back to the station, he thought.
“What? Oh yeah it does.”
“You okay man?”
“Ugh, that was your one time to ask me that today – alright? I’m fine and you saw me test in the
car, remember? I’ll be a good boy,” Dylan smarted off, smiling as John laughed.
“I’m not your daddy. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know, but people don’t realize how much they ask that sometimes.”
“Point taken.”
“Thank you,” Dylan nodded.
“What are you going to have?”
“A whopping Texas-sized cupcake loaded with icing,” Dylan teased and saw John’s surprised
look as he turned back around in line to face him.
“I’m kidding, and sorta wish I could, right now. The chocolate ones look great. I technically
could - but I don’t want to risk my levels and have to start over on my medical records for officer
duty. I’m going to be good and keep my pretty figure trim,” he said, poking John in the waist and
smiling.
“I know. I know,” John admitted and actually flushed with embarrassment. “I had to order a size
up in uniform pants. Even these are getting too snug too.”
“I’m just teasing you cause everyone else is. You’ve got nothing there.”
“Lemme tell you – stuff changes when you hit forty,” John groaned, rolling his eyes. “I went for a
run last night and didn’t enjoy it like I used to.”
“You used to enjoy running?” Dylan quipped as they stepped up to the counter, swallowing hard.
The woman was even more beautiful up close and he saw the faint pattern of a tattoo along her
hairline. Small, delicate scrollwork blended in, making it almost look like lace. It was the prettiest
thing he’d seen in a long time, wanting to run his fingertip across it.
“Officers? What can I get you two gentlemen for lunch?”
“Your phone number,” Dylan blurted out and blushed at John’s abrupt guffaw of laughter. Man, he
had no game anymore with the ladies, he thought embarrassed. He watched as her eyes danced and
she smirked at them both.
“That’s not on the menu.”
“Is there a special menu?”
“Sure is,” Eva whispered, crooking her finger at him and leaning forward. Dylan immediately
perked up and shoved John aside, ignoring the chuckles from behind him. He was mesmerized by the
sultry look she got in her eyes and the glimpse of mischief he saw there.
“We’ve got roast beef sandwiches, chips, and a pickle today or my favorite… chicken Caesar
salad,” she breathed, dropping her voice down in an intimate fashion that gave him goosebumps.
“I think I’ll have your favorite – and make that two of them,” he smiled, realizing that she was
taunting him in the most adorable fashion.
“Coffee?”
“Strong – just like I like my girls.”
“Oh, you are a feisty one, aren’t you?”
“Just when I’m with you. What’s your name?”
“Eva – and you?”
“Dylan.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Dylan and here’s that number you wanted,” she flirted, lowering her eyes as
she rang him up. For a second he thought she’d changed her mind at giving him her phone number until
she shoved a table tent at him on the counter, grinning broadly. Laughing, he picked it up and felt John
clap him on the shoulder.
“Still got it, don’t you, Luka?”
“She didn’t say no.”
Dylan could have sworn he heard Eva scoff and glanced over his shoulder back at the woman
only to see her smirking as she slid on a pair of gloves and pulled the handle on the large machine that
was used to make the coffee.
“Next order please?”

EVA HAD SEEN the gorgeous man when he’d walked in almost immediately. She always tried to be
overly pleasant towards the police when they arrived simply because they were quick to check on her
when she worked late hours. They always asked how she was doing, knowing that she often closed
alone or opened early by herself. As a thanks, she had put cake pops on the menu right away and
always gave the officers one, as a freebie, with their meals.
But that guy… she mused, chuckling to herself while Madison rang up the next client at the
register. That guy – Dylan – was something else. He obviously thought he was the cat’s meow,
immediately flirting with her. She hated to admit that it worked only too well.
He was incredibly attractive and she liked a quick-witted guy that went after what he wanted.
Most guys in town seemed to like the pretty little girls and were intimidated by someone that was
focused on themselves.
She was dedicated to making something of herself and taking the time to do it. In fact, she had a
class shortly and needed to step out in twenty minutes. She’d make up the officers’ lunches, bring it to
their table, and slip out the back door of the café, before returning this evening to close up.
Grabbing two trays, Eva slipped a cake pop in wax paper pockets emblazoned with the café’s
name and put one on each tray. Walking over, she put one down in front of the blond man in uniform
that was grinning at Dylan – the man that had flirted with her earlier.
“Dylan,” she said politely, setting his tray down in front of him.
“Say it again,” he ordered in a heady voice that sent a thrill right through her. She met his eyes and
saw the blatant interest there, combined with that roguish smile.
“Nope,” she teased, grabbing the table card and turning away. That was the hardest thing she’d
ever done, cause she wanted to parrot out his name over and over again like a high-pitched seagull
from the Disney movie. Dylan, Dylan, Dylan! Instead, she found herself grinning as she heard his
laughter echo behind her.
“Someday, maybe?” Dylan called out boldly after her.
“Maybe… not?”
“I think so.”
“Have a great day, sir…” Eva quipped, not looking up from where she was grabbing her things
out of her locker about fifteen feet away. It was almost embarrassing at how much he was flirting with
her publicly – but then again, she kept flirting back and was enjoying it immensely.
“It already is one,” Dylan announced happily, waving at her. Eva threw her keys in her purse and
smiled wryly, slamming her locker door shut.
“That’s sweet.”
“I’m betting that isn’t all that’s sweet here,” he replied mischievously.
“It is for you,” she countered in a singsong voice, winking at him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Dylan asked, as the café grew quiet, listening to their banter. Oh, this
would be gossip spread all over town soon enough. She even heard the other officer telling Dylan to
‘cool his jets’.
“It’s up to you. You can eat lunch anywhere you want in town.”
“No – I’m letting you know that I will see you tomorrow.”
“I still won’t give you my number.”
“You will someday though...” his voice trailed off as she walked out the back door to the café.
Eva didn’t answer because she knew Dylan was right.

LATER THAT EVENING , Eva sat at the same table that the mysterious Dylan had been sitting at earlier in
the day, pouring over her books, while the team cleaned up and prepped for closing.
Their conversation kept replaying in her mind, making her smile more than she had in weeks. She
wondered if he acted like that with a lot of girls and sadly realized she didn’t need a flirt in her life
distracting her. Their banter back and forth was enough to keep her off-kilter for days. She needed to
apply herself for her finals online, knowing that she had several semesters left to get her degree and
nothing could interfere with that.
She had to stay focused.
 CHAPTER 5

“Hello, officer…” Eva said lightly as a reminder of their banter from yesterday. She’d tossed and
turned several times last night thinking about his smile, changing clothes a few times this morning
because she wanted to look her best in case he did make a reappearance.
“Playing hard to get…” Dylan whispered playfully, winking at her and leaning on the counter, “I
love it, but you don’t have to play so very hard, sweet, little Eva.”
She leaned forward across the counter, crossing her arms on top of the glass display case and
almost looked down to check for cleavage spill-over with the blouse she was wearing. She had
bought it because of its icy blue shade that made her eyes glow in her face, but never wore it because
the buttons didn’t start until it got too low on her torso. She hoped it was covered by the bib of her
apron.
“Who’s playing?” she smiled and saw his wide grin.
“I think you want to give me your number.”
“Think again,” she sassed, tugging on a fresh pair of gloves.
“I could just ask you out.”
“You could,” she hedged coyly, glancing away from the spark of interest and hope in his eyes.
“What would you say?”
“Nope,” Eva chimed easily, with a grin.
Dylan threw back his head and laughed, making her heart flop over in her chest happily. Gosh, he
was beautiful! She was enchanted by that little eyebrow piercing that seemed to quietly state that he
could be a really fun and crazy guy. He gave her a lopsided smile and leaned on the glass, his elbows
almost touching hers boldly.
“I think you are saying ‘no’ because you like me coming here to see you.”
“The shop likes your money.”
“I think you like me…” he drawled.
“You can think what you want.”
“I will.”
“Good for you.”
“I’d be good for you too, you know?” Dylan whispered softly; his eyes tender. She noticed that he
had the prettiest hazel eyes that reminded her of a wild forest. Shades of green, brown, and even gold
kept her mesmerized.
“Give me your number, please?”
“No.”
“Say my name,” he ordered quietly, his voice barely registering as he watched her. There was
something so intimate, so personal, to his request. She knew she was being a twerp continuing their
banter… but it was also incredibly fun and probably the biggest thrill she’d had all week!
“Number seven,” she breathed, giving him the table tent and winking at him playfully as she
backed away from the counter. Dylan rolled his eyes and handed her his card to pay before taking a
seat nearby, knowing that the he would be watching her while he dined.
Eva had another employee, Madison, walk the food tray out to Dylan and smiled at his deep
frown. Apparently he thought she would give him special attention since she’d brought it to him
yesterday. Watching, Eva felt her temper flare at the way Dylan suddenly began whispering to her
coworker. He slipped her something and the happy expression on Madison’s face as she returned
back to the counter was almost her undoing.
That cad!
“Did he ask you for your phone number too?” Eva muttered under her breath. She refused to let
the ornery man get the better of her – and even if he did, she would never let him know! She went
back to frosting the cupcakes for the case, ignoring the cramping in her hand, as she squeezed dollops
onto the tiny cakes.
“No, but the funny thing is that Dylan said you would ask me that very question – and I was to give
you this,” Madison said gleefully, handing her a folded-up piece of paper.
Grimacing, Eva realized that she’d played right into his hands.
She had no idea what was on the paper but suspected it was his phone number. She was not about
to give him the satisfaction of seeing his cocky smile at winning this round either. Holding up the bag
full of frosting towards Madison, she smiled ever so sweetly.
“My hands are full and I’m not at a point where I can stop. Can you do me a favor and put it in the
giveaway jar for me?” Eva asked, trying to keep from cackling aloud at her idea. She might look over
at his table to see his reaction but she was pretty sure if she did – she’d laugh.
Resisting the urge, she watched as Madison slipped it into the fishbowl on the counter that was an
entry for a free lunch drawn once a month. She heard Dylan’s snicker of delight. Glancing up at his
table, Eva met his eyes and smiled in return at him, as he touched his fingers to his eyebrow in a mock
salute.
Fifteen minutes later, Dylan walked by the counter and winked at her boldly. He was wearing a
dark polo that looked incredible against his tanned skin, making her toy with the idea of fishing the
paper out of the bowl the moment he was outside.
“See you tomorrow, Eva.”
“We’ll see,” she quipped, grinning at him.
“I’ll have to think up something new.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Tell me this: you aren’t married, are you?”
“No.”
“So, it’s just me personally you’re avoiding then?”
“I’m at work,” she reminded him, rolling her eyes and nodding her head towards her staff that was
standing there watching, giggling at the interaction between them. Eva turned to glare at them, sending
them scampering back to what they were doing.
“And if I find you out-and-about in town – I could get your phone number?”
“I would think you were a stalker or following me.”
“Then how am I supposed to ask you out?”
“You don’t.”
 “Well, I’m going to,” Dylan admitted, his smile dropping. “You and I are going to have dinner
sometime soon – a proper date - instead of all this flirting back and forth that we are doing.”
“I don’t eat dinner.”
“What?”
“I’m teasing. Relax. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eva chuckled softly, smiling at him. “Now, I need to
get back to work so I can finish up. I have somewhere to be soon.”
“Do you need a ride?”
“If I wouldn’t give you my phone number, do you think I’ll accept a ride from someone who’s a
stranger to me anywhere in this town?” she huffed, pausing, and raising a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Luka,” Dylan said suddenly, smiling brightly. “My full name is Dylan Evan Luka. I’m twenty-
eight, ex-military, and currently single… but wanting to fix that when you are ready to go out with me.
I love girls with dark hair and a wild side to them, candlelight dinners, and staying up late to watch
cartoons on Friday nights.”
“Okaaaay,” she drawled, warily. Where was he going with this?
“Okay’ - as in that means you’ll go out with me?”
“No. I’m wondering where you are going with all that information.”
“I just wanted to tell you who I was, so we can finally get over that line in the sand that you are
tiptoeing around. I’m the man that is going to win you over because I don’t ever quit or give up when
I’ve set my heart on something. I’m also the man that is going to smear that incredible pink lipstick
right off of you someday and hear you say my name in a way no one else will ever whisper it,” he
said softly, his voice dropping intimately and gaining a husky timbre that made her shiver with
delight.
“I will most definitely see you tomorrow, Eva, and look forward to it.”
Frozen, her mind unable to function as she processed his words, Eva stared at him as he walked
brazenly out the front door. She’d never had anyone pursuing her like this before, nor had she ever
had someone so bold. He turned at the last moment, giving her a broad smile, and a little wave before
disappearing to head towards his car.
“Eva, are you okay?” one of the girls asked her a few minutes later.
“Yes, why?”
“You finished that cupcake a while ago and there is frosting on your shoe.”
Glancing down, Eva saw that she had indeed squeezed the large piping bag until it was
completely empty. There was one single cupcake on the tray that was frosted and the rest of it was in
a smushed pile towards the edge that had spilled over onto the floor.
“Oh, shoot!” she whispered, throwing the bag away and starting to clean up the mess on her
sneakers. Dylan’s words had affected her, there was no denying that, but she was frightened that
having someone take up her free time would distract her from her studies. Maybe when the semester
was over, she could indulge in an evening out with him – or maybe two – before the next session of
classes started.

EVA DREAMT last night that she’d gone out with Dylan and at the end of the date, as he was just about
to kiss her, when the alarm went off. She woke up so upset, so much yearning burning in her heart, that
it just irritated her to no end.
 She liked the guy and the way they bantered back and forth. The fact that he was devastatingly
handsome, and the way he said her name, it just melted her. She had a week left in the semester and
needed to remain focused on her exams before allowing herself time to indulge.
Heading into work, she wasn’t sure she was up for battling wits with him today. The image of his
upturned smile, the shape of his lips, and the way he looked at her kept burning in her head. Maybe
she should just give him her number so he’d leave her alone to concentrate – she could tell him to
give her a week’s space before contacting her, couldn’t she?
Throwing herself in the baking, she glanced up at the clock on the wall to see that the lunch crowd
was starting to trickle in. The counter girls were getting really busy, and Eva was loading trays of
goods into the case carefully. Glancing up, she met Dylan’s eyes and his soft smile.
It was the same smile she’d seen in her dream, making her hands shake nervously. How did
someone affect her that much? She’d been on plenty of dates in the past as a kid before really putting
her nose to the grindstone. Dating meant relationships and commitment, something she couldn’t give
yet – even if she really wanted to.
“You look lovely today,” Dylan said in greeting. He was with the same officer from the first day
she’d met him. The other man was grinning at the obvious flirtation from his coworker. He stepped
forward, pushing Dylan back behind him.
“My apologies. It’s my turn to pay today and we’ll both have the grilled chicken salad
sandwiches, two cups of coffee, and one of those cherry turnovers in a box to-go, please.”
“Of course. There’s only two turnovers left from this morning – would you like both?” Eva asked
politely, thinking that she could get rid of the nearly empty tray and put out some iced cookies instead.
“Sure. My wife will love that. Thank you.”
“Here’s your number, officer, and we’ll bring it out shortly.”
“Luka?” the officer said pointedly, indicating that they should move away from the counter,
allowing others to order. Eva smiled and looked away from his crestfallen expression. She grabbed
one of Paula’s business cards and quickly scribbled her phone number on the back, tucking it in her
back pocket.
Just in case.

“DUDE, you have got to give her some space or she’ll never agree to go out with you,” John
admonished gently as they sat down. “I know Lily gets mad if I push her too hard on something – even
if we end up compromising later. I hate to make her upset and enjoy her sweet smiles so much more.”
“I don’t get it,” Dylan said quietly, putting his head down in his hands. “In Kabul, Seattle, Tehran,
and Goose Creek – wherever I went, I never had to fight for someone to hang out with. Do you think
she knows about this?”
Dylan knew he was grasping at straws, pointing to his small bracelet. It was the only evidence he
ever had that he was diabetic and almost felt like he had to wear one in case he ever passed out again.
John laid his hand on his arm firmly.
“Relax.”
“Here you go boys!” he heard in a singsong voice nearby. Glancing up, he saw that it was one of
the other girls that had brought their lunch out to them. He picked up his fork and began to pick at his
lunch silently.
 “You okay?”
“That’s it for that particular question today,” Dylan said as a reminder, not looking up. He hated
when people asked him that, and that was never going to change anytime in the future apparently. He
knew he was defensive, but he’d been doing so very good keeping things under control.
Frustrated, he picked up the small cake ball that was given out every time they came in. He’d
given his other ones to Perkins and John, trying to remain in good standing medically, but he could
just adjust his next insulin shot instead. He wanted something that made him feel normal.
“Are you sure you should eat that?” John asked, his eyes full of concern, and it hit him like a ton
of bricks. Dylan pushed the cake ball back inside of the wrap and stood up, glaring at his friend.
“You aren’t my CPO anymore – and you’re supposed to be my friend. Friends support each other
and if I want to eat a piece of cake - I will. Trust me, I know all too well what can happen to me,” he
said angrily and then did the unthinkable.
He smashed the cake ball within the wax paper.
The look of utter shock on John’s face made Dylan realize just how petty his actions were and
how he’d gone off on a tirade against a person that had done nothing but help him. Embarrassed, he
looked away.
“Finish your lunch,” Dylan said quietly. “I’ll walk back to the station.”
He shoved on the doorway, heading outside, needing a moment to cool off and regroup. He would
apologize in a bit and hoped that John would understand. Putting his hands behind his head, he looked
up at the bright blue sky. He let out his breath in defeat, as he heard the jingle of the door to the café
opening and closing in the distance.
“Hey!”
Unbelievably, he turned to see Eva standing there looking at him curiously.
“You still can’t – or won’t – say my name, will you?” Dylan barked out in frustration, running his
hands through his hair. He felt like a complete fool making a scene back there and knew he owed John
an apology.
“It’s a ‘won’t’ kind of thing,” she shrugged lightly, watching him, “because I wasn’t ready to
encourage your attentions when I have finals to study for. I need to focus and you come on a little
strong, Dylan.”
Eva was about twenty feet away from him and took a hesitant step towards him. He could see the
concern in her face and wondered if she’d seen his temper tantrum inside. He was really embarrassed
by that and it certainly wasn’t one of his finest moments. Dropping his hands to his side, he walked
towards her, and stopped.
“Why did you follow me outside?”
“I wanted to check on you.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed to,” she admitted under her breath. Her face was flushed prettily as she
suddenly looked shy for a moment. “I think you’re nice and an incredible distraction.”
“Did John put you up to this?”
“Look, I can go back inside,” she balked hotly, turning to re-enter the building, “This was a bad
idea and I should have known better.”
“Wait!”
Dylan’s heart hammered in his chest. He’d already damaged one thing today, he certainly didn’t
want to do it again. He saw that she stood there, watching him warily on the stoop.
“Look, all I can think about when I go back to work is your smile and how you seem to always
have a comeback for me. I like that. No one ever argues with me anymore and I don’t want anyone’s
pity.”
“Pity? For what?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay,” she quipped, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly in a silent
challenge. Her defenses were up and that shy girl he’d seen a moment ago was hidden behind a wall.
Dylan realized that Eva was quietly waiting for him to come up with a line or excuse but he didn’t
want to hide anymore. If someone was going to judge him like he suspected, he’d rather know up front
and deal with the disappointment afterwards.
“I’m diabetic, and I feel like that since anyone found out they treat me differently - like I’m fragile
or will just collapse around them. I’m just me - and I see an incredible woman that I want to get to
know better.”
“Here,” she said quietly, fishing something out of her back pocket and holding it out towards him.
It was a card with handwriting on it. Dylan glanced at her in surprise.
“I grew up in a home as a kid and have utterly nothing or no one. Everyone has a back story or
problems to deal with. You can either pick yourself up or wallow in it. Does knowing any of that
about me change your mind? Do you feel any differently about wanting to go out with me by knowing
that even my own parents didn’t want me?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Well that is how I feel about you telling me you’re diabetic. So what? It doesn’t change a thing.
Now, take it before I change my mind,” Eva retorted, wagging the card at him. “Give me a few days
to finish my finals for the semester and maybe we’ll do something together, okay?”
“I’d like that.”
“I think I would too.”
“Can I kiss you?” he said suddenly, grinning. He wanted to lighten the mood between them,
knowing she would balk at it… and half hoping she’d say yes.
“Go away, Dylan Evan Luka,” Eva groaned, stressing his middle name belligerently before
rolling her eyes. It was all an act as she pretended to be annoyed before she yanked open the door to
the café. He was glad he was still watching her because he almost missed the satisfied smile on her
face.
“Call me in a week.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called out playfully, feeling much better. She liked him and
remembered his name, which means that maybe she thought about their prior conversations almost as
much as he did.
He watched Eva disappear inside and felt lighter than he had in weeks at the idea that she might
go out with him – and soon! Feeling like a complete heel at how he acted towards John but bursting
with joy regarding what had just happened, Dylan moved to walk inside and saw a uniformed man
leaving the café.
“Look man, I’m sorry,” John began earnestly, his eyes concerned. “I’ve never intended to
make…”
“John – I should be apologizing to you! It’s my own issues I need to handle and I know you are
just trying to help me out, but you’ve got to trust me.”
“I do, but I’m scared for you too, because I look at you like you’re a kid brother to me. Lily would
have my hide if I didn’t take care of you, and I wouldn’t be able to handle it myself if something
happened under my watch.”
 “But you don’t have to watch me,” Dylan said fervently, hoping John would understand what he
was trying to explain. He’d always looked up to the man and the thought of John thinking less of
him… well, it hurt.
“I need a brother, a friend, a coworker… not a nursemaid. I’m going to have slip-ups or make
mistakes – but that is when I will need you the most. If you see me sweating or slurring my words, I
need you to be ready to stab me with a glucagon pen or call emergency - not ask me if ‘I’m okay’
over and over again.”
“Can I make a King-Kong noise and beat on my chest just before I stab you in the thigh with the
pen?” John asked, smiling and holding out his hand towards Dylan as a truce. Dylan instead grabbed
the older man in a bear hug, patting him on the back.
“I hope you do just that – and I pray that someone records it for me so we can all have a good
laugh,” Dylan admitted, grinning. “Now, let’s head back before I’m late for work.”
 CHAPTER 6

Eva was glad the semester was almost over because as the days passed, the intensity of emotions
running through her increased tenfold. She was nervous and stressed about the final exams, spending
hours studying and re-writing her notes over and over again.
She was anxious about what the end of the week would bring and discovering who Dylan truly
was as a person. She couldn’t address any idea of commitment… but what did it hurt to have a little
fun with a friend? The most overwhelming sensation that she realized was carrying her easily and
making the days fly by – was that she was truly happy.
She had something to look forward to.
Just about every day she worked, around lunchtime, Dylan came by and grabbed something to eat.
Sometimes he was alone, other times he was with his friend or a group of officers. He was always
smiling, always laughing, and seemed to be so good-natured. It was when his eyes met hers
unexpectedly in a moment that she felt something touch her soul - a jolt of happiness.
Like today, she expected to have him battle wits with her – their normal bantering, teasing, and
taunting that occurred every day for a few moments, but instead he seemed different.
Genuine.
“Do you have a moment?” Dylan said quietly, waving her from behind the counter away from her
staff. She huffed for a second, thinking of how busy it was and that she hated to be drawn away for
him to distract her, but that look in his eyes had her curious. Yanking off her gloves, she tossed them in
the trash and stepped out, following him towards an empty corner near the exit.
“Is something wrong, Dylan?”
“I have something for you,” he said quietly, smiling in that infectious way that made her feel all
giddy inside. “I know it’s stupid, but I also know you said that your final exams are coming up for the
semester.”
“Tonight - as a matter of fact.”
“Then I’m not too late, am I?”
Dylan held up a fist between them and unfurled his hand to reveal a small clear-looking stone
laying inside. Glancing down, Eva’s eyes darted up to his in surprise. It was a four-leaf clover
encased in a flat glass token.
“I don’t know what to say…” she breathed, touched by the gesture.
“You seem a little nervous and I’m sure it’s stressing you out. I know I get antsy before something
big occurs. It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s the fear of letting myself down, that eats at me – but
sometimes having a little luck doesn’t hurt things either.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
 “It’s small enough you could put it in your pocket and no one will know it’s there but us,” he said,
picking up the piece and taking her hand in his. He put the stone in her palm and closed it, laying his
hand on hers.
“I know I’m supposed to wait one more day to ask you out – but I thought that I might grab a drink
tonight over at the Irish pub on Third Street at about eight o’clock. If you wanted to join me there to
celebrate – I’d never say ‘no’ to having company.”
Eva looked up at him standing there with the sunlight streaming in from the door behind him. He
looked so genuine, so caring, that it made her catch her breath. He didn’t have to do any of this, yet he
was asking her out in a way that allowed her to have the high ground. He was respecting her wishes
but seemed overly excited about spending time with her – and she could see it. His hazel eyes
watched hers with a fascination and wonder that moved her.
“I guess it’s a date then,” she whispered, smiling up at him.
“I guess so,” Dylan admitted softly. “I can’t wait – and good luck on your exams. I know you’ll do
great.”

WALKING INTO THE PUB, Eva felt nervous and a little out of her element. She never came to these
things and was surprised by the interior. She’d pictured some seedy bar with grimy floors and smoke-
filled booths. This was a pleasant surprise.
Stained glass windows and lilting sounds of music teased the spirit, while the stained and warmly
waxed wood shades of the walls made you feel downright cozy. There were barstools in front of a
massive bar that looked to be a hundred years old. A massive mirror lined the wall and lights
illuminated the bottles, casting a further glow of warmth in the room.
Looking around, she saw Dylan was sitting in one of the booths towards the far back corner. He
was scrolling through his phone and happened to glance up, hopping to his feet as she walked over.
“Well? How’d you do?” he asked happily.
“Nailed it,” she bragged, grinning. “My official grade will hit online tomorrow, but I don’t think I
missed any of the questions. We went over them before being dismissed. Are you hungry? I’m
starved.”
“I am. Do you want some fish and chips? It’s pretty good here.”
“Let’s see. Irish bar, fish and chips… I guess we’ll have a pint too?” she asked happily, glancing
at the menu as the waiter took down their order. “Does that sound pretty good?”
“Everything but the pint. I’m going to have a whiskey,” Dylan confessed easily, “it’s processed
differently in the body.”
“Then let’s make that two of them since we are celebrating – oh, and a few glasses of water,” Eva
said amicably, flipping the menu shut and smiling at Dylan.
“Sooooo?” she began, “tell me about yourself and let’s do this ‘date’ thing.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it referred to as a ‘date thing’ before,” he laughed. “We could sit
here and talk, enjoy each other’s company, and just relax.”
“So, we are going to be buddies then?” she said just as the waiter walked over. He set down two
small shot glasses with dark liquid inside, and two large glasses of water, between them.
Dylan picked up one and arched an eyebrow at her in a silent challenge – and Eva wasn’t about to
back down from one! She picked up the other one, keeping her expression completely neutral. She
hadn’t drank anything in years, which is why she asked for the water with her meal.
“To new friends, accomplished tasks, and the future,” Dylan toasted, holding the glass aloft
towards her. Eva tapped hers against his and nodded.
“To new friends!”
They both downed the shot of whiskey quickly. Eva gasped at the deep wooden and nutty
flavoring of the alcohol, shivering with disgust. She wrinkled up her nose and saw that Dylan was
making a face too. His eyes met hers and they both cracked up laughing at each other’s expression.
“Ugh, that is perfectly dreadful,” she gasped, feeling the warmth spread through her almost
instantly.
“I’m not going to lie, it’s a lot stronger than my normal stuff.”
“What do you normally have?”
“I try to have the local beer wherever I am. In Ghazni, there is no drinking at all so if I had
anything it was stuff like Coors or whatever they could bring in cheap. Back in Seattle where I grew
up, there’s a lot of microbreweries so you could try a flight of beers just to get a sample of everything.
I like to try it - I don’t like to get wasted. It’s like anything else – I want the experience, not the
repercussions. What about you?”
“Oh, I haven’t drank in a really long time. Alcohol is really expensive. I would rather have
internet at my place or a steak dinner than to spend money on stuff like that. This is a gross tasting
treat, to be quite honest.”
“Would you two like another round?” the waiter asked politely, setting down two large plates
filled with fried fish and covered in French fries. Dylan and Eva looked at each other, grimacing.
“No.” they said at the same time and began laughing.
“Tell you what,” Dylan said easily, “Could we have two Diet Cokes? Is that okay with you or
would you rather have a regular?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Eva felt a languid ease seeping into her as they began to eat, taking time to chat between bites. She
noticed that Dylan had stacked some of his fries off to the side and was focusing on his fish instead.
“This is a ton of French fries, isn’t it? I may need a to-go box and take some of this home with me,
but the fish is amazing.”
“You can have part of mine too, if you want it,” Dylan smiled, and gestured to his own plate. “I
was a little low earlier so I’m able to eat a good portion but I want to make sure I don’t run high
tomorrow unexpectedly. The dietician at the VA has me mostly eating grilled meats and vegetables -
but by golly – sometimes you just have to have French fries.”
Eva smiled and nodded, shoving another fry into her mouth and chewing as she listened to him
talk. She wanted to pat herself on the back for getting him to open up about what had been bothering
him without him getting defensive. She’d see him get frustrated that one day and understood how he
felt.
She used to get really upset when kids would pick on her about not having a family. It just was
something she had to deal with and something she considered almost ‘the norm’ for her now. The less
of a big deal that people made of it, the easier it was to feel like you fit in.
The conversation turned to her and Eva found herself talking about her past - how she’d met
Paula, landing the job at the café. It really felt like fate sometimes, how things seemed to fall into
place. Every time a door closed, a window opened in her life. It just took courage to recognize it, and
persevere onwards, when sometimes all you want to do is give up sometimes.
Quitting was never an option with her.
 They sat there for hours, talking about anything that happened to come up and laughing quite a bit
at each other’s past. Apparently Dylan was quite a prankster when he was in the military. Eva had
water go down the wrong way as he confessed to coloring unibrows with Magic Marker on his squad
one evening while they slept.
“Man, they were really mad at first,” Dylan said, laughing easily, “but there is a photo of us all
standing there together in uniform with unibrows. The problem is when you pull a prank like that and
you color fifteen guys foreheads – you have to color your own or you end up getting caught.”
Eva wiped her eyes. She was laughing so hard at the mental image he was painting for her. She
could see it in his eyes how much he really treasured that time out there in the desert with his team.
He always seemed to talk about them fondly.
“So, there I was - at three in the morning climbing back into my bunk, when I realized what I’d
done. I hurriedly scribbled right here,” he giggled, pointing at his forehead, “and gave myself a big
bushy unibrow too. I never confessed it either, because I knew they’d gang up and get me back.”
“They don’t know?” she gaped, giggling.
“I sure wasn’t going to tell them!” Dylan balked, putting an innocent expression all over his face
and a hand on his chest, before he winked at her.
“Oh my gosh, Dylan!” she gasped, laughing riotously.
“You are breathtaking when you laugh,” he admitted easily, changing subjects. “I like making you
smile.”
“You’re a really nice guy so far – and very funny.”
“I like to think so.”
“See? There you go again!” Eva teased, smiling.
“I’m serious,” Dylan said quietly, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. The gentle way
his hand curled around hers, made her catch her breath.
“I’d like to go out with you again. This is the best time I’ve had in forever and I’ve got so many
other stories that I’d like to share with you, Eva. This has been a terrific evening.”
“And I’m guessing it’s over now?”
“Not at all, but I’ll need to test soon and I wanted to see if you’d like to see a movie with me
tomorrow night or something. Do you want to get out of here and walk around for a bit?”
Eva looked down at her watch in stunned silence. It was nearly eleven and she had to be at work
at five in the morning. “I can’t – but not for the reasons you are gonna assume. I’ve got to be at work
really early, and I need to get some sleep.”
“How about we compromise and I walk you to your car?”
“That sounds great.”
Dylan quickly paid the bill and they slid from the booth. Once standing, he held out his hand to her
and Eva shyly grasped it. It was just so nice having someone to talk to this evening, and it meant more
to her than she’d ever admit. He held open the door for her and slowly walked her to her vehicle. Her
heart was beating rapidly as she fumbled for her keys in her purse there in the moonlight. Grabbing
them, she hesitated and smiled at him.
“I had a great time tonight. Thank you.”
“I did too,” Dylan said softly in the moonlight, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Can I
kiss you?”
“No,” she teased, laughing easily. “I don’t want to mess things up.”
“I don’t want to either.”
“Dylan – I never kiss someone on the first date. I’m old- fashioned like that, I guess. I’m sorry, but
I just can’t.”
“I’m not sorry. I’m glad we think alike,” he admitted, grinning at her response – as if he was
inwardly pleased with her answer. He stepped away from the car and waved politely before she
heard his words.
“I can’t wait to pick you up tomorrow.”
 CHAPTER 7

Dylan was on cloud nine the entire way home. He’d thoroughly enjoyed himself immensely over
dinner. He was in awe at how lively Eva was when she was relaxed and away from work.
Her response about how she never kissed on the first date made his toes curl in anticipation and
happiness. Everything that was said or done, every smile, each laugh, couldn’t have gone better if
he’d orchestrated everything himself. It was like meeting someone that just understood you, someone
who was on the same wavelength.
Flipping on the radio to his truck, Dylan found himself humming along happily to the music and
tapping his hands on the steering wheel in time with it. He couldn’t think of any date that he’d ever
been on in his past that made him feel just so brilliantly alive. He knew that the memory of this
evening would be a shining moment in his mind forever.
Hopping out of the truck, he took the stairs to the apartment he shared with Ethan two at a time.
Still humming, he unlocked the door and assumed that Ethan would be asleep, only to see him up and
watching the news.
“Hey man, what are you up to?”
“Well you look awfully chipper! What are you up to?”
“I think I met the most awesome woman ever.”
“Daisy?” Ethan teased, his eyebrow lifting in a mock challenge.
“No, you can have her – she’s got eyes for nobody but you and I prefer my girls a little more
outspoken, fun, and…” Dylan stopped, searching for a word to describe Eva. “…Incredible.”
“Nerd alert! The man’s got a huge crush – oh, let me tell the rest of the guys,” Ethan teased,
picking up his phone and pretending to text. Dylan grabbed the phone and looked at the screen,
flushing guiltily as he handed it back.
“So, who is this mysterious incredible woman?”
“It’s none of your business, and you don’t know her anyhow.”
“Is it the girl from the café,” Ethan said mysteriously and ducked as Luka threw a bolster at his
head.
“John sure talks a lot.”
“Actually, he’s pretty happy for you and said she’s seems really nice. He also told me that she
wasn’t afraid to put you in your place and that you’d made a total ‘noob’ of yourself the first time you
met her. Is that true? Smooth-with-the-girls-Luka is a huge dork with this particular chick?”
“Oh yeah,” Dylan laughed, plopping down on the couch beside Ethan. “I’ve got it pretty bad with
this one. Dinner was amazingly fun and her smile is breathtaking.”
“Did you test yet after dinner? You seem a little distracted by your new lady love, buddy.”
 “Shoot! No,” Dylan admitted and hesitated. Normally someone bringing it up would irritate him,
but Ethan had been nothing but understanding. They seemed to have an unspoken code among them. He
didn’t treat Ethan as helpless with his prosthetic limb - Ethan didn’t pester him about his food intake
and diabetes.
“Thanks for the reminder.”
Dylan bolted off the couch back to his room and quickly swiped his finger with an alcohol pad.
He winced at the click the pen made and the jab of the lancet, before squeezing a drop onto the tester
strip. The screen lit up and Dylan quickly jotted down the number in the digital app on his phone and
let out his breath. He’d been a little low before dinner and adjusted his insulin levels. He was afraid
by reducing them, he would have tested really high. Maybe he was getting the trick of this after all?

EVA DROVE into work the next morning and felt so excited for their date this evening. She’d never
laughed so hard or had such a wonderful time in a long time – and Dylan wasn’t pushy about it. She’d
been on dates that had ended badly, even spraying mace on a guy when she was younger who didn’t
understand what ‘no’ meant.
It was like Dylan was just happy to get the chance to spend time with her. She had no idea what
movies were out and truthfully, she realized that it didn’t matter what was playing. She couldn’t wait
to see his smile and hoped that work flew by today.
It was a relief to have a break from the crazy running around she’d been doing the last few weeks.
Her life felt like a rat-race each semester, consisting of work early in the morning – then her classes –
wrapping up her day with what she didn’t finish at work earlier in the day. Paula never complained
about the overtime because she was aware that Eva was doing the job of two people. In between
semesters usually involved her splitting her day in two shifts with a big gap in the middle.
The morning flew past and before she realized it the café started to get crowded, signaling that the
second wave of customers was getting ready to start. Glancing up at the clock, she smiled softly,
knowing that Dylan would probably be here shortly.
She worked the counter happily, watching the door ever so often, and was crushed to see that he
never appeared. Part of her hurt inside at realizing that now that they’d gone out, maybe the chase was
over? Was he one of those guys that only enjoyed the pursuit of his prey? Just as she turned to wash
her hands and clean up, she heard the bell chime on the door and peeked over her shoulder.
“I’m late,” Dylan said with a soft smile, holding a bouquet of flowers. In his hand, he held a small
cluster of wildflowers wrapped in green floral paper and tied with a bright neon pink ribbon.
“What can I get you?” she said smoothly, trying to keep from gushing over the flowers and the fact
that he’d arrived, her fears dissolving before her eyes in his smile.
“You aren’t going to ask why?”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Can you join me for a few minutes away from the counter?” he asked shyly, handing her the
flowers. “I’m fairly bursting with excitement and I want to tell someone the news.”
“Sure. Give me a second to put these in water and I’ll be right out,” Eva said, curiosity piqued.
She accepted the bouquet and slipped around the corner back towards the kitchen to sniff them. The
flowers had a faint clean scent that wasn’t overpowering. The blooms smelled like sunshine and
summertime. Smiling, she put them in water and hesitated.
 Dylan never ordered lunch.
Grabbing a small salad, she threw in some grilled chicken, croutons, a few wedges of tomato, and
a boiled egg. One of the girls Eva had hired, who’d been with her since she took over, was in the
kitchen piping frosting on sugar cookies and smiled at Eva.
“Is your guy here again today?”
“He’s not really my guy, but yes. He just got here.”
“It’s sweet that he comes here every day just to see you.”
“Yeah it is. Can you ring me up for a salad and put it on my account?”
“You got it.”
“Thank you, Chelsea,” Eva said quietly, nodding. She poured a cup of coffee for herself and
grabbed a Diet Coke for Dylan before heading into the dining room.
He was easy to find, sitting alone at one of her favorite tables. The light from the window
streamed in, highlighting the stained-glass mural of a coffeepot among a bunch of flowers. It was one
of the coziest spots in the entire building and she often did her studying there. Sliding the tray onto the
table, she saw his surprised smile as he looked up at her.
“My treat,” she smiled, “You bought dinner so I thought I’d treat you to lunch. Eat up and tell me
what happened that has you so excited.”
“You’re the best,” he admitted, picking up his fork and taking a bite. Eva noticed that his hand had
a slight tremor to it and didn’t comment. She just gave him a few minutes to eat, while stirring a pink
packet of sweetener in her coffee and taking a sip. It was so nice to have a chance to stop and take a
moment for herself – and spend it with him.
“So, I’ve been waiting to be cleared for duty and the captain pulled me aside, putting me on a shift
with John,” he said excitedly. “I’m being moved from dispatcher and out to patrol finally. I found out
today! I’d been put on desk duty until I had my records in order and truthfully – I’m glad to get this
chance. Apparently it didn’t used to be this way and was a lot like the military – you couldn’t serve.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, you know? That’s the reason I was late, because I had to sign quite
a bit of paperwork, get assigned a badge, a gun, and other stuff.”
“That’s wonderful,” Eva said happily, smiling at his enthusiastic expression. His eyes crinkled at
the corners as he grinned good-naturedly.
“I know it’s hard to explain – but this feels like I’ve accomplished something and that I’m getting
a second chance to be a part of something greater, you know?
“I understand,” she said, laying her hand down on top of his where it sat on the table. “I really am
very happy for you, Dylan. You’ll be great.”
“You’re the first person I’ve told. John knows because he asked to be assigned with me. I’m glad
that I’m riding with John and Radar truthfully – it will be like being back home… well… in
Afghanistan again,” he said sheepishly. “It wasn’t home - but felt like it because I was there for so
long.”
“You don’t have to explain. I understand.”
Dylan turned over his hand so he could cradle her hand in his instead of hers covering his. She
swallowed nervously, feeling the temperature of the room as it seemed to increase tenfold suddenly at
the warmth of his touch.
“I like you holding my hand,” he said quietly, his eyes watching hers.
“Don’t go getting all mushy on me,” Eva blustered nervously, feeling her face flush, “I’m going to
have to get back to work soon.”
“I know.”
 “But my coffee isn’t finished and neither is your salad.”
“True,” he smiled, pulling his hand away and picking up his fork to finish the last few bites, “I’m
going to have to get back too. I’ve got a date with an angel tonight and can’t risk getting tied up at
work again.”
“What time do you want to meet here?”
“I could pick you up, if you want?”
“Or we could meet at the theater,” she suggested as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and set his
fork down.
“Would you prefer that?”
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Dylan replied easily. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“What time?”
“Is six okay or do you need later?”
“That’s fine with me.”
Eva got to her feet, feeling a little guilty, like she was lazing about on the clock in front of her
team. She picked up the tray and Dylan got to his feet, preparing to leave, right beside her. She picked
up the faint scent of his cologne and saw a light scruff on his jaw, staring fascinated at the soft curve
of his lips when he looked at her. She adored the fact that he seemed to be always so light-hearted,
that he laughed and smiled so easily.
For a moment, Eva thought he might lean down and kiss her right there in the middle of the café as
he hesitated. She caught her breath, wanting him to do it yet not ready to make things serious between
them. He seemed to realize she was nervous and took a step back.
“I’ll see you soon.”

DYLAN HAD BEEN SO excited that he’d been cleared that he didn’t pay attention to what time of the day
it was. He’d been so good at being on a schedule and watching things carefully, it was surprisingly
easy to have time slip by. When he’d realized it was almost two, he’d raced over for two reasons. He
wanted to tell Eva about being put on active duty – and secondly – he needed to eat something soon.
He’d walked in and saw her standing behind the counter, looking lovely as ever. Today, she had a
large baby-blue clip holding her hair from her face that only served to accent her cool skin tones. She
looked like a delicate fairy that seemed to be skittish around him when he got close – making him
yearn to soothe her and gain her trust. When they were just talking or chatting, he adored her quick
wit. She was a mix of fire and ice – intriguing.
The rest of the afternoon flew by and before he knew it, he was standing in the lobby of the theater
waiting for Eva to arrive. He saw her glide in through the door and knew it sounded poetic to think
that the lobby seemed brighter now that she had entered the room. Smiling, he extended his hand
towards her.
“You look lovely.”
“I’m still wearing my work clothes.”
“Well, you practically glow in them then,” he teased, wishing he could wax poetic right about
now without looking utterly stupid. He’d tell her that her eyes reminded him of the warm waters of the
Caribbean, that her skin looked like the crystalline sands of an idyllic beach, and her lips like a…
starfish?
He accidently let out a snort of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Eva asked, looking at him warily and then around the lobby where they were
walking up to the ticket counter to get their 3D glasses.
“Nothing! Nothing,” he said quickly and smiled at her, trying to cover up his thoughts. He handed
over the ticket stubs and one pair of glasses for the movie as a distraction.
He was a blasted fool and falling for Eva awfully fast to think a starfish was an appropriate
description, but to him – it just kind of fit. He adored her smile and shape of her lips when they
pursed. They did remind him of a starfish, but in an eclectic weird way of thinking. Not the spines,
legs, or suckers – oh no, not that at all! Rather her lips were a deep, pink, fascinating color that he
knew hid a soft warm center – the very heart of her.
“You’re still smiling and looking at me weird.”
“Sorry – I’ll look at you normally now. I promise.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I’m teasing.”
“What theater are we in?”
“This one,” Dylan said easily and held open the door for her to enter. They walked up the
carpeted ramp and quickly took their seats. They saw several people sitting around with their glasses
on their face already, glancing at Eva. Apparently she had the same idea, because she’d put her
glasses on and was getting ready to take a photo. The black framed 3D glasses looked too big for her
face, making her utterly adorable.
“Hang on,” he muttered, putting his on. “Take one of the two of us.”
Leaning in, they put their heads close and smiled at the phone. The photo was cute, but he was
more touched that they’d actually taken a picture together.
“Can I get a copy of that?”
“Sure.”
The lights dimmed and the screen flickered brightly as the trailers of the other movies began to
play. Sitting back in the chairs, Dylan realized that coming to a movie with Eva wasn’t the best date
idea he’d ever had – it was one of the worst.
It was pitch black except for the light off the screen, making it nearly impossible to see Eva’s
expressive face. They were sitting in separate chairs, so they couldn’t even cuddle if he wanted to!
Nor could they talk due to their surroundings. Either they, or the people around them, would not
appreciate the movie being interrupted by a bunch of talking.
And this was about to go on for just over two hours and twenty minutes.
Tactical dating error 101.

EVA SAT THERE in the dark, watching the movie. This had to be the strangest date ever. First Dylan
was definitely laughing at something, making her feel extremely self-conscious. She thought about
going to the bathroom to check her teeth… and did check her blouse several times for stains.
Now they were sitting in the dark, beside each other, not saying a word. If she wanted to sit with
someone for two hours, she could have been in a lecture hall. The movie was decent, not anything she
would have bragged about, but worth watching for sure for someone.
 It was the way they sat all prim in their own seats. He wasn’t holding her hand or anything
remotely romantic at all – but then again did she even want that? Was this a deliberate ploy to give
her space and take things slow? If so, she appreciated that sort of… but if she was actually dating
someone, she wanted it to be something special.
Dating meant relationships developed…
Relationships meant time and commitment…
Commitment meant distraction…
And distraction meant delaying her own advancement, her goals.
So, what exactly did she even want?
Just then, she felt his hand reach over and touch hers where it lay on her leg near the empty
armrest of the seat. He scooped up her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and propped it between
them.
Glancing over, she saw the light of the screen flicker off his face, catching a glimpse of his
expression in the shadows, and that charming upturned curve of his lip. Facing back towards the front,
she settled back in her seat. She felt his thumb brush her hand steadily back and forth. It was a tender
sign of affection, like he couldn’t help but caress her hand. Eva couldn’t contain the sigh of happiness
that escaped her.
When the lights came up, Dylan held her hand on the way out towards the parking lot. She kind of
regretted being stubborn and asking him to meet her here. She’d been stubbornly trying to keep a
distance because she realized her own level of attraction to him as she listened to him talk about the
movie as they headed towards her vehicle. He’d insisted, refusing to budge an inch and balking at her
suggestion that she could walk to her car alone in the dark.
“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Dylan asked, turning to smile at her as he leaned against
her car. There was a soft, gentle, masculine air to him that just struck her as perfect. A little bit
playful, a dash of personality, and a sprinkle of sexiness that was a devastating combination.
“I’m pretty boring away from work. A few loads of laundry, doing the dishes, going to the grocery
store, and basically adulting during my time off. You? What do you have planned?”
“Nothing incredibly exciting – except that I happen to have a friend that is going to be grilling
some brats and watching the game.”
“What game?”
“Truthfully – I don’t know,” Dylan admitted and grinned.
“I’m not big on following sports. I usually spend my down time doing stuff like reading or running
on the ‘dreadmill’. It’s boring but I get to listen to my headphones for a while and check-out
mentally.”
Smiling at his nickname for the treadmill, Eva glanced down at their hands as he laced his fingers
with hers. She really enjoyed the way they just seemed to click together on everything. This was all
so new, so different.
“How about,” he said slowly, pulling their linked hands up towards his chest and laying them
together just above his heart, “we spend our ‘boring’ and ‘incredibly exciting’ day off together
having brats and wiping the floor with my friends in an intense game of Trivial Pursuit, Monopoly,
Scrabble, or whatever sports game is on the television?”
“Oh really? A little competitive, are we?”
“Very – and you never know someone until they are challenged head-on by a few difficult
questions,” he teased lightly, tugging her a little closer towards him.
“I’m incredibly competitive too - and play to win,” Eva warned quietly, not fighting the attraction
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Sir Drue Drury called for tobacco-pipes at a tavern. The waiter
brought some, and, in laying them down on the table, broke most of
them. Sir Drue swore a great oath, that they were made of the same
metal with the Commandments. “Why so?” says one. Because they
are so soon broken.

A rich usurer was very lame of one of his legs, and yet nothing of
hurt outwardly to be seen, whereupon he sent for a surgeon for his
advice; who, being more honest than ordinary, told him, “It was in
vain to meddle with it, for it was only old age that was the cause.”
But why then (said the usurer) should not my other leg be as lame as
this, seeing that the one is no older than the other?

A gentleman disputing about religion in Button’s Coffeehouse,

some of the company said, “You talk of religion! I will hold you five
guineas, you cannot repeat the Lord’s prayer; Sir Richard Steele
here shall hold stakes.” The money being deposited, the gentleman
began, I believe in God; and so went through his Creed. Well, said
the other, I own I have lost, but I did not think that you could have
done it.

A gentleman calling for small-beer at another gentleman’s table,

finding it very hard, gave it the servant again without drinking.
“What,” said the master of the house, “do you not like the beer?” It is
not to be found fault with, answered the other, for one should never
speak ill of the dead.
Some gentlemen being at a tavern together, for want of better
diversion, some proposed play; but, said another of the company, “I
have fourteen good reasons against gaming.” “What are those,” said
another? “In the first place,” answered he, I have no Money. Oh! said
the first, if you had four hundred reasons, you need not name
another.

Quin used to apply a story to the then ministry. A master of a brig

calls out, Who is there? A boy answered, Will, Sir.—What are you
doing?—Nothing, Sir.—Is Tom there?—Yes, says Tom.—What are
you doing, Tom?—Helping Will, Sir.

A gentleman, passing a woman who was skinning eels, and

observing the torture of the poor animals, asked her, how she could
have the heart to put them to such pain. Ah, said she, poor
creatures! they be used to it.

A silly priest at Trumpington being to read that place, Eli, Eli,

Lamasabachthani, began to consider with himself, that it might be
ridiculous and absurd for him to read it as it stood, because he was
vicar of Trumpington, and not of Ely: and therefore he read it,
Trumpington, Trumpington, Lamasabachthani.

It seems impossible, right here, not to digress, chronologically, for

a moment.
Every one will have noticed that these old time jests are the
foundations on which many modern stories are built, but the last one
quoted above is so palpably the prototype of a current Boston story
that it must be told.
 A small child named Halliwell, spending the night with a neighbor,
Mrs. Cabot, knelt at the knee of her hostess to say her evening
prayer.
“Our Father who art in Heaven,” the little visitor began devoutly,
“Cabot be thy name—”
“What? What do you mean?” asked the startled lady.
“Oh,” said the child, “of course, at home, I say ‘Halliwell be thy
name,’ but here, I thought it more polite to say Cabot.”

It is held by most writers on the subject that the great influx of

humor into literature took place in the latter half of the sixteenth
century.
This is partly because the progressing art of printing brought
about the influx of many elements into literature at that time, and
also because then appeared the work of three of the greatest of the
world’s humorists.
Shakespeare in England, Rabelais in France and Cervantes in
Spain, gave us their immortal works.
Earlier in the century Thomas More in his Utopia and Nicholas
Udall in his Ralph Royster Doyster wrote in humorously satiric vein,
but these works are difficult to quote from satisfactorily.
Having reached the period when Humor began to be produced in
various countries independently of one another, it becomes
necessary to modify our strict chronological arrangement and
consider the nations and their humorists separately.
Before this, broadly speaking, literature should be considered as a
whole, but as great names began to appear in certain widely
separated localities, a national division must be made.
And so, continuing in England, we come to William Shakespeare.
 With Shakespeare’s greatness as a poet and dramatist we are not
here concerned, but there are some critics who dispute his
preeminence as a humorist.
While Hazlitt declared that in his opinion Molière was as great or
greater than Shakespeare as a comic genius; Doctor Johnson, on
the other hand, held that Shakespeare’s comedies are better than
his tragedies.
However, few are found to support Johnson’s opinion, and Hazlitt
qualifies his by saying that as Shakespeare’s imagination and poetry
were the master qualities of his mind, the ludicrous was forced to
take second place.
Both these worthies, however, agree on the question of Falstaff’s
greatness, and Hazlitt takes this attitude.
“I would not be understood to say that there are not scenes or
whole characters in Shakespeare equal in wit and drollery to
anything upon record. Falstaff alone is an instance, which, if I would,
I could not get over. He is the leviathan of all the creatures of the
author’s comic genius, and tumbles about his unwieldy bulk in an
ocean of wit and humour. But in general it will be found (if I am not
mistaken), that even in the very best of these the spirit of humanity
and the fancy of the poet greatly prevail over the mere wit and satire,
and that we sympathize with his characters oftener than we laugh at
them. His ridicule wants the sting of ill-nature. He had hardly such a
thing as spleen in his composition. Falstaff himself is so great a joke,
rather from his being so huge a mass of enjoyment than of
absurdity.”
While with equal perceptive judgment “Falstaff,” says Dr. Johnson,
“unimitated, unimitable Falstaff, how shall I describe thee? Thou
compound of sense and vice; of sense which may be admired but
not esteemed; of vice which may be despised, but hardly detested!
Falstaff ... is a thief and a glutton, a coward and a boaster, always
ready to cheat the weak and prey upon the poor; to terrify the
timorous and insult the defenceless. At once obsequious and
malignant, he satirizes in their absence those whom he lives by
flattering.... Yet the man thus corrupt, thus despicable, makes himself
necessary to the Prince that despises him, by the most pleasing of
all qualities, perpetual gaiety, by an unfailing power of exciting
laughter, which is the more freely indulged, as his wit is not of the
splendid or ambitious kind, but consists in easy scapes and sallies of
levity, which make sport, but raise no envy.”
One of the most difficult of all poets to quote from, we can only
offer detached and fugitive fragments of Shakespeare’s plays;
beginning with a bit quoted by Hazlitt and accompanied by his
delightful observations thereon.
“Shakespeare takes up the meanest subjects with the same
tenderness that we do an insect’s wing, and would not kill a fly. To
give a more particular instance of what I mean, I will take the
inimitable and affecting, though most absurd and ludicrous dialogue,
between Shallow and Silence, on the death of old Double.”

Shallow. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir;
give me your hand, sir; an early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth
my good cousin Silence?
Silence. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.
Shallow. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your
fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?
Silence. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.
Shallow. By yea and nay, sir; I dare say, my cousin William is
become a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not?
Silence. Indeed, sir, to my cost.
Shallow. He must then to the inns of court shortly. I was once of
Clement’s inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.
Silence. You were called lusty Shallow then, cousin.
Shallow. I was called anything, and I would have done anything
indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of
Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and
Will Squele, a Cotswold man, you had not four such swinge-bucklers
in all the inns of court again; and, I may say to you, we knew where
the bonarobas were, and had the best of them all at commandment.
Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas
Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.
Silence. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about
soldiers?
Shallow. The same Sir John, the very same: I saw him break
Schoggan’s head at the court-gate, when he was a crack, not thus
high; and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish,
a fruiterer, behind Gray’s-inn. O, the mad days that I have spent! and
to see how many of mine old acquaintances are dead!
Silence. We shall all follow, cousin.
Shallow. Certain, ’tis certain, very sure, very sure: death (as the
Psalmist saith) is certain to all, all shall die.—How a good yoke of
bullocks at Stamford fair?
Silence. Truly cousin, I was not there.
Shallow. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?
Silence. Dead, sir.
Shallow. Dead! see, see! he drew a good bow; and dead? he shot
a fine shoot. John of Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money
on his head. Dead! he would have clapped i’ th’ clout at twelve
score; and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and a half, that it
would have done a man’s heart good to see.—How a score of ewes
now?
Silence. Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be
worth ten pounds.
Shallow. And is old Double dead?
 There is not anything more characteristic than this in all
Shakespeare. A finer sermon on mortality was never preached. We
see the frail condition of human life, and the weakness of the human
understanding in Shallow’s reflections on it; who, while the past is
sliding from beneath his feet, still clings to the present. The meanest
circumstances are shown through an atmosphere of abstraction that
dignifies them: their very insignificance makes them more affecting,
for they instantly put a check on our aspiring thoughts, and remind
us that, seen through that dim perspective, the difference between
the great and little, the wise and foolish, is not much. ‘One touch of
nature makes the whole world kin’: and old Double, though his
exploits had been greater, could but have had his day. There is a
pathetic naïveté mixed up with Shallow’s commonplace reflections
and impertinent digressions. The reader laughs (as well he may) in
reading the passage, but he lays down the book to think. The wit,
however diverting, is social and humane. But this is not the
distinguishing characteristic of wit, which is generally provoked by
folly, and spends its venom upon vice.
The fault, then, of Shakespeare’s comic Muse is, in my opinion,
that it is too good-natured and magnanimous. It mounts above its
quarry. It is ‘apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and
delectable shapes’: but it does not take the highest pleasure in
making human nature look as mean, as ridiculous, and contemptible
as possible. It is in this respect, chiefly, that it differs from the
comedy of a later, and (what is called) a more refined period.”

FROM HENRY IV, PART I

Enter Henry Prince of Wales and Sir John Falstaff.

Falstaff. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

Prince Henry. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack, and
unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after
noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou
wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the
day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and
clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses,
and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffata,
I see no reason why thou should’st be so superfluous to demand the
time of the day.
Falstaff. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we that take
purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phœbus—he,
“that wand’ring knight so fair.” And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when
thou art king, as God save thy grace (majesty I should say; for grace
thou wilt have none)—
Prince Henry. What! none?
Falstaff. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue
to an egg and butter.
Prince Henry. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly.
Falstaff. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us
that are squires of the night’s body, be called thieves of the day’s
beauty; let us be—Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the shade,
minions of the moon: and let men say, we be men of good
government; being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste
mistress the moon, under whose countenance we—steal.
Prince Henry. Thou say’st well, and it holds well, too; for the
fortune of us, that are the moon’s men, doth ebb and flow like the
sea; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now, a
purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most
dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing—lay by;
and spent with crying—bring in; now, in as low an ebb as the foot of
the ladder; and, by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the
gallows.
Falstaff. By the Lord, thou say’st true, lad. And is not my hostess
of the tavern a most sweet wench?
Prince Henry. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And
is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?
Falstaff. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips and thy
quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
 Prince Henry. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the
tavern?
Falstaff. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and
oft.
Prince Henry. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
Falstaff. No, I’ll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
Prince Henry. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would
stretch; and where it would not I have used my credit.
Falstaff. Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here apparent that
thou art heir apparent,—But, I pr’ythee, sweet wag, shall there be
gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus
fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do not
thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.
Prince Henry. No; thou shalt.
Falstaff. Shall I? Oh, rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.
Prince Henry. Thou judgest false already; I mean thou shalt have
the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
Falstaff. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humor,
as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.
Prince Henry. For obtaining of suits?
Falstaff. Yea, for obtaining of suits; whereof the hangman hath no
lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib-cat or a lugged
bear.
Prince Henry. Or an old lion; or a lover’s lute.
Falstaff. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
Prince Henry. What say’st thou to a hare, or the melancholy of
Moor-ditch.
Falstaff. Thou hast the most unsavory similes; and art, indeed, the
most comparative, rascalliest,—sweet young prince,—But Hal, I
pr’ythee trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and I
knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: an old
lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir;
but I marked him not; and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded
him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.
Prince Henry. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets
and no man regards it.
Falstaff. Oh, thou hast damnable iteration; and art, indeed, able to
corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,—God
forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now
am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked.
I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, and I do
not, I am a villain; I’ll be damned for never a king’s son in
Christendom.
Prince Henry. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
Falstaff. Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I’ll make one; an I do not,
call me villain, and baffle me.
Prince Henry. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from
praying to purse-taking.

FROM MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

Conrade, Borachio, Dogberry, Verges, Sexton, and the
Watch.

Dogberry. Is our whole dissembly appeared?

Verges. Oh, a stool and a cushion for the sexton!
Sexton. Which be the malefactors?
Dogberry. Marry, that am I and my partner.
Verges. Nay, that’s certain. We have the exhibition to examine.
Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? Let
them come before master constable.
Dogberry. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your
name, friend?
 Borachio. Borachio.
Dogberry. Pray, write down—Borachio.—Yours, sirrah?
Conrade. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.
Dogberry. Write down—master gentleman Conrade.—Masters, do
you serve God?
Conrade, Borachio. Yea, sir, we hope.
Dogberry. Write down—that they hope they serve God. And write
God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains!—
Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false
knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you
for yourselves?
Conrade. Marry, sir, we are none.
Dogberry. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go
about with him.—Come you hither, sirrah; a word in your ear, sir; I
say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.
Borachio. Sir, I say to you, we are none.
Dogberry. Well, stand aside.—’Fore God, they are both in a tale.
Have you writ down, that they are none?
Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way to examine: you
must call forth the watch that are their accusers.
Dogberry. Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way.—Let the watch come
forth.—Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s name, accuse these
men.
1st Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince’s brother,
was a villain.
Dogberry. Write down—Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat
perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain.
Borachio. Master constable—
Dogberry. Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I promise
thee.
 Sexton. What heard you him say else?
2d Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don
John, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.
Dogberry. Flat burglary as ever was committed!
Verges. Yea, by the mass, that it is.
Sexton. What else, fellow?
1st Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to
disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her.
Dogberry. O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting
redemption for this.
Sexton. What else?
2d Watch. This is all.
Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince
John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner
accused, in this very manner refused, and, upon the grief of this,
suddenly died.—Master constable, let these men be bound, and
brought to Leonato’s: I will go before, and show him their
examination.
(Exit.)
Dogberry. Come, let them be opinioned.
Verges. Let them be in the hands—
Conrade. Off, coxcomb!
Dogberry. God’s my life! Where’s the sexton? Let him write down
—the prince’s officer, coxcomb.—Come, bind them.—Thou naughty
varlet!
Conrade. Away! You are an ass! you are an ass!
Dogberry. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect
my years?—Oh, that he were here to write me down an ass!—But,
masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down,
yet forget not than I am an ass.—No, thou villain, thou art full of
piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise
fellow; and, which is more, an officer; and, which is more, a
householder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in
Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow
enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath
two gowns, and everything handsome about him.—Bring him away.
—Oh, that I had been writ down an ass!

FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE

Launcelot. Certainly, my conscience will serve me to run this Jew

my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me,
“Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,” or “good Gobbo,” or
“good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away.” My
conscience says, “No; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed,
honest Gobbo”; or, as aforesaid, “honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not
run; scorn running with thy heels.” Well, the most courageous fiend
bids me pack: “Via!” says the fiend; “away!” says the fiend; “for the
heavens, rouse up a brave mind,” says the fiend, “and run.” Well, my
conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to
me, “My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man’s son,” or
rather an honest woman’s son; for, indeed, my father did something
smack—something grow to—he had a kind of taste—well, my
conscience says, “Launcelot, budge not.” “Budge,” says the fiend.
“Budge not,” says my conscience. “Conscience,” say I, “you counsel
well.” “Fiend,” say I, “you counsel well.” To be ruled by my
conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who—God bless
the mark!—is a kind of devil; and to run away from the Jew, I should
be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil
himself. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil incarnation; and, in my
conscience, my conscience is a kind of hard conscience to offer to
counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly
counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are at your commandment; I will
run.

FROM HAMLET

Polonius and Hamlet, reading.

 Polonius. How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Hamlet. Well, God-’a’-mercy.
Polonius. Do you know me, my lord?
Hamlet. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger
Polonius. Not I, my lord.
Hamlet. Then I would you were so honest a man.
Polonius. Honest, my lord?
Hamlet. Ay, sir: to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man
picked out of ten thousand.
Polonius. That’s very true, my lord.
Hamlet. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a good
kissing carrion—Have you a daughter?
Polonius. I have, my lord.
Hamlet. Let her not walk i’ the sun: conception is a blessing; but
not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to’t.
Polonius. How say you by that? (Aside.) Still harping on my
daughter. Yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger. He
is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity
for love; very near this. I’ll speak to him again.—What do you read,
my lord?
Hamlet. Words, words, words.
Polonius. What is the matter, my lord?
Hamlet. Between who?
Polonius. I mean the matter that you read, my lord.
Hamlet. Slanders, sir. For the satirical slave says here, that old
men have gray beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes
purging thick amber or plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful
lack of wit, together with weak hams. All of which, sir, though I most
powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it
thus set down; for you yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am: if, like a
crab, you could go backward.
Polonius. (Aside.) Though this be madness, yet there is method
in’t.—Will you walk out o’ the air, my lord?
Hamlet. Into my grave?
Polonius. Indeed, that is out o’ the air. (Aside.) How pregnant
sometimes his replies are! A happiness that often madness hits on,
which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I
will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between
him and my daughter.—My honourable lord, I will most humbly take
my leave of you.
Hamlet. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more
willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.
Polonius. Fare you well, my lord.
Hamlet. These tedious old fools!

FROM AS YOU LIKE IT

Rosalind and Orlando

Rosalind. (Aside.) I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and

under that habit play the knave with him.—Do you hear, forester?
Orlando. Very well: what would you?
Rosalind. I pray you, what is’t o’clock?
Orlando. You should ask me, what time o’ day: there’s no clock in
the forest.
Rosalind. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing
every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of
Time as well as a clock.
Orlando. And why not the swift foot of Time? Had not that been as
proper?
Rosalind. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with
divers persons. I’ll tell you, who Time ambles withal, who Time trots
withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.
Orlando. I prithee, who doth he trot withal?
Rosalind. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the
contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnised: if the interim
be but a se’nnight, Time’s pace is so hard that it seems the length of
seven years.
Orlando. Who ambles Time withal?
Rosalind. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath
not the gout; for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study; and
the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking the
burden of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burden of
heavy, tedious penury. These Time ambles withal.
Orlando. Who doth he gallop withal?
Rosalind. With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as
foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
Orlando. Who stays it still withal?
Rosalind. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between
term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves.
Orlando. Where dwell you, pretty youth?
Rosalind. Here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a
petticoat.
Orlando. Are you native of this place?
Rosalind. As the cony, that you see dwell where she is kindled.
Orlando. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase
in so removed a dwelling.
Rosalind. I have been told of so many: but, indeed, an old
religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an
inland man; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love.
I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank God I am
not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offences as he hath
generally taxed their whole sex withal.
 Orlando. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid
to the charge of women?
Rosalind. There were none principal: they were all like one
another, as half-pence are; every one fault seeming monstrous, till its
fellow fault came to match it.
Orlando. I prithee, recount some of them.
Rosalind. No; I will not cast away my physic but on those that are
sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our young plants
with carving Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns,
and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name of
Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy-monger I would give him some
good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him.
Orlando. I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you, tell me your
remedy.
Rosalind. There is none of my uncle’s marks upon you: he taught
me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes, I am sure,
you are not prisoner.
Orlando. What were his marks?
Rosalind. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye, and
sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you
have not; a beard neglected, which you have not (but I pardon you
for that, for, simply, your having in beard is a younger brother’s
revenue. Then, your hose shall be ungartered, your bonnet
unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything
about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such
man; you are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as loving
yourself, than seeming the lover of any other.
Orlando. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.
Rosalind. Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you love
believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she
does. That is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to
their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the
verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired?
 Orlando. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I
am that he, that unfortunate he.
Rosalind. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?
Orlando. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.
Rosalind. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as
well a dark house and a whip as madmen do. And the reason why
they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary
that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.
Orlando. Did you ever cure any so?
Rosalind. Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to imagine me his
love, his mistress, and I set him every day to woo me: at which time
would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate,
changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow,
inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion something,
and for no passion truly anything, as boys and women are, for the
most part, cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loathe him;
then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at
him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love, to a living
humour of madness, which was, to forswear the full stream of the
world, and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him;
and in this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a
sound sheep’s heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in’t.
Orlando. I would not be cured, youth.
Rosalind. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and
come every day to my cote, and woo me.
Orlando. Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is.
Rosalind. Go with me to it, and I’ll show it you; and, by the way,
you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go?
Orlando. With all my heart, good youth.
 Francis, Lord Bacon, gave us much wise writing, and, incidentally
much of the wit of wisdom, but we look to him in vain for laughable
humor.
A few epigrammatic selections from his essays are given.

All colours will agree in the dark.

This is certain, that a man that studieth revenge keepeth his own
wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.

Whosoever esteemeth too much of an amourous affection,

quitteth both riches and wisdom.
Money is like muck: not good except it be spread.

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil

times, and which have much veneration, and no rest.

Old men object too much, consult too long, adventure too little,
repent too soon.
 To take advice of some few friends is ever honourable; for
lookers-on many times see more than gamesters.

Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers are but buzzes; but
suspicions that are artificially nourished and put into men’s heads by
the tales and whisperings of others, have stings.

Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing

an exact man. And therefore, if man write little, he had need have a
great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and
if he read little, he had need have much cunning to seem to know
that which he doth not.

Sir John Harington, chiefly remembered for his translation of

Orlando Furioso, wrote clever humorous verse.
OF A PRECISE TAILOR
A tailor, thought a man of upright dealing—
True, but for lying, honest, but for stealing—
Did fall one day extremely sick by chance,
And on the sudden was in wondrous trance.
The fiends of hell, mustering in fearful manner,
Of sundry coloured silks displayed a banner
Which he had stolen, and wished, as they did tell,
That he might find it all one day in hell.
The man, affrighted with this apparition,
Upon recovery grew a great precisian.
He bought a Bible of the best translation,
And in his life he showed great reformation;
He walked mannerly, he talked meekly,
He heard three lectures and two sermons weekly;