21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (82 page)

“Really good. He likes what he’s doing, but even when he complains, you can see it in his eyes, you know?”

Yeah, Naomi knew. Brent loved a good fight. Win or lose, he thrived in the trenches and against the odds. “I know you were worried when he decided to run.”

“Yeah, but he won the election and he’s a junior Congressman from Texas, so—give him thirty-two more years and he’ll be leading all those committees he’s battling with right now.”

“Ha, I bet he does it in sixteen.” Or less. Brent didn’t give up.

“Probably.” Ryleigh’s tone was very dry. “But I didn’t call you to talk about your brother. Charlie ratted you out.”

“Of course he did.” As close as the brothers were, Brent probably knew ten minutes after she and Charlie hung up. Surprisingly, Brent hadn’t called her on it already.

“I twisted Brent’s arm to leave you alone.” Saved by her sister-in-law. Yes, Naomi loved her for a reason.

“Thank you.”

“Any time. But does that earn me some capital to ask questions?”

She laughed. “His name is Matt. He’s a Marine, retired. He got hurt in Iraq and he’s coping with some issues, but he’s a great guy—really sweet and so much fun.”

“Sweetie, you know I’m not going to discourage you but….”

Naomi bit her lip. “Ry—I get it, you’ve been here. You were here when Brent came home and you went through hell with him.”

“Yeah. I don’t want you to get in over your head or get hurt. If his issues….”

“I don’t care. I mean I do, but we all have problems. We all struggle with life and maybe—maybe I haven’t been through the war the way he has, but I’ve been through it on this side, just like you. I want to be there for him, I want Matt to know he has someone in his corner.”

“You never do anything halfway do you?” Indulgent affection softened her tone.

“Do any Sparks do anything halfway?” It wasn’t in their genetic makeup. She was in love, flaws and all.

“No. None of you do—exasperating and beautiful family that you are.”

“Hey now, Mrs. Sparks, you need to include yourself in that, too.”

“Oh, without a doubt.” Ryleigh’s lighthearted tone sobered. “If you are determined and I know you—you are—call me if it gets bad. You don’t have to do this alone…there are a lot of organizations out there for families like us and I want you to write these down.”

Naomi listened intently, and after five minutes she dug a pencil out of her purse and jotted notes onto a pad of paper. Her respect for her sister-in-law used to be high.

By the time the call finished, it was immeasurable.

***

Airports sucked.

Matt hated dropping her off in the morning. Hated it even more than the press of people rushing in to make their early morning flights. Naomi insisted he drop her off at the curb, which he hated. But his fluctuating mood and fraying temper warned him against pushing himself any harder.

He kissed her goodbye and watched her disappear inside with her overnight bag. Unfortunately, he couldn’t and didn’t relax until she’d texted that she arrived in Nashville. His pacing nearly wore a groove in James’ carpet. It frustrated him that the act of getting out of the truck proved so difficult. Jethro stayed with him, but even the dog seemed to miss Naomi and looked for her in the park when they went for their run.

She called at noon but didn’t have more than a few minutes to speak. The recording was going well and her enthusiasm bubbled through the phone at him. The dappled sunshine in his day went away when they hung up. He focused on getting the last of his paperwork filled out, had lunch with the guys, and took another run in the afternoon.

The hours between dropping her off and her return flight stretched out interminably. James brought a service vest around for Jethro. The outfit would allow Matt to take Jethro into the airport to wait for her—and he had every intention of being inside when she exited the secure area.

A sketchy dinner of frozen burritos and another run for Jethro killed an hour. A shower and bad science fiction movie killed another couple of hours. Her text galvanized him.

On flight. Barely. Have to shut off phone. Lots of news. Can’t wait to see you.

His phone vibrated a second time.

Okay
.

He grinned. He attached so much value to that one, stupid little word.

“Woo hoo. She’s on her way, boy. You want another walk before we drive?” The flight would take a good two hours, but he wanted to be there.

And he would be there when she walked through those doors.

Late night at DFW airport was thankfully quiet, with curbside check-in closed, as were most of the counters. Airport security spread thin, but present. Matt found a spot near the exit doors for her flight and settled along a wall. Jethro sat sentry next to him and they waited for their girl.

He’d known her a handful of days and she’d become that important to him. It shouldn’t surprise him, he’d always been the guy who knew what he wanted. The two-year struggle with indecision about his place in the world faded to a bad memory. He didn’t have answers, he didn’t have guarantees, hell—he didn’t have a job.

The security doors ahead opened and passengers began to exit in ones and twos. Matt straightened. Naomi sailed through the doors, her cell phone in her hand. Their gazes collided and her grin pierced him like a bright ray of sunshine.

What he did have was a future and a plan.

What the hell else did a Marine need?

Six months later
….

“Good evening, Dallas,” Naomi spoke into the microphone. The butterflies in her stomach flapped madly, but she pushed through it. Five hundred people filled the ballroom for the fundraiser. “My name is Naomi Sparks. Everyone has met my brother, Congressman Sparks, earlier. Once upon a time, we lived here in the Dallas area and my brother played football with Captain Luke Dexter in high school. Both would go on to join the Marines, both served their country with distinction, and both continue that service—to their friends, their family, and the Corps.”

Applause rose up to meet her announcement, and she waited for it to calm down. “It’s been my privilege to grow up in a Marine family, to support my brothers and my father—to be amazed by my mother and my sister-in-law….” She glanced at the family table. Her mother dabbed at her eyes and Ryleigh sat, a hand on her very pregnant tummy, Brent’s arm around her shoulders.

“These women—like so many of you here tonight who are members of military families—continually inspire me with their dedication to their armed forces, to those who serve. They keep the home fires burning, support their Marines, wage every battle by their sides, and fight even more to keep them safe when they come home.”

Another round of applause interrupted her and she grinned. “Mike’s Place was the brainchild of Captain Dexter and is supported fully by every family I have met here in the last several months. It has been a rare honor to get to know the men and women who work here, who come here for help, and who, in turn, volunteer their time. Our Armed Forces family is much larger than we ever realize—we all serve, we all support, we all bleed together—six months ago I recorded an album for the first time and tonight, the Dexters invited me to perform some songs from this album.”

Her nerves fluttered again and she let her gaze travel from table to table, lingering on her family and on the table next to theirs. The McCalls were there, all of them seated just a few feet from the Sparks save for one.
Her
McCall wasn’t there.

“Some injuries we can’t see, we can’t just put a BandAid on them and make them better. We can only make our way through each day, claiming small victories and celebrating our accomplishments. We can comfort the setbacks and pick ourselves up to meet the challenge the next day. We all know this, but when I recorded the album, I never imagined how difficult, or how rewarding, this fight can be. I have known the love of so many Marines in my life and tonight I am dedicating these songs to those Marines and to the one Marine that takes my breath away—every single day. He inspires me, he fills me with hope, and he makes me a better person for loving him.”

Swallowing back a clog of tears, she tried to make good on her promise not to cry. “I’m supposed to be telling you that all the proceeds from the album will be going to Mike’s Place to continue the work they do here, but I wanted to say that last night—my Marine asked me to marry him….” Applause roared up and Naomi’s smile grew, the tears in her eyes making it hard to see. At her father’s raised eyebrows, she winked. “I told him yes, Daddy.”

The crowd’s thunderous applause drowned out anything else she could say, and it took another few minutes for them to settle again. Turning her head, she stared at the backstage wing and met Matt’s wild grin. He couldn’t take the crowd, but he could stand there—two of his friends flanking him and Jethro sitting proudly next to him.

“So this song is for you, Matt.”

He mouthed ‘okay’ and her heart soared. Leaning away from the microphone, she adjusted her guitar and started to play. It was the only song he’d not heard—the one she re-wrote that afternoon in Nashville.

What part of Marine don’t you understand
….

Always a Marine - Book 13

A Challenge Series Story

By

Heather Long

~Dedication~

For my Michael and twenty plus years of friendship.

Eli’s gut clenched. Rick stood on the far side of the baggage claim area, just beyond the glass separating customs from the outside world. A tidal wave of humanity flowed ahead of him, eager to stretch its legs after the seventeen-plus hour flight. The passengers greeted their loved ones with enthusiastic hugs or swift handshakes. Beyond the cheerful chaos, Rick waited, the throng parting briefly to reveal him before swallowing him up again.

Adjusting the grip on his bag, Eli shook his head. The man’s timing continued to suck on an epic scale. Rick McConnell was the last person he wanted to see. Not when Eli, agitated and impatient from the long flight, spoiled for a fight. He cut left, circling the crowd and heading for the exit. He’d take a taxi to his apartment. With five days until he needed to report, he planned to spend all but the last eight hours of it drinking. He’d earned it.

The doublewide glass doors swung open at his approach and Rick stepped right into his path.
Is it possible to be shocked and completely unsurprised at the same time?

“Rick.” Eli shifted his bag to the other shoulder and held out his right hand. He ignored the familiar zing when Rick clasped it. “Good to see you.” Enveloping the words in a cool impassivity, he focused on a point just to the right of Rick’s gorgeous eyes.

“You, too. Can I give you a ride?”

“No.” He shook his head again. “I’ll get a cab. I need to go.”

Sidestepping the masculine roadblock, he made it to the curb and held up a hand to summon a cab. Rick followed and climbed into the other side of the vehicle.

Son of a bitch
. Quashing the knee jerk reaction, Eli gave the driver his address and leaned back in the seat. Hot on the heels of his irritation with the man’s choice came a grudging admiration for his tactics. Unless he wanted a fistfight, they would share the cab.

“How was Africa?” Rick made no move to touch him, maintaining the perimeter.

“Hot.”
Uncomfortable. Exhausting. Lonely
. Three words Eli promised he would never use out loud.

“I can imagine. Training camps?”

“Yep.” He refused to have that conversation with Rick. He looked good. Rested. Tanned. Fit. His assignment to the Medical Center detail must be treating him well. Not that Eli had any intentions of asking him about it.

Five minutes stretched into fifteen.

“How long until you have to report for reassignment?”

“Long enough.”

He should have rented a car. The cab was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the trucks he’d ridden through half of Africa in, too bad he couldn’t be back there at the moment,
sans
Rick. Far easier to put his lover out of his mind from eight thousand miles away.

Refusing to engage seemed to do the trick. Rick finally went quiet. Thirty-five strained minutes later, the cab driver swung into the tree-lined apartment complex where Eli had maintained a residence for nearly a decade. It didn’t matter where his assignments took him or for how many years—he liked his place. He kept his place.

Fortunately, he had a sister who managed it as a sublet for him after she’d moved out and closer to Washington, D.C.

Doubly fortunate for him that she’d just given birth to her fourth child and wouldn’t be anywhere near the Capitol. Without a word to Rick, he paid the cab driver and claimed his bag. Undeterred, the naval officer followed. Inside, the quiet rush of familiar surroundings and scents washed over Eli and he couldn’t ignore Rick anymore.