A Marine of Plenty
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Marine of Plenty
Copyright © 2013 by Heather Long
ISBN: 978-1-61333-595-6
Cover art by Mina Carter
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Also by Heather Long
Always a Marine Books
Once Her Man, Always her Man
Retreat Hell! She Just Got Here
Tell it to the Marine
Proud to Serve Her
Her Marine
No Regrets, No Surrender
The Marine Cowboy
The Two and the Proud
A Marine and A Gentleman
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
Combat Barbie
What Part of Marine Don’t You Understand
A Marine Affair
Marine Ever After
Marine in the Wind
Marine with Benefits
I never planned to write “military romance.” I didn’t wake up one morning and think, huh, I should write military heroes and the men and women who love them. In fact, it was the last thing on my mind until I wrote about Luke Dexter, a retired Marine, in
Once Her Man, Always Her Man
. He left the woman he loved when he enlisted because at eighteen he didn’t figure on surviving. He was a young man going to war to defend his country—and he grew up to become a man, a Marine, and an officer.
The level of honor I discovered in this one hero, drove me to explore others. We’re a country that has been at war for over a decade. We’ve an entire generation who has known nothing but this activity and who have seen their fathers, brothers, sons, sisters, daughters, and wives serve overseas in hot zones.
Keeping It Real
As romantic as military heroes are, I like to keep it real. Most of the heroes I wrote at first were retired or no longer on active duty. But for those still on active duty—they don’t have control over everything they do because they have to be on call 24/7 even when they’re on leave.
They can’t always commit to a lifetime because their lives aren’t their own. At the end of
Her Marine
, Brody had to go because his leave was only for a couple of weeks. He enjoyed his time with Shannon and you know that he and Shannon are in touch, but he can’t just “quit” and stay with her for a happily ever after.
They Don’t Get To Pick
Applying for jobs or assignments in the military can take time and dedication and clearance. So when you get an assignment you’ve wanted, you can’t just change things overnight because you met someone. The same is true for the potential military spouse—they have to be ready to pick up and move when their spouse gets orders.
The best part of this series is putting a human face on these people who are dedicated to our country and give up what so many of us expect as essential freedoms. I respect and admire those who love them for the sacrifices they have to make as well. At the end of the day, our military and their families are heroes because they go to the places no one wants to be and they do it, knowing they might not return.
The friendships forged, the class walls that collapse, the fact that in the military you aren’t a race, or an economic status or a region—you’re Marines—battle buddies, comrades, companions, and their relationships are forged through your shared experiences.
They are the few and the proud
…
Every hero or heroine I write inspires me. The
Always a Marine
series fills me with an inexplicable hope—because it’s these men and women who protect my way of life.
Semper Fi
Heather
The mission of the U. S. Marine Corps Reserve Toys for Tots Program is to collect new, unwrapped toys during October, November, and December each year and distribute those toys as Christmas gifts to less fortunate children in the community in which the campaign is conducted. The primary goal of Toys for Tots is to deliver, through a new toy at Christmas, a message of hope to these youngsters that will assist them in becoming responsible, productive, patriotic citizens.
This holiday collection of the
Always a Marine
series is dedicated to Toys for Tots and the men and women of the United States Marine Corps Reserve who dedicate their time, their efforts, and their funds to delivering this message of hope. A portion of the proceeds from each of these books will be donated to Toys for Tots to continue that mission. Semper Fi.
~Dedication~
For every member of the armed forces and their families who had, have, and will spend a holiday apart
.
A Marine of Plenty
Always a Marine Book 17
By
Heather Long
Deplaning in Afghanistan, Jana couldn’t believe she’d made it. From Congressman Sparks’ first phone call, to the moment she boarded the Air Force C-130, she’d expected the offer to be retracted. She wasn’t a civilian contractor, just a sister on a quest for understanding. After her escort checked her flak jacket and helmet before allowing her to walk down the steps, she descended into a world away from the University of North Texas campus where she studied psychology.
The whole experience seemed surreal—she was both happy to be there and terribly sad in the same breath. The pilot reported temperatures in the sixties, odd enough considering the late November timing, but the warmth didn’t ease the apprehension in her gut. She’d wanted the trip, planned for it, and had some very specific goals.
She needed to be there, but every fiber of her being urged her to get right the hell back on the plane.
“Ma’am?” Sergeant Zalinski touched her arm, his expression wary. He’d flown the entire route with her, as a part of Operation Proper Exit. He and another half-dozen Marines left Afghanistan on stretchers or deeply wounded. The program offered them a second chance to return, face their injuries and pasts, and leave with their heads held high. Her advocacy of the program contributed to her need to spend Thanksgiving with the men and women of her brother’s unit.
“I’m fine.” She summoned a watery smile. “I don’t know what I expected when I got off the plane but this…?” It was still green, with cool breezes and warm sunshine. It felt like any other place she might have visited. The air didn’t taste foreign or bitter.
She’d thought it would be so different.
“Like hell?” Zalinski nodded, a bittersweet grin twisting his mouth. “Hell doesn’t look like hell, ma’am. It’s not the appearance, but what happens to you there that makes it hell. You can do this, Miss Grimaldi. We can do it together.”
He held out his hand and she took it, grateful for the support. The other Marines arriving with Zalinski waited a few feet away. Her legs trembled, but didn’t collapse, and every step strengthened her. Robbie had walked this land, spent the last year of his life here, fighting for, and alongside, his fellow Marines.
He’d done that. So could she.
An hour later, she watched Zalinski and the other members of his Operation Proper Exit team leaving in a convoy to begin their journey. She sat in the base office, waiting for her escort—they’d radioed ahead with news of the delay. With tan walls, the office had little in the way of decoration or personalization. A transition point, few people put their stamp on it.
Her cases and crates, including cold storage holding the turkeys and other foodstuffs for the Thanksgiving dinner she planned, waited on an overloaded pallet. Fortunately, packing it base-side under the watchful eye of base security, and having it loaded and monitored by security, meant she hadn’t had to unpack every single crate for clearance into the country.
The fruits and vegetables would have to be obtained in country, but she’d managed to bring enough different meats to satisfy any palate from roasts to turkeys. She wanted to bring hams, but they were on the restricted list. Religious reasons, she supposed. With Congressman Sparks’ help, she put together a veritable cornucopia of food, decorations, refreshments, and presents from the families at home. She even got approval for soda.
Life remained the most fragile, unpredictable of things. A week ago, a month before, she wouldn’t have imagined pulling together something so huge. Her father crawled into a bottle, her mother invested in her volunteer work, while Jana had been left with a lot of unanswered questions. Not knowing if she would ever find the answers—here or anywhere else—she still had to try. Thankfully, years of working in her father’s restaurant provided her with contacts and suppliers more than willing to donate to her effort.
“Miss Grimaldi?” A deep, smooth, masculine voice pulled her back to the present and the officer dressed in the deep dark tan and olive MARPATS waiting inside the door. He stood easily over six-foot. The uniform did little to disguise his broad shoulders or thick muscular arms.
Rising, she adjusted her bag and held out her hand, fumbling for a greeting. “Hi. Captain…?”
“Sparks.” Quiet hesitation arrested his features and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
The congressman’s brother was her escort.
Her heart thudded against her ribs and her nerves stretched taut. Captain Charles Sparks gave the order that led to her brother’s death—a communication failure. She understood all the terms, the reasoning, and the apologies. Even his letters expressed his heartfelt condolences and apologies. Letters she’d answered, and he’d returned regularly.
He grasped her hand and the world seemed to shrink away, as though someone dropped her in a drum and banged it loudly from the outside. His words had provided a desperately needed source of comfort—straightforward, blunt, and without any pretty excuses. A mistake had been made, one costing a good man his life. He didn’t ask for her forgiveness. He’d never asked her for it, no matter how many exchanges they’d had.
Staring into his coffee-brown eyes, she knew he hadn’t forgiven himself.
And that’s why Congressman Sparks offered his help and asked for mine
. Weak-kneed, she sat abruptly. Her fisted grip on the captain’s hand pulled him forward a step.
Concern rippled across his face. “Ma’am? Jana?”
Unexpected grief locked her throat and tears filmed her vision. She held up her other hand and he wavered. Fighting the urge to sniffle, she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on breathing. Grief might be the one emotion everyone had in common, but acceptance came in its own ways, on its own time. Understanding the concept intellectually and experiencing it, however, were two completely opposite things, because the crappiest part of her grief lay in how she couldn’t control it.
“I’m okay.” She fought to get the words out. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said, his voice gruff. “I should apologize. I thought you received my e-mail about being your escort.”
