A Soldier for Christmas (10 page)

They do, she agreed. I usually get the chocolate fudge sundae, the one they sprinkle peanuts on top.

His answer shot back, You’re killing me. I just had an unrecognizable casserole. It tasted like tuna and creamed potatoes.

Yum, she replied. It puts my mac and cheese to shame.

She left the message to post while she grabbed her steaming cup of water from the microwave. When she returned to the table, Mitch’s answer was waiting for her.

You didn’t elaborate on the singles’ thing. You said you didn’t date.

She shook her head in disbelief. Mitch had been blatantly clear about only wanting a friendship with her, as she’d been with him. She typed, It’s not a date. It’s a church group function.

A singles’ function. His reply was almost instant.

I go for the ice cream and fellowship. I don’t think I’ll ever date again, she wrote.

Why not?

She stared at his question. The fragments of her past began to whisper behind the locked places in her heart. She wanted to silence those whispers, but her fingers were typing the words before she thought them.

Because I’ve stopped believing that good things are meant for me. She hit Send and waited, watching the cursor blink and feeling the beat of panic pulse through her. That was way too honest, but it was too late to take back the words.

Mitch’s answer came immediately. I don’t believe that. Not for a single nanosecond.

Old wounds ached like a sore tooth as she steeled her heart and wrote the plain truth. Life isn’t a fairy tale—at least my life isn’t. End of discussion. You never answered the question in the e-mail I sent. What kind of meals do you get in a can?

Nice try, came his answer, but I’m not gonna let you change the subject like that. What happened with Joe?

Her hands shook as she typed an answer. Two Saturdays ago I went to put flowers on Joe’s grave. He’s been gone three years now.

Maybe that was being way too honest—for herself and for poor Mitch who was just wanting to hear about the ice cream shop back home.

Then came his unexpected reply. I’m sorry. I know how painful it is to lose someone you care about. If it happens often enough, there comes a time when you can’t stand to let anyone else too close. Not one more time.

He knew. Kelly squeezed her eyes shut to hold the emotions inside. How did she answer him? Anything honest she could say would hurt too much.

More words appeared on the screen. I’ve lost a few buddies over the years. Men I respected and thought of as my brothers. It’s never easy to understand why. You had to have been devastated.

Yes, she typed and then stopped. Emotions she’d frozen in place and tucked away seemed to melt like icicles, and the drip of fresh pain made her want to push Mitch away and keep pushing.

The pieces of the truth she’d buried, that she hadn’t shared with anyone, lay exposed.

She typed, I was devastated, but some wishes aren’t meant to come true. You don’t want to hear about that.

He answered, Sure I do.

Just find the words, Kelly. She dug down deep, and found the strength. Prayed for the ability to keep the tears out of her eyes and the sorrow from her heart. She should just tell Mitch, and then he would quit bringing it up. Besides, maybe it would be better for her to release the pain, write it down instead of saying the words out loud.

She began to type. Joe was working as a fire-fighter. You know the terrible forest fires we had in the national forests a few summers ago?

Yep, they made the national news. Even I read about them. Didn’t a couple of fire fighters die over there? One of them was Joe?

She took a gulp of air as Mitch’s question scraped against her exposed, open wounds. Yes, she answered. An unexpected high wind kicked up and trapped him and two other members of his team. This happened eight days before we were to be married.

She hung her head. She couldn’t type another word. When she was finally steady enough to wipe at her burning eyes and face the screen, Mitch’s answer was there, waiting patiently for her. You must have thought you’d finally had a real home. You lost everything with Joe. I’m sorry for that.

It wasn’t meant to be, she typed and hit Send, feeling the shadows in the corners press against the light, against her.

She’d fallen so in love with the idea of being married and of being welcomed into such a warm and loving family. The little girl who’d always felt alone and adrift had finally come home to a husband and a kind extended family. It was her most heartfelt dream.

And to stand in the church sanctuary silent with hope and promises, and to plan, instead of a wedding, a funeral. To tuck away the dreamy wedding gown of silk and lace that Joe’s sister had sewn for her and realize that this is how it would always be.

Mitch’s answer flashed onto the screen. You’re not alone.

How was it that he could know the words she most needed? She felt alone, at heart, at spirit, down to the soul. She knew God cared, that He watched over her, but not even her unerring faith could chase away the loneliness that clung with hungry talons and would not let go.

More of Mitch’s reply scrolled across the screen. “Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down.”

She recognized the passage from Isaiah. Those words were a comfort that helped to chase away the memories lying as vulnerable as an exposed root: memories of the little girl she’d been, the child with no stability or security, always wishing for someone to love her, just wanting to fit in, to belong to a real family.

The aftereffects of those memories left a bitter, cutting residue and her throat burned with unfelt emotions. She tried so hard to swallow them down, but they remained like a sticky mass, a tangle of feelings that she could not sort out. It took all of her effort to will the fragments of her past, of her memories, back into the locked room in her soul.

They typed at each other for another twenty minutes before he had to go. With training exercises awaiting him, he signed off, his heart heavy. He could feel the fragments of her broken dreams as sorely as if they were his own.

He missed her with a force so strong, he didn’t want to examine it. But as he headed out into the bitter cold, and into the remote base camp of tents, not even the miles between them could break the connection he’d felt with Kelly.

His twisted-tight emotions roiling inside him began to unravel, thread by thread. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to make sure she was never alone. That she never hurt like that again. Overwhelming tenderness detonated like a cluster bomb, and he gritted his teeth as the explosion hit. There was no hiding from it. No denying it.

This love for her was as steady as an ocean’s current. As steadfast as the northern star. And twice as enduring.

It remained through the day of exercises and all through the night and into each long absorbing day of hard work.

It did not relent.

W
ith the light of a new morning, Kelly had nothing but regrets. She’d stirred up feelings that she hadn’t intended to. What troubled her most of all was that she trusted Mitch enough to tell him.

It had been easier, sure, since he was so far away, and she hadn’t had to actually say the words out loud. But talking about her loss of Joe was one thing. Feeling Mitch’s understanding was another.

He was beyond wonderful for having listened to her so politely, when he’d probably expected a much lighter electronic conversation. He’d been way too close, ironically, seeing as he was half a world away. Without seeing her, without so much as hearing her voice, he’d been able to crack her careful defenses. Defenses she hadn’t realized were breachable until he’d walked into her life.

There was an e-mail from Mitch.

Kelly,

Glad you let me steal time out of your studies last night. I didn’t really know Joe back in high school. You know he was a year older and ran with a different crowd, but he was a good guy. I am sorry for the grief you’ve gone through. We lost a team member this past year, he and I met at boot and we were buds. It was like losing a brother. Nothing is quite the same again—it isn’t meant to be.

Hang in there. Write me when you get a chance. They keep you pretty busy here, but when you stop moving, you miss home and everyone there. I’m glad we’re friends.

Mitch

Kelly took a sip of her coffee, warmed through by his words. Relieved, too. She put aside her cup and started to type.

Mitch,

Talking with you was the best possible study break. I was worried I’d been too personal last night. I’m used to keeping the real painful stuff private. It’s just easier to deal with that way. The psychology classes I’ve taken say otherwise, but it works for me.

I know you’ve known loss, too. I am sorry about your friend. I imagine, when you eat, sleep, work and train together, that builds an immeasurably strong friendship.

I’m running late this morning, I should not be online but I was glad to see a note from you in my inbox and wanted to say thanks for listening. I’m pretty glad we’re friends, too. I’ve got to go or I’m going to be stuck in the traditional 7:45 a.m. campus traffic jam.

Plus, then I’ll get the farthest out parking spot and have a stitch in my side if I have to run to get to class on time. I have a policy on running, jogging or any kind of exercise—I am firmly against it.

Have a great day and stay safe.

Blessings, Kelly

Dear Kelly,

What? A no-exercise policy? That would never work for me. I have more of an exercise-only policy. I’ve been on the go since 0500 and it’s after 2000. One hundred percent of my workday is physical. Did you make it to class on time? Inquiring minds wanna know.

Mitch

Dear Mitch,

I have a strict no-tardy policy to go along with my no-skipping-class policy. I’m sadly scholastically minded. I often sit in the front row, take copious notes and then study my notes that evening.

Scary, I know. I’m lucky my roommate still talks to me. She says I’m way too intense so that’s why she hauls me to social events. There’s an on-campus thing, Shakespeare in the Grass, that the drama department does, weather permitting. We’re going to see
The Tempest
and then hit the pizza buffet. The play is free and there’s a great student discount at the pizza place. So it’s a night out that fits a student’s budget perfectly.

Keeping you in prayer, Kelly

Hi there, Kelly,

Ice cream and pizza in the same week? See, I’m fishing for information. How did the singles’ thing turn out?

Mitch

Dear Mitch,

I had a banana split with extra fudge sauce in your honor. Lexie and I got together with our friends Jessica and Rose. Sadly, the same guys keep coming to these events and no one is actually apparently going to date them, so the singles’ thing is a misnomer. Plus, I am, like, three years older than any guy there, since I’m working my way through school so slowly. Jessica and Rose are coming to the play tomorrow, and because these guys overheard us talking, now the entire singles’ group is coming. Stay tuned. I’ll let you know if this blond perfect-looking dude that really likes Lexie actually talks her into dating. Lexie has a strict no-dating policy too. She thinks guys are untrustworthy.

Sincerely, Kelly

Dearest Kelly,

Hey, I’m trustworthy.

Mitch, the most trustworthy guy ever.

Mitch,

I never said you weren’t. Lexie actually gave you two thumbs up, a rare review. I think you won her over with the cheesy sticks.

Blessings, Kelly

Hey, Kelly,

What can I say? Buying cheesy sticks is always the sign of a quality individual. I’m kidding, but there’s no way you can tell from here. I’ve never seen a Shakespeare play. My impression is a stuffy production where guys wear tights. Doesn’t sound dignified to me. I prefer something with a lot more action. Hey, is watching Shakespeare better outside or something?

Mitch, the uncultured

Mitch,

You might be able to scale a glacier on a mountain peak or know how to scuba dive and you’ve probably done that sliding-down-the-rope thing from helicopters, but you don’t know excitement until you’ve experienced Shakespeare. There’s a lot of action. If you’re ever in this neck of the woods again, and school is in session, I’ll drag you to one.

The play we went to this evening starts with a ship that wrecks at sea in a storm, and right when it was supposed to be raining in the play, it really did start to rain. There were cold storm gusts while the characters were getting blown around by the storm in the play. It was really cool, actually, but we were drenched. Lightning started up, and they had to call the production off due to the real tempest. We (the girls) hit the pizza place, stuffed ourselves with pizza and cheesy sticks and talked girl talk until about nine.

How did you spend your Saturday night?

Grace and peace, Kelly

Dearest Kelly,

Cleaning my gun. Then we had a rousing match of chess. I won every match except the championship of the night. It was a close call, but I fell in a brilliant move by Luke after an hour of battle. At least I went down with honor.

Cheesy sticks and pizza? I need details.

Take good care ok? Mitch

Dear Mitch,

We had our pick of every variety of pizza. I make it a policy to have a slice of each kind—the works, the meat supreme, the veggie, the Hawaiian, pepperoni, sausage and pepperoni. You name it. All but the cheese. The owner always boxes up the leftover pizza when the buffet ends and distributes it to the students. He’s an alumni and says he gets the student budget thing.

This is why we had cold pizza for breakfast. I went for the straight pepperoni but Lexie prefers the pepperoni and sausage mix for a higher protein breakfast. And guess what we had for lunch after church? You guessed it. Pizza. Enough calories to see me through a long afternoon study session. Do you get Sundays off?

I’m still keeping you in prayer, Kelly

Kelly,

Only in the sense that we’re fragged for a mission so this afternoon is prep. I’ll be out of range for a while, but I’ll e-mail you when I get back. It’s rumored we may do that sliding-down-the-rope thing from a helicopter that you mentioned before.

Thanks for your prayers, Mitch

Dearest Mitch,

I know, I have an amazing lack of military vernacular. Keep your head down. Isn’t that what they always say in those old war movies? Stay safe.

Sending even more prayers, Kelly

Dearest Kelly,

Count on it. You’re in my prayers too.

Mitch

Why did stat class always give her a headache? Because math was involved, that’s why.

Kelly rubbed her forehead as she followed the stream of students searching for lunch. Noise from the lounge drifted into the busy corridor and Kelly picked up the concerned voice of a newscaster.

“Today, three marines were injured, when—”

The noise surged around her and drowned out the televised report.

She cut through the student traffic flow to the doorway of the lounge, where students sat with their lunch or books, listening to a cable news network. On the screen in the corner, she could make out a picture of a burning car in a desert-city street before the scene flashed on to other international news.

Mitch was in the mountains and not in the desert, so that news report wasn’t in any way about him. But that didn’t stop her fear or her worry for him. That was reasonable—he might think he was invincible, but he was wrong. He was not made of titanium.

The roar of the passing students drew her away from the lounge. She wanted to be able to find a table and the longer she stood in the hallway, the less likely that was going to be. She joined the herd moving toward the turnstiles at the cafeteria. The buzz of conversation, the clatter of trays and crunch of the ice machine echoed around her. It had been nearly five hours since Mitch’s e-mail, and you’d think she’d stop thinking about him by now, but no.

There he was, front and center. What did she do about that? She cared about him, of course she did. He was a friend. A friend, nothing more, right?

As she grabbed a tray and maneuvered through the crowd toward the beverage dispensers, Mitch remained in her thoughts along with the strength of emotion she’d felt when they were online together. She missed him. It was that simple.

Not only had Mitch slipped beneath her defenses as if they were made of water, but he’d made her care about him. He’d made such an impression, he’d been such a good friend, that she missed having him present in her life.

It was certainly okay to care about a friend, so she shouldn’t let it bother her that he was a male friend, right?

She grabbed a large cup and headed to the ice machine. She waited for the guy in front of her to finish. Her chest felt so torn apart, it hurt to breathe. Over the rattle of the ice and the sluice of lemonade into her cup, she tried to stop thinking. Tried to stop feeling.

She grabbed a container of strawberry yogurt and headed for the checkout lines. She chose the shortest one, but it was still a wait. As she inched toward the cashier, she didn’t see an available table anywhere. Maybe she’d head outside and find a place in the shade, enjoy the last of the sunshine before it became too freezing to sit outside at all. Maybe she could get a start on her assigned reading. She had a huge paper due soon.
That
was what she should be thinking about—not a man God couldn’t mean for her to have.

Mitch was far away preparing for a mission. She had no idea what that would be like, but it couldn’t be easy or safe. She remembered how he’d mentioned tough nights sleeping in the elements, or creeping through enemy territory not knowing what waited ahead. How he’d said he needed a friend.

Well, that was what he was going to get.

Focus, man. Mitch crept forward with his team, silent and vigilant, weapon in hand. He heard something.

The clear thin air seemed to make the pre-dawn shadows look like liquid silver hugging the eastern side of the jagged mountain range. Bitter wind sliced across his face as he clenched his right fist and held it close to his chest. The team froze, sinking into the brush. His team members kneeled, facing outward, their backs to one another, defensive.

No sound. Nothing. That was troubling. He waited through long minutes until he heard it again. Mitch exhaled completely before speaking so his whisper would carry no real sound. “Someone’s coming.”

Every sense alert, reading the shadows, becoming part of the hillside, he waited. Mitch was confident whoever it was would pass on by without noticing his team. With any luck, they might get some scoop on the insurgent force in the area.

Low on the horizon the stars began to wink out as pale-gray light made the landscape stand out in black relief. The inky shadows turned from black to leaden gray, and dark purple brushed the high nearby peaks. Dawn was coming. They waited.

For one brief instant, a single thought pierced his concentration. Kelly. Half a world away, she was sound asleep, safe in her apartment.

The last stars faded as dawn came in its quiet glory. The light did not touch him as he remained motionless in the bitter cold, still waiting.

The cold autumn night temperatures nipped at Kelly’s fingers as she fitted the deadbolt key into the door. Her ears were freezing, too, as she hadn’t bothered with a hat or mittens for the short trek from the car to the apartment. Not her most brilliant move. What could she say? It had been a seriously busy week.

Shivering, Kelly let the storm blow her inside, fallen leaves raining down behind her as she closed and relocked the door. The air was chilly here too, although definitely not as cold as outside. She shrugged out of her coat.

“Sorry, I turned the heat on as soon as I got home,” Lexie called from the kitchen. “But as I only got in about five minutes ago, it’s still sixty-three degrees in here.”

“What is that incredibly amazing aroma?”

“The upscale hot chocolate I love but can’t really afford. My mom sent a care package today. Do you want chocolate raspberry, chocolate mint or chocolate hazelnut?”

“The raspberry one, please.” Kelly dumped her backpack in the living room, where an opened cardboard box sat in the middle of the coffee table. All kinds of good things were exposed. “Your mom went all out.”

“She wanted us to have good study food for midterms coming up. We’ll be snacking off that for weeks. Hey, about an hour ago someone called for you.” Lexie hit the timer on the microwave. “A certain handsome soldier.”

“Mitch? He said he’d e-mail, not call. He’s okay, right? He wasn’t calling because he was hurt or anything?” She was talking way too fast. “I can’t believe I missed his call. Why didn’t he try me on my cell?”

“Oh no, he sounded perfectly macho and fine to me.” Lexie leaned against the counter and smirked. “He was awfully eager to talk to you. In fact, when I told him you were working until eight, he said he’d call back between eight-thirty and nine. And guess what time it is right now?”