A Soldier’s Family (19 page)

He kissed her forehead once and set her away. She knew he needed to pack. She held her sob until he slipped out the door. Through the window, she watched him get into his truck, casting compassionate glances her way. Yet stern concentration and live anticipation emulated from him, too. He was ready, more than ready to return to duty.

Was she ready to let him go?

Could she do this time after time, year after year?

M
anny returned to Celia’s house wanting to spend every last possible second with her, yet dreading the emotional goodbye.

They held one another until Joel’s phone call informed him he’d be there in five minutes to pick up Manny.

He hung up and stepped toward her in what they both knew was goodbye. “Celia, don’t. Please don’t cry. Trust God to—”

Confusion swirled when she stepped toward him with a smile instead. He started his comfort-speech whisper, but stilled when she put a finger gently to his lips.

Courage shimmered through tears in her eyes. “Be brave,” she whispered, and pushed him toward the door. “I’m so proud of you. Go get ’em, Tiger.”

He dropped his rucksack and enveloped her in a suffocating hug. He took longer than usual to let go. “I’m proud of
you.
”

Joel honked outside.

She pulled back and held Manny’s gaze. “If you don’t come home this trip, then I’ll see you in Heaven.”

On foreign soil, Manny’s team waited for their military extraction. He made up his mind as he headed toward the helicopter that he was proposing to Celia upon returning to Refuge.

He also planned to talk to her about fostering teens. The diplomat’s daughter, whom they’d been sent to rescue because she’d been kidnapped by antihumanitarian extremists, headed several international orphanages. Her stories had both captivated and haunted Manny. Her words still chased one another through his mind.

“The older ones, the teens, never get adopted, and they know they’re not wanted.”

Not wanted.

Manny intended to change that. Maybe he and Celia could even find some older orphans who’d lost hope of ever being adopted, and flip their worlds upside down in a joyfully unexpected way. International or American, it didn’t matter. He had a heart for troubled teens and wanted to reach out to as many as possible. Manny let his mind run free, but one thought put a damper on it.

What if she wouldn’t marry him due to the danger of his career? He imagined Celia’s hesitation would also be grounded in the possibility that if they did get married, and adopt, and something happened to him, she’d be left with the responsibility of those kids. Not to mention the kids would lose a parent all over again.

Manny would cross that bridge if he got there. Until then, he’d dream on. He boarded the chopper home.

Celia unlocked the door of her house, stepping in. She slung her school satchel off and bent to pick up the stack of mail pushed through the slot by carrier.

Her eyes fastened on streams of light beaming through her window, glittering the facets of a crystal hummingbird feeder, left there over winter.

Would he return before the birds did?

Would he return at all?

She dropped her gaze to the envelopes bundled in her hand. “Bills, bills and more bills.” Celia slipped off her jacket, then hung it in the closet. The answering machine blinked red.

She pushed Play on the way to the fridge. Javier’s voice wafted from the plastic box, reminding her he’d gone to Enrique’s to spend the night as they’d discussed before school. Looking forward to a quiet evening, she popped the top off a soda can and relaxed in her old but faithful recliner. Remote in hand, she flipped on the TV, tuned to the news.

“Freedom has a price the free will never know about.”

A clunk sounded as Celia set the drink down. Soda leaped out the top, splattering carbonated syrup over her hand and the end table. Like a zombie, she stared as disturbing footage played before her eyes. A newscaster’s somber words floated out of her television speaker, raking through her chest, slashing her heart, challenging her hope.

“…U.S. military chopper crash…Air Force team of Special Forces Military personnel…No word yet on survivors.”

Celia’s insides quivered with the urge to shut the television off and make it go away. Or scream. Fear roared to life. Dread writhed in her stomach.

Had Manny been on that helicopter? Or worse, his entire team?

She clenched a hand to her stomach then rose like the bile.

You have a choice, Celia. Fear or faith.

Remembrance of Manny’s parting words dropped Celia to her knees. Sobs tore from her throat. “God, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t really even know what faith is, do I?” Though she thought she needed Manny to be alive more than anything, she knew God probably thought she needed faith alive in her more—which scared her more than anything. God’s lessons. Why was she always afraid it would take something bad?

Silence. Then something stirred in her chest. Something faint but pulsing stronger with each heartbeat.

She jabbed sharp fingers in the carpet. Something tangible and tenacious welled up from inside her with raw honesty. “Dear God. I. Choose. Faith. Not fear. Not worry. Faith. Please help me, and be with Manny and his team. Comfort those who lost loved ones in this tragedy, even if it’s me.” Celia leaned forward, heart yielded, lowering her face into the carpet. Fine fibers tickled her nose. She tried not to sniff the dirt particles up. She opened her mouth to pray…

And sneezed. She swiped a hand on her nose, and blinked watery eyes and fullness away from her sinuses. Man, did she need to vacuum. Stupid cat. Celia glared at it.

How could she think of Psych at a time like this? Manny could be laying somewhere dead. Or dying. Or suffering. And she was struck with the overwhelming urge to vacuum up the cat. What was up? Her mind was obviously going, going, gone.

Peace that passes understanding.

It had worked! All that time the last several weeks immersed in His word, and in His presence, made all the difference right here. Right now. Who cared that she didn’t feel any different? Feelings didn’t boss her around.

The strong smell of cat dander and food remnants constricted the back of her throat. “Patooyee! I’ll probably go into respiratory arrest from aspirating cat hairs.” But she refused to move from this spot until she heard from God and He blessed her, just like Jacob.

Morticians might find two buckets of dust in her lungs during autopsy, but her heart will have died beating in faith. The woman with the issue of blood who clung to the hem of Jesus’ garment came to mind, as did the story of the persistent widow.

“Lord, I’m staying right here until You break this stronghold of fear once and for all.”

The fact that she wanted to pray for faith over fear, more than she needed to beg God to spare Manny, accounted for something. With the need to sneeze tickling her nose, she turned her face sideways, resting her cheek on the carpet. It smelled there, too, but not as bad.

The shrill of the telephone woke Celia. Darkness shrouded her house. Stiffness had settled in her neck from being held in an odd angle. She lifted her body. The phone stopped ringing. They hadn’t left a message. Still groggy, Celia shook her head to clear fog from her mind.

What in the world time was it? She eyed the time via microwave clock and gasped. She’d lain there for six hours. Six!

Why?

It all rushed back. Manny. The helicopter crash. Manny might be dead. His entire team may be. And she’d fallen asleep.

Celia waited for familiar fear to seize her. It didn’t. No tormenting thoughts or images about Manny’s potential fate. Instead, like Jesus sleeping in the back of the boat during a raging storm before his fearful disciples woke Him and He told it to be quiet, waves of peace settled over her.

She began to giggle. Stunned at the power of God’s ability to reprogram a human heart, she stumbled toward the couch and dropped to the cushions, soaking in the quiet of the room.

The only sound came from the ceiling fan. Like her awe of God, it sparkled and spun. The gold pull chain jangled the same rhythmic tune. Like a secret code between she and God, one word formed in her mind in tempo to the tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Celia let the grin overtake her mouth as joy flooded her. She whispered along with the clicking fan.

Vic-tor-y.

Vic-tor-y.

Vic-tor-y.

Mornings later, a knock at the door pulled Celia from her lesson plan. She set her grading pencil down and rose from the kitchen chair. The clock told her it was too early for sane people to be up. Wait, she was up. Never mind.

She peered out the peephole but didn’t see anyone.

A knock sounded at her back door. She glided through the house, flipping on lights as she went. She peered through the little window in the bathroom. No one there, either.

Images of two police officers coming to her door to tell her Manny had been killed filled her mental vision. Celia stomped down fear. Until it happened, which it never may, she wasn’t going to let the fear of it ruin her life. She no more than got turned around when the knock had migrated to the front door. A grin split her face.

Manny.

She stayed crouched down until knocking sounded at the back door again. She clicked the lock and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. She froze. Not Manny. Joel. And by the serious look on his face, he had news. Not wanting to read his expression, she spun to run back in, but her hand met a locked door. She shoved and pushed and smacked the door. Mortification rose as her eyes traveled down.

A knee-length T-shirt completely covered her jogging shorts. Good thing since they were the rattiest pair she owned. Then again, maybe not a good thing. From an onlooker’s standpoint, it could appear she only had on a T-shirt and underwear. This reminded Celia of those creepy dreams of going to school naked, or having to use a doorless outhouse in the middle of a filled auditorium.

The bushes rustled at the side of the house.

She bit back a shriek and jumped beside the porch opposite the sound and crouched, looking. Waiting. Someone surfaced past the bushes and knocked. She scrambled to her feet, hands on hips, realizing instantly by the sight of Manny’s pararescue team that she was being ambushed.

Where was Manny? Someone tapped her shoulder.

Another form slipped from the bushes, sneaking away.

“Javier? What do you think you’re doing?”

He jerked around, half grinning, half petrified, until his eyes lit on her ill-planned wardrobe. He turned and shielded his eyes, as if she was the sun and he was an asteroid headed right for it. Someone tapped her left shoulder. Gulp. She forced her torso to turn. That long, unreachable nightmarish dream hall just grew a mile and she couldn’t get to the end.

Manny stood five inches away—shielding her from the neighbors by his frame, thankfully.

“Hi, Manny.”

“Hey, Cel.” He chewed his lip not to grin. “Nice day for a walk, Javier. Go take a hike with my buddies.”

Without removing his eyes from hers, he shucked his button-up and handed it to her. Donned in a blue U.S.A.F. T-shirt, he chewed the grin from his lip. Her face burned hot like fire as she wrapped his shirt around her waist.

He coughed back a chuckle. “Oh, Celia, how I missed you.”

“You missed my quirkiness.”

“Well, I won’t debate about that. Let’s get you in the house before we both get arrested.”

“For what?”

“Indecent exposure.”

“There’s a problem.”

He moved toward the steps. She stayed put. He stopped and peered back at her. “Don’t tell me you actually listened to me for once and moved the key from the planter.”

She nibbled her lip. “Yep.”

“You locked yourself out? Like that?” He air waved a hand down her attire.

“Well! I didn’t exactly expect U.S. troops to be scrounging around my bushes today.”

“Not even if they scrounged around them for a wife?”

Her head zoomed up. “Huh?”

He smiled. “I’m trying to propose here. Javier was going to videotape it, but…well…” He eyed her attire, or lack thereof. “This is plan B.”

Snickering erupted behind her. Rustling, then the unmistakable sound of her best friend giving her rose thorns a verbal assault.

“Amber, did you know about this?” Celia was thankful Manny’s gaze veered everywhere but at her, sparing embarrassment.

“Yes. But I didn’t know you’d run out of the house half-naked. Here. I brought you this.” She handed Celia the tiny parachute man. “Only without the icing.”

“You washed him for me?” Celia asked as Amber dug in her purse.

“Here. Get decent and we’ll do Take Two.” Amber handed her a key. Celia had never been gladder that she and Amber kept spares of each other’s home and car keys.

Celia looked around, and found Manny had faced the opposite direction. “FYI, I have shorts on.” The door unlocked, she rushed into the house with only a few neighbors staring. Amber followed, waiting while she dressed.

“I have a special request from your best friend.”

Celia returned, dressed and smiling. “What’s that?”

“I spent a ton of time shining this guy’s jump boots with a Sharpie. I think he needs to be on top of the wedding cake.” Amber tapped the little parachute man. “He’s all nice and cleaned up with bleach and deodorizer and everything.”

“Do I smell that bad?” Manny asked, walking in with Javier and the parachute pack. He chuckled when Celia started to explain. Forget it. He’d gotten the best prank in for the day already.

Celia lifted the little toy PJ and looked directly into its nubs. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have witness me shove a fistful of cake into Manny’s sinus passages. Will you do the honors?”

Manny turned from joking to serious on a dime, lifting his hand. A sparkling diamond solitaire with more carats than a brigade of bunnies surfaced from between his thumb and forefinger. Her hands flew to her mouth.

He dropped to one knee. “Celia, my temper’s shorter than a dynamite fuse. I have to leave on a moment’s notice. I get grumpy and tired, and I need hugs an awful lot. I work a dangerous job and life will hold quite a bit of uncertainty for us. Will you marry me anyway?”