Soldier On (32 page)

Stephanie

Today is one of the worst days of my life.

Mom says I’m being melodramatic. It’s just twelve weeks. It’s not like he’s going to Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or some other war-torn country where people are just waiting to shoot at him.

He’s going to Georgia. What could possibly happen to him in
Georgia
?

With a sigh, I toss a pebble into the pond and watch it ripple with the breeze. I love this pond. I love the mountains. And I’m pretty sure there’s nothing prettier than a Kentucky sunrise. This morning I watched, fascinated, as the sky turned from blood-red to orange, with swirls of pink and blue brushed across the horizon’s edge.

Will a Georgia sunrise be just as pretty?

I can’t imagine it.

Of course, I can’t imagine a lot of things. Like how Brandon’s two-week leave ends today. Or, how tomorrow night, he’ll be sleeping at Fort Gordon, and I’ll be back home in Indiana.

Last week, Brandon and I had moved all my belongings, including my cat, back to Mom’s house. We didn’t stay long, mainly because I wanted Brandon to spend as much time with his family as possible. Selfishly, and because neither of us can stand to be away from the other for more than a day, I followed him home to Applewood.

It hasn’t really been a relaxing time for anyone.

Mr. Walker has had some rough nights, which means the rest of us have, too. Even though the trip to graduation was a definite success, he just hasn’t been the same since his return home. His bad days outnumber his good, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of father will be waiting for Brandon when he gets back from AIT.

A lot can happen in twelve weeks.

“There you are.”

I look over my shoulder to find Brandon walking onto the dock.

“How was your run?”

He sits down beside me. “It was good. Why are you up so early?”

“I love the Kentucky sunrise. I’m going to miss it.”

“I’ll miss it, too.”

“I was just wondering if a Georgia sunrise would be just as pretty.”

“I don’t see how.”

I smile. “And the bed was cold.”

“Steph, it’s summer.”

“The bed was still cold.”

He grins and leans over, kissing me on the cheek.

“I guess I need to get used to it, huh? Cold beds, I mean.”

Brandon dips his head and kisses my shoulder. “I’m afraid so. For the next twelve weeks, anyway.”

“And after that?”

I shouldn’t ask, because I know the answer. After that, if I want a warm bed, we’ll have to get married. The United States Army won’t let us live in sin.

“After that is up to you, Steph.”

“What does that mean?”

Brandon sighs and looks out across the water. “It just means I’m going to miss you. And when I get back, I’m going to want you in my bed all the time.”

“But you have to live in the barracks.”

“Yep. Unless . . .”

Unless we get married.

“Breakfast is ready!” Christian yells from the porch.

Brandon sighs and takes my hand, helping me to my feet. He doesn’t say it, but I know what he’s thinking.

It’s his last day home, and he wants it to be a good one.

I don’t pray a lot, but as we walk hand in hand toward the house, I find myself doing just that.

Please let Mr. Walker have a good day. Please let Brandon have a proper goodbye with his dad. And please don’t let me spoil it with my tears.

Brandon spends the afternoon rolling around on the floor with his nieces and having quiet talks with his dad. He also makes sure that Christian can use the video chat program on her laptop so they can talk while he’s at AIT. For dinner, Christian and I make Brandon’s favorite meal—fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Once dinner is over and the dishes are cleared, Christian helps Mr. Walker to bed while Uncle Brandon reads a bedtime story to the girls.

This gives me the chance to do what I’ve wanted to do all day.

I walk up to Brandon’s bedroom, close the door, sit down on his bed, and cry like a baby.

Because it’s hit me. It really hits me that he’s going to be gone for three months. After that, he will be gone for even longer, and there’s a chance I won’t be able to go with him.

What if I can’t go? What if I only see him a few weeks each year? Can we handle that? Can our relationship survive that?

I don’t even know he’s in the room until I feel him kneel at my feet.

“Hey,” he whispers. “What is this?”

I wipe my eyes. “This is me being a baby, and I’m sorry. I’ve tried to be tough. I have tried to hold it in, but it finally just hit me. I’m sorry that I can’t be strong like you.”

He takes my hands in his. “I’m not strong, Steph. I just keep telling myself it’s twelve weeks. Three months and I’ll be back. I’ll get a few weeks leave, maybe even a whole month, before I have to report to my post. And I pray it’s close to home, Steph. I pray it’s close to you. So I’m not strong. I’m just doing what you told me to do.”

“What did I tell you to do?”

“You told me to have faith. You said that we will make it work, no matter what.”

I nod. “I did say that.”

“Yes, you did.” He gently wipes my tears away with his fingertips. “And after AIT, and once we know where my post will be, you and I need to have a serious conversation about the future.”

My teary eyes widen. “Didn’t we already have one of those?”

“We did, but I think it’s time to have another one. I love you, Steph. And if Dad’s disease is teaching me anything, it’s that you have to choose to be happy, because one day your body, or your mind, may take that choice away from. I love you. I’m never going to love anybody else. My family loves you. And I want you in my life, no matter where I am. No matter what it takes.”

Fresh tears trickle down my cheek.

“Brandon Walker, don’t you dare propose to me. Not now. Not right before you leave.”

“Okay.”

I frown.

He smirks.

“
Okay
?”

“Okay. You told me not to propose to you, so I won’t.”

“But you were going to?”

He shrugs. “I thought about it.”

Seriously?
“But I thought . . . I thought you said we weren’t ready.”

Brandon kisses my tear-stained cheeks before pushing me back against the mattress and crawling up my body. We kiss, his mouth moving against my lips and along my skin with a frantic urgency, as if he’s memorizing every inch of me.

“Maybe we aren’t ready to get married tonight,” Brandon murmurs against my throat. “But I know one thing for certain.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes find mine in the darkness, and he smiles.

“I bet we’ll be ready in twelve weeks,” he whispers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Stephanie

“Don’t you think it’s time you joined the rest of the world?”

I place my bookmark against the page before looking up at my mom.

“I’m outside. What more do you want?”

She sits down beside me. “Well, I’d like for you to take a shower, get dressed, and do something today besides sit on this porch and read books that make you cry.”

I don’t tell her it’s not the books that make me cry. They’re just a convenient and plausible excuse.

“It’s been six weeks, Steph. You’re halfway there.”

“I’m aware of the calendar. Trust me.”

“Remember what Brandon said on the phone last night?”

I sigh.

“He will be very disappointed if I don’t do something fun this summer. He doesn’t want me to sit around being all depressed.”

“Exactly.”

“So we won’t tell him.”

Mom smiles.

“I must say, you do seem to be sleeping better.”

Not really. My body had finally just surrendered to exhaustion. The first few weeks after Brandon left had been torture, especially at night. I’d gotten too accustomed to having him beside me.

“The bed was too cold,” I whisper.

She doesn’t ask what that means. I think if anyone can understand the concept of an empty bed, it’s my mom.

“I don’t know how you do it, Mom. And I don’t know how you’ve done it for the past twenty-two years.”

Mom takes my hand. “I had you to help keep my bed warm.”

“So what you’re saying is I need a kid.”

Her eyes grow wide.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

She sighs heavily and pushes off with her feet, making the porch swing sway in the summer breeze.

“I was thinking that you and I should maybe have a talk about that,” Mom says.

“A talk about what?”

“Kids.”

I’m not stupid. She doesn’t want to talk about kids. She wants to talk about sex, and she wants to know if I’m having it. While my brain screams that I’m twenty-two years old and it’s really none of her business, I can’t ignore the fact that this is my mom, and we’ve never had any secrets.

“No worries, Mom. I’m still the virginal daughter I’ve always been.”

Virginal, but not entirely innocent.

I can tell by the expression on her face she doesn’t believe me. It hurts a little, but then I consider the fact that Brandon and I are adults and have been roommates for nearly four months. Of course she assumes.

“Seriously, Mom. Brandon and I talked about it. No matter how much we were tempted, we decided to wait. Then Tessa got pregnant and I was
so
relieved we waited. Until we know for sure where he’ll be and that we can be together, I’m just too afraid to chance it. Plus, I can’t imagine . . . being that close and then having to say goodbye.”

“It’s torture,” Mom whispers.

Tears fill my eyes.

She clears her throat. “I’m very glad to hear that you’re waiting, Stephanie, because I would hate . . .”

“You’d hate what?”

“I would hate for history to repeat itself.”