Not Another Soldier

by Holt, Samantha

  Not Another Soldier

  Samantha Holt

  Copyright 2014 ©Samantha Holt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To my husband and ex-soldier, John. You are the best kind of man. You’ve always worked hard for your family and put us first. Even when the army dictated your every move. You inspire me to work hard for us.

  To all the wonderful friends I made during my time as a military wife. Some of you I’m in touch with, some of you I’m not, but I will always remember our friendships, even when they were fleeting. I suspect they will stay with me forever.

  Finally, I have to say thank you to all the service men and women, past and present. You and your families are an inspiration. You work so hard, in unthinkable conditions, and still never get enough thanks. Your families tolerate so much, all with a smile on their face, and they never get enough thanks either. And in spite of it all, you show such pride in your job. Every person, rich and poor, young and old, should look up to you.

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  The little skip, skip of my heart is slightly sickening. How can I go from scared to… to so needy in less than ten seconds? The sight of Nick on my bed seems to short circuit my brain. I’m pretty sure I can feel explosions going on behind my eyes. Memories of being pressed against him, of him inside me, combust in my mind.

  One arm comes around my waist and draws me close in understanding. I wish he couldn’t read me so well sometimes. The fear of earlier has been replaced with something much more urgent and frightening. His thumb rubs roughly across my cheek as he coaxes my face up and away from his chest. His eyes are sincere and guilt jabs me for even imagining he might hurt me. My chest tightens as his callused thumb continues to smooth across my face. I want it. I can’t help it. I need him to kiss me. My lips tingle in anticipation and I hold my breath.

  I don’t know if it’s adrenaline that numbs my common sense when it comes to Nick or what, but the pain in my neck has all but gone. The hammering of my heart is replaced with a steady throb of desire. His gaze drops to my lips and I wait for him to close the distance between us but I suspect he’s waiting for my permission.

  I tighten my grip on the back of his neck, almost fearful he might pull away, and I bring my lips to his. We hover there, exchange breaths and heat for a moment, and when we finally connect it’s slow and acute. I’m aware of every tiny touch of his lips on mine. Before I can deepen it, he pulls back and drops his hand to my wine-soaked top. His smile tilts.

  “We need to get you out of that top.”

  ~~~

  Chapter One

  Sienna

  I watch as they lower his coffin into the ground. Funny, I never imagined it this way. I think as soon as you marry a soldier you imagine what it will be like. How you will cope with the news. When they go on tour, you picture the uniformed man standing at your door or walking down your driveway to deliver the news. You see yourself crumbling.

  But that never happened. Rob didn’t die in the line of duty. Drunk driving. I couldn’t believe it. You kiss them goodbye as they go off to war and picture the worst while trying to hold onto your strength. Well most women do. I don’t know how I felt. Actually, no, I was worried for him. I hated the uncertainty it brought. But I do wonder if he was worth my worry sometimes.

  What you don’t expect though, are the cops on your doorstep, telling you your husband died because he was DUI. Thank God he didn’t hurt anyone else.

  So here I am, at twenty-eight, burying my husband after he flipped his car. I don’t cry. I can’t. I’m kind of numb. I wait to see if I feel something, try to summon some kind of emotion but it’s not there. I wonder if Rob took my emotions with him. Will I ever be able to feel again?

  The honor guard finish up and I nod in acknowledgement as distant family members and friends mutter sympathetic words and offer their help. I reply with some vague response. I’m not sure I want their help. Most of them didn’t care to visit when we moved, following Rob’s career in the Marines. And most of the ‘friends’ attending are Rob’s.

  Jess, my neighbor, offers me a sympathetic smile. I envy her. Always have really. I only moved here when Rob was promoted to Sergeant and I resented it. Fort Worth, Virginia, is way out on the fringes of the city and it’s a ghost town. I rarely saw anyone and I didn’t make any friends. I’d meet a few nice women at the various corps events, the balls etcetera, but they never stayed in touch. I have some great work colleagues but we’re all so busy, we only see each other at Christmas events and stuff like that.

  I glance at her again, so composed and serene looking. Wives in the army fall into two categories. The introvert and the extrovert. There’s no in between. There’s the woman who knows everything, everyone, and is involved in all the events. She knows who’s coming, who’s going and who’s cheating on who. She organizes the community, knows all the wives by name and loves to arrange events to bring everyone together. The extrovert thrives on military life. And then there’s the introverts. Like me.

  Now I never used to be one. I used to be like Jess. I’d talk to anyone. That’s how I met Rob. My college friends dared me to chat the sexy soldiers up. But army life steals that from you until you’re nothing but a shell of yourself, too scared to even step outside your house. There’s a lot of us, but we’re all terrified of talking to each other.

  I do get along with Jess. She lives next door and always chats with me but we don’t socialize. She has three kids and my house isn’t exactly suited to her little ones with its gate free doorways and unpadded coffee table corners. And Jess’s social life revolves around the children. Toddler groups, baby massage, standing in the school playground. The power of the military wife, I’ve begun to realize, is in having kids.

  I sigh. I desperately wanted children, but Rob didn’t.

  And now I have to start over again.

  Most people leave, ready to go home for drinks and snacks. I’m not sure I can bring myself to do it. A hand comes to my shoulder and I jolt as I find myself staring into his tender blue gaze.

  Nick.

  There’s always one man, I’ve noticed, who the Marine wives sort of adopt. We feel sorry for them, having to sleep in shared rooms and living off the same food day in day out. I don’t think the food is so bad—the military is pretty good about offering anything from burgers to salad—but everyone still complains. So we all invite him round to dine with us. To fill him up with home cooked food. Only when our husbands are around, you understand. Gossip runs rife in army communities. You can barely talk to another man and when your husband is away… well, you’d better watch your step. In some regards, the military community is one of the most supportive groups you will ever find but it’s also the most vicious. A kind of ‘we protect our own’ mentality. Fair enough really, but it’s draining to be a wife sometimes. The soldiers always come first. Just occasionally, you want to go ‘what about me?’

  Anyway, Nick is this man. There’s something about him that begs you to take care of him. Yet he’s the strongest, most powerful looking man I’ve ever seen—a Marine, like my husband. I don’t know if it’s his soulful eyes or the slight limp that does it, but every woman wants to feed him.

  And as he was Rob’s best friend, I frequently did. Everyone lusts after him, not that they ever said it. He has
a raw look to him. Like God had started to give him movie star looks and then got bored. His nose is slightly crooked, probably from fighting when he was younger and his skin isn’t as youthful as it should be at the age of thirty. That’s the effect going out to Afghanistan has on you apparently. For every year they’re out there, it actually ages them an additional two. You see it even in the faces of the young guys. Their eyes are sunken, their skin worn.

  But Nick carries it off flawlessly. His tanned skin and dark blond hair work perfectly with his beautiful physique. He doesn’t have stubble normally but he’s obviously not shaved this weekend and he has a dusting of it across his jaw. I itch to touch it. His dress blues bring out the compelling shade of his eyes.

  Something flares in his eyes as he skims his gaze over my tight black dress. I’m totally decent. The length of the skirt is long but it’s close-fitting. I have a pretty good figure, as Rob used to tell me, but honestly, once the compliments stopped coming and the affairs started, I stopped seeing my figure as attractive.

  The fact that I’m sensing some kind of awareness from Nick at my husband’s funeral is very disturbing.

  “How are you holding up, short stuff?”

  I shrug. He always calls me that. It’s like a private joke. I met Nick the same night I met Rob and I’m not exactly tall so he called me that and it stuck.

  “I don’t know right now.”

  “Kinda numb, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s to be expected, Sienna.”

  I nod. If anyone should know, it’s Nick. He attended the funerals of the three guys who died in the firefight that injured his leg. He wraps an arm over my shoulder and takes me to the edge of the grave. I stare at the coffin for a while but it’s hard to believe Rob is in there.

  “I was going to leave him, you know,” I mumble.

  I glance at him to see his nod. “I know, Sienna.”

  Nick knows everything. Well, almost everything. Rob went on a six month tour last year and told Nick to take care of me. Why Rob cared, I don’t know. I think it was more a case of ‘keep an eye on her.’ Rob didn’t really trust me, which was funny because he was the one who cheated.

  But Nick took that order seriously. He had to stay behind because of his injury so he took it upon himself to be my constant companion. I teased him for being my shadow and our friendship was gossiped about but I didn’t care. I relished every moment with him. Nick is funny and caring, and I always feel like myself again with him. The person I used to be before Rob.

  I’m exhausted. I fight a yawn and stumble slightly as I finally turn away from the big hole in the ground. I’ve been working at the hospital, probably putting in more hours than I should. They told me to take time off but I couldn’t. What would I have done sitting in an empty house all on my own? I can’t wait to leave that place.

  A reassuring, strong hand comes around my waist, fingertips practically burning through the thin material of my dress. Nick’s clasp on my ribs feels so essential, as if his touch is the most important thing in the world. I try to brush this thought out of my mind. The last thing I need to be doing is thinking about how alive this soldier makes me feel.

  A soldier.

  Never again.

  Cradled into his side, he escorts me under the little arched gateway to the car. He doesn’t speak, only holds me. My legs are like jelly. I suspect all the strength, all the detachment is slowly deserting me. Damn. I was hoping to keep a hold of it. It would be nice not to have to face up to any of it.

  Nick releases me before we reach the car and he slides in beside me. It only takes a few minutes to return home and my stomach sinks at the sight of all the cars lining the street. It’s kind of depressing. I shudder at the thought of being gone, and having everyone gathering around and talking about me. We climb out and I pause to suck in a breath. My house is currently a mess. I went a little crazy and started clearing up and packing a few days ago, so Jess offered to put on drinks and food at her house. I eye the building pensively. I’m not sure I want to go in and face all those people.

  “Just do the rounds, sweetheart,” Nick says in my ear, “and then we can leave.”

  “We?” God, even my voice comes out weak.

  “You need some fresh air and good company. And I’m the good company.” He offers me a grin.

  I let out an inelegant snort and a wry smile. He’s right. There’s no one else here I’d rather be with. It sounds bitter but it’s not meant to be. I guess I hate that most of my family, my parents and my grandparents, live in Australia now so they couldn’t come over for the funeral. I haven’t seen them since I married Rob. It’s been a long time.

  So only distant cousins are here and honestly, we’re strangers. I think most cousins are. You might play together as kids, be forced to socialize through family connections but what do you really have in common apart from blood? I bet most of them will leave as soon as they can too.

  “Yeah, okay,” I agree as he opens the door for me. “You’re probably right. For a change.”

  I try to smile but it doesn’t really reach my face and Nick ushers me through the open front door with a hand to the small of my back. That burns through my dress too, making my cheeks hot. Fuck, what is wrong with me?

  Throwing a glance around, I grimace. The buffet looks good and Jess’s house is immaculate which reminds me how bad I was at playing the perfect housewife. A lot of people look a little lost but some of Rob’s buddies are having a good time. They’re laughing and chatting, probably reminiscing about good times.

  Would I feel better if I had more memories of good times? Sadly our marriage went downhill pretty quickly. Which makes me wonder—why did I cling on to it for so long?

  With a sigh, I make my way over to one of the tables and pick at some sandwiches. Jess approaches, a sympathetic smile on her face. Her dark hair is swept back in a simple pony tail and she’s wearing a dress that suits her curves but definitely looks a little motherly.

  “Hey, honey, how are you doing?”

  “I’m okay, I think.” I reach out and squeeze her hand though why I’m offering her comfort, I don’t know. I guess I feel guilty for not trying harder with Jess. She has been really supportive to me after Rob’s death. You can see why she does so well as an army wife. Utterly selfless. Maybe that’s my problem. Perhaps I’m too selfish. “The food looks great. Thank you so much for all your help.”

  To my dismay, tears sting my eyes and I cough. Nick has tactfully retreated in search of more food and I’m grateful. I couldn’t bear for him to see them. I’ve never been great at expressing emotions anyway, especially not to those close to me.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m just glad I could help.”

  I study Jess’s slightly rounded face and pretty dark eyes with a pang of envy. The woman is a marvel. Bringing up kids, dealing with being a Marine’s wife, helping me… I regret that I didn’t take more time to get to know her. Soon I’ll be gone and, as always with the military, people drift apart. Good friendships don’t last once you move on. She’ll probably have to move soon and that will be it. Just another vague memory of a sort-of friendship.

  “Well, I really appreciate it,” I continue, maybe trying to make up for the fact I neglected our tentative friendship. “Really, truly.”

  Jess laughs and shakes her head. “You know I don’t mind. I’m a good organizer. I just wish I wasn’t organizing something like this.”

  “Well…” I shrug, unsure what to say to that. Of course I didn’t want Rob dead but in some respects, I feel kind of free. My stomach twists. I am a terrible, terrible person.

  “So, what are you going to do now? I know it’s only just happened but if you need any help…”

  I wave a hand. “I’m fine, honestly, and you’ve done enough. I’m going to move out pretty soon, I hope. I’ve found an apartment closer to work.”

  Her eyes widen. “But you’ve still got plenty of time left in the house.”

  Yeah, time I don�
��t need or want. Rob’s life insurance payout and my paltry savings have meant I could put a down payment on a small apartment close to the city.

  I shrug. “It’s easier for me to get to work from there. And…” I pause. Should I even be admitting this? Maybe I’m trying to make up for lost girlfriend time or something, “the house is too big and empty for me. I don’t really want to stay.”

  Jess nods and her expression turns all sympathetic again. I’m not sure I can bear it so I stare at the uneaten sandwich in my hands.

  “Well, you know where I am.”

  I squeeze her hand again. “I do, thanks.” I glance over my shoulder and search out Nick. Somehow, even though he’s not looking at me, I know he’s aware of where I am, what I’m doing. Aware exactly of what I need. “I’m going to go in a minute. Just to get some fresh air. I don’t know if I can do this. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not, honey,” Jess tilts her head in another kindly move. “You do whatever you need to do. You just take care of yourself.”

  “Thanks,” I say again. The word feels empty but what else can I say? It’s weird how you finally see the value in someone at a time like this. I am really beginning to regret not trying harder to be good friends with Jess, but I guess I retreated into myself after a while of living here. Will I ever be able to come back out of my shell? I damn well hope so.

  Nick appears at my side, having obviously read my intention. I swear he’s like fucking Superman or something. Or he has some kind of super hearing or intuition.

  “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah, please.”

  A hand to my elbow, he leads me wordlessly out. Several people stop and say something kind and understanding but I can’t really take it on board. I’m a fraud. They’re all probably genuinely mourning the loss of a life. I’m not sure what I’m mourning. The loss of so many years perhaps. All that time fighting for a marriage, and for what?

  The hand on my elbow escorts me to my car and Nick opens the door to settle me in. It’s a big black thing. Too big for me really but Rob loved it and it feels pretty appropriate. Nick slides into the driver’s seat. I’m silently grateful for him acting all gentlemanly and slightly commanding. It’s nice not to have to make any decisions for the moment.