Love of Truth

by C. T. Oliver

  I squeeze her cheeks and try to control my breathing. Amelia makes me hard just by breathing, but when she says stuff like that, a primal urge within me just takes over. I want to push her up against the wall and lose myself within her. “How am I supposed to walk out of this room when my boxers can’t even hold my damn hard-on?” I growl.

  She gives me a peck on the lips then sashays over to her clothes. “I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I was innocently putting on my clothes when someone went up and groped me and now put himself in a…” her eyes wander down to the bulge of my boxer briefs then back up with a perky grin on her face, “…hard situation.”

  I laugh. “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work. You’re not going to put me off my game,” I smirk.

  She looks over at me with wide eyes as she sways her hips to pull up her blue jeans. “Really? Because I think it’s working fairly well.”

  I sigh at the sight of her tight jeans clad bottom. Can’t argue with that truth. I step back and finish getting dressed while watching her get ready with a lust struck grin on my face.

  Amelia is making Denver omelets with spinach and hash browns for breakfast when I come back from Larry’s morning outing. “Smells wonderful, baby. Thank you for making breakfast… again,” I lean down, giving her quick kiss.

  “You know I like cooking for you. Are the guys coming over? I made a lot of food.” A worried look crosses her face as her eyes run over spread she laid out.

  “Of course, they’re coming. They’re just grabbing their stuff.”

  Whenever I look at her, I can’t help but wonder about her. Moments like this shows she is so caring and giving but with the little bit of information she has given me about her family, it breaks my heart. How could her family not want to be around someone who has such a big heart like Amelia? Cory and Ben step in through the glass sliding door pulling me out of my thoughts. It didn’t, however, stop me from feeling a little anxious towards Amelia’s pain; it doesn’t sit well with me.

  We finished breakfast and were soon after in the SUV heading over to the archery and fire club. The club takes a bit of a drive to get to. I’m guessing this is a word-by-mouth kind of place. Amelia instructs me to drive through about seven miles of tall and thick evergreens on a gravel drive barely wide enough for the SUV to stay on. It ends in front of a barn-style building, equipped with red wood siding and white wide double doors for the entrance. Behind the building I can see a range in a sparling dark green grass field with set targets. To the right side of that field is a shooting station for long distance shooting into the mountainside. My home away from home.

  Inside the building is the exact opposite of its appearance on the outside. The main office is clean and clinical. It leads to the backroom, which is the store. It’s lined with bows and arrows of all type on one wall, rifles and shotguns on another, and in the center of the room is a glass counter stand stocked with handguns of all calibers. The place is impressive.

  Amelia walks in and interacts with a man in his fifty’s with a military posture and the haircut to match. The man’s face softens as Amelia says something to him. As soon as she gestures to us, the man has his stoic look back on his face. Approaching them, I can feel his hard stare following me.

  Holding out my hand, I look the man square in the eyes. “Craig Patrice.”

  The man looks me up and down a few times before taking my hand. “Tim Williams.”

  “Honor to see you again, Lieutenant.” I can just register the shock on Tim’s face. My photographic memory has always been there to save my ass and make me look decent more than once.

  “You know Tim?” Amelia asks with surprise.

  “Yes, the lieutenant was brought in to teach my sniper class.”

  Cory steps up to offer his hand to Tim. “Craig and Cory, I remember,” Tim looks at me and then at Cory. “You boys have let yourself go haven’t you,” Tim shakes his head. “Alright, let’s get you guys set up and see what skills you still have.”

  “Wow. What a small world.” Amelia looks at me with a cute smile. As she looks over at Cory, a confused look crosses her face. “What’s wrong with Cory? Why does he look like he just stole something?”

  I chuckle. “He’s really scared of Lt. Williams. He was a very tough instructor…to say the least.”

  She laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. “Nooo…Tim is the nicest man. He’s super sweet. His wife makes the best chocolate chip cookies ever. To this day, she won’t tell me what she puts in them.”

  “How long have you known them?” We trail after her to the counter.

  “Pretty much my whole life. He and Emily are my Godparents.”

  Her statement stops me dead in my tracks.

  “One of the best marksmen in the United States is your Godfather?” Cory whispers so loudly everyone in the room can hear. Ben simply stands back and shakes his head.

  Amelia looks a little confused. “Sure, why not?”

  “Honey, he’s just shocked. He thinks I long gone sold my heart to the devil for my skills. Oh, and that my face only has one expression,” Tim tells Amelia. “You think I don’t know what you boys said about me?” Tim gives us the stare down. The same look he gave us years ago.

  “You have such a big heart!” Amelia admonishes. “You love Emily so much she radiates it.”

  For a second, I think I saw Tim blush. I can’t believe Amelia just made the instructor who made me sweat bullets blush.

  “Did that just happened?” Cory whispers loudly.

  Amelia fills out papers, requesting certain ranges and targets for us. Before letting us go off to the range, Tim gives me one last hard look. “You hurt her, well, let’s just say I didn’t teach you guys everything,” are Tim’s parting words. When Amelia turns to give Tim a hug, I actually see a genuine smile on Tim’s face. Even Amelia melts the coldest of hearts.

  I can’t remember the last time I went on a bow hunt, but I hope I still have some skills left to impress Amelia. We are at the outdoor archery range where targets are set up for us at thirty meter increments. I know even the best of hunters don’t shoot more than fifty meters. The fact that Tim has targets set up at ninety meters means Amelia must have some serious skills.

  Ben and Cory are joking about this feeling like Boy Scouts all over again. They maybe have gotten their patches then, but they are lacking in skills today. Both barely getting their arrows on the target sheet at thirty meters.

  I step up to the line putting all my sniper knowledge to use with what I learned from the Boy Scouts decades ago. Holding the compound bow out I nock the arrow. Making sure my stance is correct, I hold up the bow and pre-draw. Thinking about wind speed and the surroundings as I take aim, I anchor my right hand underneath my chin where the bowstring touches my face and I take in a breath. I release my breath along with bowstring and hold my position for the complete follow through. Relief flows through me to see I got a bull’s eye.

  I look back to see Amelia smiling widely at me. “Babe, that was a perfect shot.” She gives me a peck on the cheek when she passes me to line up to take her shot.

  According to Tim, Amelia is old school. She uses a longbow. The bow is as tall as she is. Tim had mentioned he made some custom modifications so she can strap the bow to her arm for more support. When she pulls the bowstring back, I can see all the muscles in her shoulders flex through the material of her long sleeve t-shirt. The images from this morning come rushing back and all the blood rushes to my groin. Her capabilities floor me at times. It takes Amelia five seconds to take a shot that took me a good five minutes to think my way through. Her arrow however ends up dead center in the bull’s eye where as mine is on the line.

  “Holy crap, Shorty! Is that why you’re Williams’ Goddaughter? Did he pick you because you can shoot like that?” Cory shouts.

  Amelia rolls her eyes at Cory. “I can shoot like that because I like archery. And you don’t pick a Godchild…well, I guess you can turn down the offer if asked.” She s
hrugs. “But no, I’m his Goddaughter because he and my father were comrade in arms.”

  “Your dad is Brandon Adler!” Cory exclaims. I make the connection as soon as she mention Tim’s comrade in arms. Lts. Williams and Adler, the top sniper team during Desert Storm. There was a time when they both had bounties on them overseas. Lt. Adler has a confirmed kill made at 1,800 meters. One of the best shots ever made. Its no wonder Amelia has the analytical mind that she possesses.

  “Yeah, Brandon Adler is my father,” she answers in a low voice.

  I look over to see the spark in her eyes has faded at the mention of her dad. I also notice, she refers to him as ‘father’. When she is ready, I want to know what is hurting her.

  It seems Cory and Ben also picked up the sadness in her voice and they quickly change the subject. “Cory, I think you and I should sit out the next target. I barely got my arrow on the paper,” Ben chuckles.

  Amelia seems grateful for the diversion. “Baby, I want to see you make this shot,” I gesture for her to go first.

  Amelia goes back to the line and in seconds the arrow cruises through the air straight into the bull’s eye at the sixty-meter target. The sight was so impressive, I do a double take to see where the arrow actually landed. For someone to make that shot with a longbow is very impressive, but Amelia made it onto the bull’s eye. I wouldn’t be surprised if her skills with rifle match that of her father.

  “Wow! Shorty, that was crazy!” Cory shouts.

  Even Ben for the first time in a while is speechless with a stunned look on his face.

  “Remind me never to piss her off,” I hear Ben whispers to Cory.

  Amelia has a little smile on her face as she walks back to offer me the spot. At the line, I make sure to have a good stance while pre-drawing. I take extra time to aim and account for the surroundings. When I let out my breath and watch as the arrow soars through the air, I can see it isn’t going to be a perfect shot. The arrow lands on the outer circle of the bull’s eye. I have a new appreciation for the sport. As soon as that thought enters my mind another one follows. Dad, an avid bow hunter, is going to love Amelia.

  “I honestly don’t know how you made that shot.”

  “I practiced.” She smiles triumphantly.

  “I know you said it has been a long time, but when was the last time you were at the range?” I wonder.

  “I don’t know, maybe two months ago,” she shrugs. “That’s a long time considering I used to do this every day.”

  “Why were you doing this every day?” Ben asks.

  “I loved it. And I did it well,” she says with a shrug like it didn’t matter she can do something all the guys surrounding her can’t. She’s so humble.

  “She was also competing for a spot on the US Olympic team,” Tim announces approaching us. “She was good, still is. Can still make it if she wanted to.” Tim smiles proudly looking at Amelia.

  “Thanks, Tim. But you know it’s all your teaching. Besides, I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “Show ‘em how a ninety-meter shot should look like, honey,” Tim has a mischievous smile on his face. It’s rather strange, it seems Tim has such parental pride in Amelia, but her dad isn’t in the picture.

  Amelia steps up the line, this time taking a little bit of time to adjust her aim. When looking at her you would think she is shooting the arrow straight up into the air. She has her back arched to the point it looks like she might fall backwards. Sure enough, after the arrow sliced through the atmosphere, it lands just on the outskirt of the bull’s eye. I feel in awe of Amelia. She’s so delicate, but at the same time, she possesses skills that are—well, deadly.

  “Great job honey!” Tim shouts supportively. It sounds weird coming from him. The only support I can recall ever getting from this instructor is a glare and an approving grunt. “Grab your gear, boys. Let’s go see how bad the damage is.” Tim turns to head over to the shooting station, one hand holding on the other behind his back, the military way.

  “Why does he assume our skills are lacking? If he must know, I finished Call of Duty 4 in less than twenty-four hours,” Cory huffs defensively while gathering his bag.

  “Jesus, if you don’t give me good readings, I might actually shoot you,” I warn. There is nothing worse than my sniper teacher thinking I’m lacking in skills. Worst of all, what if Tim thinks I can’t look after Amelia.

  “Relax, I gotcha back, bro. Besides, can’t let him think we made it back because of luck or some shit,” Cory grumbles.

  Cory has always taken advantage of his good looks and charm to get certain things, girls mostly, but it has always grated him when people think things came easily for him. Overseas, it didn’t matter what anyone looked like or how charming they were, insurgents shot rocket launchers at whatever moved. Cory and I survived two tours because of our training and keeping our heads down. Even then, we’ve both been shot and caught up in four separate IED explosions.

  I help Amelia gather her things and take her delicate hand in mine as we trail after Cory and Ben. “Are you going to try your hands at shooting my weapon?” I whisper in her ear when we are a distance away from Cory and Ben.

  She laughs as a light blush creeps up her cheeks. “No, but maybe I’ll give it a few strokes later tonight,” she winks. She stops suddenly and faces me. Reaching up she takes my face in both her hands. “Babe, just have fun. Why does it seem like you’re going to war?” She goes on her tippy toes and gives me a peck on the cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, I just want you to relax and have fun.” She looks at me with her wide eyes and her cute tiny smile.

  I brush her bangs aside. “You know I can’t say no to that look.” I place a kiss on her forehead and head towards the shooting station with her tucked under my arm.

  Chapter 15

  Craig and I step into the shooting station right when Cory starts to assemble Craig’s MK12. People have always wondered why someone who has a father that was, at one time, one of the best marksmen in all of the armed forces would never touch a gun. It’s simple; I hate them. They were the reason why father was never around when I was a child. Father was constantly called off to duty because of his talent with the rifle. Though father loved mom until her last breath, he had a greater love for his country. That love of country lead to great regret when he finally retired and mom wasn’t around anymore.

  When I first learned about Craig’s Army background a part of my heart closed off to the idea of being with him. I have sworn to stay away from men in uniform. My biggest fear is to be with someone like father. I, unlike mom, am not strong enough to constantly wait around for my husband to come home. Though I don’t want to admit it, somewhere deep in my heart, I believe the stress of father being off to war contributed to mom’s illness. Taking her away from me. I would never mouth the words because then that would make my thoughts and beliefs real.

  I step back and lean against the back wall. My head falling forward, I take in a breath to calm the piercing pain in my heart. Thinking about that is futile now. I know better than to play the blame game, but sometimes I’m just so angry with father because I miss mom so much.

  Closing my eyes for a second to calm myself, I feel a strong supportive hand on my shoulder. I don’t have to look to know Tim is near. He looks at me with soft kind eyes. “He asked about you last week when I talked to him. Told him you were good and still kickin’ ass in school.” Of course, father and Tim stay in constant contact. Father practically owns this place while Tim and Emily run it so he can be somewhere else to hide with his heartache.

  “Thanks, Tim. He emailed me last week to wish me luck on my finals. Tell Emily not to worry, that we’re still talking,” I offer him the littlest smile that I’m able to muster.

  “You know he loves and cares for you with all his heart, right?” Tim asks in a wishful tone.

  I take in a deep shaky breath to control the tsunami of emotions. “Yeah, I know,” I admit with my head hanging low to hide the emotions on my face.
Deep down I know father still worries for me. He emails, sends me money and gifts, but those things only anger me more. They are a constant reminder that I don’t have a father, only things.

  “You know when your mama went, he tried. He just couldn’t deal with raisin’ a child and the loss of your mama, too.” This isn’t anything I haven’t heard before. Even when it was happening I knew. My father tried. He stuck it out for about two years before he left me with my aunts and went off to live somewhere in Colorado to cope with the pain. Leaving me to grow up on my own.

  I look up and cover Tim’s hand with one of mine. “I know, Tim. I’m okay. I’m fine. Tell him I’m doing great when you talk to him next.” I give him what I hope is an affirming smile.

  Craig finishes setting up and looks over at me. A worried look crosses his gorgeous face as his takes in my watery eyes. I give him a cheery smile to show that everything is okay. He seems only momentarily pleased. I know he’s going to ask me about it later. Sooner or later I’ll have to tell him. However, for the first time I don’t feel the anxiety or shame of having to rehash that story to someone. With Craig, I know he’ll want to know the information and then comfort me.

  Craig sits at the table with his rifle in front of him on a bipod with some sand bags around it for support. He has his left arm wrapped around the magazine, hugging the rifle to his face. Cory is to his right looking through his spotter scope and reading off wind speed, atmosphere conditions, and the curvature of the range.

  Looking at Craig’s strong hands gripping the rifle, I feel my body warm up and getting antsy. My cheeks are flushed and I just want to jump up and down from the giddiness flowing through me. He’s so strong and capable physically, at the same time he’s smart, talented, and selfless. It’s a heady combination.