“I’ll never forget that trip as long as I live.” What words existed to describe two becoming one? Intimate, mysterious, and beautiful don’t quite measure up. Whitleigh sighed and cupped his face. “I hope you always dream of our honeymoon.”
“We didn’t see too much of the area though.”
“I think we saw enough.” Whitleigh cracked a smile. “I’m blushing at my own joke.” She laughed and fell over him. He tickled her side.
“Thirty days went by too fast.” Collier lowered his head. “I wish we had more time.”
“More time would never be enough.”
The alarm clock sounded. They fell silent. No tears right now. Whitleigh pushed back the burning in her throat. Her eyes welled. Not now. Not yet.
“Get dressed, Babes.” Collier placed a quick peck on her cheek and rolled out of bed. “I’ll get breakfast started.”
Whitleigh followed suit. Her feet sank down into the plush carpet. Whitleigh stood and scanned their bedroom, the largest area in their apartment.
One photo from their wedding hung on the far wall closest to the dual closets. The other walls, tan and bare, begged to be filled. A few boxes from the move remained on their bedroom floor, but in all honesty, there’s not much to move when two college kids get married.
Her heart pounded. The minutes ticked by on the clock perched on their nightstand. If she didn’t move, time would freeze, right? Whitleigh swallowed and forced her feet forward. Would it feel like this every time he left? Like her heart was being ripped out of her chest?
She dressed in their bathroom, mindful of her elbows in a space so tight. The old ankle-length skirt she purchased from the thrift store wasn’t flattering, but was the required attire for women missionaries while in Honduras. Whitleigh leaned over the sink and peered into the mirror. A little makeup would help. She livened up her face with a bit of mascara and lip gloss, then headed down the stairs. Their suitcases, hers bulging, his a well-packed duffle bag, sat next to the front door.
Not much longer now. Whitleigh bobbed her head. She could do this. They could do this.
The scent of bacon greeted her. Collier stood in front of the stove and whistled a tune.
“Hey Babes.” He turned, spatula in hand. “Well look at you, Senorita. Look out Honduras.”
Whitleigh twirled and sent her skirt spinning. “You’re not so bad yourself there, looking all nice in that uniform.” She shimmied over in his direction. Worst Samba ever. She laughed and reached for the plate he held in his hand.
“Eggs over medium. Bacon well done.”
“Perfect.” Whitleigh sat down at their table for two. “Your cooking skills are impressive.”
Collier took a bow and then the seat at her side. “I aim to please.”
“You make it look easy.”
“It’s not that difficult to fry—”
“No.” Whitleigh chuckled and snapped off a piece of bacon. “You make today look easy.”
“Not easy.” He shook his head and took a sip of juice. “Ready.”
“Ready?”
“The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get back together.” He winked and snuck in a kiss. “And I like together better than apart.”
Whitleigh crunched the bacon between her teeth. She slid her arm into the nook of his elbow. “It’s strange when you think about it—that we’re starting our lives together, but literally worlds apart.”
“God’s got an interesting plan for us.” He shuffled the eggs around his plate with a fork and scooped a few into his mouth. “A year’s gonna fly by.”
“I’m already saving to come see you—our first Christmas. Wow. I never thought it would be in Korea.”
“I’m sure Reese and Lennon can come out here on breaks, and I know your mom and dad are already planning a trip.”
“Two weeks.” Whitleigh laid her head on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “School will start up soon too.” So many changes. She smiled.
“Babes.” Collier kissed the top of her head.
“It’s time to go, isn’t it?” She closed her eyes and held on to his arm with all her strength.
“Will you do something for me?”
Whitleigh lifted her chin. “Name it.”
“The picture Brady and his family gave to us.”
“Psalm 91?”
“Let’s pray that scripture every day.” He gathered her hands into his. “Could we do that?”
“Everyday.” Praying for her husband was an honor.
“Can we pray it before we go?”
“I think that’s a nice way to end our last day together.”
“It’s a good way to start it too.”
Whitleigh smiled and bowed her head alongside her husband. Their journey began.
PSALM 91 (NKJV)
He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High
Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress;
My God, in Him I will trust.”
Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler
And from the perilous pestilence.
He shall cover you with His feathers,
And under His wings you shall take refuge;
His truth shall be your shield and buckler.
You shall not be afraid of the terror by night,
Nor of the arrow that flies by day,
Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness,
Nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
And ten thousand at your right hand;
But it shall not come near you.
Only with your eyes shall you look,
And see the reward of the wicked.
Because you have made the Lord, who is my refuge,
Even the Most High, your dwelling place,
No evil shall befall you,
Nor shall any plague come near your dwelling;
For He shall give His angels charge over you,
To keep you in all your ways.
In their hands they shall bear you up,
Lest you dash your foot against a stone.
You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra,
The young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot.
“Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him;
I will set him on high, because he has known My name.
He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble;
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life I will satisfy him,
And show him My salvation.”
THE END
Reader’s’ Guide: Suggested Discussion Questions
SUGGESTED questions for a discussion group surrounding Wedding a Warrior.
While the characters and situations in Wedding a Warrior are fictional, I pray that their story parallels the truth of God’s love, forgiveness, and His ability to restore in a way that sticks with the reader for a lifetime. Please search God’s Word (The Bible) and prayerfully consider the questions below as you draw conclusions.
Plans are fun to make, and it’s often wise to make them. However, sometimes our plans get in the way of faith. It’s often difficult to know when we should let go and let God.
1: Discuss that balance of letting go and letting God versus our plans and to-do lists.
God doesn’t want good for our life he wants great, however, choosing greatness often means going down a path we didn’t plan. Perhaps it is dark, lonely, or painful.
2: Can you think of a time God’s great plan was different from your good plan?
Fear often hinders us from following God and taking steps in faith, but we know God has not given us a spirit of fear but one of power, love, and sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7).
3: Is there something God wants or has wanted you to do, but fear got in the way?
4: Tak
e time to pray about your answer and ask God to help remind you of the spirit of power, love, and sound mind living in you.
About the Author
Hannah Conway is an Army wife of more than ten years, mother of two, writer, and speaker. She is active with American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and My BookTherapy. A Kentucky native, she and her family reside in Clarksville, TN near Fort Campbell where they are currently stationed.
Hannah holds a BA in History from the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs and has spent many years in ministry working with both youth and women's groups. In her time in ministry, she served two years as a Youth Director and one year as a Co-Coordinator of a Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) group.
When she isn’t writing, you’ll find Hannah volunteering for community service projects, jogging (slowly), neck deep in Pinterest crafts, or browsing thrift stores. A good book, a piece of chocolate, Chai tea latte, and an outdoor setting take her captive on more occasions that she likes to admit.
The most important thing about Hannah, is that she's a follower of Christ. It's her prayer that you will come to know how much God loves you through her writings.
Author Website: www.hannahrconway.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorhannahconway
Newsletter: http://tiny.cc/hannahconwaynews
Personal Note
A Personal Note from Author Hannah Conway ...
Dear Reader,
Thank you for picking up this book and making the decision to read it through. There are literally millions of books out there you could’ve chosen, so really, it’s a big deal that you picked Wedding a Warrior. From the bottom of my heart I thank you.
I pray Wedding a Warrior blessed you and encourages you not to let fear get in the way of faith. It is, however, my deepest prayer that you would know, love, and serve the God that I and my characters know, love, and serve. God doesn’t want us to just believe in Him. He wants a relationship with us, and we can have that relationship with Him through His son, Jesus.
Romans 10:9 says that if we declare with our mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe God raised Him from the dead, we will be saved (Made right with God and able to be with Him after we die). I pray you’ve made that decision to have a relationship with God. Please feel free to connect with me through my website, mailing list, and social media sites. I’d love to hear from you and any decision you’ve made about following Jesus.
I can’t tell you how loved and appreciated you are! Again, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed this novella! If you find yourself curious what happens to Whitleigh and Collier after this novella, don’t worry, you can pick up The Wounded Warrior’s Wife, but hold on to your seat—you’re in for an adventure!
Love,
Excerpt: The Wounded Warrior's Wife
The Wounded Warrior's Wife
A Novel by
THE story of Whitleigh and Collier continues in the full length novel, The Wounded Warrior's Wife. Please enjoy this special excerpt.
THE last hints of sunlight poured through the modest bathroom window. The tub water, now lukewarm, retreated in slow waves across Whitleigh Cromwell’s neck. Mellow tunes, defending the house from silence, drifted through the tiny tiled room. No matter the soft, easy nature of the melody, there was nothing relaxing or distracting about her Elements of Education textbook.
She crossed her eyes and tapped a pencil on her bottom lip before circling a long, drawn out explanation of differentiation. How many more definitions did she have to underline? Senior-itis was kicking in two semesters too early.
Whitleigh sank lower in the tub. Studying would’ve been much more enjoyable with Collier home. Life in general was better with him around.
She huffed. With a wet finger, she turned the page. Waiting was the worst. Worse than reading a bound book of boredom, but that’s Army life — hurry up and wait.
She couldn’t complain too much though. Whitleigh closed her eyes for a moment. Her lips curved into a smile. In a manner of weeks it would be over soon. All of it. The wait, Army life — all done. Life with her husband could resume as normal. She sighed, her breath creating ripples in the water. Weeks would be no problem to pass compared to the year they’d nearly conquered, but studying seemed to be an inadequate way to pass the time.
The words in the text blurred. She squinted through the wire frames, sliding to the tip of her nose, unable to make much more sense of the paragraph.
It had been a long day. A long year.
Whitleigh snapped the book shut with a clap. Scarce patches of bubbles from the bath threatened to ruin her note page where it was balanced on the edge of the tub. She pushed the papers to safety on a footstool turned bath-time desk. An angry buzzing rang out. Whitleigh lunged from the sudsy waters, clambering for the clattering cell phone perched atop the toilet seat. A stack of textbooks fell prey to her flailing limbs.
“Whit.” The line cracked and popped. “Can you hear me?”
“Sorta.” She squealed and groused as soapy shampoo suds seeped into her eyes.
“Whit?”
“I’m here.” She swatted the volume on the MP3 player stand and felt around for a towel. A shirt would do the trick. Shampoo seemed as effective as pepper spray.
“Hold on.” Grumbles echoed from the other end of the line. The static stopped. Whatever he did worked. “Better?”
“Loads.” She laughed, her eyes still stinging as she twisted her soaking hair into a towel. “Collier, oh my gosh. I’ve missed you. How are you?”
The line crackled. Whitleigh threw on a robe before walking down the hall and into their bedroom. Even their phone conversation required patience with the interference and delay. She skirted around their bedroom, mindful of the books and folded laundry ready to be put away.
“I’m good, Sweets.” She could almost hear the smile in his tired voice. “Just missing you.”
“You counting down?” Her stomach knotted. Things were looking up.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t sound too excited.” Whitleigh plopped on the bed and gathered a few pillows underneath her arms.
“I’m excited. Just some things, you know, going on.”
Whitleigh frowned. Though Korea hadn’t been a war zone in fifty years, Collier and the other soldiers spent a lot of time drilling in the field. Must be tedious work.
“Look Whit, um, I don’t have much time.”
“What’s wrong?”
The stories that came from Korea were horrid. Soldiers cheating on their wives, drunken bar fights, prostitutes roaming the streets. She shoved those thoughts from her mind.
Not her Collier. Not ever.
“Remember that piece you heard on the news?”
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. How could she forget? The media had about given her a heart attack. “News stations need to get their facts straight.”
Collier coughed. “Anyway.” He coughed again. His tone echoed hints of anxiety.
Whitleigh fidgeted with a piece of tangled, wet hair falling from the towel. Collier never hesitated with his words.
“Well, they aren’t rumors anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Oh.
Wait.
What?
“War?” Whitleigh slid off the bed. “That’s ridiculous. They can’t send you to Iraq.” She paced the room. The carpet, tan and tattered, had felt more than its share of trampling feet. “No. You’ve done your year in Korea.” She threw up her free hand and stomped her foot. Like that would help. “They can’t send you anywhere else but home.”
“Whit, calm —”
“Calm down. Calm down? Really, Collier?” She clamped her jaw tight. “They have no right —”
“Whitleigh.” The sharpness in his voice silenced her. Her stomach contorted, sending a wave of nausea over her body. She collapsed on the bed, fighting off tears and the urge to continue her rant.
“Listen to me, please.”
How could she listen? All of the effor
t it took to move to Fort Carson, Colorado and transfer her college credits, ready to start her life with Collier, but then a hardship tour to South Korea interrupted. Now this?
Collier released a drawn out breath. “I wanted you to hear it from me before the crazy news people start saying stuff.”
Closing her eyes, she softened her grip on the phone. He didn’t deserve to be her punching bag. “I’m sorry.” Whitleigh shook, drawing the pillows into her lap. “I just want you home. For good. I want us to be together.”
A tear fell, and then another.
“I know, Sweets. I’ll be home in two days tops.”
That was good news to cling to. Whitleigh propped herself against the headboard.
“We’ve got two weeks of leave. We’ll celebrate.”
“Celebrate what? Deployment? Spending another year apart?” Whitleigh unraveled the towel from her hair and dabbed her eyes. “This isn’t how I thought we’d spend our first anniversary — oceans apart.”
“I know, Whit.” He probably pinched the bridge of his nose. She listened as he drew in a deep breath. “Two weeks is enough time to take you on a real honeymoon.”
Whitleigh held in quiet sobs. Her chin dimpled.
“I know this isn’t what we planned.” No it wasn’t. “But it’s gonna be okay.” Nothing about this was okay.
His optimism made her scowl.
Collier exhaled. “Please say something.”
Her bottom lip protested beneath the grip of her teeth. The tears couldn’t be stopped. “I’m not sure I know what to say.” Nothing from her mouth would be beneficial. Holding her tongue was the most viable option.
“Listen, Sweets, I have to go. There are others in line behind me.” His voice softened. “I’ll… I’ll see you soon.”
LONGEST night ever. Going to sleep wasn’t an option right after receiving such devastating news. Whitleigh rolled from the bed, grumpy beyond reason. The morning news station didn’t help. Twelve soldiers killed in Iraq. She turned the TV off and threw the remote on the floor. Not even a quickly brewed cup of coffee lifted her spirits. She pried the screen door open — dumb thing — and stepped down onto the broken slab of concrete.
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