by Rene Folsom
Synopsis
While deployed overseas, his mission classified, the heartfelt letters Maximus writes are the only bits of communication Liberty receives during the year he is away. Her memories of him, along with a box full of letters, become her most prized possessions—that and the life growing inside her.
It’s not until communication stops, and the scheduled return of her Army hero comes and goes, that Libby begins to freak out. Her worry for his welfare, along with concern over her current situation, wreaks havoc on her once-solid nerves.
While she’s waiting for his return with bated breath, she clings to hope and remembers the words he once wrote: “A soldier doesn't fight because he hates what is in front of him. A soldier fights because he loves what he left behind.” The infamous quote is a constant reminder of why he chooses to fight: For Liberty.
Break out the fireworks and get ready to kick off your summer with this HOT new collection of stories. For Liberty is part of the Red Hot and BOOM multi-author series (stands alone for reading enjoyment).
www.redhotauthors.com
Copyright © 2014 Rene Folsom
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission from Rene Folsom, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For Liberty is part of the Red Hot and BOOM!
multi-author collection. www.redhotauthors.com
Editing Services Provided by:
Cynthia Shepp - www.CynthiaShepp.com
Cover Created by Phycel Designs
www.Phycel.com
For all the men and women
defending our freedom—
we’ve got your six.
Chapter One
Liberty
My fingers fumble through the little scraps of paper, searching frantically for the specific one I want.
“Where the hell is it?” I whisper with a slight tremble to my voice. My heart begins to beat wildly as I continue to freak the fuck out. I can’t lose this one. It’s my favorite of all the letters he’s sent me.
In my haste to find the worn sheets of paper I hold so dear, I drop the wooden box, causing it to clatter against the hardwood floor. The contents scatter across the slick surface beside my bed. My body slumps, as if gravity has increased tenfold, and my weak muscles can no longer hold me upright.
Sliding down to the floor, I collapse against the side of the bed, my ass making contact with a muffled thud. Dropping my head back against the mattress, I can’t help but feel overwhelming defeat. I’ve lost the most important possession I own. I’m not usually one to cry, but I can’t help the tears that begin to sting my eyes as I mentally chastise myself for being so careless.
Closing my eyes, I will the tears away and attempt to remember his words, which were meant for my viewing pleasure only. Even though I can recall the letter in almost full detail, it still pains me to think I offhandedly misplaced such an important possession.
It isn’t just the words I adore, but the fact they’re written in his less-than-perfect handwriting. I find his messy scrawl to be uniquely comforting. To see my full name written by him seems so personal, so loving, that I crave the security it brings me. Yes, I have other letters of his that I also keep close to my heart, but this particular letter was the first communication I’ve received since he left me over six months ago.
It has to be around here somewhere. No way could it just sprout legs and walk away. Determination suddenly flooding through my veins, I pick my head up and scour the area around me.
Folded letters litter the floor around my prone body, while the wooden box sits steepled in a rather awkward and open position, the hinges straining against the aged wood. The box had been a gift from my grandparents when they visited the mountains in North Carolina during my childhood. I thought it would be somewhat poetic to store his heartfelt letters in such a beautiful container that means so much to me.
Picking it up, I smell the wooden scent of the empty box. The aroma of cedar hitting my nostrils has the corners of my mouth tilting up in a half smile. The scent has always been a bit relaxing, no matter how worked up I manage to get over silly things. Yet, losing this particular letter is anything but silly.
Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I start busying myself with picking up my mess. I can’t help but draw a parallel between the physical mess that surrounds me and the proverbial mess that is my life without him. I miss him terribly—there’s no other way to describe it other than I feel empty without him.
Empty. Like the cedar box that sits before me.
The best thing I can do is to fill my heart with his memories, just like I can fill my empty box with the words he has written to me.
The memory of when we first officially met springs to my mind and immediately cheers me up. My twenty-second birthday is a day I’ll never forget.
When your birthday falls on a holiday, and your parents insist on giving you a name that’s relative to the event, the celebrations can become somewhat redundant and even a tad annoying, especially in a small town. I often choose to keep myself busy with the festivities in order to avoid those who make a huge deal of my special day.
Nearly a year and a half has passed, yet I remember it like it was yesterday. Volunteering for the local animal shelter, and helping with their holiday fundraisers, was how I chose to spend my birthday that year. The K9 kissing booth was a huge success. All the local pet lovers lined up to pay for smooches with the four-legged fur friends.
When I saw him standing in line, my heart momentarily stopped. Two years older than I was, Maximus Becker was the boy I drooled over during my freshman and sophomore years of high school. Of course, in high school, two years was quite an age gap, and I was a child in his eyes. Other than his occasional visits home, I hadn’t seen him since he’d graduated six years ago and enlisted in the Army.
His round, boyish face was now strong and covered in a dusting of sexy scruff. It was obvious the military kept him in great shape, with his built physique and powerful demeanor. He was no longer the boy I knew in high school. His tall stature and confident stance was nothing short of pure, masculine strength.
Now that I look back on that day, it was probably a bit petty that I frantically searched for another volunteer to take my post. My job was to collect the money for the kissing booth, and I knew I couldn’t just bail. But I was also sure as shit I’d end up making a fool of myself in front of this gorgeous man who probably still didn’t even know I existed.
Realizing there was no one around to relieve me of this torture, I blew a stray lock of hair out of my eyes with a puff of breath and attempted to put on my best game face—determined to keep my cool. He was next in line.
Smiling kindly at the old lady in front of him, I stuffed her dollar in the money bag and kept my head down, worried my words would stumble if I looked into his eyes. Call me crazy, but those stupid, teenage fluttery feelings took over my stomach at the mere closeness of him. I probably looked weak and scared—words usually never used to describe me.
“Well hello, Libby,” a warm, raspy voice said. The fact he spoke my name actually gave me strength to be the girl I knew was hiding inside me somewhere.
Raising my head and meeting his beautiful, blue
eyes, I smiled. “Max. Haven’t seen you around in a while. How the hell are ya?” I was beyond grateful my voice didn’t crack when his name spilled from my lips.
“Doin’ good. Just moved back to town now that I’m stationed at the base nearby.” His eyes roamed down my body and back up to meet my eyes. “Looks to me like I’ve missed a lot while I was gone.” The smile he so sinfully wore on his face made my insides melt like a tween at a One Direction concert. The fact one man could make me feel that way was both exciting and embarrassing.
And again, I was speechless. Was he paying me a compliment? My brain couldn’t seem to comprehend what was happening, so I just stood there and grinned like a damn fool.
Leaning toward me, he crooked his finger and signaled for me to come closer. My heart was nearly leaping from my chest at the thought of him so near. He smelled good too. I had to rein in all the self-control I could muster in order to keep from blatantly sniffing him.
With his warm breath feathering over my ear, he said, “So, I’m a little embarrassed. I got in this line thinking I was lining up for a kiss with—”
“We don’t have all day,” a crabby woman behind Max said, cutting off his words. If I weren’t representing the animal shelter, I would have told the lady to fuck off.
Smiling kindly, I held out my hand for his donation and said, “You ready to get your mac on with a basset hound?”
Shaking his head comically, he let out a light chuckle and held up a twenty between his fingers. His instruction for me to keep the change startled me a bit. We’d had several people give us an extra dollar or two toward the fundraising efforts, but no one had offered quite so much.
Stepping over to the line of dogs, he looked back in my direction and gave me a wink before allowing Henry to slobber all over his cheek.
I couldn’t contain my laughter as I watched him wipe his face on his sleeve.
Gathering money from a few more people, I looked back to find where Max had gone. My excitement plummeted when I realized he was no longer in sight. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he chose not to stick around.
The shelter coordinator, Debbie, startled me from my thoughts and said, “Libby, you better take off if you’re going to make it to the parade in time.”
“You sure? I could probably stay a little longer if you need me.”
“No, we’re good. The line is starting to die down anyway. With four adoptions and all the money we’ve raised, today has been a huge success,” she said with a kind pat to my shoulder. “Go have fun.”
After saying my goodbyes to the dogs, paying special attention to Henry, my new, favorite basset hound, I began walking away from the park and headed toward Main Street to meet my family. It was tradition—every year, we made sure to watch the Independence Day parade together. No matter how busy life was, we always set aside time for each other.
“Can I walk with you?” a voice boomed next to me, scaring me out of my own skin.
“Holy—” I gasped and grabbed my chest in surprise. “Damn it. You startled me!” I said, pushing at him.
His laugh was infectious, and soon, we were both chuckling as we continued walking.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. So, where ya headed?”
“Just to watch the parade,” I said as I pointed to the next block over. “You?”
“I guess I’m going to watch the parade too then.” His admission that he was following me had me grinning from ear to ear. That expression always seemed strange to me until that day.
The grin continues to hurt my cheeks at the memory of how he sat next to me at the parade. I remember noticing his eyes never really left my face, all the while pretending to watch the floats go by.
Yes, that birthday was definitely one of the best days of my life.
As I place the last of the letters back inside the wooden container, the memory starts to fade, and I begin to fret again about the most important letter I seem to have misplaced.
“Oh well,” I say with a sigh. I’ve made the decision not to dwell on it. It has to be around here somewhere. As soon as I stop looking for it, it’ll pop up.
Closing the lid, I run my fingers over the beautiful mountain etching that adorns the surface. For Liberty is scrawled on the front, and I just love that little detail my grandparents had customized. I’m sure they never realized how perfect it would be.
Reaching to the bedside table, I place the box carefully on the surface and immediately eyeball the book I was reading last night. Little bits of paper haphazardly peek out between the pages and it suddenly dawns on me...
“Holy shit!” I exclaim as I bolt upright, grab the novel, and start rapidly fanning through the pages. In my sleep-filled haze last night, I must’ve used the letter as a bookmark.
Not caring if I lose my spot, I slide the folded notebook paper from between the pages and smile. I didn’t completely lose it after all.
The sun is now glaring through the bedroom window, and I find its warmth comforting as I unfold the tattered pages with careful consideration. Peace fills my soul as my gaze lands on his handwriting—the words For Liberty scrawled at the top of the page.
Knowing I have plenty of time before I need to get ready for work, I settle on my bed to read it once more.
For Liberty,
Boy, do I miss saying your name. Sometimes, when I’m alone and missing you terribly, I whisper the most beautiful name ever to grace my lips. I can’t wait for the day I get to feather it against your skin again. I know it has been a month since my deployment, and I’m not sure how long it will take this letter to find its way to you, but I just need you to know how much I miss you. Your face, your smell, your laugh, your love... Christ, I miss all of you, Libby.
Oh, how I wish I could be next to you when the first of dawn breaks. I hold onto the memory of your soft skin beneath my touch—your warmth wrapped tightly in my arms as I listen to you breathe deeply in sleep. My dreams of you each and every morning are what help me cope... help me rise each day to face this restless existence I lead. Without your love on my mind, I don’t know how this life of war could be bearable.
I feel as if this scrap of paper isn’t enough to hold the words to describe how deeply I am in love with you. But now, being here without your sweet voice to soothe me, I realize just how important it is for one to hear the words from their lover. I love you, my darling Libby. I long for the day I can hear those same words leave your lips again.
No truer words were ever spoken than that of an author unknown who said, “A soldier doesn’t fight because he hates what is in front of him. A soldier fights because he loves what he left behind.” So, while I’m missing you, I remind myself of why I’m really here: For Liberty.
With all my love,
Max
P.S. Tell Henry I miss his kisses too.
His postscript has me chuckling as I recall the day he brought my favorite basset hound home from the shelter. My laughter quickly fades at the thought of him feeling sad or alone. Due to the top-secret security of his assignment, I haven’t had a way to reciprocate my love for him or to tell him the good news. With each day that passes, I ache to disclose just how much he means to me.
Touching my rounded belly and feeling the life growing inside me, I can’t help the trepidation that seeps into my thoughts. The fact I have no way to tell the love of my life he will be a father scares me shitless. I can’t stop myself from getting all teary-eyed knowing he won’t be here for the birth of his son.
What will his reaction be when he comes home to find a child in my arms? I can only hope he will be filled with even half the amount of joy I feel at the thought of having his baby.
Chapter Two
Maximus
For Liberty,
The sun is just about to set behind a ridge of exposed rock. While the sun’s rays are casting beautiful colors along the tan surface, I can’t help but look at it with disdain. These mountainous terrains are nothing but a barren wasteland compared to your be
auty, and I despise it for keeping me away from you for so long. As I look down upon the green valley below, I envision that the snowy peaks glow with your light rather than the final rays of sun. Another day has come and gone without being near you. As the air continues to cool with the approach of autumn, my heart aches for your warmth.
Adrenaline is still pumping through my veins from a rather challenging day of travel. The smell of dinner being prepared by my brothers is but little comfort as I peer out among the steep faces of the mountains.
While I try to keep my letters free of the horrors of war, today’s encounter continues to haunt me, and I long for nothing more than to talk to you about the trials I’m forced to face each day.
Kenz and I were resting against a boulder on one of the many steep inclines, joking about how some of these traitorous peaks might’ve never been traveled before. Suddenly, what I could only describe as wisps of air began to gust around my head. Almost simultaneously, I heard the distinctive popping noise of bullets as they fluttered above us. From the top of the beautiful mountaintop we had just deemed unreachable, the Taliban had opened fire, ensnaring us in a place far more familiar to them than we dared to admit to ourselves.
Now that we’ve fought our way through the ambush and set up camp, I am able to sit and think about all that transpired over the past few hours. It’s too bad I can’t enjoy the mid-September weather on one of the most beautiful mountain ranges I’ve ever seen. Instead, reality hits me like a brick with the awareness that I’m in one of the most dangerous combat zones in the world: the foothills of the Hindu Kush in Afghanistan. I wish I could tell you more, but alas, I am sworn to keep our whereabouts a secret.
