by Cathie Linz
Marines Rock! proclaimed another sign.
The chorus and band was gathered on a special stand of bleachers with their music director standing before them, hands raised, sheet music ready as they burst into a loud rendition of The Marines’ Hymn.
Standing at attention and staring out at the crowd of kids, Joe felt raw panic blasting away at his insides.
He could handle this. He would handle this. A Marine must not fail.
After the song, Principal Vann stepped forward to address the students. “We’re very proud to have a special guest with us this morning. Sergeant Joe Wilder is the U.S. Marine who helped to save five of our students when that unexpected spring snowstorm stranded them all in the mountains. I’ve asked him to come today to talk to you about that experience.”
As Joe walked across the gymnasium floor to the podium, he noticed a group of boys shooting spitballs as each other in the last row. Had he ever been that young?
A wooden podium had been set up for him directly beneath the basketball basket. Red, white and blue bunting was draped across the front of it and the American flag was on display beside him.
Stepping up to the microphone he began speaking.
Joe had no idea what he said. He had no idea if any of it made any sense. He kept his eyes straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the scoreboard located at the other end of the gym.
Sweat gathered above his upper lip and his ears began to roar. Yet still he continued speaking, his curt voice possessing the barklike tenor of a drill sergeant presenting his platoon.
He spoke as quickly as he could. The demons were catching up with him. He needed to wrap this up and get out of here ASAP.
“Any questions? No? That’s good.” Joe turned as if to leave when a dozen hands popped into the air.
If he hadn’t been a Marine he would have groaned aloud. Showing no outward sign of his inner unrest, he pointed to the preadolescent boy near the back, one of the spitballers.
“Is it true that you saw aliens while you were up in the mountains?”
The bunch of very short recruits he’d been marooned with had indeed seemed like aliens to him, but he doubted that’s what this preadolescent male meant. “Negative,” Joe curtly replied. “I saw no indication of alien life-forms.”
“Have you ever killed anybody?” the kid next to the spitballer demanded.
The roaring in Joe’s ears escalated and he got tunnel vision, the edges of the gymnasium turning black, as black as his soul.
“No more questions for now,” Joe heard Prudence saying as if from a great distance. “Before Sergeant Wilder returns to the base, we’d like to give him a token of our appreciation.” With a quick nod at her students, she indicated that they were to come forward now.
Keishon, Gem, Pete, Sinatra and Rosa held on to a large certificate that had obviously been created on the computer and then put together, somewhat inexpertly and unevenly, to include handwritten notes and drawings. This was no generic gift. This was one made from the heart.
Joe’s eyes burned as he read what they’d written: “With appreciation to Sergeant Joe Wilder, our hero. From the sixth-grade students at Dixon Middle School.”
Hero? Who was he kidding? He couldn’t even stand in front of a bunch of rug rats and give a stupid speech without breaking into a cold sweat.
Drowning. He was drowning.
Closing his eyes, Joe flinched as images flashed through his mind. Terror. A small child. And him. For the first time Joe saw himself in the picture. Himself as a child, a four- or five-year-old watching his baby brother fall into the creek.
Save him, Joe, save him!
But he couldn’t.
My God. He remembered. Remembered a past he’d been too young to really register. Until the helicopter crash. That crushing feeling of being to blame had dredged up those forgotten feelings from his earliest years.
This was why he freaked at being around kids. He was no hero. He never had been.
“I don’t deserve this,” Joe said roughly. “I didn’t do anything to deserve it. Give the award to your teacher, she’s much braver than I am.” Saying that, he jammed his cover on his head and strode out of the gymnasium.
When Joe returned to base a short time later, he was greeted with the news that Sergeant Major Martin was looking for him.
Had his commanding officer heard about his abysmal performance at the middle school already? Joe was still trying to deal with the murky memories of his childhood, but there was no time for that now. He was on duty now. He was a Marine, by God. Not a kid.
The second Joe walked into the Sergeant Major’s office, he knew he was in trouble. It was apparent in the gimlet stare he received, in the grave disapproval evident in his commanding officer’s voice even as he barked, “At ease.”
Joe did not relax. He remained standing, his posture cruise-missile straight, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I called you in here because I’ve been hearing some disturbing things, Sergeant. And I want to verify their veracity with you before I proceed any further.”
Joe felt as if the white walls—decorated with framed photos of great moments in U.S. Marine Corps history, including the Marines raising the American flag at Iwo Jima—were closing in on him.
Had Prudence talked to her father after all? Clenching his jaw, Joe braced himself for whatever was to come.
“I heard the wildest rumor about you and my daughter.”
Joe didn’t say a word.
The Sergeant Major continued, “Now I’m saying this is a wild rumor because I fail to see how it could possibly be true. My daughter has too much sense and you’re too good a Marine to disobey an order.”
Actually the Sergeant Major had never ordered Joe not to kiss Prudence, but that was a mere technicality. Joe was well aware of the fact that his commanding officer wouldn’t approve of his daughter and him locking lips.
“This wild rumor has it that you took my daughter bungee-jumping this weekend. True or false?” the Sergeant Major demanded.
This was about bungee-jumping? “False, sir. I did not take her bungee-jumping.”
“I’m very glad to hear that. So my daughter did not go bungee-jumping. I knew she couldn’t be that idiotic. But I needed to hear it from you. So just tell me that my daughter did not go bungee-jumping this weekend and I’ll believe you.”
Joe wanted to lie, but a lifetime of values wouldn’t allow him to do that. A Marine was supposed to possess the highest of military virtues. A Marine never lies, cheats or compromises. He’d had that ingrained in him since birth.
“Sergeant. I asked you to tell me that my daughter did not go bungee-jumping this weekend.”
“I can’t tell you that, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m afraid she did go bungee-jumping, sir.”
Sergeant Major Martin pinned him with a steely-eyed glare. “Repeat that, Sergeant. Are you saying she did go bungee-jumping?”
“Affirmative, sir.”
“Then how do you explain your previous answer regarding not taking her bungee-jumping.” The Sergeant Major’s voice lowered ominously.
“I did not take her bungee-jumping, sir,” Joe clarified. “But she did bungee-jump.”
“On her own? You weren’t there?”
“I was there, sir. And I take full responsibility—”
“So you should,” Sergeant Major Martin interrupted him to growl. “Are you insane? Allowing my daughter to risk her life?”
Joe didn’t say anything in his own defense.
What was there to say? That yes he was afraid he might be going insane? That he’d been haunted by nightmares he couldn’t make any sense out of until today? That he was driven crazy by desire for his commanding officer’s incredibly sexy and infuriatingly stubborn daughter?
Yeah, right. All of that information was sure to go over real well. So he said nothing.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Sergeant.”
“I’m sorry, s
ir,” Joe said stiffly.
“Not half as sorry as you’re going to be,” Sergeant Major Martin declared ominously, his anger roaring in like a fast-moving storm front. “My daughter would never have done anything so…imprudent as bungee-jumping were it not for your influence on her. I’m holding you directly responsible for this uncharacteristic behavior on her part, and I’m hereby ordering you to stay away from my daughter!”
Chapter Eleven
Prudence had been trying to reach Joe all day on his cell phone and had left messages on his voice mail but he wasn’t answering. She was worried about him. She’d never forget the tormented look on his face when he’d walked out of the school gymnasium yesterday. His eyes had held such a mixture of anguish and guilt that she’d hurt for him.
Her students had wondered if they’d said or done something wrong to make Joe leave so abruptly without the certificate they’d worked so hard on for him. She’d had a hard time explaining but had tried to ease their fears, telling them that just because Joe didn’t feel he deserved to be called a hero didn’t mean that he didn’t merit the title. He was a hero, and she assured them that in time Joe would return to pick up his certificate.
“I think he’s kinda shy,” Rosa had said. “I don’t think he liked speaking in front of everyone that way. I know I felt sick to my stomach when I had to give that oral book report last month and that was just in front of our own class not the entire school.”
“Did you tell him that I don’t blame him for cutting those tree branches?” Keishon had asked Prudence.
“I told him.”
“Maybe we could e-mail him,” Sinatra had said. “Send him a funny e-greeting card that would make him feel better.”
“I think he was upset that Pete misspelled the word Sergeant in his sign,” Gem had said.
If only that were true. But Joe’s demons went far deeper than a misspelled word or a case of public speaking jitters.
She’d seen his face go pale, the way he tried to hold himself together. Something had happened to him while he’d stood at that podium and she wouldn’t rest until she found out what it was.
The only good news she’d gotten today was the return of her van. The last time she’d seen it was when she’d left it at the Sunshine Trailhead clearing on the other side of the state. Their backpacks had been returned earlier in the week, but her dad and a buddy of his had traveled over the weekend to get her van for her.
Pulling into her driveway, she was surprised to find her mom waiting for her. She was seated in the wicker rocking chair on the front porch, the one Prudence had given new life to by repainting it lime-green and adding a matching green gingham pillow.
Her mom’s smile and wave assured Prudence that nothing was wrong.
“This is a surprise,” Prudence said as she hurried up the steps, absently noting that the red geraniums would need watering sometime today. Their leaves were looking a little wilted.
That’s how Prudence felt. A little wilted. Her yellow sleeveless cotton shirt clung to her back and her navy-blue slacks were badly wrinkled after a hectic day. It was hot and steamy, typical May weather for coastal North Carolina. Only a few more weeks and school would be out for the summer.
“I made us a pitcher of iced tea,” her mom said.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Prudence murmured as she sank onto a plastic resin chair she’d slip-covered in a green gingham that matched the rocker’s pillows.
“Have I told you what a great job you’ve done with this house, making it so cozy, so reflective of you?”
Prudence eyed her mom over the rim of her iced tea glass. “I have the feeling you didn’t come here to compliment me about my decorating skills. What’s up?”
Ellen sighed and rubbed away the condensation on her own tall glass before replying. “Your father has done something he shouldn’t have, I’m afraid.”
Prudence’s stomach sank. “What do you mean?”
“Your father heard about you going bungee-jumping.”
Prudence groaned. She’d meant to tell her parents about it herself, but hadn’t been sure how to broach the subject. “I’ll bet he went ballistic, huh?”
Her mother nodded. “I must say I was a bit surprised myself.”
“I never meant to upset either one of you. It’s just something that I had to do. And it really was an awesome experience, Mom!”
“I’ll take your word for it. I just hope this isn’t something you plan on doing a lot of?”
“I’ve been careful for a long time now,” Prudence said quietly.
“I know you have, sweetie.” Ellen patted her hand and gave her a knowing look the way only a mother could. “Ever since that car accident you’ve been trying to make up for something, trying to prove something. I know that.”
“I went a little overboard on the caution thing.”
“You always were an all-or-nothing kind of child,” Ellen noted with a grin. “No half measures for you.”
“I know. But I realized I’d become so afraid to take any kind of risk, emotional or otherwise, that I’d wrapped myself in a cocoon and wasn’t experiencing life the way I could be. Being snowbound up in the mountains with Joe made me realize that.”
“Well, it turns out your father had a bit of a run-in with your Joe,” Ellen admitted.
“But Joe had nothing to do with my bungee-jumping,” Prudence said. “Well, he did have something to do with it—he helped me realize that I’d been trying so hard not to do anything wrong, to play it safe that I’d just about stopped living. But he was totally against me jumping. In fact, he ordered me not to.”
“I have to confess that I wasn’t real fond of the idea of my daughter leaping off some tower in a daredevil stunt,” Ellen said. “But I also have to confess that a part of me was glad that you were finally back to your old self. We haven’t really talked about it, but I know that after the car accident you did everything in your power not to make any waves, to be careful and not make any mistakes. But as you said, you took it to such extremes that you weren’t experiencing all life has to offer. That’s not to say that I think you should be doing more daredevil stuff. I’d rather not have any more white hair than I’ve already got, if you don’t mind.”
“What did Dad say to Joe?”
“I’m not sure exactly what he said. You know how your father is. But I do know that yesterday he ordered Joe not to see you anymore.”
Prudence’s heart stopped. “How could he do that?”
“Very easily in the heat of the moment I suspect.”
“He’s going to ruin everything!” Prudence cried, leaping to her feet.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m in love with Joe Wilder, Mom.”
“And is he in love with you?”
“He might be.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Might be?”
“He has a hard time talking about his feelings right now, and Dad certainly made things worse by ordering Joe not to see me. Joe lives and breathes the Marine Corps. He’d never disobey an order.” Prudence set down her glass so abruptly that iced tea sloshed over the top. “I can’t believe Dad did that!”
“He’s worried about you. And so am I. Not because of the bungee-jumping, but because of you loving a man who may or may not love you back. Sweetie, did something happen when the two of you were alone that night up in the mountains? I never asked you…”
“Joe was a perfect gentleman,” Prudence stated.
Her mother heaved a sigh of relief.
“I didn’t want him to be, though,” Prudence said.
“Oh, sweetie.” Her look was a woman-to-woman expression of acknowledgment that her daughter was a grown woman now.
“I love him, Mom.”
“Being snowbound in the mountains, fighting the elements the way you two did, well it’s bound to make a special bond. But once you return to real life—”
“Joe tried saying the same thing,” Prudence interrupted her.
�
�And you didn’t believe him?”
“There are things I can’t say, things he told me. Just trust me, Mom, when I say that Joe understands me, and I understand him. And when we’re together, it’s like the Fourth of July and Christmas all wrapped into one. Fireworks and anticipation. Magic.”
Ellen looked worried. “This has just happened all so fast.…”
“I think I fell a little bit in love with him when I was eight and he was ten. We connected back then, and although I’m the first to admit that the sparks flew when we met again, I fell in love with him again. Believe me, I didn’t want to love him. He’s a Marine. I didn’t want anything to do with another military man, not after Steven humiliated me. And any other Marine I’ve ever dated has gotten called onto to the carpet by Dad. I just can’t believe he’s done it again. Where is he?” she demanded.
“He was feeling out of sorts, so he said he was going to try to squeeze in some fishing in at his favorite spot before it got dark. Where are you going?” Ellen asked as Prudence headed to her van.
“To go tell my father that I’m not his little princess anymore and it’s time he stopped treating me like one!”
Prudence was so riled up it was amazing she didn’t get a speeding ticket as she headed out to her father’s fishing hole. She hadn’t even taken the time to change clothes, but had hopped right into her van and driven out to confront him.
Dust clung to her van and to her slacks by the time she’d traveled down the gravel side road and hiked the dirt trail to his special spot. And there he was, calmly fishing as if he hadn’t just messed up her life.
“How could you?” she angrily shouted, clearly startling him with both her presence and her fury.
“Blast it, princess, you almost made me drop my fishing rod!” he growled, glaring at her under the brim of his battered good-luck fishing hat. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“I’m fishing,” he said, returning his attention to his fishing line.
“Forget fishing,” she growled, tugging on his arm and almost making him drop his rod again. When he was facing her, she said, “How could you order Joe not to see me?”
He sighed and set his rod aside. “So that’s what this is about.”
