by Taylor Dean
“Why would they do that?” Jill breathed.
“Good question. I thought that was the end of my life, right then and there. They completely abandoned us.” Luke shook his head in disbelief. “It was the longest ten minutes of my life till Serial Three comes rolling towards us. The convoy commander is in this serial. He halts his entire serial, finds out what has happened, takes two vehicles and screams down the road until he catches up to Serial Two. He makes them stop, gets the tire we need, and brings it back to us. I was never so relieved in my life. I grabbed that Colonel and hugged him, etiquette be damned.”
“Why didn’t Serial Two stop?”
“Remember that senior officer, the one who told everyone ‘Do not stop?’ Later I heard he was on the radio yelling at the top of his lungs, telling everyone ‘DO NOT STOP. DO NOT STOP.’ He left us out there because he was scared. The guys told me when the Colonel stopped them and got the new tire, the senior officer was sitting in his vehicle, rocking back and forth, holding his head in his hands. He wouldn’t talk to anyone and he wouldn’t look anyone in the eyes. He let fear get to him.”
“It’s hard to believe he would do something like that.”
“People react differently in scenarios where their life is in danger. He was labeled a coward after that trip. The soldiers called him Doctor Scary. He couldn’t shake the nickname.”
“He was willing to leave soldiers behind. That’s not okay.”
“No, it’s not. Whatever prayers you were sending my way that day, they worked.”
“I pray every day for your safety. Every day.”
Luke scooted forward and pressed his lips to hers ever so gently. “I love you, Jill.”
“I love you, Luke.”
“When I’m over there, I can feel how much you love me, like it’s being transmitted over the airwaves. It gets me through the day. You gotta hold onto something and I hold onto you.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“Laughter gets us through a lot.”
“Tell me a funny story.”
Luke ran his hands through her hair. “Most of ‘em are funny after the fact, not so much during. Never during.”
“Tell me one. I need something to erase the image of you stranded on the roadside in Iraq.”
“Jill, I’m not so sure any stories I tell you will make you feel good.”
“It’s all right. I want to share in your experience. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”
“There is one image in my mind that makes me laugh out loud every time I think of it.”
“Go on.”
“We were living in the presidential palace on a hill in Babylon. Keep in mind, the palace was like living in a cave. The Marines had taken the area, but then they’d left. While gone, the locals stole everything and trashed the place. It was just a shell of what it once was when the Marines finally returned and occupied it again. Even the windows and the electrical wiring were gone.
“The palace had several stories and many rooms. We were living in the bottom story with a wide open veranda all around us. Down the hill, in a large field was a helicopter landing area. Marine security forces were all around us, keeping us safe. Sniper teams were always on the roof of the palace, catching anyone who dared to come near. We would often hear shots fired in the night and we’d thank our lucky stars for the Marines.
“On this particular night we were all sacked out in our bottom story room, talking, reading, and relaxing. Most of us were wearing shorts and t-shirts and enjoying a little down time. Suddenly we hear a gigantic whooshing sound, I mean it’s super loud, and it rushes right past the palace. It’s quickly followed by a second whoosh. Then we hear two powerful explosions that cause a shockwave to literally shake the palace.
“We froze, wondering if we were under attack. The senior officer tells us to grab our gear and move under the archways of the palace. He tells us, ‘Stay in the room. Do not go outside.’ He knows the Marines will shoot anything that moves out there and they will all be on high alert.
“The senior officer is a former Explosive Ordinance Disposal officer and he says it sounded like two 2.75 inch rockets flying by. The only 2.75 inch rockets he knows of in the area are on Marine Cobra Helicopters. He tells us to stand down, he thinks it was an accidental discharge from a Cobra.
“We wait where we are, ready to act if need be. Then all of a sudden we hear a bunch of commotion and someone screaming, ‘Battle stations. Battle stations now!’ It’s Doctor Scary. He’s wearing his boxer shorts, long black socks, his body armor, helmet, and ammo vest . . . and that’s all. He looks like Marvin the Martian. He’s carrying his M-16 and he passes by our room in full view as he’s trying to run. Instead he slips on the marble floors and does a perfect Risky Business slide on his socks. Funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The thought of a man in boxers and socks and body armor, looking like Marvin the Martian, brought a smile to her face. At the same time, she also understood why Luke had said it wasn’t funny until after the fact.
“We have our own mission at the palace. The Marines are the security force, keeping us safe while we perform our mission. We’re prepared to fight—and believe me our gear was at our sides—but we don’t have battle stations. The senior officer says calmly, ‘Disregard that order. Stay put.’ The only person panicking was Doctor Scary.
“A Marine corporal comes by a few minutes later to make sure we’re all okay and to let us know it was an accidental discharge from a Cobra. It missed the palace by about six feet. Six feet. If it had hit the palace, I wouldn’t be here right now. It was a terrifying moment, but afterwards we were all howling with laughter at the sight of Doctor Scary looking like Marvin the Martian while doing his Risky Business slide in his boxers and body armor.”
Jill moved closer and hugged Luke just as tight as she could. In a tense moment like that, the soldiers needed something to make them laugh. She’d laugh about it later, when Luke was home for good, safe and sound. “Stay safe, Luke. Please stay safe.”
The rest of the night was spent in each other’s arms, showing, rather than telling, how they felt about each other.
Jill held tightly to Luke’s hand as the minister spoke. Troy was being buried next to his father in a pristine section of the cemetery. The grass was green and perfectly trimmed with not a weed in sight. The array of numerous flowers boasting every color of the rainbow bespoke how loved Troy was in life. Huge oak trees lined the area, making it a beautiful resting place. A light wind blew, ruffling the hair of the many guests present to pay their final respect to Troy Kelley. Joni stood next to Mrs. Kelley, who looked quite frail sitting in a wheelchair. Yet she proudly held Troy’s sleeping son, her grandson, in her arms. Tears streamed down both of their faces.
Luke remained stoic, but his grip on her hand was fierce, revealing his tension. He looked majestic in his Class A uniform and black beret. His military demeanor was rigid, but by no means impassive. Luke’s mom and dad stood on the other side of him and Madelaine occasionally ran her hand over his back in a comforting fashion.
“I had the opportunity to visit with Troy before he passed,” the minister said. “He was in good spirits. His wife, Joni, was at his side and he held his son, Lucas, in his arms. His mother was in attendance as well, watching over her beloved son. I asked Troy if he was at peace. He did as few do . . . he looked me in the eyes and, without hesitation, he told me he was at peace. When it’s time to leave this earth, there isn’t much that is more important than that.”
Several of the guests nodded and some smiled at the thought.
“I asked Troy if there was anything he’d like me to say at his graveside service. He replied in the affirmative and handed me this note.”
The minister held up a piece of paper.
“It was written by his lovely wife, Joni, as dictated to her by Troy. I asked him why these particular words were important to him. He said it was important that a certain person attending his funeral hear t
his message. He said the person who it was meant for would know it when he heard it.” The minister chuckled lightly. “I guess that eliminates the female population in attendance today.” The guests joined him in light laughter, the kind that relieved tension and sadness.
“So without further ado, at Troy’s request, I share this short, but powerful message with you.” He cleared his throat and donned his reading glasses.
“There is one thing I did in my life that I’m most proud of. It’s the one thing that allows me to leave this earth with peace in my heart. It’s not what you might think. It’s not worldly acclaim bestowed upon me for writing successful novels. It’s not even my crowning glory; my beautiful wife, and my precious son who will carry on my name. They are rewards I treasure above all, but I certainly don’t deserve them, nor did I do anything to be worthy of them. The absolute best thing I ever did was not for myself. As a matter of fact, I did it with no thought for myself. It’s the only truly selfless thing I’ve ever done. About now, you’re all probably asking yourself, what did you do, Troy Kelley? What is this noble thing you accomplished that you are so very proud of? Well, I’ll tell you. The best thing I ever did in my life was when I saved the life of my friend.”
The minister removed his glasses. “I hope that message brings peace to one of you here today.”
Luke bowed his head and his body trembled as he broke down. Jill looped her arm through his and held on to him, letting him know he wasn’t alone. He wiped the tears from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to gain control of himself. Troy’s communication from beyond the grave had hit its mark and conveyed the intended message.
Jill knew at that moment, Luke had finally found peace concerning Troy Kelley.
Epilogue
Jill sat on the couch, cuddled up close to Luke, her hands covering her bulging belly.
Luke had been home for three months now. His time in Iraq had lasted for a little over a year. He’d ended up being there for thirteen long months.
Now that he was safely home, they were moving forward with their lives and never looking back.
Jill was six months along with their first pregnancy and feeling well. She still remembered the moment she’d told Luke the exciting news.
He’d called on the SAT phone and she’d told him she was busy redecorating one of the bedrooms. She’d moved into his house after they married and she knew Luke was a little nervous about the changes she was making.
It might have to do with the fact that she made up outrageous stories about what she was doing, just to tease him a little. It had given them something light to speak of in the midst of worry and concern.
“Yeah, black is the new blue, didn’t you know? It looks amazing, I mean it’s a little dark and all, but don’t worry, I’ll add lots of lamps.”
“Black. You painted one of the bedrooms black?”
“Well, I wanted something different after painting your office purple.”
“Purple?”
“It’s a deep purple. Very relaxing.”
“Jill, are you messing with me?”
“Yes. There’s no purple and no black, I promise.” She laughed out loud, giving in quickly because she knew how happy he’d be when he heard the news and she wanted to get on with it already. “I’m painting the bedroom a very neutral soft gray.”
“Gray?”
“Yep. With burgundy accent colors. It looks amazing. It will work perfectly with either a boy or a girl.”
Silence.
“Luke, are you still there?” Normally the reception on the SAT phone was surprisingly clear. They couldn’t get cut off now, not when she was about to tell him about their baby. Curse her stupid idea to play around when they didn’t have much time to talk.
“I’m here. Did you say a boy . . . or a girl?”
“I sure did. What do you say? Is it a good idea to add another member to our family? That all right with you?”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m holding a receipt for a crib right now and trying to put the frustrating thing together. How’s that for serious?”
Yep, the reception was good. Clearly, she heard Luke gasp. His breathing turned shaky and she heard every single little wheeze, pant, and puff.
Jill burst into tears then, unable to keep up the casual pretense. She’d been scheming for days, trying to think of a clever way to tell him. It was not news meant for an email.
Her humor was always an epic fail, but then it was one of the things Luke loved about her, so c’est la vie.
“Oh my gosh, Jill. Really?”
“Yep. I saw the doctor two days ago. It’s official, Dad.” Her voice had turned squeaky on her, as it always did when she was filled with emotion.
“We’re having a baby?”
“Yes.” She wanted to joke around and say, “Well, I hope it’s a baby and not a puppy. That would be weird.” But it wasn’t the time for humor. It was a good thing too, because it would’ve been another fruitless attempt at wit. Silence is golden, and in her case, it was always, always the best choice.
Luke nudged her, bringing her back to the moment at hand. “Mom’s about to open her gift,” he said, winking at her.
“You guys bought me a gift? How sweet,” Madelaine, Luke’s mom, exclaimed.
Madelaine was always buying gifts for others. It made her happy to do so. But the thought of someone buying a gift for her absolutely thrilled her. Jill had never seen someone get so excited over a gift. She tore it open as if she were six years old. She made no attempt to preserve the wrapping paper whatsoever. She and Luke shared a conspiratorial smile.
This was payback time.
Madelaine held up the pink t-shirt that declared, “GRANDMA MADELAINE.” It also boasted a cute little teddy bear, bearing the name, “Claire.”
“Pink? Does that mean you’re having a girl? And you’re naming her Claire?”
“Yes, Mom,” Luke told her, grinning widely. “She’ll be Claire Madelaine.”
Just the fact that they’d given her a gift had left her giddy. The t-shirt left her smiling from ear to ear. The news of their baby’s name, however, left her speechless and teary. “Oh my goodness.”
“Guess what? We have one more gift for you.” Luke handed over another gift that had been concealed under the coffee table.
“Another gift? How do I rate?” Madelaine beamed as she wiped away tears, clearly touched.
She didn’t suspect a thing.
She tore open the gift just as she had the first one. When she held up the second pink t-shirt reading “GRANDMA MADELAINE,” a puzzled expression washed over her face. The teddy bear’s name was Chelsea on this one.
“Chelsea?” she muttered. “Oh, you’re not sure which name you’re going to go with yet?”
Luke chuckled. He couldn’t keep a straight face if his life depended on it. “No, Mom. We’re sure about both Claire Madelaine and Chelsea Juanita.”
Juanita was Jill’s mother’s middle name. They decided Chelsea Linda didn’t have a good ring to it.
Madelaine’s face flushed red and she could hardly speak. “What? Are you kidding me? T-two?”
“Twin girls,” Luke announced proudly.
Jill was pretty sure his chest puffed out too. Fatherhood looked good on him.
Darned good.
Catch some of my other books at
www.taylordeanbooks.com
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