A Marine for His Mom

by Christy Jeffries

  When the boy’s chattering finally slowed, she cranked up the radio volume, hoping the preprogrammed Motown station would get her back to her normally cheerful and positive self. But hearing The Miracles sing about really having a hold on her just hit too close to home. She reached out her hand to turn off the song, then froze, determined not to allow Cooper to have any type of hold on her.

  Sweet mercy, even thinking the man’s name made her chest pound again. The guy was so beat up he could hardly write his signature on the admission forms, and Maxine experienced a twinge of regret for pushing him and that derelict airport-issued wheelchair to the limits when she’d quickened her steps and had forced his well-muscled arms to match her quick pace as they’d exited the baggage claim area. Really, though, it was his own fault for being so competitive—like every other male she knew—and refusing to let some female, even one who ran several miles a day, leave him in the dust.

  Now, the closer she drove toward home, the more convinced she became that Cooper might not have been that much of a macho jerk if he’d been feeling better. So then why had she allowed him to get her so flustered? She tried to think of all the tidbits of information Hunter had told her about the marine these past few months. But her son usually talked nonstop, like he was doing now, and she figured it would just be easier to wait until Hunter went out with his grandmother tonight, and then go back and read the letters.

  After all, it wasn’t as if their correspondence was a secret. He’d shown the letters to her before—repeatedly. She just hadn’t thought they’d been that important at the time and hadn’t given them more than a passing glance. She pulled into her parking spot in the alley behind the Sugar Falls Cookie Company. Thank goodness her bakery closed every day at three o’clock. As soon as Hunter left for his regular Thursday night outing, she could slip right up to their renovated apartment upstairs and pour herself a glass of wine. Or a bottle.

  “Your grandmother is going to be here to pick you up any minute. Take your backpack inside, then run up and change into that new sweater she bought you.”

  “Mom, that sweater is a joke,” Hunter said as he got out of the car and followed her inside the cool and quiet industrial-sized kitchen. “It’s way too small and it has a picture of a bear throwing a football on the front. I can’t wear that around town.”

  “Sweetie, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do to make other people in our lives happy.” Like drive an hour to the airport to pick up an injured and cranky marine we’ve just met, then get insulted by his high-handed manliness as I drive him to the hospital—just to see my son smile.

  “Fiiine. Hey, I can’t wait to tell Gram all about meeting Cooper. She said she’d drive me down to Shadowview to visit him after he has his surgery. And Aunt Kylie saw his picture and said he was a hottie. I bet she’d give me a ride to visit him, too. He’s single, so maybe they could even go on a date or something when he gets all better.”

  A prickle of jealousy rose up along Maxine’s spine. Her best friend Kylie was beautiful, and she did have an eye for the men. But the thought of her dating Cooper didn’t sit well. Not that Maxine had any claim on the man. Heck, she wouldn’t wish his grumpy bad attitude on anyone.

  “I’ll take you to see him, honey. You don’t need to bother Gram or Aunt Kylie with that. Let’s just wait and see how his surgeries go and what the doctors say before you make any plans to go visit. Besides, you have school and lots of other stuff you need to take care of first.”

  “Other stuff like what, Mom? I don’t have any friends besides Jake. And it’s not like you’re going to let me play baseball this year, either.”

  “Hunter!” Maxine was tired of being made to look like the bad guy. “It’s not like you’re banned from sports or exercise. You could go running with me every afternoon. Or you could play tennis with Gram. And I bought you that Wii U sports game. I totally believe in exercising. We’ve been over this. I just don’t want you playing contact sports or getting a big ego the way most athletes do. There’s so much more to life than sports.”

  “Not to your dad, there wasn’t,” a sugary voice singsonged as the back door closed.

  Maxine cringed as Cessy Walker, her former mother-in-law and Bo Walker’s biggest fan, came strolling into the bakery to add her customary two cents.

  “Your father loved football more than anything,” Cessy added.

  He definitely loved the game more than his wife and son, Maxine thought, with Bo’s popularity coming in a close second. But she focused her attention on the woman who’d just entered the cookie shop.

  Maxine nodded toward the stairway leading to their living quarters above the bakery. “Hunter, run upstairs to the apartment and change clothes. We can talk more about this when you come home tonight.”

  When she saw Cessy’s gaze follow Hunter, she crossed her arms over her rib cage to hold her jittery emotions in check. No matter how helpful her mother-in-law was, the woman had a tendency to be every bit as overpowering as her perfume and opinions. Also, Maxine wasn’t sure what Cessy already knew about the whole pen pal situation, but one thing she could count on was that Hunter’s grandmother wouldn’t like him having any heroes other than Bodrick “Bo” Walker, the legendary Sugar Falls High School quarterback and Boise State second-string tight end.

  “Those Hudson Jeans look good on you,” Cessy told Maxine. “I knew they would. I’ll get you another pair when I go into the city next week.”

  “Thanks, but you don’t need to do that. I don’t need anything else. Really. You buy me and Hunter enough as it is.” Maxine didn’t have the heart to tell Cessy that with her cookie business booming the way it was, she probably now brought in more income than Cessy’s monthly alimony checks and stock dividends combined.

  “Honey, Bo wouldn’t want his wife and only son running around in clothes off the discount store clearance racks.”

  In the zinger department, this was point one for Cessy. Maxine knew her mother-in-law wasn’t trying to be insulting, but apparently the woman couldn’t help sounding a little, well, snobbish.

  “Besides,” Cessy added, “I love doing this for you two. I’m the only family you have around.”

  Point two. Cessy always seemed to find ways to remind Maxine that she wasn’t able to stay in frequent contact with her own scattered family.

  When Hunter came back downstairs, pulling on the too-short waistband of the hated bear sweater, Maxine said, “Be good tonight for Gram.”

  Cessy ushered the boy out the back door and into her brand-new red Lexus. Her former mother-in-law got a new car every year, even though she was no longer married to the dealership’s owner. Maxine suspected that a yearly lease was part of her last divorce settlement.

  “And wear your seat belt,” she added. “No TV or screen time tonight until you finish your homework.”

  Sometimes it seemed as though Maxine was constantly issuing orders, and it didn’t sit well with her. She feared it was a residual from her days as a military brat. Maybe she shouldn’t worry so much about Hunter. He was a good kid.

  “Mom, I got it,” Hunter said. “Stop stressing about me.” Still, he lifted his head so she could drop a goodbye kiss on his cheek.

  “Have him home before bedtime,” Maxine called out, but nobody in the Lexus seemed to hear her over the Barry Manilow CDs Cessy played constantly at high decibels.

  As Maxine stood in the doorway, watching them drive away, a wave of loneliness swept over her. In the early mornings, when it was still dark outside, she loved the solitude as she creamed the butter and sugar in the warm industrial bakery kitchen, no sounds intruding to penetrate her thoughts. But she hated the empty feeling that engulfed her when that same silence enveloped her in the afternoons and evenings, when the outside sounds were a constant buzz of activity and a reminder that families everywhere were coming together to share the ups and downs
of their days.

  Normally, she would run upstairs to change into her workout clothes. She and her two best friends, Kylie and Mia, had a standing yoga date every Thursday evening. Afterward, they would have a dish session over dinner at their favorite local Italian place. She might not have the family home life she had always hoped for, but she’d sure done a fabulous job of creating a different sort of family—even if it was nontraditional.

  However, now that she had met Cooper in person, her girlfriends would have to wait. Or she could call them and have them meet her here for an emergency strategy session.

  She checked her watch. She had time to read just a few letters, so she went straight toward Hunter’s room. On the bulletin board above his desk, she recognized the photo she hadn’t given a second thought to when it’d arrived with the initial letter. In his camouflage uniform and helmet, he looked just like any other marine on duty.

  But at some point in the past few months, that picture had been affixed right on top of an old copy of the Sugar Falls Advocate article Cessy had given her grandson about high school tight end Bo Walker.

  Cessy wouldn’t like that placement too much.

  A stack of APO addressed envelopes sat in a loose pile on top of the Harry Potter book that the school library had called about last week. Hunter had assured her he’d returned it on time, but maybe Maxine should’ve been checking his desk more often.

  When she was one of seven siblings growing up in the cramped quarters of base housing, she’d promised herself that when she had kids of her own, they’d have privacy. She’d respect their boundaries.

  But this was different. Wasn’t it? She had a parental obligation to learn more about who her son wanted to spend time with. Besides, it wasn’t as if Hunter kept to himself about these things. If it were up to him, he’d be shouting from the Victorian rooftops along Snowflake Boulevard about being the fifth grader with the coolest pen pal.

  She looked at the postmarks until she found the one dated in September. That must be the first one. There was a picture still inside the envelope. She pulled out the photo and studied the desert camouflage of his uniform and the high and tight haircut of his dark hair. She’d seen enough military uniforms to last her a lifetime. Soldiers usually all looked the same to her. But the guy kneeling next to the dog seemed different. Maybe because she’d already seen that handsome face and strong jaw in person.

  He wasn’t smiling in the shot, but his arm was looped around the neck of a shaggy red dog, and his black Ray Bans were propped on his forehead. Something about the sadness in the marine’s eyes called out to her, and she fingered the photo along the hardened chin as if she could force him to smile.

  There was a loneliness reflected in his gaze that struck something deep inside her. Gunny Sergeant Matthew Cooper, huh? She pulled out the letter and started reading.

  28 Sept.

  Dear Hunter,

  I’m a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps and I work as an MP, which is military police. I don’t fly jets or drive tanks, but I do have my own patrol Humvee and get to arrest terrorists and other soldiers who break the laws. I enclosed a picture of me with Helix, a stray dog my squadron adopted off the streets of Helmand province. I’m trying to train him to be a K9, but he doesn’t seem to want to do anything but eat MREs and hide under my bunk to sleep.

  I’m impressed with your knowledge of assault aircraft and vehicles. Does your mom know you research all this? Also, I doubt your friend Jake’s cousin is a real fighter pilot if he is in the Coast Guard. That branch of the military doesn’t use those kinds of jets. Plus, it takes a long time to become a pilot, and 18 seems a bit young. Sometimes, kids make things seem bigger and better so they can show off to other kids.

  Let’s see, some of the other stuff you asked about me... I’m a man, I like baseball, but I played more basketball when I was in school because I grew up in Michigan, and there were more hoops around my neighborhood. Plus, playing basketball was free. When I watch baseball, I like the Detroit Tigers best, but I don’t know much of their stats. I don’t really like the UFC. I’ve seen enough fighting in my life that I don’t want to watch it for fun.

  I guess it would be pretty cool to have a mom who makes so many cookies, but I hope you eat lots of healthy foods, too. You said your mom doesn’t let you play sports, but remember that as a growing boy, you still need to get exercise in some way. We marines are required to keep fit every day. It’s called PT—physical training.

  Take care,

  GySgt Cooper

  Maxine read that first letter, then a few of the others, before taking a break to run out to the kitchen to pour a glass of chardonnay. Together, the letters gave her a little more insight to the man who would take the time to train a stray dog and write regularly to a fatherless boy.

  She brought the wine back to Hunter’s room and set her glass next to the keyboard. Hunter had asked permission to email Cooper back in November and Maxine had given her blessing, knowing that she could monitor the emails easily with the parental control program she’d installed. Even though she felt like a voyeur spying on their relationship, she had to remind herself that Hunter would’ve been willing to show her the correspondence, had she not wanted to be alone to mull over everything.

  After minimizing the screen, she scrolled through all the prior email attachments that had pictures of Cooper. One of the photos showed him holding some type of foil-wrapped food package above his head. A dog—not Helix—was jumping vertically into the air trying to get it. He was laughing at the dog, his mouth open and head thrown back.

  From what Maxine had pieced together from the emails, the man had recently lost his dog in some type of bombing incident. Poor guy.

  She scrolled through a few more and paused at one of the shots of him not wearing his customary sunglasses. She had to admit that he was good-looking in a tough, military sort of way.

  Who was she kidding? The man was good-looking just off his long flight with beard stubble, jet lag and a bum leg. Of course he’d be even more handsome in uniform. She’d never been attracted to those types, though. They represented everything she’d tried to get away from during her childhood.

  But somehow Cooper seemed different. He didn’t really look as if he fit the military mold despite the regulation haircut. And mercy, Kylie was right—he really was hot. His running shorts showed off tan, well-muscled legs. She could see the outline of his washboard abs through his beige T-shirt.

  It could just be the wine warming her up, but something pulsed in her lower lady parts. She hadn’t experienced any pulsing down there in a long time, and she was uncomfortable with it. Maybe because it was a complete stranger who was making her feel this way. Or maybe because she was getting slightly turned on by his photos while sitting in her son’s room surrounded by Angry Birds posters and Lego sets.

  She needed to get ahold of herself. Or go out on a date once in a while.

  Just then, a text message popped up on her smartphone. Kylie was running late and Mia’s knee was too sore for yoga. Maxine took another sip of wine. She could either back out of their dinner plans now and sit in front of Hunter’s computer screen staring at Gunny Heartthrob, or she could walk down the street and meet her friends at Patrelli’s for pizza and another glass of wine.

  Her nerves won out and she grabbed her heavy jacket off the coatrack and practically ran out the door, trying to get as far away from her thoughts as she could.

  * * *

  To: hunterlovestherockies@hotmail.net

  From: matthewcooper@usmc.mil

  Re: Star Wars

  Date: Jan 25

  Hunter,

  First of all, the femoral surgery went well. Dr. McCormick is supposed to be the top orthopedic surgeon in the Navy, and he expects me to recover quickly and undergo the knee replacement surgery just as well.

  Second
of all, Han Solo is in no way “more awesomer” than Luke Skywalker. You can’t even compare the two. Han Solo is a smuggler. He isn’t even a Jedi. Also, Luke is royalty, and he went through a lot of training. Han doesn’t even have a light saber.

  Third of all, I’m still learning to use Skype and I’m not used to it yet. And you have to promise that you’ll get your mom’s permission before we start talking on the computer like that.

  Speaking of your mom, please thank her for sending that box of her cookies. When I shared them with all the guys on my floor, I was more popular than PFC Spooner, whose dad sends him magazines with— Well, I’ll tell you about those when you’re older.

  I got the list you sent me with the names of every local police department that is hiring. I’m really not sure if I’m going to try to be a civvie cop. And I’m definitely not going to love Idaho “the way a drunk loves a martini.” Does Jake Marconi even know what a martini is? Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on when I can start having visitors.

  Cooper

  Cooper hadn’t been lying to the kid. The surgery really had gone pretty well. It was too soon to tell if he’d make enough of a recovery to reenlist, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Hunter that there was no way he planned to stay in Idaho permanently.

  It was bad enough that he’d been putting off Hunter’s visit, but, honestly, he didn’t know if he could handle being around Maxine Walker again. The woman had brought out the worst in him that day at the baggage claim area, and it had been all he could take when she’d had to help lift him out of the airport-issued wheelchair and into her car.

  She’d smelled as incredible as she looked. And the drive to the hospital had been just as intense as the woman’s forced smile when Hunter had insisted on waiting for the admission paperwork to be completed and for the nurse to wheel him away to the orthopedic wing.