The Marine (Semper Fi; Marine)

by Cheryl Reavis

  “Grace, a medical officer just called your house.”

  “Medical officer?”

  He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he waited for the information to sink in.

  “Josh? Is it Josh?” she said, her alarm growing.

  “You need to go home. The medical officer wouldn’t give Allison any information. He’s going to call back.”

  “But Allison just talked to Josh last night. He was fine. ‘Still kicking,’ he said.”

  “It doesn’t take long for things to happen over there.”

  “Oh . . .” she said vaguely, still trying to absorb what he’d told her.

  “Grace,” Kinlaw said gently.

  She looked at him and then away, not ready quite yet for this to be real.

  “I’m okay. It’s just . . . I’m just . . .” She turned away and began walking back toward the pier, carrying Elizabeth and trying to keep her balance in the sand, picking up the pace as she went. Kinlaw caught up with her and took Elizabeth.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?” she asked, still not daring to look at him.

  “You don’t worry until you know what the deal is,” he said.

  “Is that another Holy Marine Rule?” She was being sarcastic, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

  “No. That’s just me. Come here,” he said when they reached the road, stopping abruptly and putting his free arm around her. He hugged her to him. Hard. “Whatever it is, you’re not by yourself, okay?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Okay?” he said again, and she nodded. She suddenly leaned into him, taking what brief refuge she could find in the only place she wanted to be.

  “I’m going to go see what I can find out. I’ll let you know one way or the other,” he said, still holding her tight.

  “Yes. I don’t care what time it is.”

  She took Elizabeth from him and hugged him again with her in the middle.

  “What were you going to say about Joe-B’s torch?”

  “Just that he’s not the only one carrying a torch for one of the James’ women.”

  She couldn’t keep from smiling. He kissed her forehead and let her go. She hurried to the car, looking back once before she got in and drove away. He was still standing on the curb.

  Elizabeth babbled happily in the back seat all the way home, and it helped somehow. Allison and Lisa both were waiting on the porch when she got there, as well as Joe-B. The Marine Corps would probably be a good fit for him, Grace thought as she got out of the car. He already had the face down pat.

  Allison came running. “I’ll get Elizabeth,” she said. “Did Sergeant Kinlaw find you? Did he tell you about Josh?”

  “Yes,” Grace said.

  “Somebody’s already called from the base. I wrote down her name and number. She wants you to call her when we know something. Mom, I’m scared . . .”

  “I know,” Grace said.

  “Is it all right that I called Sergeant Kinlaw? I didn’t want to tell you on the phone. I thought it would be better if he did it in person.”

  “It’s all right. You did the right thing.”

  “I called Sandra Kay, too,” Allison said.

  “That’s maybe . . . not the right thing,” Grace said. She didn’t want to have to deal with Sandra Kay, at least until she knew what had happened. “Anything else?”

  “I didn’t call Angie. Sergeant Kinlaw said he’d do it.”

  “Then I guess we just . . . wait.”

  But it was taking a long time. An hour passed, and then two more, and then another and another. Allison kept Elizabeth entertained for a while and then fed her and put her down for a nap. Grace went out onto the patio to sit, taking the cordless phone and a note pad and ballpoint pen with her. She put all of it on the seat beside her and sat with her eyes closed, occasionally listening to bits of conversation between Allison and Lisa. At one point, Joe-B came outside.

  “Mrs. J?” he said, and she looked in his direction.

  “I just wanted to tell you I hope everything’s all right. Josh is a good guy . . .”

  “Yes. He is.”

  “This kind of thing really sucks. If there’s anything you want me to do, just tell me, okay?”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here for Lisa.”

  The remark clearly surprised him, but it was the truth. She thought he really was carrying a torch for her daughter, the good kind that made him cherish her.

  “I’m going to make a pizza run. Is there anything else I can do while I’m at it?”

  “No. You’ll need some money . . .”

  “No, ma’am, this is on me. There’s one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “Sandra Kay is on her way here,” he said, and Grace braced herself to wait for yet another dreaded and irrevocable event.

  Some emotion passed over Joe-B’s features she couldn’t quite identify.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “What? Yeah. Yeah. Danny—my brother—he’s over there. It’s—”

  Grace nodded. She knew what it was without his having to say.

  And his intelligence regarding her uncontainable cousin was accurate. He couldn’t have been gone five minutes before Sandra Kay arrived. She must have come straight from the restaurant because she still had on her employee T-shirt. She walked out onto the patio and sat down in the closest chair, but amazingly, she didn’t ask any questions.

  “It’s too hot out here,” was all she said.

  “I . . . miss it sometimes,” Grace said after a time.

  “Miss what?”

  “The cool of the day. People don’t know what that means anymore. What a precious thing it is. We’re all air-conditioned, all the time.”

  “Yeah, well, thank God for it. Summer on the coast is a sidestep from Hell.”

  “Don’t you remember? Crushed pineapple over ice for supper because it was too hot for anything else? Sleeping with a church fan in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other, so they would be handy when the heat woke you up? But sometimes—sometimes—there really was a ‘cool of the day,’ like in the Bible.”

  “Grace, I’m just about a hair away from coming over there and smelling your breath. It was miserable, cool of the day or not. That’s what I remember.”

  “How’s the job going?” Grace asked to change the subject and pass the time.

  “Great. Proves my theory.”

  “Which is?”

  “It’s not the bulging cleavage that gets big tips—especially if the wife or the girlfriend is along. It’s the tight, tight pants.”

  “I thought you had to wear short shorts.”

  “Nah. Too old for that. I wear jeans. They call me the ‘family waitress.’”

  They sat for a time in silence, in mutual dread, both of them waiting for the phone to ring.

  “Grace?”

  “What?”

  “I want to tell you something.”

  “Oh, please,” Grace said. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for another revelation.”

  “Yes, you are. That’s the whole point. It’s the reason I . . .”

  “The reason you what?”

  Sandra Kay took a deep breath. “The reason I did what I did—stealing your wallet and all the rest of that. At first I told myself it was just paying you back for crashing into my life like you did and staying there, for being my mother’s favorite.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “The hell you weren’t. You were every mother’s dream.”

  “Maybe so, but here’s my confession. I was scared to death I’d end up in foster care. I didn’t want to do anything that might cause that to happen—”

  “Run wild like me, you mean.”r />
  “Yes,” Grace said bluntly. “I was already worried enough that Aunt Barbara might die, too.”

  Sandra Kay didn’t say anything else. Grace looked at her.

  “He used to call me ‘Lizzie’—Josh’s father. I never did know why. I loved him,” she said with a sad smile.

  “So you said.”

  “That’s why I did it.”

  Grace frowned. “Maybe I should come smell your breath.”

  “I’m sober, damn it, now shut up and let me talk. I resented the hell out of you, but I always knew I could depend on you. Maybe I even knew you dragged me in off the porch all those times. I couldn’t look after a baby. How could I? I knew what I was—I couldn’t even look after myself. So I gave him away, in your name. So if he ever came looking for me, he’d find you, and you’d be . . . the saving Grace, like you always were. Still are, as far as I can tell. You’d do the right thing for him. Oh, God, this waiting is killing me!”

  “Sandra Kay, you left your picture in the file.”

  “I didn’t leave it. It must have fallen out of the wallet and whoever found it put it in there. I never . . .”

  The phone rang, making them both jump. Grace took a deep breath as it rang a second time.

  “Answer the damn thing!” Sandra Kay cried, and Grace punched the “Talk” button.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Grace James, please,” the voice said. “This is Major . . .”

  “This is Grace James,” she answered when he’d finished identifying himself. The major continued, being direct and concise as he stated the crux of Sergeant Caven’s condition. But only bits and pieces of what he was saying seemed to register. “I see,” she said when they did.

  Lisa and Allison came through the patio doors and stood nearby. Joe-B was there, holding a pizza box. She could smell it—onions, green pepper, cardboard. She could hear a bird singing in the yard.

  She looked away and forced herself to ask. “How bad is it?”

  “I wish I could tell you he’s just dinged up, Mrs. James . . .”

  He began to give her a more detailed litany of Sergeant Caven’s injuries and then he suddenly stopped talking. For a moment Grace thought she’d lost the connection.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Mrs. James, he was very lucky to get to Germany as quickly as he did. To tell you the truth, they didn’t think he’d make it here. But he is here, and he’s alive. There’s a lot to be done before he can be sent back to the States. You . . . may want to travel here.”

  The last sentence was obscure, but Grace had no doubt what he meant. She might never see him alive otherwise.

  “I . . . understand,” she said, but she couldn’t keep her voice steady. She glanced at Sandra Kay who was sitting with her feet up in the chair and her hands over her face.

  “I understand,” she said again into the receiver. She picked up the pen and pad, finding a purpose to focus on at last. “Would you tell me that again?” He continued, and she began to write down the information.

  When the call ended, she sat there, still holding the phone, looking at the words she’d written.

  “Is this what families do?” she said.

  “What?” Sandra Kay asked, still rooted to her chair.

  “Josh asked me that once, when we all showed up at the hospital when Elizabeth was so sick. He didn’t know, and it surprised him, I guess, that we came when there was trouble. But we can’t do it—for—him—” She was crying, and she couldn’t stop.

  “Mom—Mom,” Allison said, coming to her and grabbing her hand. “Is he dead? Mom!”

  Grace wiped her eyes. “He’s . . . it’s bad. They don’t have a lot of hope—”

  “Is that what the son of a bitch on the phone said?” Sandra Kay demanded. “What kind of attitude is that?” She leaned forward and snatched the pad out of Grace’s hand. “What is this?”

  “Numbers to call. He said I may want to travel to Germany. That’s how he put it—I may want to travel. But I can’t. How can I?”

  “But we could all go,” Allison said.

  “No, we couldn’t. We can’t all go, and I can’t leave you here.”

  “Mom—”

  “We can’t do this for him, Allison. We’ve got Elizabeth. He wouldn’t want us to.”

  “Grace, let me do it,” Sandra Kay said. “I mean it. I could go, if you loan me the money. I’ll pay you back. I’ve got a passport. I could leave right away. Grace, please!” she said, her voice rising. “Let me be the family that shows up for him. Please!”

  Allison suddenly ran back into the house, and when she returned she had the letter from Josh’s lawyer.

  “He said for you to open it, Mom. When I talked to him on the webcam. It’s the only thing he wanted—for you to open it and let him know what it says.” She put the letter into Grace’s hand.

  Grace hesitated, then tore it open, reading through it quickly, then again to make sure.

  Tears were running down her face.

  “He’s ours.”

  Epilogue

  THERE WERE NO people in the house, and it felt so odd to her, this break in the parade of visitors. There were never many at one time, just a few who came quietly to help do the things she had barely realized needed doing—the yard mowed, the groceries put away, the laundry folded. Muley had come the most often, Muley, who had looked at Josh with such longing, yet who had done everything she could to help his wife.

  This morning, however, Grace was expecting Kinlaw, and when he arrived, she stepped immediately into his arms. He didn’t ask how she was, and she appreciated that about him. He never asked questions she couldn’t possibly answer except in the most token way.

  After a moment, she stepped back to look at his face, to briefly kiss his mouth.

  “Thank you for doing this,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” he said easily. She paused for a moment to listen again to the quiet of the empty house, then she picked up her purse and walked with him outside to the truck. She sat beside him, waved to old Mr. Strayer out walking his greyhounds, and listened to the weather report on the radio. The ordinary things that seemed to continue somehow, no matter what.

  Kinlaw reached out and took her hand, and with only a minimal amount of effort, she began to relax. She could feel him looking at her from time to time, and at one point, she turned her head and smiled. She could do that—smile—for him.

  The day was beautiful, bright sunshine, warm constant breeze off the ocean. She rolled down the truck window on her side because she had been a passenger enough times to know that this was the one that worked. Then she turned up the volume on the radio—“Dance to the Music.” It reminded her of being young, beach-bound and hopeful. She had been hopeful in those days, hadn’t she?

  Dance to the music.

  Another secret to a successful life—staying in one’s own lane, as Allison would say, and finding the appropriate steps to whatever song happened to be playing.

  Except that Grace wasn’t doing any of that today.

  She didn’t say anything until Kinlaw pulled into the mobile home park and drove to a trailer at the very back. There was no vehicle in the allotted parking space, and it was impossible to tell if anyone was at home.

  “Do you think she’s here?”

  “Yeah,” Kinlaw said. “She’s here.”

  Grace took a quiet breath and squeezed his hand before she got out. She could hear music playing from someplace close by, smell someone’s breakfast of bacon and coffee.

  She went up the wooden steps and knocked sharply on the door. It opened almost immediately.

  Angie looked at her for a moment, then stood back. “Come in.”

  Grace stepped inside. The place was neat and clean. There was a large, early b
aby picture of Elizabeth sitting on an end table.

  “Yes, I’m sober,” Angie said, as if Grace had been about to ask. She hadn’t been, but she didn’t try to convince Angie otherwise.

  “Is it all right if I sit down?” Grace asked.

  “Yeah, anywhere is okay. But just get to it, will you? This is not easy.”

  “I know,” Grace said, taking a seat on the nearest end of the couch.

  Angie came and sat on the couch as well. “Is Elizabeth doing all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “No more pneumonia or anything like that? I heard once they have it, it’s easy for them to get it again. You won’t wait around, if she gets a cold and starts running fever . . .”

  “No. I won’t wait around.”

  “I wonder if . . .” Angie said, then broke off.

  “Wonder what?”

  “I was going to say I wonder if she misses me. But I know she doesn’t. When I came back, she didn’t even know who I was. I’d have to peel her off the daycare people to take her home. I didn’t know what to do about it, who to ask. I was . . . ashamed to say my baby didn’t want anything to do with me. I guess it was better that she wasn’t all that attached to me. Made it easier for her when I left. Easier for us both.”

  She didn’t say anything more, and Grace took a deep breath. “Angie, I’m here because of something Josh asked me to do before he left. He told me something . . .”

  “What?” she interrupted, her defenses immediately up. “What did he say? I want to know exactly. Don’t clean it up, okay? Just say it.”

  Grace reached for her hand, and surprisingly, Angie let her take it. Her fingers were cold, the kind of cold that came from overwhelming dread and worry.

  “He said, ‘I love Angie.’”

  KINLAW REACHED across to open the truck door for her. He didn’t comment on the fact that she was crying. He rooted around under the seat until he found a beat-up box of tissues and handed it to her.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when he pulled out onto the highway and she realized they weren’t headed home.