Faithful Service, Silent Hearts

by Lynette Mae

  Faithful Service, Silent Hearts

  by Lynette Mae

  * * *

  Disclaimer: The following story is an original work. It’s a story of awakening, young love and the power of the human spirit. The story unapologetically contains erotic lesbian sex, so if that bothers you, then don’t read it.

  Devon James is a young military intelligence officer learning that finding love under any circumstances is difficult. But when your love is expressly forbidden by regulations and you are pursued by a relentless zealot, it can seem impossible. When Devon's assignment takes her to the war torn Middle East in the early days of terrorists targeting Americans, then things really get interesting.

  The characters are fictional and any similarity to individuals living or dead is purely coincidental. All military operations and missions portrayed are fictional and the subjects previously declassified. As to my personal interpretation of events? I’ll let you decide what’s real and what is pure imagination.

  In all seriousness, this story is dedicated to all the brave lesbian and gay members of the U.S. military who sadly, must still serve silently.

  Feedback welcome at: lkb533@verizon.net

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  Chapter One

  March 1982

  A dismally cold drizzle beat a steady rhythm on the canvass portable awning above their heads. The taller woman dressed in an immaculately pressed military uniform reached out to grasp her sister's hand, her eyes falling briefly to the swell of her sister's abdomen telegraphing the life growing within. A life for a life. As if hearing her thoughts her sister slid her hand to her round middle.

  "…evidence of a life well lived that will be rewarded in heaven…" the priest was speaking.

  Evidence? Not usually. Devon was only five, her sister seven and her brother two, when dear old dad walked out the door and never returned, leaving his former high school sweetheart with nothing except three kids, overdue bills and no money. After that, her mom started drinking, smoking, yelling and hitting. Her sister took on the role of protector, doing her best to keep her younger siblings out of the line of fire when mom's wrath escalated into physical assault. Mostly though, the damage inflicted was invisible as the venomous words sliced into their psyches, eating at their confidence from the inside like acid. Even at twenty three years old, words like 'idiot' and 'stupid' stung the ever-raw wounds on her heart like a pound of salt poured on a fresh six inch gash.

  "…the blessings of children are our hope for the future…"

  Blessings? Devon stared at the grey sky, her thoughts drifting. She doubted that her mother ever thought of her as a blessing. Thunder clapped in the distance reminding Devon of the sharp snap of the leather belt just before punishment was exacted for any number of offenses. Climbing trees and tearing her dress again. Whack. Playing baseball with the boys and skinning her knee when she knew she was supposed to be playing Barbies inside with the girls. Whack, whack. Writing Devon + Jean on her notebook outlined with a heart. Bam! That one earned her a split lip and an order to leave as soon as she turned eighteen.

  "…We commend our sister's soul. Lord, bless these children for the loss of their mother and comfort them in their sorrow. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen." The priest concluded, making the sign of the cross over the mahogany casket. Devon and her sister stepped forward to place single red roses in the center of the highly polished wood.

  Her sister wiped away tears that streamed down her cheeks and Devon was surprised to feel stinging in her own eyes. What was that about? The reverend approached with a sympathetic expression on his face. "I'm very sorry for your loss, God bless." He said taking each woman's hand in turn. "If there's anything the church or I can do…" He forced a thin smile.

  "Thank you, father," Her sister answered. Devon said nothing. What could she talk to him about?

  "I'll wait for you at the car," she said almost to herself. She snugged her hat onto her head as she stepped from under the canopy. The rain had finally stopped, the sun intermittently burning through in flashes of light, quickly doused by the fast moving clouds before peaking out again. Devon made her way through the rows of headstones to the waiting limousine, having no inclination to endure the disingenuous words of comfort from the remaining mourners.

  She held the rear door of the huge black car open for her sister and brother in law to enter ahead of her before climbing in and closing the door behind them. Devon stared out the window as they drove in silence. When they pulled up in front of the house, she recalled the last time she had ever tried to talk to her mother about anything that mattered to her. It was the last day of her Christmas break in her senior year in college. Devon was excited about graduating in the spring and had started thinking about the military as a career option. Maybe it was the prospect of having a steady income with the opportunity to travel and see things that she never thought possible growing up on the poor south side of Pittsburgh that attracted her to the idea.

  "The Army? You?" Came the acrid response, "This may be your stupidest goddamned idea yet. You won't last a week and then what? What kind of job is a History degree gonna get you anyway?" Devon felt herself shrinking under the contemptuous stare, feeling like the small helpless child she once was. "You'll never amount to anything. And by the way, they don't exactly condone being a queer, do they? Just don't think you can come back here when they throw your ass out." With that, her mother got up and walked to the liquor cabinet to get the bottle of Seagram's 7.

  That response had struck Devon like a slap in the face. It stung in her heart, but she realized now that it also fueled a new certainty inside of her. She remembered looking steadily back into her mother's face and seeing no encouragement whatsoever. She opened her mouth to retort that she had gotten her degree; the last semester was a formality because she already finished all the requirements, but knowing that her mom thought that history was a useless major, she clamped her jaw shut.

  At that moment, she told herself that she would go, and she would stick it out, no matter what. The calmness of that decision was soothing to her soul. Many days she wondered if she had made a mistake, but now, she felt only the certainty that she had done exactly the right thing for her life. She wouldn't change a thing. Now she felt a sense of purpose as though she was beginning to find her place in the world. Professionally at least.

  Her sister was speaking. She forced her attention back to the present. "I'm sorry Leigh, what was that?" Somehow they had gotten out of the car and were now standing at the front gate.

  "I said you seem different. I can't explain it, but when you got off the plane you were so…confident. Yes, that's it." She nodded in affirmation settling the question in her mind.

  Confidence! Imagine that. It was a new and exhilarating feeling to Devon. Devon knew inside that she felt different. Stronger. Not just physically, the military had given her a confidence that she never had before. Her whole life, she felt insecure, like she didn't fit in somehow. Her mother never quite knew how to build confidence in her kids; it was just something they had to learn for themselves. Probably because she lost her own self-worth when the domestic dream she convinced herself she'd been living disintegrated in the cloud of dust kicking up behind the wheels of the sixty-eight GTO as her husband sped out of the driveway for the last time.

  Devon stared down at her shoes, wondering why today that new found self-assuredness eluded her, "Well, I wouldn't go overboard," she replied, "I still feel like that lost kid sometimes…" Her voice trailed off.

  "Well, you have done things no one in our family has ever done. You're the first college gra
duate, and now," her fingers trailed over the ribbons on Devon's chest, "my shy little sister is an Army officer."

  They walked inside the house that they had spent nearly their entire lives in. All the old furnishings and her mother's collection of cheap glass trinkets were exactly where Devon remembered. Devon thought she should feel some pangs of emotion, maybe the urge to find just the right memento to remind her of her childhood. Strangely, the air in the house felt suffocating. She felt nothing but a desire to run back to the new life she was building. Her life.

  "You can go through the house and pick out anything you want, Dev." Her sister was saying.

  "No. You can have everything. Keep it. Sell it. Whatever, Leigh." Devon said without emotion. She would stay long enough to help her sister pack up the house and not a day longer. She loved her sister more than anyone in the world, but something was missing inside Devon and she knew without a doubt whatever it was she wasn't going to find it here.

  Her company commander told her to take her time returning, she could take the next airborne school if she didn't make it back in time. Devon didn't want to wait. She had a plan. Completing Officer Candidate School was a huge accomplishment. Very few enlisted people were offered the opportunity to become officers. Airborne training was not common for women and would make an impressive addition to her resume. The upcoming intelligence school in Boston was only offered to the top percentile of each class. The life she dreamed of was within her reach.

  Three days later she boarded the military transport plane bound for Airborne school at Ft. Benning, Georgia, eager to put the past behind her and embrace her wide open future.

  Chapter 2

  September, near Boston, MA

  Lieutenant Devon James stepped through the double doors into the officer's barracks. Removing her beret as she entered, she stuffed it into the side pocket of the left leg of her camouflage pants. A loaded duffle bag was balanced on her right shoulder and a manila envelope containing her orders tucked under her arm.

  "Excuse me," she addressed the young private seated at the desk, who had been staring at a TV screen.

  Recognizing the lieutenant's bars on her collar the private bolted from his chair, immediately snapping to attention, "Yes ma'am!" it came out as a sharp cry.

  "Relax soldier," she said easily, dropping her bag to the floor in front of her. Devon was still unaccustomed to the rank structure that required enlisted personnel to jump into a rigid pose and salute. In her mind she was still just like them. He saw the kindness in her eyes and forced himself to stand easy.

  Devon slid a copy of her orders across the desk to him, "Can that log tell you where I'll be bunking?"

  "Yes, ma'am, I'll get that for you."

  Devon eyed her new surroundings; typical military standard drab décor. She sighed as she leaned forward on the counter, running a hand through her hair, realizing for the first time just how tired she was. A quick check of her watch confirmed the reason. 2015 hours. Her marathon day had begun at 0430 with a ride to the airport on a cramped shuttle, followed by several flight delays and an unscheduled stop to transfer planes in D.C. Consequently, she arrived in Boston four hours late. Her eyes burned and she rubbed them with her thumb and forefinger wishing this kid would hurry up so that she could finally get some rest.

  When the helpful young man turned back to the lieutenant, her eyes were closed, so he allowed himself an appreciative gaze at her. The gold lieutenant's bars were subdued and stitched into her collar, usually indicating some kind of tactical training. The butter bar lieutenants right out of OCS always wore the flashy pin-on rank insignias. His eyes flipped to her right chest and shoulder area and sure enough found the airborne wings and ranger sleeve patch.

  He noted her tan muscular forearms that extended beyond the rolled up uniform sleeves. She had a simple beauty to her long angular face. Her hair, although somewhat disheveled from her hands raking through it, still maintained a professional appearance. When the piercing blue eyes popped open he blushed and looked away.

  Not noticing his reaction, Devon asked, "Did you find it, private?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he stammered, "you will be in room 214, with Lieutenant Gray." He moved around to the front of the counter to grab her bag.

  "I've got it," she placed a hand on his arm to stop his advance.

  "If you're sure, ma'am," he looked uncertain.

  "I am. Thank you." With that, she slung the duffle bag back onto her shoulder and headed for the stairs.

  Once on the second floor, Devon found her assigned room was at the center of the hall, and unlike the other rooms, the doorways to it and the next room faced inward, toward each other. She stopped momentarily at the closed door, aware that the room may be occupied. The white card to the right of the door read, '1LT J. Gray', below that was a blank line, where she presumed her name would now be added.

  To be polite, she knocked softly and paused. Hearing nothing, she leaned forward to insert the key into the lock. The door suddenly swung open, causing Devon to lose her balance and nearly tumble into the room. A strong hand grabbed her firmly by the arm preventing the inevitable embarrassment that would have ensued. That was a graceful entrance, knucklehead.

  "Whoa, you okay, there?" the voice was a buttery smooth southern drawl. Devon glanced up somewhat flustered, pulling her arm away quickly, probably too quickly. It was more of a jerk that Devon instantly thought must have seemed rude.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, unable to hide the frustration in her voice.

  "Okay," the other woman dragged out the word, backing up a couple of steps and raising her hands in the air, "Sorry."

  Devon forced a smile to hide her embarrassment. "No, ma'am, I'm sorry," She knew she had made a tactical error in her curt response; after all, this woman did outrank her. Her eyes unconsciously moved to the silver bars on the other woman's collar that trumped the gold ones on her own.

  "Ma'am?" the accent drew the word out making it seem much longer than one syllable painted with sarcasm. "How 'bout you grab your bag and come back in and we'll start this all over again?"

  Devon nodded, still feeling off balance, but relieved that the LT didn't seem to take offense to her brusque behavior. She retrieved her bag from the hall and dropped it beside the empty bottom bunk, while her roommate closed the door. Upon turning around, Devon was pleased to see a warm smile and outstretched hand advancing across the room.

  "Hello," a bright smile complimented the melodic tone of her voice, "I'm Jillian Gray, and I'm very pleased to meet you."

  Her soft brown eyes sparkled with flecks of gold as they met Devon's with a welcoming look. She had thick auburn hair with matching golden highlights cut just above shoulder length that framed an even featured face. She stood about an inch taller than the blonde. Devon took her hand, delighted by the firmness of her grip and captivated by the depths of her warm brown eyes.

  "Devon James," She smiled widely in response. Her gaze drifted to the expressive mouth, feeling a strange heat spread through her from the point of contact with Jillian's hand.

  "My pleasure, Devon. Welcome." Jillian realized she was still holding Devon's hand and quickly released it. She indicated the chest of drawers on the other side of the room, "That one is empty, if you want to unpack."

  "Thanks, I want to get out of these boots," Devon replied. Devon changed out of her uniform into a grey sleeveless t-shirt, with ARMY printed in dark green block letters across the chest, and a pair of dark green drawstring shorts. The women engaged in light conversation as she unpacked her bag and made up her bunk. Jillian explained that she was in her second month of school, a class ahead of the one Devon was about to start.

  "Did you get a chance to eat today?" Jillian rose to move toward the refrigerator, "I don't have much, but would a sandwich do?" She pulled two beers off the door, holding one out to Devon.

  "Thanks," poppin
g the top, she took a long drink, savoring the taste as the cold beverage went down easily. "I grabbed a bite on the way here, so I'm good."

  "So, where are you from?" Jillian asked.

  "I grew up in Pennsylvania; my sister still lives there," the junior lieutenant responded, taking another long pull on the beer. "And by the sound of that accent of yours…I'm guessing Tennessee, Kentucky maybe?" she raised an eyebrow and gave Jillian another quick flash of her bright smile.

  "You're right! Kentucky. How'd you know that?" Her eyes sparkled as she returned Devon's smile.

  "I had a friend in basic training that had the same accent, so I figured." She shrugged.

  Jillian was struck by the simple explanation because what it meant was that this woman was someone who actually listens. No doubt she had probably plenty of time to talk with another recruit in three months of basic training, but she had only been here a couple hours and was able to discern the dialect. She had a good ear. Clearly, if she had been selected for this training, her test scores were in the top 5 percentile of the candidates. Attentive and intelligent.