Part 16 (2/2)
”Anything, baby.” Mitch leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Every anxiety disappeared and I allowed his soothing comfort and surety to wrap around me like a salve to my heart. His intentions were pure, and the lies were nothing but a misunderstanding. In truth, I'd turned out to be my own worst enemy, for as a wise man once said, ”We were not made to love with amour around our hearts.”
Legacy of a Dreamer by Allie Jean Category: Fantasy Publication date: May 3, 2012 ISBN (paper): 978-1-61213-040-8 ISBN (ebook): 978-1-61213-041-5 Summary: Chantal Breelan is plagued by horrible nightmares too realistic to ignore. Her past has been a mystery, and the foster system isn't providing any answers. Starting a new life alone at eighteen is a challenge, especially when things that go b.u.mp in the night appear out of the shadows, and her dreams begin to breach reality. Darkness surrounds her from all sides, but is it only evil that hides in the shadows, or are the answers to her past lingering just beyond?
Coming October 2013 Dreamer Series, Book 2 by Allie Jean Disclaimers: All email/screen names are not intended to belong to any person and are used fict.i.tiously. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Additionally, I make no claims that the train lines still run in the way they did when I mapped this out. ~sl December 15th ”MISTER?”
Gunnery Sergeant Justin Clark, USMC, smiled at the boy who held the brand-new toy in his hand. ”Yes?” He nodded at the boy's mother, too, who stood a couple paces away. ”Can I help you?”
”You're a soldier?”
”I'm a Marine.”
”Give him the toy, Blake.” She was focused entirely on her son and wasn't trying to flirt with Justin himself-something that happened often enough to make him a little paranoid when he was in uniform representing his unit and the Corps.
Blake handed him the box with the popular animated character on it and Justin thanked him with sober appreciation. ”Someone will have a much happier Christmas because of you,” he a.s.sured the lad.
”Me, too,” Blake said with a gap-toothed smile. ”Merry Christmas, Mr. Marine!”
Justin smiled as the boy and his mom walked away, a spring in their step he had seen a lot that day. The Bible said it was more blessed to give than to receive, and sometimes Justin got to see evidence of that in the most innocent of ways.
It was the final day for donations of gifts to Toys for Tots. As one of the single Marines stationed at the Barracks at 8th and I in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., ”Gunny Clark,” as he was sometimes called, did perhaps more seasonal community service than some of the Marines in his unit, but that was fine with him. He had blown it with the only woman he had ever cared for a long time ago and compensated for not having a wife and children by helping the families of others. In his dress blues and ribbons, he was in Elkridge, Maryland, comfortably out of the wind as he stood post near the enormous box that held an ever-increasing collection of new, unwrapped toys.
The sliding doors to the store opened for a small girl with dark red hair. ”Mom! We made it before they closed!” Her enormous gray eyes glowed with pleasure and Justin had an unsettling jolt of deja vu. He had known someone with eyes just like that.
And there she was.
”Hannah. Wait a minute for your mom, will ya?”
Standing not ten feet away from him was the girl that got away. She was about five and a half feet tall and had a white knit cap pulled low over golden brown hair. It framed her oval face with high cheekbones. His vision constricted and his breath came fast as he stared, transfixed, into amused gray eyes that he hadn't seen in person for more than ten years.
”April? April Peterson?” He couldn't move. ”Really?”
”Sinclair,” she corrected as if distracted. ”This is so wacked,” she whispered, borrowing a term popular when they'd been teenagers. Her eyes narrowed with some kind of emotion he didn't allow himself to try to decipher. After darting a glance to her daughter, April straightened up and smiled politely. ”Justin Clark. It has been a while.”
Swallowing a sudden lump of nerves in his throat, he nodded. ”Ten years?”
”You remember?” Her voice was aloof, but her eyes were sharp. As if she were a marksman intent on her target.
She was at least as accurate as a sharpshooter. The pain her words brought him was immediate, but he was trained to overcome pain and continue with the job. Which was, right now, collecting toys.
He nodded quickly. ”I do.” Turning to the little girl, he mustered a smile. ”So, you've brought a toy for someone?”
The girl held up a boxed LeapPad. ”This! It's for a boy or girl, so that no one feels weird opening it. I have one and I know someone else would want one.” She handed it to him with both arms outstretched and then c.o.c.ked her head. ”You know my mom?”
He'd faced his country's enemies over a field of battle. He'd helped establish bases in hostile territories and had confronted death on behalf of his men. Somehow, all that those experiences had taught left him in the heartbeat it took to look at April.
”Our moms are friends,” April said, brus.h.i.+ng her daughter's black beret with her hand. ”And Mr. Clark and I used to be pen pals.”
It was the entire truth of the matter, but his heart twisted anyway. Keeping his expression parade-neutral, Justin acknowledged April's statement with a nod. ”For years, yes.” He met April's eyes again. ”I never got to congratulate you on your marriage.”
April and her daughter drew closer to one another, their gloved hands clasped with a mutual love and protection that warmed him, despite his inner turmoil. He wanted to look away, to give them a moment of privacy-something told him it would be right-but he couldn't.
”John pa.s.sed away last year, Justin,” April said quietly. ”Didn't your mom tell you?”
”No, and I'm so sorry.” He was, too, as it happened. ”Please accept my condolences.”
She nodded and relaxed somewhat, s.h.i.+fting booted feet and pursing her lips to blow out a breath. A family of five moved around the Toys for Tots display, heading back into the chilly evening and allowing a gust of air to sweep into the store and blow April's hair around her shoulders. It had always been shorter when they were in high school, but she'd let it grow over the years. ”Of course.”
She looked about to leave and Justin's gut clenched. He wanted to say something, anything, but he had forfeited that right years ago. G.o.d? Help? he prayed, keeping his face polite and impa.s.sive.
Help came in the form of a small, red-haired girl who sighed a little before breaking into a hopeful smile as she repeated, ”So you know my mom? She says I have to make new friends. I'm glad she already has a friend here.”
”Hannah!” April's protest sounded more embarra.s.sed than anything. Her blush splashed in two circles high on her cheeks. ”Justin, I'm sorry. I-”
Holding up a hand, he silently gave thanks for the opportunity. ”You do have a friend here, you know. Even if it's been a while.” When she didn't protest, he thought fast. ”Let me give you my email address, okay? Drop me a line when you can.”
”O-okay, sure,” she said slowly.
He turned and grabbed a piece of scratch paper from the display table and wrote out his email address. She put her own on another piece. He couldn't believe it. She was right there. She was apparently willing to reconnect and Justin prayed that he'd manage not to blow it this time.
Careful words framed their parting and Justin put his memories at bay as the final few donors came in to share a little Christmas joy with children they didn't even know. He allowed himself to think only of the changes he had seen in April. The ways in which her daughter looked like her, and he couldn't help but wonder what Hannah might have looked like if- If he'd answered that question April had asked him years ago.
September 22, 2002 ”Oh, G.o.d.” Justin sat on his new bunk, head in his hands, and tried to sort through what he should do. Because returning home from his first deployment wasn't hard enough, right?
From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Hey, Justin! Congrats on the promotion. It came really fast, but I know you totally deserve it. My job's going great, thanks. I know I just started, but I feel really good about this year, you know? Teaching seventh grade is harder than I thought it would be, but I like the kids more than I expected. We'll see how I feel by Christmas break!
So, I had a thought. Next time you're home on leave, can I pick you up? You know, as long as we've known each other, we've never really spent time together. Like, a day just for the two of us. Can we do that?
I'm making an actual grown-up salary now, so it'll be my treat. :) Keep your head up, guy. Hope to hear from you soon!
~April A date with April. He swore softly and leaned back to hit his head on the wall.
She was the girl he'd fantasized about since they were sixteen and had their first family-barbecue argument about movies. t.i.tanic had come out that year, but neither of them had seen it, so the argument had been about which film was better-Men in Black or The Fifth Element. After throwing hot dog buns and squirting ketchup and mustard all over the deck at each other as they fought about it, they were then forced to clean it up, but it had been worth it.
Justin remembered seeing his mom's friend's daughter in a whole new light that day. ”We should watch movies and mail our reviews to each other,” he had proposed, wis.h.i.+ng he had the guts to just ask her out. But she was so freakin' smart and he was just a regular guy, so he didn't think she'd really be interested in talking with him more than these rare get-togethers their mothers organized.
She had smiled, with her hair all flat and wet against her head and her soaked T-s.h.i.+rt clinging way too tight. ”Sweet!”
So they'd become pen pals. First, they exchanged movie reviews, and then they had just done what anyone else would do and wrote letters to each other. After they graduated high school, her family had discovered the wonders of a dial-up internet modem and he and April became what she called ”key-pals” instead of pen pals. She kept her Hotmail email address all through college and beyond. He had mostly kept his just for her.
He never told her. He never asked her out. He just looked forward to seeing her and sometimes chatting via instant message systems while he was off duty after he got stationed after basic training. Thanks to her insane studying, she pa.s.sed enough exams to start college as a soph.o.m.ore while he was just a private in the Green Machine. He never felt he could ask to be more than her friend.
As the next few years pa.s.sed, he flirted, she flirted, but that was it. Whenever he was home on leave, his mom threw a party and April's family always came, too. It was like she had said in that next-to-last email. They never spent time together, just the two of them.
But he wasn't the same guy as he'd been before Afghanistan. He made light of what he had been allowed to talk about, when he deployed. April didn't know everything.
Only G.o.d and the others in his unit did. And that was as it should be. Protecting April's innocence was important to the man he had become over there. Sacrifices had to be made.
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