Fearless

by Marlie May

  Get it over with.

  With my pocket knife, I slit the tape and flipped back the top.

  Curiosity might kill cats, but I was confident no booby trap awaited me inside. Why then, did I hesitate before reaching in? Did I think something would rise up and strike me?

  Enough.

  I pulled out yellowed newspaper clippings first and unfolded them one by one, leaning sideways to see better in the light. The clippings included pictures taken by the press of me at my graduation from boot camp. As I was honored for moving up in rank. Notices of citations and awards I’d achieved. A few photos from the ceremony when I’d made Chief. Newspaper articles after my successful missions overseas.

  My father had actually taken the time to track them down and save them. Why? Dad had hated me. Scorned me.

  Thrown me away.

  This made no sense.

  Underneath the clippings lay my high school diploma displayed in a solid, wooden frame. Report cards with circled As. Even a note from my supermarket boss telling me what a great job I did. A paper chronical of my life.

  I found an envelope next and lifted it out. Staring at the seal on the back, I wondered if I had it in me to explore this further. Seeing these things now only brought my pain crashing to the forefront all over again. My father had gathered the best parts of my past in one place as if they had meaning.

  When they never had before.

  After tearing through the envelope’s seal, I spilled out the contents. Old photos taken during happier days when Mom was alive. I flipped through them, and her smile shined up at me.

  I set them carefully on the sofa and pulled out a small box. The lid popped back easily, revealing my glass phoenix sparkling inside. I held it up and admired the yellows, reds, and oranges all swirling together. It was as beautiful today as when I discovered it on Mom’s bureau seventeen years ago.

  Not gone, after all. Only tucked away for safekeeping.

  But why?

  I lowered the bird to the coffee table where it seemed to stare up at me. Watching me. Judging me?

  Wild emotions rose up inside me, overcoming me and pulling me down, down, down in a spiral of agony. The pain crushing my chest was too much to bear. After ending things with Ginny—no, tossing her aside—I couldn’t take this shit. My breath wheezed, and my chest wall pounded.

  While I held my face in my hands, tremors took over my body. My world rocked as if a magnitude eight earthquake shook the planet, leaving me stunned. Bruised inside and out. The wrenching inside me was too much to bear. Why had Dad done this to me?

  Come on. These things were nothing more than useless bits of crap. Not true memories. They couldn’t hurt me or steal away my future. I could throw them away.

  But I didn’t want to.

  Only one thing left in the box, an envelope with my name on it. Maybe Dad could rise from the grave and hack away a few more pieces of my soul.

  With shaking hands, I tore it open. I’d be done with this soon. Then I could set this part of myself aside and move on. Compartmentalize it away like I’d done after high school graduation.

  Like I’d done with my feelings for Ginny.

  I unfolded the paper Dad had tucked inside.

  Cooper,

  If you find this letter, I’m gone with no time left to explain. For that, I’m sorry.

  I wish I could go back and have a do-over. Then I wouldn’t snap at your mom over stupid things that no longer mattered. I wouldn’t have picked up that first bottle. I would’ve tried harder to be the father you needed.

  And I would’ve found the guts to call you home and tell you how proud I am of you.

  I know I didn’t show it, but I’ve always loved you, kid. Wish I’d had the chance to tell you to your face.

  Dad

  Stapled to the note was a picture taken before Mom’s accident, when the three of us went fishing. In it, Dad and I held up our catch. Dad stared down at me and in his eyes, I saw hints of the man who’d loved me and Mom. And hints of the man I’d become.

  Some good memories crowded back in, shoving aside the bad. Like when Dad coached my little league team. And ruffled my hair when we took turns hauling our newly-cut Christmas tree home from the woods. Evenings out on the back porch when Dad taught me to play the trumpet—the same one Dad played all through high school.

  In this picture, our grins matched.

  But that look on my face. It stilled me. This boy couldn’t see how soon his innocence would be shattered. He’d only lived for the moment, not realizing how important it was to cherish what he had.

  I leaned back on the couch, closed my eyes, and groaned while rubbing my face. The letter fluttered to the floor while my hands flopped to my sides.

  Pain lanced through my chest and something inside me shifted. As if all the scattered pieces in me slid back into place.

  After I spent a night at a podunk base in Somewhere, Iraq, the call came through on the radio, Code Name Snoopy is secure. Time to move out.

  The Marines had gone into the location, cleaned out any hostiles, and established a secure perimeter. Time for the Seabees to perform their own variety of magic. In other words, let the grunt work begin.

  Not long after that, I sat strapped inside a Chinook helo with at least thirty other soldiers, a mix of Marines and Seabees—engineers and construction personnel going in to perform salvage. Overhead, the blades ground loudly, steel on steel. Even with ear protection, the high-pitched scream nearly deafened me. Standard digital camis in blocks of gray, green, and tan covered my body from my neck to my ankles. I’d buried my feet inside thick, black boots. A matching helmet pressed against my scalp, strapped tightly underneath my chin. My standard-issue 9 mm hung on my hip. Like everyone else on board, I wore dark, non-reflective safety glasses.

  Tugging off my glove and glasses, I reached inside my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Before I went in, I needed one last look.

  While the vehicle rocked, I stared at Ginny’s face, memorizing the shape of her cheekbones, the rich color of her hair, and her deep brown eyes that seemed to sparkle only for me. The realization that I’d never see that happy expression directed my way again clawed my insides wide open.

  I’d been right to end things, hadn’t I?

  The Lance Corporal sitting across from me leaned the butt of her rifle against her inner thigh and reached over, indicating she’d like to see. With reluctance, I passed over the picture.

  She stared it and nudged her chin my way. I lip-read, “She your daughter?”

  Did I really look that ancient? Hell, sometimes I felt that ancient. Especially lately.

  “Just an old friend,” I shouted, my words barely reaching above the noise.

  “Most people don’t carry pictures of old friends.” Her smile rose. “The grown-up version a part of your future?”

  Not any longer. With a shrug, I took back the photo. I stared at it some more until the helo landed and the door slid wide. Welcome to duty.

  “Go, go,” someone shouted over the diminishing whir of the blades, and we all jumped out onto the hard-packed desert floor. Most of the crew rushed toward distant buildings. Dust and sand created a hurricane around me. Through it strode the Captain in charge of the perimeter. He pointed for me to follow, leading me away from the noise.

  We paused beside a Seahut, the overhang barely blocking the merciless sun. Must be over a hundred-and-twenty in the shade. Sweat streamed down my face, and my uniform had plastered itself to my back, drenched through already. I’d be rubbed raw in no time. The norm for deployment in the sandbox.

  “We got a problem, Chief,” the Captain said. “Hostiles on the west end. Stay away from that location until reinforcements arrive. You gotta go anywhere, you take a detail. Got it?”

  “Will do, Captain. I’m only here for a few hours today. Just long enough to do an eval of what’s needed.”

  “Fine. I’ve assigned a few men to you. We’ll have things secure by the time you return.”

&
nbsp; And I would be back. Our mission was to get an airstrip fully functional. Glancing around at the bombed-out buildings and teetering powerlines, I could see I had my work cut out for me.

  I realized that I still held Ginny’s picture when I almost dropped it. Why hadn’t I put it away? Stupid. Business should be everything now. With one last stroke of her face, I tucked it inside my wallet and made it secure in my pocket.

  I kept repeating the words in my head.

  I made the right decision.

  “Down! Down!” The ping of a bullet ricocheting off a tin roof made me grab my helmet and duck. Adrenaline shot through my veins and I flinched, but no sharp pain followed.

  “Go!” The Captain pointed toward the building in front of us.

  I raced for cover.

  31

  Ginny

  It took me three days after Cooper left to step out of myself enough to become partly functional. I made the effort because I needed to move past this. Past him.

  I did my job by rote, smiling when it was expected but never feeling more than the motion. My heart hurt so much, I kept curling up on my sofa and crying. Not the best way to impress my customers.

  Every second I spent in my apartment only made it worse. Cooper’s scent clung to my sheets, but I couldn’t bear to wash them. I found creative ways to shop for groceries to avoid pushing the cart down the aisle containing red hot dogs. When I stumbled over the packages of Oreos left from camping, I pressed them to my chest and keened. I spent my days with gummy eyes, an endless ache in my throat, and the realization that I was becoming a hollowed-out core.

  Mom returned home and invited me to dinner. She hugged me after I told her about Cooper. “It’s going to get better, honey,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

  That was doubtful.

  “With time, your feelings will fade.”

  At twenty-eight, I wasn’t sure I had enough time left for that to happen.

  “Eventually, he’ll just be a fond memory.” She dished more mashed potatoes onto my plate as if food would solve everything. Even chocolate wasn’t going to take away this heartache.

  When you’ve been mortally wounded, even a can of squirt whipped cream will rip you to pieces.

  I talked about my loss with my counselor. She assured me it was natural to feel as if my world had collapsed. But I didn’t like how I was behaving. Staying in my apartment all the time was unhealthy. With all the progress I’d made, I hated slipping backward.

  The realization that it was time to make permanent changes hit me when I found myself writing yet another text message to Eli, begging him to come over to peer into every corner in my house for shadows.

  I kept hearing sounds outside. Eli kept pointing out the turkeys.

  While I couldn’t make myself forget Cooper, I was done waiting for life to get better all on its own. I needed to stretch my horizons. I desperately wanted to find myself again.

  The first thing I did was sign up for self-defense training. I didn’t like the clinging person I’d become since Istanbul and empowering myself was the only way to fix it.

  Five days after Cooper left, I drove to the YMCA for my first lesson.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jan, my private instructor said, holding out her hand for a shake. “On the phone, you told me you’d been kidnapped.”

  I explained what happened both in Istanbul and with Tom. His actions had dragged my nightmares back to the surface.

  “You know you may not be able to stop something like that from happening again.”

  I winced.

  Jan patted my arm. “Odds are, no one will try to kidnap you again in this lifetime, let alone break your ribs and wrist. Two kidnappings are more than anyone else usually experiences. But sometimes, no matter how cautious you are, things get out of hand. That’s why you’re here now.” Jan’s smile widened. “I’m going to teach you some techniques to reduce your odds.”

  I might not always have pepper spray handy. “That would be perfect.”

  Jan walked me through basic safety rules like being aware of my surroundings, trusting my instincts, and looking the part—meaning walking with purpose as if I knew where I was going, even if I felt uncertain. I learned the wrist sweep—bringing my elbow in and twisting my arm to break a hold. And how to thwart a bear hug in a way that would injure the assailant and give me time to run. We practiced defensive moves until they became seamless.

  Six days after Cooper left, I parked in town. I walked up and down the streets, making eye contact with people I passed. I even went to Mr. Joe’s and sat on a wooden bench at the park to enjoy my iced coffee. I sought out outdoor photography opportunities as my go-to assignments.

  Seven days after Cooper left, I drove to the campground. I climbed the same green-marked trail to the top of Glenridge Mountain. Other hikers walked with me, keeping me company. My sneakers crunched through fallen leaves. In the woods around me, tiny creatures stirred but they only brought comfort, not fear. When I reached the top, I stood in the same spot I’d staked out with Cooper, staring toward the ocean glistening in the distance.

  While the wind tugged my hair, I stooped down and gathered a handful of pine needles. Lifting my clenched fist to shoulder height, I opened it, my palm facing the sky. The breeze took everything away, including the sharp edge of my memories. As the last strand fluttered on the breeze, I closed my eyes and pictured his face. Pain shot through me, almost more than I could bear, but the agony was followed by a steady calm.

  His words came back to me. Crap like that can shatter someone. Leave them with nothing left to give.

  What had he meant about not having anything to give?

  I couldn’t puzzle it out. All I knew was that while I’d miss him forever, I needed to find peace.

  Ten days after Cooper left, I biked to my brother’s house. I kept my new bottle of pepper spray handy but I was making strides. Months ago, I would’ve been a wreck walking to my mailbox.

  “I brought cookies,” I announced when I swung open his front door. At the rate I was making desserts lately, I was going to gain a thousand pounds.

  “White chocolate, macadamia nut?” Eyes gleaming, he limped over to meet me in the entry and grabbed the bag.

  “What else would I make? You love them.” I hugged him, making him grunt when I squeezed extra tight.

  He set the bag on the kitchen table and poured us coffee. “You sure know how to pamper your favorite brother.”

  I took a seat at the table. “You’re my only brother.”

  His grin widened as he placed my coffee in front of me. “Still your favorite, though. Am I right?”

  “Always.” I shook my head but smiled along with him.

  We talked about town gossip and made some plans for next weekend, a barbeque at Mom’s house.

  “What are you up to this week?” I asked.

  “Well, one good thing came out of us being stuck in Allagash. My boss has hired more staff. Two guys and a woman will start training soon.”

  “Great. You’ll get to catch up on your sleep.” I sipped my coffee and nibbled on a cookie. “How’s Steve doing?”

  “Cast should be off soon. He’s eager to get back to work. Almost as eager as I am to have him back.” He paused, looking down at his hands holding his coffee. “I…called Flint.”

  I leaned forward. “And?”

  “Got her number.”

  “Awesome.”

  “And Flint wants to talk. He’s out of the military now, except the Reserves, and he said he has an opening for me at Viper Force.”

  “Making recreational drones, right?” I tilted my head. “Would that actually interest you?” My brother was mechanically inclined, but I had a hard time picturing him tinkering on tiny robots.

  “I’ll be traveling with the company, too. Doing security.”

  “What does that have to do with drones?”

  “More than you need to know.”

  “Oh.” I huffed. “Military-related stuff, I assume?
You’d have to kill me if you told me any secrets.”

  His chuckle might imply he was brushing aside my joke, but I knew my brother and I recognized the sharpness in his eyes. “Just babysitting visiting dignitaries. Escorting high-ranking officials on visits to the U.S.”

  “I see.” Actually, I did, but it wasn’t seeing my brother strolling around with foreign diplomats. From his evasive expression, there was a lot more to this job than he was saying. “Will you take the job?”

  “Think so.” He shoved half a cookie into his mouth and chewed, washing it down with his coffee. “It’s an exciting opportunity. A chance to prove I still have what it takes.” He rubbed his thigh.

  Reaching out, I stilled his hand. “You’ve always had what it takes. You don’t let anything slow you down.” Damn IED.

  “Thanks. I sure try not to. And now that my boss has hired more crew…”

  “You can leave. I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been bored with your current job.”

  “How about you? Photography business doing well?”

  “Better than well. I put fliers up around town and I’m booked solid for the next few months.”

  “You’ve filled a void here in town.”

  I leaned back in my chair and studied his face. “What about Mia?”

  He ran his fingertip around the rim of his coffee cup. “Ah, Mia.”

  “Have you ordered those flowers yet?”

  “Can’t.” His eyes darted up to meet mine before returning to his drink. “She’s out of the country.”

  I blinked. “She didn’t move away did she?”

  “Nope. She’ll be permanently in Crescent Cove come September. But right now, she’s in Mexico doing a medical mission. She’s a doctor.”

  “When will she be back?”

  “A month.”

  “Okay. So, you have time to think about flowers.” I laughed when he groaned.

  “Nothing may come of it, you know.”

  “You’re right.” Lifting his hand, I squeezed it. “I just want to see you happy. With Mia or whoever.”