“Oh my God,” I rush out. “Is it really you? I was just sitting down to write you another letter. I miss you. How are you? Tell me everything.”
I ramble and I ramble, desperate to get every word—every question—out. But he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t utter a single word, and for a moment, I think I’ve lost him.
My heart plummets as I stare at the timer on the phone, then I bring it back to my ear.
“Eric?”
“Yeah,” he clips, his tone hoarse. I want to think it’s emotion I detect in his voice, but the dense ache in the pit of my stomach doesn’t allow me that privilege.
Something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.
“Eric?” I repeat. “Is everything okay? Are you—”
He cuts me off.
“How many have there been?” He grinds out the question. I’m not sure what he’s referring to, so I take a minute. The military wives group warned me that the conversations would be rushed, and I’d have to decipher the questions. I can only assume he’s asking how many letters I’ve sent.
“I’ve sent one every day since you left. Haven’t you received them?”
Regret instantly fills me. I knew I should’ve sent the letters through Sandboxx.
I found an app that overnights letters and photos to servicemen, all you have to do is type what you want to say into the app and attach a photo if you want and they will print it and send it, but I didn’t do it because I read somewhere that it doesn’t matter how quickly you send mail to your soldier, the process on the receiving end is still the same. Still, by now he should’ve received at least one—unless of course I got the address wrong, which I don’t think I did.
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he snaps. “Don’t play me Brooklyn, be honest. How many guys have you been talking to since I left?”
My heart stops. I must have misheard him.
There is no way he’d ask me that question.
No way he’d doubt my love for him.
My loyalty.
My promises.
My commitment.
“What are you talking about?” I choke.
“Just tell me,” he growls. “Did you cheat on me? Was it once? Twice? How many guys have touched you since I’ve been gone? It’s been five fucking weeks and not one damn letter. I’m dying over here…” I hear him suck in a breath. “I’m going crazy, Brooklyn. Fucking crazy. Just tell me!”
Tears fill my eyes as my heart shatters and all our dreams crumble to pieces. But they don’t fall.
Not my tears or the fragments of my heart and our broken dreams.
The hurricane rages. It builds and swirls. It strengthens in power.
There is beauty to be found after every storm.
Sometimes it’s the church that still stands, a beautiful place where faith holds up the walls. The frame of a home, where memories are the foundation of a family’s love and laughter coats every nook and cranny. An old oak tree with initials of lovers carved into its bark.
There is always one beautiful thing that survives and this time that beautiful thing is going to be love. They say young love doesn’t last, that it’s not capable of weathering the storms. Well, they never met the girl who had no one, the girl who fought fear to let love in. They never knew her strength. But the boy on the other end of the line, he knows her.
He built her.
He rescued her heart.
He made her believe she was unbreakable.
Now it’s him who needs rescuing.
He who needs to let love in.
Because in the toughest of times, it’s love that blankets you.
Wiping my eyes, I squeeze the phone.
“Eric, I don’t know what’s happened to you or what’s going on inside your head, but you need to snap out of it,” I say, calmly.
My tone doesn’t waiver, it remains strong and solid.
“I would never cheat on you. Do you hear me? You Soldier Boy, you’ve got my whole heart. I love you and I’m counting the days until I can look into your eyes and tell you that.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“No! Eric do—”
The line goes dead and I drop the phone. I let myself cry for five minutes, and then I brush those tears away. Crying isn’t going to save us.
Be brave.
Be strong.
God pairs the strongest women with soldiers, he pairs them with hurricanes.
Thirty
Eric
Four days after I accused Brooklyn of cheating on me, my drill sergeant dumped a bunch of letters on my bunk that were postmarked from the day I arrived in Georgia to about a week ago. I recognized the handwriting on the envelopes and knew some letters were from my mom, but there were thirty-five letters from Brooklyn.
One for every day we were apart.
Holding those letters in my hand, seeing her handwriting and the little hearts she drew on every envelope brought my mind and my heart to the same page and I immediately felt like the biggest piece of shit to ever walk the face of the earth. I had done everything I swore I wouldn’t do, and there was no way of reversing the damage.
The greatest crime a soldier can commit is treason to his country.
But a worser criminal is the man who commits treason on a woman’s heart.
I didn’t deserve Brooklyn’s letters.
I didn’t deserve her.
And after that phone call, I certainly didn’t deserve her love.
Period.
End of story.
But I couldn’t bring myself to throw her letters away either. I might not deserve her, and I may have fucked everything up, but I made a promise to myself and to the man who made it possible for me to live. Near or far, together forever. I could earn those letters back. I could prove myself worthy of her heart, and this time, I wouldn’t thread on it.
If doubt filled my head, if the demons of the military tore through my soul—I wouldn’t let them win. You can knock me down, but I’m built to get back up. I cheated death before I drew my first breath, I’m fucking indestructible and it’s time I start acting that way.
No more pussy shit.
Your man Eric is back in the game.
In it to win it and all that jazz.
Fuck the noise in his head.
If Uncle Jack could survive five decades of torment, I surely could handle ten more weeks of it. I tucked Brooklyn’s letters under my bunk and made a pact with myself. For every day without incident, I’d get to read one of Brooklyn’s letters as a reward. That would keep me focused and then, when I could call her, I’d apologize. Instead of badgering her with questions and accusations, I’d tell her what drove me to the brink of insanity. I’d be totally honest because that’s what she deserves. It doesn’t make me weak; it makes me human and if we’re going to survive this lifestyle, honesty is key.
Trust and respect.
Love and loyalty.
They’re the creed to everything great.
So that’s exactly what I did.
I busted my ass, wore myself to the bone, and when Sunday rolled around, I didn’t call Brooklyn—I hadn’t proved my worth yet—I called my mom instead. With her help, I made sure my pretty little hurricane had a surprise waiting for her every day when she came home from school. Five bouquets of flowers, one for every week I fucked things up.
It was no apology, but that would come soon enough.
Every letter I opened was better than the one before and made me fall even deeper in love with Brooklyn. She started every letter with The Soldier’s Creed and ended every single one with a verse from a prayer she found on the internet for military girlfriends. In between the creed and the prayer, she shared a little bit of what was going on back home, and every letter had five questions she wanted me to answer. They varied from what’s one thing I liked about the Army, to one thing I hated. Some questions were harder to answer than others, but the one that came easiest was the one where she asked what I was lookin
g forward to most.
Marrying you.
I don’t know if she’ll get the letter before I call and apologize, but it doesn’t matter. Come Hell or high water, I’m going to marry her. The military might try to break a man, but when you surpass all that, when you realize how strong you truly are, it also can put things into perspective too.
We might be young, and the odds may very well be stacked against us, but there’s always something beautiful waiting to be unveiled in the eye of every storm. Plus, our kids would be gorgeous. I’m all for serving my country, but I think it’s my duty to procreate and populate this great land with little hurricanes.
I wonder if Brooklyn will mind a marriage proposal before an apology—slow down, killer.
I have one fucking epiphany and I’m ready to get down on one knee and shop for strollers.
Fall in love, they said.
It’ll be fun, they said.
They failed to mention a few things…
Okay, so you know what I didn’t factor in? How fucking nervous I’d be when I picked up the phone to call Brooklyn. As soon as the phone started to ring, my stomach rolled and in case you were wondering, MRE meals and a case of nerves don’t bode well. I was going to shit my pants or at the very least blow up the bathroom. Talk about chemical warfare—my platoon was fucked.
All my worries about blowing Fort Benning to kingdom come died the second her voice filled my ears.
“Hi,” she murmured softly.
I froze. The clock was ticking on my phone privileges and I couldn’t speak. I closed my eyes and when she called my name, I blinked away the tears that blurred my vision.
“I’m sorry,” I rasped.
“I know,” she whispers.
“No, Brooklyn, you don’t understand. I was in an awful place mentally and the guys—”
“Eric, I know,” she repeated. “I’m not going to lie to you, I was devastated that you thought I’d ever do something like that to you, but I knew in my heart you were going through something. Tell me it’s better now, that you’re not suffering over there because I’ve been trying to keep my shit together, but I’m losing it. Please tell me you’re okay. That your still mine.”
“Always,” I choke. “That will never change.”
Near or far, together forever.
Until the day someone lowers me into the cold earth, and even then, I’ll find a way to be with her—just like her dad did.
“The flowers were a nice touch.”
“I’ll send you flowers every day for the rest of my life if it makes you smile, but I never want to send them because I hurt you again.”
“Did you get my letters?”
“Every single one. I didn’t read them all, though. They’ve become my reward system, for every day I make it through, I get to read one of your letters. I wrote you back too. I don’t know when you’ll get them, but they’re in the mail.”
“I can’t wait to read them.” There is a pause and then she says, “I miss you.”
Oh, my pretty little hurricane, if only you knew how much I missed you.
“Not more than I miss you,” I reply huskily.
“It’s debatable.”
“How’s Splish and Splash?”
“They’re still alive.”
That makes me laugh, and I quickly realize I can’t recall the last time I did that. How sad is that?
“I love you,” I blurt. “I love you so fucking much, and I can’t wait until this is all over because the first thing I’m doing is marrying you.”
“What?” she breathes.
Crap.
Too soon?
Fuck it.
I already ripped off the band-aid, might as well bleed out.
“I don’t want to move into the barracks, Brook. I want to come home to you. I want to eat Oreos with you in the middle of the night after fucking you for hours upon hours and making you come a dozen different ways. I want to have kids, lots and lots of kids. If we start now, we’ll be young grandparents. We’ll see them graduate, get married, and if we’re lucky, we’ll even see our great-grandchildren. It won’t always be easy, but we’ll make it work.”
“Eric—”
“I know, I know…I’m not proposing over the phone.”
Not really.
“I’ll get you a ring and I’ll get down on one knee. I’m just giving you a heads-up.”
Bullshit.
Say yes.
“You can get a marriage license and be married the same day in Georgia.”
Whoa.
Maybe I’m not crazy after all.
I swallow.
“You’ve looked into it?” I ask, holding my breath.
“I’ve looked into everything, Eric.”
Exhaling, I swipe a hand over my face. I don’t want to wait.
“Say yes and we can reenact everything after my graduation,” I say hoarsely.
“I’ll say yes when you get down on one knee and not because I need a ring, but because you need something to look forward to. It’s you and me, Soldier Boy. Forever is only two months away. Get to the finish line and I’ll be there with my arms wide open to watch you cross it. Then you can ask me to marry you and spoiler alert, I’ll say yes.”
Here’s another spoiler for you—I accept the challenge.
And another one…we live happily ever after.
Thirty-One
Brooklyn
When we received word from Fort Benning of Eric’s Turning Blue ceremony and that he wanted me to do the honors, I felt so many emotions, but mainly I was excited. We were so close to the end of basic and despite the hiccup in the beginning of his training; we made it! The day after I affix that cord to his dress blues, he’ll graduate and unbeknownst to Lauren and Riggs, we’ll be married.
Married.
We weren’t officially engaged, but we both knew it was happening. Once he was discharged from basic and I could have my soldier back, we were going to the courthouse. I had already applied for the marriage license just in case I had misread the information I found on the internet and Eric had already applied for family housing.
Once he was finished with basic combat training, he immediately moved onto his AIT training as an indirect infantry fireman. That’s where the Turning Blue ceremony comes into play. Not only did Eric pass his physical test, but he scored an eighty-seven on his ASVAB test. They issued him his Permanent Change of Station orders, and in three days we’ll be settling into military life in Kansas.
It sucks we’ll be so far from Riggs, Lauren, and the rest of the family, but Lauren’s already told Riggs they’re visiting once a month. She’s got the United Airlines credit card activated and ready to swipe.
A knock sounds on the door, and I close the lid to Splish and Splash’s tank. Any minute now, Wolf should arrive with the U-Haul. I’m not sure how he got stuck driving that thing to Georgia, but he has the pleasure of taking all of mine and Eric’s things to Georgia, and I’m trusting he’ll keep Splish and Splash safe in the front seat. Let’s just pray he doesn’t get hungry and decide to eat them. That man has an insatiable appetite.
“Hey,” Riggs says as he pokes his head inside the room. I turn to him and my eyes immediately go to the patch he wears to honor my dad and I smile. It seems like so much time has passed, that it’s been years since I arrived at Kate’s and first locked eyes with the man who would take me in and give me a home. Things sure have a funny way of working out.
“I’m just checking on you. Tomorrow’s the big day,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb.
“I can’t wait. You guys must be excited too,” I reply.
A couple of weeks ago we got to visit with Eric for Family Day, but we only had a matter of hours with him. Most of the time Riggs was obsessing over the clock, making sure we weren’t late to bring him back to base. No one wanted him to suffer any consequences that might set him back from reaching his goal.
His eyes focus on his worn boots for a second, then he lifts his head.
“Excited, no. Proud, yes,” he admits. “After tomorrow my son will be an indirect infantryman in the United States Army.” He pauses to blow out a shaky breath. “Proud doesn’t even cut it.”
I smile at him.
“He did it,” I whisper softly.
“He sure did,” he agrees as he straightens up and starts for me. “It helped that he had such a great girl cheering him on.”
I couldn’t take credit for Eric’s accomplishments, but I was happy to share them with him and if I had a small part in helping him keep a clear head to remain focused on his goal, I was glad to help.
Riggs glances down at my hands.
“You should get your nails done.”
I look down at my unpolished nails and back at him.
“What for?”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Call it a hunch.”
Strange man, that Tiger is.
As soon as the announcement sounds overhead granting me permission to find Eric on the field, I leave Riggs, Lauren, Robert, Anthony, Bella, Wolf, Maria, and Uncle Gangster and Aunt Adrianna in the stands and I take off. My white sundress skirts around my legs as I run through the crowds of people all searching for their soldiers.
“Brook, hold up!” Riggs shouts after me. I pause momentarily to glance over my shoulder and watch as some angry old lady hits him with her purse.
“Out of my way,” she shouts.
“Damnit Lady, quit hitting me.”
His eyes slice back to me and he holds up his GoPro.
“I’m trying to get the whole thing on video, but this lady won’t stop attacking me.” Suddenly, Lauren reaches Riggs and pushes him away from the old lady.
“Go!” she shouts. “We’re right behind you.”
And they are.
The whole lot of them.
Robert lifts Bella onto his shoulders and Anthony races alongside him. Wheezing and all Wolf trots along too, dragging Maria and her incredibly high heels with him. Uncle Gangster and Adrianna are close behind too. When they finally catch up to me an overwhelming sense of belonging washes over me. I hope my mom is smiling. I pray she finds peace in knowing I landed safely and with an overflowing heart.
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