by PJ Sharon
If she had learned anything good from Roy Stockman, it was about promises. Despite his evil intent, a promise in itself wasn’t bad. Being a person of your word was a quality to be admired, not feared. It was the integrity and nature of the person making the promise that mattered.
Brinn promised Kitty she would continue to visit the meadow, promised Sunday dinners with her parents, shopping trips with Abby, and frequent e-mails and letters to Cody, who had returned to active duty. She promised herself that she would always trust her instincts, be honest with Justin, and never run away from her fears again. And finally, she and Justin promised each other that no matter how much they loved each other, they would always maintain their individuality, giving each other the freedom they both needed for healthy growth.
Brinn found that she didn't need Justin's love or a sexual relationship to heal her wounds, although she’d found a peaceful bliss in both. He had been true to his word about that, too. It was beautiful and gentle and when they made love, all she felt was Justin’s love for her, washing the memories away like stones being drawn out to sea from the shore before her. Tears of joy welled in her eyes, stinging against the bright sun as she watched the tide retreat.
She finally understood that love was not about owning another person or even belonging to them, but it was about belonging with someone—someone who accepts you for who you are, scars and all. Justin showed her that love is selfless, patient, and kind. Through awkward moments of intimacy, they found laughter to be a potent healer, communication a necessity. Together, they learned to love each other in a hundred small ways every day.
She gazed down again at the young man next to her. The sun highlighted the golden tones in the chestnut waves that blew wildly in the salty breeze. Brinn loved the ocean and the freedom it signified. She and Justin visited often, today being an occasion he referred to as a special day. She hated to wake him, but he had promised her a surprise.
"Justin," Brinn called softly, waiting for him to stir beside her. "Are you ever going to tell me why we came here today? I mean, it's beautiful, but you said there was a special reason for coming.” She waited, a bit impatient with him as he yawned and stretched. He looked at his watch, and then finally met her expectant gaze. A smile spread across his face.
"Could you please grab me a drink out of the cooler?" He sat up and waited for her to comply. Her impatience was growing, but she opened the ice chest and reached in for a bottle. She came to a halt.
A small smile quickly grew into a wide grin. Inside, on the top of the ice was a tiny square box. Brinn lifted it out and sent a questioning flick of her eyes toward Justin, now snuggled at her side propped on one elbow and smiling as broadly as she was.
"Go ahead, open it."
Brinn caught her lower lip, and carefully removed the ribbon and paper. Opening the box slowly, she gaped at the contents. The object inside brought an expression of confusion to the surface. She’d half feared it would be a ring. Instead, a key ring lay on a square of cotton, Justin’s Saint Christopher’s medal at one end and a key at the other. "It's a key," she said.
"Yes, it is." Justin laughed, taking the key from the box and placing it in Brinn's hand. He curled her fingers around it and held her hands in his. His face lit with amusement and his deep brown eyes carried a tenderness that always brought a warm, fuzzy, haze around her heart.
"I thought you might need your own key to the Beemer.” Her look of astonishment was clearly ample reward. He added with flushed cheeks, “I know it’s not much, but since you didn’t want a ring, I hoped this might be a good substitute. Besides, I couldn't ask you to spend your life with me unless I was ready to share all of me with you.”
She didn’t know what the future held, but with the past behind her, Brinn smiled down into Justin’s hopeful gaze, seeing the promise of possibility before her. She held the key tightly in her hand. The solid sharp edges rested in her palm and the small oval medal of protection on the key ring filled her heart with gratitude and certainty.
Brinn looked from her hand into his eyes. “I will never ask for more than you can give, Justin. And this...” She dangled the key between them, “this is more than enough. It shows your belief in me. And that means more to me than anything.”
He leaned forward and kissed her lips gently and her heart fluttered and floated upward on the breeze, free and at peace in the bright blue sky of a perfect day in May.
Bonus Content
Heaven Is For Heroes
Chapter 1
The crack of gunfire exploded in the air…once…twice…three times. I flinched with each pop, the smell of gunpowder thick in the warm mist raining down over the cemetery. The crowd around me faded into a mass of black suits, women in dark coats with their high heels sinking into the sodden grass, umbrellas overhead, and a sea of Marines in dress blue uniforms. I clung to my mother in the folding chair beside me.
The military report must be mistaken. Or maybe someone was covering up—lying. But why? My insides shifted and tightened. If Levi’s death was anything other than an accident, Mom would never be able to live with the truth. I wasn’t sure if I could either.
An eerie silence fell and then was broken by the sound of a bugle blaring out the soulful notes of Taps, the signal for the end of a long day for a Marine…or the end of his life. My grandfather saluted his comrades, his face stony and expressionless, deep lines etched between his brows and around his mouth the only evidence of his sorrow.
The canopy overhead protected us from the rain, but tears soaked my skin. Two Marines lifted the American flag from my brother’s coffin, moving with mechanical precision. In their shiny black shoes and perfectly starched uniforms, they stretched the edges taut and began folding and creasing, folding and creasing, until the stripes disappeared into a compact triangle with just the white stars showing against the navy background. One of the folders and creasers, nearly faceless beneath his round white hat with its polished black visor, presented the triangle of flag to my mother, who clutched it to her chest and released another shuddering sob. I gripped her shoulders tighter as she collapsed against me.
I scanned the crowd, tuning out the final words of Father O’Keefe as he committed Levi’s soul to God and his body to the earth. Friends, family, neighbors, and military personnel surrounded the scene, rows deep. I recognized my friends from school, half of next year’s senior class turning out to show their support. Katie, Samantha and Penny from Somerville all stood up front, crying openly and holding hands. The pain in their eyes reflected what my heart refused to let in. I felt hollow and cold, almost dead inside. A terrible numbness resided in my limbs, as if I’d fallen asleep in a snow bank and my body had frozen there. Except that I was here and there was no escaping the reality. My eyes darted through the faces, each expression as painful as the last.
So much love, so much sadness, so much grief. Whether they knew him or not, people turned out to mourn the death of a young hometown soldier. A Connecticut boy killed in combat. My brother…my brother Levi was dead. My mind let the thought in, trying it on as if maybe I could send it back if it didn’t fit. The casket, the scent of roses—it all made my stomach curl into a tight knot. What Daddy would have called “angel tears” falling from the heavens, gently caressed the broken hearts of the mourners—it felt surreal. I wanted to believe it was a bad dream, a made for TV movie that me and my family were playing in as extras. My mother shook in my arms, the scent of her strawberry shampoo waking me to the reality. This wasn’t a dream or a movie. This was real life—and real death. But I couldn’t let myself believe it, because then everything would be different.
The faces blurred. I closed my eyes, my ears disconnected from the words of the priest, and I gasped for breath. Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and heavy. Then my lungs expanded. I was still alive, still breathing. My heart resumed beating. I opened my eyes and swiped at my cheeks, sniffling to gain control. I searched deeper into the crowd, wanting only to see one person.
&nbs
p; Then I spotted him, standing shoulder to shoulder with several other Marines in the third row. He was the only man in uniform who stood round shouldered and slouched, leaning on the crutches that held him upright. I couldn’t see his eyes beneath his hat, but his face was pale and his lips were drawn in a straight, tight line. I shivered in spite of the balmy June air, the dampness seeping into my bones and chilling me to the core.
The service ended. The crowd slowly dispersed, each person laying a single white rose on the casket as they said a final good-bye. One by one, they turned away, faces sad and tear stained. I waited for Alex to approach, but he didn’t. He just disappeared into the crowd. I stood and looked through the sea of umbrellas, catching sight of him flanked by two Marines who were assisting him to a nearby black sedan. Awkwardly negotiating his crutches, he hopped on one foot, his right pant leg drawn up and pinned neatly below his knee, the lower part of his leg no longer there to stand on. My stomach twisted and salty tears burned my throat.
“Jordan, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Alex’s mother stood in front of me. Her hand rested gently on my shoulder. “Levi was…he’ll be missed.” I looked back to the casket where my mother was standing with her back to me, my grandfather’s arm tight around her waist as she broke down again and cried inconsolably.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cooper. It means a lot to us that you and Alex were here today.” My eyes followed the black sedan as it pulled away from the curb. “This must be terrible for him.”
“The doctors didn’t want him to leave the hospital, but you know Alex….” She pushed a stray wet hair off my cheek, her eyes filled with emotion. “They’re taking him back now.” She glanced at the Government Issue vehicle working its way along the narrow drive of the cemetery, crawling along in the parade of cars. “I’d like to follow and see him get settled in his room again. Tell your mother I’ll stop by soon.” By this time, my grandfather was leading my mother away from the casket, nearly carrying her toward the limousine that awaited us.
“I’ll tell her.” My eyes felt hot and puffy like big caterpillars ready to burst. Everyone had gone and Mrs. Cooper turned to leave. A part of me wanted her to stay. She looked so put together, her blond hair neatly pulled up in a twist, an umbrella protecting her from the rain. I envied the calm professionalism that rolled off of her, the black business suit with pin-striped pants and sensible flats that said she was in control. My own hair hung in long strands, wet on my face, darkened by the rain—not its usual sun- streaked red and gold pulled into a ponytail. The last thing I felt was put together. I called after her. “Tell Alex I’ll be by to see him at the hospital as soon as I can.”
“I’m sure he’d like that,” Mrs. Cooper stopped and turned, her eyes moving to the coffin one more time. The entire surface of the dark mahogany was covered in white roses, not fully in bloom. The scent clung in the damp air as if they knew the box they lay upon would soon be buried under six feet of dirt. Before Alex’s mother walked away, she said, “Again…my deepest sympathies, Jordan.” She cleared her throat, hesitating a moment longer. “I know it’s hard to imagine, but a year from now, everything will feel different.” Then she was gone.
I stood by the casket alone, my own flower in hand. A moment of crushing silence gripped me—nothing except for the drizzling rain and the distant caw of a crow. Mrs. Cooper was right. It was difficult to imagine how I might feel a year from now. I understood that time faded the pain of loss, but I also knew that grief had a way of scarring a person. I glanced over at my father’s headstone, his funeral so far back in my memory, the images were all but lost. A year from now, things might feel different, but they wouldn’t be different. Levi would still be gone, Alex would never have his leg back, and I was pretty certain the scars on my heart would remain raw and painful for a very long time.
I imagined the deep hole beneath the thin layer of green carpet, an abyss about to swallow my brother. He wouldn’t have liked this at all. He told me he would rather be cremated, an idea my mother had immediately dismissed. “Catholics bury their dead so on the last day, they have a body to rise up into when Christ returns,” she’d said. I knew Levi well enough to know he wasn’t concerned about the “last day” as much as he was about being buried in a box in a deep hole where his body would decay and his flesh would be eaten by worms.
I shivered again, my sweater growing heavy as the drizzle turned to a full-on rain. Long strands of hair had fallen from my barrette and stuck to my cheeks. I brushed them off my face and tucked them behind my ears.
“Oh, Lee, how could you? What have you done?” My eyes burned as the words fell on the moist spring air, my voice weakened by sadness and drowned out by the sound of the rain pattering on the muddy ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t…” But there was no point in being sorry now. “I’ll…miss you,” I whispered as I laid the final rose on the mound of flowers. As I let go, it hit me. I would never see him again. The realization slipped one level deeper into my consciousness, penetrating my carefully placed wall of denial. The searing jolt to my heart dragged a sob from my lips.
Familiar footsteps registered behind me. “You about ready to go?” My grandfather laid a large, firm hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I wiped the tears and rain from my face. We stood there for another minute, the two of us saying a silent good-bye to Levi, any promise of a future snuffed out in one horrible tragic event. But I knew that was how Levi had wanted it, probably even planned it. He told me more than once that he didn’t belong here in this life, that God had made a mistake. He’d been a reckless daredevil since we were kids, self-destructive in a way that wasn’t natural. He’d led me and Alex into more trouble than any kid could possibly find on his own. That’s how I knew it was all a lie.
The military report had to be wrong. Part of me wanted to let it go and let them be right—to forget what my brother was capable of and blame it all on Alex. But the part of me that knew it wasn’t true couldn’t let Alex take the blame, even if it meant I had to take as much responsibility as anyone. If I had told someone…things could have been different.
In my mind I could see Levi running headfirst into a bad situation knowing there was a good chance he wouldn’t come out alive. His preoccupation with death had been a topic of concern since the first time he cut himself on purpose when he was ten. With every destructive act after that it became clearer—at least to me—that Levi was capable of killing himself. Mom stuck her head in the sand and tried to wish it all away, but I knew what my brother could do. The same way I knew that there was no way Alex would have led them into danger. It must have been Levi’s idea. He’d been good at persuading people. The military had the facts wrong. That’s all there was to it. “I need to know what really happened,” I said, my words coming out stronger than I thought myself capable of.
My grandfather let out a slow breath. “Sometimes it’s best to let things be. Your brother died a hero. There is no greater sacrifice than to lay down one’s life for a friend. It’s a good way to go for a soldier.”
My teeth pressed together. “So the truth doesn’t matter?”
“It won’t change anything. And your mother…” His voice lowered and I heard the weariness creep in. “Your mother needs to believe there is a purpose and a plan in all this.” He wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder and led me away from the gravesite. My feet resisted even as I leaned into his broad chest.
“I don’t get it, Brig. What purpose is there in a twenty year old being put in the ground? Or Alex losing a leg?” My voice carried the sound of defeat. I walked with him toward the limo, dreading the ride back to the house where, no doubt, there would be another crowd to contend with. Exhaustion ran bone deep inside me, fighting with the growing anger that fueled my need for answers. I recognized my grandfather’s tone to mean he wouldn’t help me dig into the details surrounding Levi’s death. He and my mother would be just as happy to believe a lie. If I wanted the truth, I would have to find it myself.
As
I climbed into the back of the limo and slid across the seat where my mother was already reaching for my hand, a rush of adrenalin ran through me. The first place I would start was with the one person who was there when it happened. Whether he was ready to talk about it or not, Alex was going to tell me what I needed to know.
To purchase Heaven Is For Heroes or my second book, On Thin Ice, go to the homepage of my website and choose your retailer. http://www.pjsharon.com.
Thank you so much for reading my books and I hope you’ll stick with me as I venture into the dystopian world of The Chronicles of Lily Carmichael, a trilogy set in the year 2057. Book One, Waning Moon, will be released in September of 2012.
About the Author
PJ Sharon is the author of several independently published, contemporary young adult novels, including Molly Finalist, HEAVEN IS FOR HEROES, FAB Five finalist, ON THIN ICE, and Sheila and Golden Palm finalist, SAVAGE CINDERELLA.
Writing romantic fiction for the past six years, and following her destiny to write Extraordinary Stories of an Average Teenage life, PJ is a member of Romance Writers of America, CTRWA, and Young Adult RWA. She is mother to two grown sons and lives with her husband and her dog in the Berkshire Hills of Western Massachussettes.
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