[2016] What the Heart Wants

by Aqua Allsopp

  © Copyright 2016 by P.N. Books

  All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person,

  living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  1) What the Heart Wants

  2) THE ONE LOVE

  What the Heart Wants

  Chapter 1 Out of the Night

  It was an unusually cold night in Fayetteville, pronounced Fedville by North Carolina natives and long-time residents like my husband Charlie and me. We were sitting in the great room watching Charlie’s favorite, the World War II channel as I call it, but otherwise known as the History Channel. Wilhelm Keitel was signing the German Instrument of Surrender when I was surprised to hear the ding-dong of our doorbell since we didn’t often get visitors that time of night.

  “Is that the doorbell?” I absentmindedly asked Charlie as I stood up from my perch on the double recliner loveseat, not noticing that, as usual, Charlie had already fallen asleep. “It’s nearly 11:00 pm, who the devil could that be?” I wondered out loud.

  Charlie, in the opposite recliner, only snorted and barely opened his eyes. Our little cul-de-sac is so quiet and safe that I opened the door without looking through the peephole. I can’t be troubled with that thing, but I had such a start that I could hardly believe my eyes.

  When the door opened, I felt the cold of the night through my flannel nightgown and terry cloth robe. I began screaming, “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, Charlie, Charlie come quick!" I was screaming and sobbing uncontrollably from the shock of what I found on the other side of the door.

  Charlie awoke from his sleep with a jolt and ran to the front door as fast as his 60-year old paratrooper’s legs could carry him, not knowing what he was going to see when he arrived. As his tired eyes focused on the door he stopped in mid-stride and said, almost in a whisper, “Dear God”!

  My husband, Charles Anderson, was a retired sergeant major in the U.S. Army. We met early in his military career when I was a nurse at the Womack Army Medical Center at Fort Bragg. Charlie fell head over heels in love with me right away. He said it was because I was a beauty, but truth be told, I think it was because I cooked like his mom—downhome and Southern fried. It wasn’t until I was faced with the prospect of him leaving North Carolina that I realized how much I loved Charlie. Charlie proposed and I went from being Martha Louise Scott to Mrs. Martha Anderson after knowing him for only six months. After 30-years of wedded bliss, I know that I made the right choice.

  I had no regrets about giving up my nursing career to follow Charlie around the world with the Army because becoming a wife and mother gave me my pride and joy. My baby girl Sheridan.

  “Sheridan Louise Anderson, please tell me you are not wearing that to work. That is not appropriate dress for the classroom. Besides, it’s freezing outside. Charlie talk to your daughter,” I said as I buttered toast and poured the morning coffee.

  “Not me, I’m staying out of this. You hens can peck each other to death as much as you want. I’ll be right over here in my neutral corner,” replied my husband Charlie. The sun shone through the kitchen window, reflecting a summerlike light off the yellow kitchen walls giving the illusion of a bright summer’s day on a wintery morning.

  “Oh mom, I love you but you cannot still pick out my clothes for me like I’m 10-years-old. I know you think spaghetti straps are too sexy for work, but it’s fine, really. Besides, I have a date with Daryl tonight and I need to do a quick change after work,” my daughter Sheridan said as she wiggled and gyrated across the kitchen as she talked about her date with her boyfriend Daryl. She looked as happy as I’ve ever seen her.

  “Alright, alright, I know how it is when young love is in the air, but at least, pull your tank top up and close your sweater until after work,” I said as I tugged on her clothes trying to impose my will on the headstrong Sheridan.

  “Goodbye mom,” Sheridan said with a smile, a roll of the eyes, and a sweet kiss on my cheek.

  “Have a good day daddy and don’t drive mom too crazy today,” she said with a kiss to her father’s forehead.

  “I’ll do my best but I don’t promise anything,” he replied, over the top of the Fayetteville Observer.

  As soon as Sheridan was out of the kitchen, Charlie jumped up, grabbed me around the waist, and began playfully whispering in my ear. Sheridan could hear me giggle and shouted, “Get a room you two.”

  I imagined that Sheridan hoped that she and Daryl would be an old married couple like her dad and me someday, as she closed the front door behind her.

  We had Sheridan late in life. For a while we thought we would never have children, but then right after Charlie returned from Operation Desert Storm, I got pregnant. Sheridan grew up as an Army brat. As much as she idolizes her dad’s service, I’m surprised, but happy that she didn’t follow in her father’s footsteps because she’s a great elementary school teacher. Her students love her and I think her boyfriend Daryl does too. What more could a mother want?

  Chapter 2 The Army Wife

  “Sergeant Greene!” Yelled First Sergeant Roberts, as he walked into the supply room. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of the Army—diesel fumes trapped in old canvas, the remnants of soil from every continent they’ve served on, trapped in the nooks and crannies of aluminum and steel equipment, and the medicinal smell of medical and dental first aid supplies.

  “Yes, First Sergeant?” Sergeant Greene yelled in reply, his head stuck between two crates, as he scanned a barcode.

  “You finished with that inventory yet? I need it on my desk by 0-six hundred hours, tomorrow,” Roberts said with a stern expression on his face.

  Staff Sergeant (SSG) Greene’s head immediately popped up to make eye contact with him.

  “Seriously First Sergeant? I’m not even halfway done yet. It looks like I’ll be here all night to finish up,” Greene said with a dejected look on his face. He had big plans with Sheridan tonight.

  “No Sergeant, I’m just yanking your chain. I heard you’re proposing to that green-eyed beauty of yours today.”

  “Yes sir, First Sergeant, and I hope she says yes because I spent a lot of money on that ring. Do you want to see it?”

  “Sure!” SSG Greene reached into the lower right pocket of his digital patterned shirt and pulled out a burgundy, velvet ring box, opening it to reveal a one-carat, white gold, pear-shaped engagement ring, with 13 surrounding diamonds.

  “It’s a beauty, I’m sure she’ll say yes so let me be the first to say congratulations,” Daryl’s First Sergeant said with a big grin and a vigorous handshake.

  “Thank you, First Sergeant,” replied Daryl, with his own broad smile.

  “Now go on and get out of here and have a good time tonight.” With that, Daryl hustled off to change and pick up Sheridan from work.

  Walking through the elementary school parking lot, Daryl remembered how he met Sheridan in this very spot. He was doing a favor for a buddy by picking up his son from school. His friend was running late with his wife at her chemotherapy appointment so
Daryl helped out. He looked lost so Sheridan offered to help him find his way to the boy’s classroom. Daryl came back the next day with a dozen yellow roses to thank Sheridan. He asked her out for coffee and they’ve been together going on two-years now.

  “Hi babe.” Daryl said to Sheridan, offering her a kiss as she exited the school. “I have a surprise for you.” he said.

  “You do?” Sheridan asked, not knowing what the surprise could be, but suspecting that it was some sort of prank that Daryl intended to play on her because he’s just that sort of guy. Being a good sport and enjoying a laugh, Sheridan played along without asking too many questions.

  When Daryl pulled into the Fort Bragg horse stables parking lot he said, “Surprise!” Daryl was all smiles and excitement. He went on to say, “It’s such a beautiful evening that I thought we’d do a hay ride and have hot cider before we go to dinner.”

  “Well I’m not really dressed to be out in the cold for very long Daryl,” Sheridan said as she tugged at the hem of her black mini-skirt, wishing that her boots were thigh-high instead of ending at just her calf.

  “You have your winter coat, I’ve got this mink blanket for you and there’s hot cider on the ride,” Daryl said in a sweet and pleading voice as he handed Sheridan a faux-mink-blanket from his back seat.

  Not wanting to disappoint Daryl and appreciating the effort that he made to be romantic, she agreed to go on the hay ride. The wagon was covered with garland and red roses. Sheridan, along with the other guests, thought it was just decorated for the upcoming holidays, but shortly after the wagon began to move Daryl dropped to one knee, held Sheridan’s hand and said, “Sheridan, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” That’s when they all knew that the old wagon was decorated especially for Sheridan.

  Sheridan let out a little squeak of a scream that sounded like someone stepping on a mouse, then she whispered, yes, amid her tears of joy. Everyone on the wagon ride erupted in applause and congratulations for the happy couple.

  At the end of the evening Sheridan couldn’t wait to tell us the news. “Mom, Dad! Where are you?” Sheridan said as she tore through the house when she returned home from her date.

  “Sheridan, is everything alright?” Charlie said as he sat concerned, in his recliner.

  “Everything is just fine daddy, Daryl proposed,” she shrieked as she waved a sparkling ring in front of our faces. Charles and I stood up and jumped for joy right along with her. We loved Daryl and thought that he would make a good husband. We were about as happy as parents could be for their only child.

  Chapter 3 Through the Fog of War

  “Introducing Staff Sergeant Daryl Greene, 82nd Airborne paratrooper and Army Ranger, and Mrs. Sheridan Greene”, the emcee said as Sheridan and Daryl exited the church, with all of their family, friends, and coworkers looking on.

  Daryl and Sheridan had a beautiful military wedding ceremony at the post chapel that our family attended for years, replete with the expected military fanfare. Her father and I were both brought to tears as they walked beneath the arch of sabers held by Daryl’s brothers-in-arms, dressed in their finest military dress blue uniforms. The last soldier that Sheridan passed in the line swatted her on the backside with the side of his sword and said, “Welcome to the Army ma’am.”

  Daryl and Sheridan settled into a comfortable routine of brief deployments, month-long training exercises, and secret missions of undetermined amounts of time.

  Before the war, Daryl, Sheridan, our three-year-old granddaughter Bailey, and eight-year-old grandson Justin laughed and played like four children, enjoying all that life had to offer. Sheridan loved the outdoors and grew up hiking in Germany, skiing in Italy, and even trekking to Paris for her high school prom night. She shared her sense of adventure and her love for nature with her husband and children.

  As soon as Daryl returned from a military assignment, the family would embark on some great excursion. They seemed to be the perfect family and they really were about as near to perfect as any family could be, and then the Iraq war started.

  Operation Phantom Fury was the name of the pivotal mission that would change Daryl and Sheridan’s life forever.

  “Hello, babe? It’s me Daryl, can you hear me?” “Oh my God, I’ve been so worried about you. We’ve been watching the news. Are you in this operation Daryl, this second Fallujah?” a frantic Sheridan asked.

  “Yeah, honey, but I’m alright really. How are you and the kids? Man, it’s good to hear your voice. Everything is crazy here babe. I feel like I’m on another planet, but I’m good, I’m good. How are the kids?” Daryl repeated.

  “We’re fine here Daryl. How are you doing? Are you hurt? They’re saying this second Fallujah is the worst combat since the Vietnam War and you’re smack in the middle of it Daryl. I’m so scared for you.”

  “The angels are walking with me honey, I don’t have a scratch on me, I promise.”

  “Oh, thank God, I pray for you every day and the kids and my parents pray, too. We love you and miss you Daryl. We made you a big box of cookies and brownies. They might me hard as bricks by the time you get them, but just know that we’re thinking about you and all of the guys over there. Do you need anything?”

  “No honey, like I said I’m good. I didn’t get so much as a scratch,” Daryl said with a fake smile plastered on his face, with the hope of sounding convincing when he said that he was fine.

  What he didn’t tell Sheridan was that he was the only man in his squad who walked away with barely a bruise on that horrible day in Iraq’s Al-Anbar Province, where he witnessed most of his comrades being viciously wounded or killed.

  Daryl also observed the bloated and decomposing bodies of other American military and Iraqi civilians alike, floating in the Euphrates river; the festering carnage of the escaping insurgent’s terror.

  “One hundred eighty days and a wakeup baby and I’ll be back home to you.”

  “I know Daryl,” Sheridan managed to smile in the hope that it would make her voice sound cheerful enough to convince Daryl that she was alright. “The kids and I mark off the calendar each day to count the days until you come home.”

  “That’s really sweet honey. I love you. Kiss the kids for me and I’ll call again as soon as I can.” Daryl hung up the phone and looked down at his trembling hands, willing them to stop shaking. He grabbed the stock of his rifle and unslung it from across his back. He needed something to hold on to and his rifle would do for now.

  Charlie and I were thrilled when Daryl left the Army at the end of his tour in Iraq, but he couldn’t seem to leave the war behind. It followed him like a hungry ghost, gobbling up every ounce of happiness, and each morsel of joy that dared to creep into his life.

  “Daryl why won’t you talk to me?” Sheridan begged. “You walk around here saying that you just want to be left alone, barking at me and yelling at the kids, we can’t live like this. What is the matter with you? Please talk to me,” Sheridan demanded day after day. But Daryl never shared his feelings of survivor’s remorse with Sheridan, or anyone outside of the psychiatrist and psychologist that debriefed him post-deployment.

  After leaving the combat zone, Daryl found himself taking 16-prescribed medications a day for depression, anxiety, high blood pressure and chronic pain.

  However, after having seen the worst of what one human being is capable of doing to another human being, Daryl was a shell of his old self, after returning from the war. His unwillingness to seek help, to talk about his feelings, and a growing problem with handling the challenges of life began to overwhelm and destroy first Daryl and then the entire family. Daryl was withdrawn from everyone when he returned home, and he became almost a hermit inside his house. After leaving the Army, he literally turned the home office into a cave by blacking out the windows and forbidding even his own family to enter the room. This was where he retreated to on a daily basis so that he could be left alone with his demons. Helping out around the house, looking for work or even taking his medicati
on on schedule seemed to be impossible tasks for him. Sheridan felt like a single parent, and on top of that, she was walking on eggshells trying to keep Daryl calm and protecting herself and the children from his violent rages.

  One day, after leaving the children home alone with their father while she went to the grocery store, Sheridan came home to find Bailey crying and shaking under the dining room table. Her eyes were wide and she began screaming, “Mommy don’t leave, the monster will get you.”

  “What, what monster Bailey, there are no monsters,” Sheridan said as she lifted Bailey out from under the table. She could hear Daryl yelling incoherently, then suddenly she began running towards the voice in the backyard.

  It was a sweltering summer day and Daryl was barking commands at Justin, who was running up and down the backyard with a loaded rifle, steps from collapsing from heat exhaustion. Daryl ran alongside his eight-year-old son yelling about how not following orders gets people killed. Sheridan later learned that all of this was brought on by Justin’s failing a spelling test at school that day.

  When Sheridan took the rifle from Bailey and told him to run inside and call his grandpa, Daryl grabbed the rifle and hit Sheridan with the rifle-stock, causing her to fall unconscious. A neighbor who was watching from the window had already called the police, who had just arrived.

  After a three-hour standoff, Daryl finally released his family from their backyard prison, and found himself in police custody, followed by an extended stay in the psychiatric ward.

  Sheridan had had enough! After five years of his moody, distant, and agitated behavior while he was still on active duty, followed by an 18-month struggle for him to adjust to civilian life, and then having the lives of her children as well as her own in danger, she separated from Daryl.