Bring Me Home for Christmas

by Robyn Carr

  “Sure,” she said. “Why?”

  “You haven’t kept your mouth shut this long since the day you were born,” he pointed out.

  “I said the salmon dinner was amazing!”

  “You usually have a lot more to say,” he said. “About everything.”

  Denny laughed before he said, “You about ready for bed, Becca?”

  The entire gathering, including Jack, sent up a great round of whoops and laughter. Becca actually blushed.

  “You know what I mean,” Denny said, more to the men than to Becca. “I’m sleeping on an air mattress so I can be handy if she needs anything.”

  “Becca, even though it might make Dirk jealous, I could do air-mattress duty tonight if you’d rather,” Troy said with a teasing grin. “You know, since Denny broke your ankle and everything…”

  “Jealous?” Dirk protested loudly, giving Troy a shove.

  “Now boys,” she said. “We all know it wasn’t Denny’s fault and he’s been very thoughtful. So shut up and back off.”

  “Whatever you say,” Troy said, holding up his palms toward her.

  Rich stood to his full six foot two, gave his trousers a yank upward and pulled his jacket off the back of his chair. He draped it around Becca’s shoulders and said, “Come on, gimpy. I’ll drive you home. Then you’re on your own.”

  “I better go with or he’ll leave her at the bottom of the stairs,” Denny said, getting to his feet. “Jack, you need me for anything? I can get Becca settled and come right back….”

  “Nah, we’re good here. We don’t need you. Aren’t we good, Preach?”

  “Good,” Preacher said, standing.

  The gathering dispersed with plans to meet in the morning for fishing. Rich drove Becca home and carried her up the stairs to Denny’s room while Denny followed with the crutches.

  And then, there they were. Alone.

  Denny stood just inside the door, looking across the room at her. He had obviously taken care of inflating the air mattress earlier; it was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, a pillow and blanket tossed on top. Although her crutches held her up, she sank to the bed, bone tired again.

  “Do you need a little help to get ready for bed, Becca?”

  She shook her head. “No, but if you wouldn’t mind lifting that suitcase onto the bed, I’d sure appreciate it. I can’t figure out how to kneel on the floor.”

  “You got it,” he said, accommodating her at once. “Do you have warm pajamas? Because I have sweats and stuff…”

  “I have it covered,” she said. She immediately began digging around in her big suitcase.

  “I’ll clean out a couple of drawers,” he said. “Top drawers, so you don’t have to worry about lifting the suitcase or kneeling.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble,” she said. Pajamas tucked under her arm, she stood from the bed. “Do you need the bathroom?”

  “No, go ahead. Take your time. Here, let me carry those in for you. Need anything else in here?”

  “That small cosmetic bag there would help—toothbrush and stuff.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Leave this in the bathroom, if you want.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I hate needing help.”

  He grinned at her. “But I like helping, so we’re okay so far.”

  And then he backed out, pulling the door closed.

  Becca sighed. She certainly had herself in a situation. All alone with the man she considered to be her long-lost love, and getting ready to brush her teeth and don her flannels. Over her bandaged foot. Ah yes, this was the moment every woman dreamed of.

  After washing up and getting into her pajamas, tucking her clothes under her arms to toss back into the suitcase, she exited the bathroom. Denny stood beside his air mattress. He wore a pair of sweats that were slung low on his hips, his chest bare, and she got the impression he was still a bit overdressed for bed. Way overdressed. Becca was momentarily paralyzed. Yes, this was the Denny she remembered, yet so much more. She had fallen in love with a boy; this version was all man. He seemed taller and broader; his arms and shoulders were so muscled, his belly ripped. There was now a mat of hair on his chest, when before there was some brown fur surrounding his nipples and disappearing into his waistband. And he had that scruffy unshaved look again. The guy had so much testosterone running through his bloodstream he could produce a beard in eight hours.

  She wanted him. She wanted to throw herself on him and kiss him until her panties melted off. She wanted to lick him like a lollipop.

  “You okay, Becca?”

  She shook herself and dumped her clothes in her suitcase. “I can’t figure out what makes me so tired…” she said, pulling back the floral bedspread.

  He lifted the suitcase back onto the floor, away from the bed so neither of them would trip on it. “Injuries will do that to you. I broke a couple of bones in Afghanistan and I could barely drag myself around.”

  She was frozen in place. “You were wounded?” she asked.

  “Not exactly. Motor-vehicle accident two days before I was scheduled out.” He laughed and ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Couldn’t happen eleven months before, but two days. What luck, huh? Jump in there. Put a pillow under the ankle.”

  “Are you going to tuck me in?” she asked.

  “You object?” he asked, lifting one sexy brow and giving her a half smile.

  She slid into bed, grabbed one of the pillows to prop up her ankle and let him pull the covers over her.

  “You want the light on for reading or anything?” he asked.

  “No. Do you?”

  “Nope, I’m ready for lights out if you are.”

  “Ready,” she said.

  “I’m going to leave the bathroom light on and pull the door mostly closed, just in case you wake up in the night.”

  “Thanks.”

  And then all was quiet and almost completely dark. They were both very still in their respective beds, his on the floor at the foot of hers. There wasn’t so much as a rustle of bedding, a cough or a snore. Finally she said, “Denny?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You guys—you and Rich and Dirk and Troy—you’re good friends.”

  “Yup.”

  “I don’t remember even hearing about Dirk and Troy till you and Rich came home.”

  “Aw, you know… Guys don’t talk that much about guy friends. We were all together in Iraq. Me and Rich were just kids. Troy and Dirk are a couple of years older. There were a bunch of us who were like brothers over there. Six years ago, the conflict was still young and exciting and scary. We stay in touch. Phone and email—I borrow Preacher’s computer sometimes. When I went to Afghanistan, Troy was called up for another tour in Iraq.”

  “You guys toasted a lot of friends… There was one toast to Swany…”

  He was quiet for a long moment that seemed to stretch out in the dark. Finally he said, “Eric Swanlund. Gunny. He was killed by a sniper. We never saw it coming. Great loss. He had a wife and couple of little kids.”

  “In Iraq?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh. I wasn’t with Dirk, Rich and Troy anywhere else….”

  “But…but we were still together then,” she said. “That was before we broke up. You never mentioned…”

  “Becca, I tried not to tell you things that would just make you worry—things I couldn’t control, anyway. Not my mom, either. I didn’t tell her anything that might cost her sleep. Anyway, we guys hung tight. We talked about it till we wore it out.”

  She was quiet, contemplating this. Then very softly, she said, “I never even thought of that—that you wouldn’t tell me things….”

  “We were young then,” he said. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “It was only a few years ago!”

  “I know,” he replied in a low voice. “Amazing what a couple of wars and some hard times will do to grow you up.”

  “What does that mean? Does that mean that if you were sent over there now, that if I were
your girlfriend now, you’d talk to me about it?”

  He took a breath and let it out. “Becca, I thought I was doing you a favor by not saying too much about Iraq while I was there. We couldn’t be in touch that much, you and me, and most of the guys didn’t want to worry their wives or girls, so I figured that was the way to go. I’m not going back…but if I went now, I might do a lot of things differently.”

  “Like?”

  “When I did my first hitch in the Corps, it was hard but good. These guys and some others—they were like my brothers. For an only child with no extended family, that meant something. I had you at home, my mom, my brothers in the Corps and I felt like I belonged to something. I knew right away I didn’t want a military career, but I didn’t regret a second of it. So when my mom died, all I could think of was to go back to a place I understood, where there would be brothers. Family. I had no idea it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “I would’ve been your family if you’d have let me….”

  “Yeah, I know that now. I’m not going to make excuses, Becca, but I was so screwed up right about then, I couldn’t have made a smart decision for a million dollars. That second deployment sucked. We weren’t a tight squad, it was miserable and felt futile and I regretted every second. Instead of feeling like I was back where I belonged, I felt like I was in jail.”

  “You could’ve answered my emails. You could’ve written. You could’ve—”

  “Should have,” he corrected. “You can say it. I knew right away I should have been in touch, but I didn’t have the guts. After I’d been out of touch for months, I just wanted to finish my commitment, get out of the Corps and go home so I could look you in the eye and try to explain. I didn’t want to write a letter and ask you to forgive me and then wait for me. Becca, what made perfect sense to me when I was signing up for the second time made no sense at all when I got to Afghanistan. Seriously, it was a bad idea. It cost me. When I got back to you, I was too late.”

  “What would you have explained?” she tossed out into the darkness. After all, when he did finally show up, she hadn’t given him a second of her attention. She had been so angry, it had been hard not to throw things!

  But he didn’t answer. They both just lay in their respective beds. Then there was a little movement from his side of the room and she saw his shadow, then his silhouette as he leaned over her. He gently sat on the edge of her bed. He brushed away the strands of hair that had escaped her braid. “When I decided to go back in the Corps, I’d just learned something that left me really confused.”

  “What, Denny?”

  He took a breath. “Right before my mom died, she told me my dad wasn’t really my dad. My real father was some other guy she hadn’t seen or heard from in over twenty years. Then she died. For some reason, that news messed me up, made me feel more orphaned than ever. I couldn’t believe how confused I felt. How alone I was.”

  She could see him shrug in the darkness.

  “Because of the way I felt when I was in the Corps with Big Richie and the boys, I just went back to the recruiter and signed up and took the oath.”

  “But what about me?” she asked in a whisper. “Did you feel alone even though you had me?”

  “You were all I had—I didn’t have anyone but you. But you were stretched kinda thin, babe. You had a family, a sorority, a college, a surfing team, a lot of friends…and you lived and went to school in another city. I had to have something I could attach to, something bigger than me, something that felt important. I really needed to be needed. That’s one thing about the Marine Corps—they can make you feel like you’re doing something important.” He laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Talk about feeling needed…”

  “You know, if you’d just told me that before…”

  “I had a real hard time making any sense to myself, much less someone else. Then when I got orders for Afghanistan, I couldn’t let you go through what I just went through burying my mom. I couldn’t think about you missing me or being lonely or, worst case, being grief stricken. So I talked myself into the idea that we’d break up for a year. I didn’t like the idea but I figured if you had your freedom, even went out with a few guys, I could live with that if it kept you safe from being all ripped up about me. What I didn’t figure on was you being so furious at the whole idea you’d never want to see me again.”

  “I didn’t say that,” she said. “I never said that!”

  “Not before I left. But after I got back.”

  “Well, by then I was that furious. I’d just spent the whole year you were in Afghanistan staying up all night, every night, watching news reports on the war. I’d written you and emailed you and…”

  “I didn’t have internet access very often, but I still have the letters. By the time I was back in the States, I had to work through a couple of injuries before I could get away so I could talk to you face-to-face, to try to explain.”

  “You waited too long,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I know, Becca. I never said you had any fault in it. I was completely screwed up. I made so many mistakes. I’m really sorry I hurt you. It’s no excuse, but I was twenty-two. And I’d barely gotten back from Iraq when my mom took a turn for the worse. When I look back on all that, it’s like a fog. I don’t even remember it very well. I’m kind of surprised I didn’t step in front of a bus or something, I was such a total idiot. But I’m sorry, really sorry. And…”

  She gave him plenty of time to finish and when he didn’t, she pushed a little. “And…?”

  “Thanks for letting me try to explain now. I know it’ll never make much sense, but thanks…”

  “But that business about your father?” she asked.

  “Yet another misunderstanding, but I don’t think it was a mistake. See, my mom told me Jack Sheridan was my father, not the man we lived with till I was about seven. So I came up here to find him. It turned out my mom wasn’t telling the truth about that. I think she wanted to give me a gift before she died, a man to look up to instead of the one I had, the one who not only never married my mom but never supported me after he left. So I came up here to find Jack.”

  “Oh, Denny….”

  “You don’t have to feel sorry for me. It worked out. For a little while, we thought we were father and son and we got close. But the thing is, once we realized it wasn’t that way, it didn’t change anything. We’re still just as tight, and that’s what I learned—sometimes you make your family. One of the best days of my life was when I found Jack and the rest of this town. It’s the closest thing to family I’ve ever had. They rely on me. It feels good.” He stroked her forehead. “You should get some sleep.” And then he leaned down and kissed her forehead right before moving to his mattress on the floor.

  The room was bathed in darkness, a silent, black womb in which they both kept their thoughts private. Becca had no idea what Denny might be thinking, but she was remembering the boy she’d loved. He was such a beautiful and happy young man, so energetic and positive and supportive. He had joined the Corps the same time as her brother, and for the same reasons—both of them were very physical, very patriotic and there was the little incidental fact that neither of them was sure what to do with the rest of their lives. The Corps toughened them up, educated them in ways they hadn’t expected, and as Denny said, gave them vital attachments.

  Rich came home, ready for college, ready for the challenge—he majored in engineering. Rich was such a big goof it was hard to imagine him as adept in mathematics, but he was. He had excelled. Denny still hadn’t been sure what he wanted and before he could consider his options, his mother took a turn for the worse. His only real choice was to take care of her; there was no one else. All this time, Becca was at USC finishing her teaching degree, hoping to do her student teaching at home in San Diego; she talked to him daily and saw him almost every weekend.

  Almost.

  He was right—she had had many commitments. She was busy, had friends, activities, responsibilities, famil
y. It was just Denny and his mom; he had a job at Home Depot, part-time so he had plenty of free time for his mother. Sue was either having cancer treatments or home on the sofa, weak and ill, waiting for her son to take her to the clinic or warm up some soup for her. And finally there had been hospice.

  He must have been so lonely.

  So afraid…

  Becca was naturally a very nurturing person, one of the reasons she sought teaching as a career and wanted a family of her own, so of course she empathized with her boyfriend. She thought even he would admit she was sensitive, sweetly and lovingly checking on him, making herself available to him…

  By long distance. When she wasn’t in class. When she wasn’t studying or at a sorority function. When she was home on some weekends and not busy with her family or friends or surfing with her old team.

  But her mother checked on Denny and Sue regularly—at least once a week! And of course, when Sue died, Becca and her entire family were there at the funeral.

  He must have felt so alone….

  There were silent tears that wet her pillow; she was very careful not to let him hear her cry. He took all the blame for being wrong, for being so screwed up that he reenlisted, when he could have thrown some of the blame on the busy coed girlfriend who was just as absent.

  Becca just began understanding something that even Denny hadn’t understood at the time. He had been isolated, depressed and reached out for the only thing that made him feel useful and valuable—the military. So without giving it much thought, he went.

  Of course, everything might’ve been different. He could have told her he needed her and asked her to leave college and the sorority and come home to him…

  Oh, brother, she thought. What a reach that was! First of all, Denny was too proud, too strong. Second, and shamefully, she wouldn’t have done it. She would have called him twice as much maybe, but only to tell him she loved him and to hang in there. Because she was in her senior year!

  They were twenty-two. Only twenty-two.

  So, twenty-five didn’t make a wise old sage, but she’d grown up a little. She’d suffered through the pain of loss, for one thing. There was the despair of constant worry and the agony of rejection. It had wreaked havoc on her appearance from sleeplessness and loss of appetite. She cried at the drop of a hat. Her rich social life lost its luster and she grew isolated, too.