Mitzi's Marine

by Rogenna Brewer

  Now what?

  She never should have let him take her heart with him.

  At the same time, she couldn’t regret one minute of their last night together.

  HENRY ROLLED IN around his usual time on Wednesday. Mitzi was glad to see he had a nice warm lap blanket to cover himself. But if he thought he was hiding his legs from her, he was mistaken.

  She’d also noticed that since Bruce had cleaned Henry up, first with a haircut, then later helping him to a shower in their locker room, Henry was taking more pride in his appearance.

  “You ready?” Mitzi asked, grabbing her handbag.

  “Don’t need a ride,” he said. “Got regular scheduled appointments now. See a physical therapist three days a week, too.”

  “Oh?” That was good news.

  “Boy’s got my back,” Henry said, nodding toward Calhoun’s empty desk. “Just wanted to bring you this early Christmas present.” He reached under his blanket and pulled out an ornament. “Good stuff left over after the Parade of Lights.”

  He handed over the ornament. The small nutcracker had a blue coat with red piping. He looked just like a little Marine. But the thing that made him extra special was that his left leg had been splintered off at the knee.

  Most people would look at the broken nutcracker and see trash. Henry looked at trash and saw more than most people.

  “Thank you, Henry,” she said past the lump in her throat. “I will cherish him forever.”

  Henry shrugged off her thanks. “Figured he was too good to just throw away.” Using his hands, he manipulated the wheels to back up. “Got another surprise for you closer to Christmas,” he said, making that vague promise before he left.

  For her part Mitzi hoped the duplex was move-in ready by then. Henry had given her a deposit toward his rent weeks ago. She didn’t know how he’d come up with the cash between disability checks, but he’d been flashing a lot of large bills lately. The only reason she’d agreed to take the money from him was to lock it up in her desk and keep him from being jumped for it.

  Mitzi stood the nutcracker next to the picture on her desk. His stand was still attached by his one good leg. She hadn’t even started her holiday shopping and had no idea what she was going to get anyone for Christmas.

  Mitzi took a deep breath and checked her calendar. Aside from an appointment with her CO later that afternoon, she had nothing for the rest of the week. Because she hadn’t committed one way or the other, her commanding officer wanted to give her the reenlistment pep talk.

  She left to get in a couple hours of shopping downtown, where she found something for everyone on her Christmas list. Except Calhoun.

  On the way back to the office she stopped by her newly renovated duplex. The painters were adding the finishing touches before furnishings were moved back in. It was there in the house she’d bought with Freddie’s endowment that she realized exactly what she wanted to give Bruce for Christmas.

  Not that she’d actually give it to him.

  MITZI ARRANGED TO MEET Dan at the Broadway Bar & Bowl after work. He rolled in just after four o’clock. He was still in a wheelchair, but he was starting to use his crutches more and carried them around with him. He was even driving again, since the Bronco was an automatic transmission and he needed only his right foot to work the gas and brakes.

  “Hi,” Dan said with his dimpled grin.

  Mitzi bent to kiss him on the cheek. She’d had a hard time looking Dan in the eye since she and Calhoun had done what they’d done. Especially since Dan had started to feel better, hinting that his cast had not completely incapacitated him.

  That only served to remind Mitzi of a time when Bruce was still in his wheelchair and she’d tried to get his attention by straddling him. He’d rebuked her then.

  She and Dan sat at a table in the darkened lounge and ordered a couple of beers and a platter of nachos. From where Mitzi sat she had a clear view of the game room.

  “Long day?” he asked.

  “Hmm?” She forced herself to focus as their server set beers in front of them.

  “The rest of your order will be out shortly,” the young woman said. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No, thank you,” Mitzi said and the young woman left them alone again.

  “You keep rubbing your neck,” Dan commented. “Do you have a headache?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, putting her hand down on the table. “I just had a meeting with my CO today. My enlistment is up shortly, and he’s trying to talk me into reenlisting. There’s a nice bonus if I return to SAR as a rescue swimmer. Or he offered me two more years here—” thanks to her meeting her quota with Keith Calhoun “—if I want to stick with recruiting.”

  Leaning forward, he covered her hand with his. “Whether you decide to reenlist or not, I hope you’ll stay in Colorado.”

  “Dan—” she rubbed the back of her neck again “—I need to tell you something.”

  “Is this about Calhoun?”

  “It’s not what you think. Well, maybe it is…it didn’t mean anything, just goodbye.”

  “You slept with him?” Dan recoiled back in his chair. “That’s a whole lot worse than what I was thinking.”

  “I’m just trying to be honest. I thought you’d—”

  He cut her off, lifting his hand to stop her. “I mean it’s not like we…” He sighed heavily. “I’ve been very patient, Mitzi.” He dug out his wallet and threw a couple of bills to the center of the table. He added a pair of tickets.

  She picked up The Nutcracker tickets, a last reminder of how thoughtful Dan was. “Maybe once you…see past what I did—”

  “Maybe,” he said, struggling to maneuver his wheelchair toward the door.

  Mitzi sat there for a while wondering why she felt so relieved. Then she ate the whole platter of nachos. And she didn’t feel so good.

  THE USMC O-COURSE WAS a matter of pride.

  All Marines were required to pass a semiannual physical fitness test, and Bruce was no exception. The test had been conducted in a single session over two hours with minimum requirements for pull-ups, crunches and a three-mile run. With his entire Force Recon unit turning out to offer support and cheer him on, Bruce had passed with flying colors.

  But every Marine knew the real test started in the pit with fifty yards of Lincoln Log-style structures stretched out before him. And a rope to climb at the end. The obstacle course wasn’t a timed event, even though every Marine knew his best time.

  And tried to beat it.

  Marines gave up weekend liberty to practice getting over The Wall. And the fate of a recruit might rest on how well his drill instructor or captain felt he’d done on the O-course. Anything under two minutes was respectable.

  Just getting through it the first dozen or so times was a challenge, but Bruce had ten years of practice. Today he intended to beat his personal best, which stood as the unit record—1:05.

  Captain Horton held the stopwatch. “Ready?”

  Bruce had stripped down to his T-shirt and camouflage pants. Boots. Bouncing on his toes, Bruce nodded.

  AFTER HIS PHYSICAL FITNESS test and O-course, Bruce stood at attention outside the major’s office. Captain Horton left carrying Bruce’s personnel file and nodded for him to follow.

  “At ease,” Horton said as he rounded his desk. “Nice job out there today, Calhoun. Welcome back.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Bruce shifted from attention to at rest with his feet apart and hands behind his back.

  “The major has asked me to pass along his congratulations in setting a new unit record on the O-course today.” Bruce nodded as the captain closed his file and tossed it to the desk. “I’m supposed to have you initial off on your options before the reenlistment ceremony. Personnel went over your bonuses with you?”

  “Yes, sir.” Bruce, and Freddie for that matter, had been Stop Loss retentions, meaning they wouldn’t be let out of their enlistment contracts because of a shortage of personnel.

&n
bsp; His actual enlistment had ended two years ago.

  “Here it is,” Horton said. “Number one—you can walk away now with an honorable discharge and monthly disability checks.” Bruce stiffened.

  “Yeah, didn’t think you’d like that one.” The captain studied him for a moment. “You know option two. All you have to do is make it official. But apparently you’re a damn fine recruiter, Calhoun. And Lieutenant Colonel Avari back in Colorado thinks mighty highly of you. That’s option number three.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Your recruiting numbers speak for themselves. So before we get you sworn in for another four years, Calhoun, which will it be?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ON FRIDAY MORNING Mitzi drove Keith Calhoun downtown to the Military Entrance Processing Station in the old U.S. Custom House building. Keith had reached the point of no return in his enlistment.

  “No Recruiters Beyond This Point.”

  Mitzi paced the hall while Keith spoke with the detailer, signing the contract that would bind him to the United States Navy for the next four to six years. She’d explained each step of the process carefully, but from here on out, the choices were his and his alone.

  As were the choices she’d had to make.

  He wasn’t the only one raising his right hand today.

  Keith stepped back into the hall. “You ready?”

  “Please repeat after me,” the officer at the podium said to the dozen or so young men and women in civilian clothes, standing in loose formation. Many with family and friends in attendance.

  “I, state your name—” names were stated “—do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the president of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

  “Should we hug or shake hands? Or something?” Keith asked when the brief ceremony was over.

  “We can do that.”

  He held out his hand. She smiled and pulled him into her arms.

  Maybe if she could have seen over his shoulder she would have had more warning. When they pulled back, Bruce was standing outside the doorway.

  What was he doing here?

  He looked at Keith, looked at her and came to his own conclusions. Without a word to either of them, he left.

  Mitzi followed him to the elevator. He took the stairs.

  She followed him down. “Would you just give me a chance to explain?” She had to run to keep up.

  “You had a chance to explain.” He pushed through the exit to the street. Calhoun’s military bearing was too ingrained for him to start a fight outside the customs building. Or anywhere in public, for that matter. “Were numbers that important to you? My brother is not just another recruit.”

  “I don’t feel that way about any of my kids.”

  “You should have come to me when he first came to you.”

  “He didn’t want me to.”

  “I could have talked some sense into him.”

  “Yeah, well, that wasn’t working out so well. Have you even read his paper on Iwo Jima? I left a copy on your desk. He wants this. He wants it as much as you.”

  “How long?”

  “Since his ASVAB scores came out.”

  “So practically the whole time we’ve been working together you’ve been working behind my back?”

  MITZI DROVE KEITH HOME in silence. There was a dark red—maybe maroon—SUV in the shared drive. A brand-new Ford Escalade. She pulled into her father’s half of the driveway and parked.

  “Do you want me to come in with you?”

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “I’m sure Bruce has already told them.”

  “Does he know about Heather?”

  “Do you think that will make a difference?” He perked up.

  “No,” she said. “A pregnant girlfriend is not likely to be the answer to all your problems.”

  “Lucky knows,” he said, spotting his brother’s motorcycle on the street. “We had a long talk when I told him. At least he won’t let Bruce kill me. I don’t know, maybe he knows already. He’s been trying to get me to open up about things.”

  Everyone was talking at once when they walked into the kitchen. Clearly the family was divided. Keith’s dad, John, and Lucky seemed to be of one mind. While Bruce and Keith’s mom, Eva, seemed to be of another.

  They all turned on Keith.

  “I joined the Navy,” he announced. “I leave for boot camp after graduation. And when I get back, Heather and I are getting married. We’re having a baby.” He plucked an apple from a bowl of fruit. “I’m going to my room. I’m grounded for life, whatever. I’ll be out of your hair by June.”

  Bruce leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. Mitzi could tell by the expression on his face that Heather’s pregnancy didn’t let her off the hook, either.

  “I’ll be in my room, too,” she said, “if anybody wants me.” Please, let him still want me. Nobody except Bruce was paying any attention to her when she left to cross the drive to her father’s house and go up to her room.

  BRUCE NEVER SHOWED UP at the office the next morning, although both his vehicles were parked out back. He didn’t show at his parents’ home that evening, where plenty was going on since Keith had broken the news of his enlistment.

  Followed by the news of Heather’s pregnancy.

  Mitzi dropped by the bowling alley. The gym.

  Anywhere she thought Calhoun might be.

  She waited up half the night at her father’s house in hopes of hearing some indication of his return. Finally she picked up the phone and said all those things she wished she’d said. Then called him back and told him to ignore half of what she’d said. “I’m sorry, I was wrong not to tell you. I have your back, Calhoun. Please, call me back.”

  The next day she stuck to her plan of moving back into her place. Mostly because she’d already arranged to meet Henry there and give him his key.

  When she arrived, Henry was out front. If she’d hoped to see Calhoun there with him she was sorely disappointed.

  Henry had a single box in his lap for his move.

  Mitzi had furnished his half of the duplex for him with secondhand furniture from several thrift stores. Not a half-bad decorating job at that.

  She presented him with the key.

  “Now this makes you my landlord,” he said. “I have every intention of paying you my rent. On time. Every month.”

  She wheeled him toward the ramp.

  “Stop!” he ordered at the bottom of the ramp. “Told you I had another Christmas present for you.”

  “You can give it to me inside. It’s cold out here.”

  Who moved in December anyway?

  But he tossed aside his lap blanket to reveal his gait training leg. “When did you get that?” she asked. But she wasn’t surprised.

  “Had it a couple weeks,” he said proudly. “Been practicing. Physical therapy. And on my own.” He set the brake on his wheelchair and pushed to his feet. He grabbed the handrail for support. Then slowly, very slowly, he put one foot in front of the other all the way to his own front door. Mitzi applauded.

  If he hadn’t looked so fragile she would have hugged him. What the hell! She hugged him anyway. As far as she knew a hug never killed anybody. “Would you like to go to The Nutcracker with me?”

  HIS BEARD ITCHED. And Bruce wasn’t talking about the fake Santa one either, but the stubble underneath the faux white beard. And that was only a week without a shave.

  He’d gotten what he deserved. He’d taken the recruiting assignment, obviously. Reenlisted. Bought a minivan, or close enough, with his 35K. Had driven all the way back from California with a pair of red cowgirl boots on the passenger seat.

  To prove to her that he was ready to settle down. Maybe
not the exact kind of settled she saw for their future, but a compromise.

  He should have learned his lesson the first time.

  Then Lucky had called. Cait had gone into labor.

  And “backup” Santa had been pressed into service.

  There were over fifty thousand toys to hand out, so the line at the high-school auditorium seemed never ending. Okay, he didn’t have to hand them all out. Only to the kids who wanted to see Santa. He’d been spit up on, spit on, hit—and hit on by one hot mama—and peed on… Not to mention kicked in the shin more times than he could count.

  “Aim for the left one next time,” he said to one particularly vicious six-year-old girl. And she did.

  “You’re not the real Santa,” she said. “You’re the Marine Corps Santa.”

  “Yeah, so?” She couldn’t tell that by his lack of padding? “Take your doll and go.”

  “So if you were the real Santa you’d know what I want for Christmas.”

  “What’s that, G.I. Joe?”

  “I want my mom home from Iraq. She was supposed to be home, but they made her stay.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, with sincerity this time. “I know she misses you and would be here with you if she could.” And then tears and another kick to his good shin. The girl’s grandmother apologized and took her away.

  Bruce decided it was time for a break. And that’s when Keith found him. In the teachers’ lounge, icing down his battered and bruised shin, in his Santa suit.

  “I tried to tell you about Heather,” Keith said.

  “You told me you weren’t sleeping with her.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Yeah,” Bruce agreed.

  Keith was silent a moment. “We’re getting married right after I get out of boot camp. Mitzi said it would be easier if I went in without dependents.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet she did. From not dating to married, pretty big leap.” Keith looked miserable, as he should. If he’d opened up they could have discussed his brother’s options. As it was, Keith was paying for one mistake by making a couple more.