One Christmas: (BBW Military Romance) (One Soldier Series Book 3)

by Christin Lovell

  One Christmas

  Written by:

  Christin Lovell

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  One Christmas

  Copyright © 2014 by Christin M Lovell

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  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  One Christmas

  Jane has multiple strikes against her:

  She’s fat.

  She’s divorced.

  She’s over forty.

  She has enough strikes against her to make every man run, strikes that have made every man run, except one: the one she knows she shouldn’t have.

  Sergeant Brad Wilcox’s fourth deployment in ten years is coming to an end. It’s time for him to decide his future. In truth, he knows what he wants; he wants Jane, but she’s sidestepped his every forward word.

  With Jane’s daughter in her first year at college, and unable to make it home for Christmas, Sergeant Wilcox rolls the dice and shows up at her doorstep. Jane has carefully refuted his every flirtation via letter, but can she refuse the soldier face to face?

  One thing is for certain: there will never be another Christmas like this one.

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  One Christmas

  Chapter One

  Jane

  March 2nd, 2014

  Hello Soldier,

  I’ve never written one of these letters before. I’m not even certain how much information to give, so, if I give too much, feel free to ignore half of it.

  My name is Jane Dubreaux. I’m a mom of one. My daughter is a senior in high school, and I suppose I’m already suffering from separation anxiety. It feels like the time has flown by. I really can’t believe I’m going to have to say good-bye to her in a few short months.

  Facing my daughter’s impending departure is what prompted me to think of our soldiers. As a parent, I couldn’t imagine sending my child off to a foreign country with no guarantee of their safe return. I would be a permanent ball of nerves. I would be the frazzled mother perpetually in the same un-washed sweats, glued to her smartphone as she sips endless cups of Starbucks coffee so she can incessantly study the news reports from around the world, praying her child’s name doesn’t appear in any of them. God bless your parents because I couldn’t do it.

  I can’t even handle my daughter moving two states away for college. It’s a testament of your parent’s character, of every parent who has a child in the military’s character. I couldn’t maintain a stiff upper lip.

  A parent’s support is only one part of it. Regardless of one’s age, every child needs its mother at some point. I’m relying on the fact that my daughter will miss me for a brief moment and return, at the least, for me to cook her favorite meal and do her laundry.

  Perhaps I’m just being nostalgic, or sappy, or hormonal…or all of the above. I lost my mother last year to cancer, and it’s been a bumpy ride. I suppose, in ways, I feel like I’m losing my daughter too quickly after saying a permanent one to my own mom.

  So, Soldier, if you’re missing the comforts of family, of familiarity and of what you’ve always known, know you’re not alone. I know it’s not exactly the same, but in some small way, I’m there with you. Everyone must say good-bye one day, but, for now, I’m just praying that there is no permanence to it.

  Take care, Soldier. I’m thinking of you and your family today.

  Yours truly,

  Jane Dubreaux

  Chapter Two

  Brad

  March 14th, 2014

  Hi Jane,

  Thanks for taking the time to write to me. It was a great letter and hit home on a few points.

  My mom died five years ago to cancer as well. Thankfully, I was able to be by her side when it happened, but I had to leave right after her funeral. We had two years to prepare, but it still happened so fast, or so it seemed. I don’t think you ever can prepare, though. My best friend was hit by an IED on our last tour together, and I wasn’t prepared for my mom’s death any more than I was prepared for his unexpected passing. The bottom line is, shit happens, and life goes on, or so they say.

  I don’t think you ever get over it, but you do move on, eventually.

  I don’t get home to see my dad as often as I’d like. He’s never cooked as well as my mom did, but he’s a mean grill master. That’s what we do when I get around to seeing him: we sit on the back porch and sip some beers while he grills up some steaks.

  As much as I know he worries about me, I worry about him. I’m sure your daughter is feeling just as worried and scared as you are; I know I was. I would never admit to it because I didn’t want to burden my parents with my anxieties on top of their own. The best thing you can do is to be there for her when she’s ready to return. That’s what comforted me, and still comforts me, all these years later.

  Hang in there, Jane.

  Sincerely,

  Sgt. Brad Wilcox

  Chapter Three

  Jane

  March 24th, 2014

  Hello Sergeant,

  Thank you for your kind response. It was unexpected, but very much welcomed. I’m not certain how old you are, but you sound very mature, like you have a good head on your shoulders. I’m sure your father is very proud of you.

  In preparation for my daughter’s move, I’ve been spending as much time with her as possible. Truthfully, I’ve downright smothered her since the school year began in August. I’m divorced, and, admittedly, don’t get out of the house very often. As a corporate executive, I work a lot of hours, and my spare time is usually always dedicated to my daughter.

  There will be a hard shift when she leaves. For the first time in eighteen years, I’ll have free time, me time. Most of the women I work with have younger children and are still in the pawning-their-children-off-merely-to-catch-up-on-their-beauty-sleep phase. It’s different, and a tad lonely. If there were ever a time for me to pick up a hobby, now would be it.

  How do you spend your days over there? I’m a bit uneducated about what our soldiers have available to them, although I’m certain different stations offer different amenities. What is available for you to do?

  I hope you’re staying positive and keeping your eyes open. Your dad will want you home in one piece.

  Take care.

  Jane

  Chapter Four

  Brad

  April 2nd, 2014

  Hi Jane,

  My last tour was probably the most brutal. We were stationed in a more remote location in the mountains that had a lot of terrorist pass-through activity. Despite the expanse of land, it wasn’t safe territory, so we didn’t have amenities. One guy had a guitar he’d play, and we’d all take turns singing horribly off key to keep ourselves entertained.

  This tour I’m stationed about half a mile outside of the city center, so there is a community rec center we’re able to use as part of our agreement with the locals. It doesn’t have much: a few pieces of exercise equipment and a basketball court, but it’s quickly become how we end our days. After a long day, I look forward to coming back and taking my aggression out on the court.

  Back home - don’t laugh - I’m the poetry guy. I miss writing. Despite being near a
big city, paper and a pen isn’t always the easiest thing to come by. Toiletries aren’t either. We have to travel about two hours away to pick up supplies once a month. It’s not convenient, but it is what it is.

  That’s the thing about the military. No matter what you’re dealt, you just have to deal with it. It isn’t always pleasant, but things could always be worse. I’ve seen kids around the city drinking from sewers, dumpster diving for food and working at the age of eight to help feed their family. These are kids that should be in school, not dealing with the BS of adulthood. It’s hard to watch. We do what we can; humanitarian aid is one of the largest reasons the Army still has a presence in the Middle East. We’re trying to help, but no matter how much we do, it never seems to be enough. That’s the kind of shit you take home with you, too.

  So, while I miss my mom at times, even at twenty-eight years old, I have to be grateful that I had a good life with her. My parents worked hard to give my brother and me everything they could. It wasn’t always a lot, but it was far more than these kids will ever have. That knowledge keeps the bitterness away.

  If there were any hobby I could promote, it would be charity work. There’s no better way to forget your own problems than by helping someone else with theirs. When I get back stateside, I plan to finish my degree. When the time is right, and I leave the Army behind, I want to become a social worker. The pay is crap, but when you do what you love, it doesn’t matter.

  Keep your head up, Jane. You’ll pull through.

  Sincerely,

  Brad

  P.S. No formalities are required here. Feel free to call me Brad.

  Chapter Five

  Jane

  April 15th, 2014

  Hello Brad,

  Things have been a bit crazy at work lately. My hours always double this time of year, as I’m the CFO, so I oversee the financials for the company, and therefore also get sucked into the hellhole that is corporate taxes. Thankfully, everything was filed on time today, and I can finally relax and unwind a bit. My daughter is spending the evening out with her friends, so that leaves me home alone with an extra large glass of sweet red wine and whatever tacky reality show happens to be on. I feel like one big statistic tonight when you throw in the fact that I’m wearing comfortable “mom clothes,” as my daughter likes to call them. Apparently, black velour pants with a matching velour zip jacket and a grey tank underneath has been out of style for years. Perhaps the “mom clothes” are what repel the men as well, either that, or the fact that I’m a plus size forty-two year old. As you stated, though, it is what it is.

  As for your letter, I couldn’t agree with you more. Having a say in how the company spends their budget, I’m always quick to allocate not only funds, but also hourly pay towards charity work. Every Friday afternoon, we pay our employees to volunteer for two hours at our charity of the month, which we give a one-time lump sum to, and every year, during the holidays, we hold both a canned food drive and a toy drive. This past Thanksgiving, I was greedy; I wanted fond memories of my daughter and I cooking together, in case she couldn’t be here this year, but the year before, my daughter and I spent all day at a local soup kitchen volunteering before we ate with the rest of the staff after serving everyone. It was one of the most rewarding days I’ve had as a parent.

  No matter the situation, I think most parents have good intentions when it comes to their kids. We want our children to grow up and become productive members of society, to strive to achieve more, to be more and to do more than those before us. I can only hope that I’ve instilled those ethics in my daughter, Haylee.

  Honestly, reading your letters, I don’t have to know your parents to know that they’re good people, that they raised you right. You’ve made a very good impression, and I can only hope that my daughter ends up with a man like you one day. So often, people are fixated on money. The truth is, money comes and goes. The defining factor is heart. If the person has a good heart, when the money is gone, they will always do their best to give to you in other ways, to care for you in other ways. It is heart that so many are lacking these days, and it’s heart that you have, Brad. You are going to be an amazing social worker one day.

  Take care of yourself. Keep doing what you’re doing, because what you’re doing is good.

  Sincerely,

  Jane

  P.S. I’ve included a picture of my daughter and me, because, sometimes, it’s nice to put a face with a name.

  Chapter Six

  Brad

  April 25th, 2014

  Hi Jane,

  A big thanks for all of the writing supplies! I was down to the last few sheets I’d brought with me. I shared some of what you sent with a few, select men in my platoon, but mostly, I’m hoarding it to get through the rest of my tour. I received your first letter a week after I arrived, so I have many more months to go. We’re all hoping to be home in time for the holidays, though.

  I’m not just saying this, but you and Haylee are beautiful. Seriously. I see where she gets her good looks from. It’s crazy how much she looks like you, which is a good thing from where I’m sitting.

  Any guy who doesn’t act on a chance to be with you is a fool. You’re the whole package, Jane. You’ve got brains, beauty and heart. And, for the record, you aren’t dressed in “mom clothes” in this picture. If more moms wore dresses like that, dads would be far more inclined to get the kids to bed earlier.

  In contemporary lingo, you’ve got it going on, babe. I’d hit it.

  Things have been slow around here lately. That’s how it is. The action comes and goes in spurts. There are days, even weeks, when it’s non-stop commotion and mission after mission, and then there are weeks like this one. We’ve done our basic sweeps, but nothing outside of that. It’s given me a lot of down time, so it was perfect that you sent the pens and notebooks when you did. One of these days, when I get inspired, I’ll write something for you.

  I love that your company is so involved in your community. Sadly, that’s a rarity these days. I hope they keep at it.

  Well, I’m about to head to the rec center. A few of the guys have run off at the mouth, and an all-in game on the court is how we settle the score around here.

  I don’t have a picture to send you at the moment, but next time I write my dad, I’ll ask him to send one that I can forward.

  Write back soon, pretty lady. I enjoy your letters.

  Brad

  Chapter Seven

  Jane

  May 7th, 2014

  Hello Brad,

  Thank you very much for your more than kind words. My ego appreciates the compliments, but you really shouldn’t have wasted them on me. You should be saving them for the woman you plan to marry. If you haven’t found her yet, you will. Remain steadfast. Good things come to those that wait. That’s what I keep reminding myself.

  Haylee’s graduation is coming up in two weeks. I’m on pins and needles. I’ve savored every moment I can with her, particularly these last few weeks. We did a spa day this past weekend, something we hadn’t done since her sixteenth birthday. We had a great time. My best friend, Ginger, came over afterwards and all three of us spent the night eating far too much Chinese take-out and binge-watching romantic comedy movies.

  It was nice. I don’t get to see Ginger as often anymore. She found love last year, got married fast, and recently moved about an hour away due to her husband’s new job. She’s two years younger than me and is wrapped up in trying to have a baby before all of her eggs dry up – her words, not mine. Neither of them have children, so I understand why she’s pushing it. We talk on the phone several times a week and text each other constantly, much to my daughter’s horror. (Apparently, mothers aren’t supposed to text or use other modern forms of technology, like social media.)

  While I’m happy for Ginger, I can’t say that I would pursue the path she has at forty. That alone eliminates a large chunk of the dating pool. I’m not looking to have more kids. Perhaps that’s selfish in a way, but, from wha
t Ginger has shared, the risks are higher at our age, for both her and the baby. I couldn’t, in good conscience, chance that harm. I’m not against more kids, if the right guy came along, just not biologically, or naturally. And, really, there are plenty of orphans in this world in need of a good home and plenty of love. There’s no greater beauty than to be able to look a child in the eye and say, “I chose you.” Haylee was a happy accident, but adoption is a purposeful decision, one I’ve considered many times before.

  Maybe one day. Only time will tell.

  I think that’s how we all have to live, with the military mentality of accepting what comes our way, especially the unexpected. A year ago, Ginger was drowning her sorrows in her second bottle of wine before crashing on my couch, feeling desperate and helpless. Today, she is married and trying for a baby, and, who knows, by this time next year, she may have a baby or two. We don’t know what lies ahead, so it’s in our best interest to keep certain doors open, to keep our minds and our hearts open.

  Keep your mind and your heart open, Brad. You never know what is coming your way.

  Take care.

  Jane

  Chapter Eight

  Brad

  May 17th, 2014

  Sweet, Jane, you really are the entire package. And, contrary to your words, I find you to be selfless. Most older women don’t want to start over again. Most of the older women I’ve met weren’t willing to start over again.

  And I agree. I never really cared about having a kid that was biologically mine. My dad doesn’t care as long as he gets a grandkid or two and my brother goes with the flow. It takes a certain support system to adopt successfully. Everyone around you has to accept the child, not just you. I’m lucky in that way. I’d probably have to be picky and start off with a boy, though. Not sure how three men would deal with tutus, nail polish and PMS. I know we live in California, but none of us are what is referred to as metrosexual.