by Suzy Parish
All the glory was gone out of it, all the bright hope. Half the men in the tent had cleared out. What was once a hive of activity echoed like an empty tomb. Rumor was they were bringing in two new instructors that week. Rumors abounded.
As I’d told Stockton, wait a week and there’ll be a new one. Stockton. One lonely sock with “Caribe” stitched into the toe, hung from my shelf. It served as a reminder that people aren’t always as good or bad as they seem. If it weren’t for Stockton, I’d never have gotten Phoenix home. He was the one who shoved the No Dog Gets Left Behind flyer under my door. He never got the chance to tell me, but the lone sock spoke for him. That was the brand of sock that someone tied into a dog toy and left for Phoenix to play with in my room, the same day the flier showed up.
There was a lot of gray in the world, certainly a lot of gray in Afghanistan.
Outside our tent, in the distance, more explosions added background noise. Somewhere in Kandahar, there were more injuries, more deaths.
I sighed and pulled up a video game on my computer, but the game didn’t seem so important anymore.
Travis hammered on my door. “Mac, did you hear?”
“What?”
“During our graduation ceremony, the chief of police in downtown Kandahar was killed by a suicide bomb.”
“That’s the precinct where three of our students who just graduated work,” I said.
“I know. Right after graduation, the students hit their posts to cover the station after the bombing. They never even got to make it home to celebrate with their families, just went straight to work.”
Travis looked worn. I hadn’t hung out with him for a few days. He pretty much kept to himself.
“You want to watch a movie?” I thought Travis was probably feeling the emptiness of the tent, too.
“Sure.”
“Sophie just sent me a whole box of cinnamon rolls,” I said.
Travis threw himself on my cot. I started up the external hard drive and popped the movie in. I searched around in my gorilla box and pulled out the cinnamon rolls, throwing two of them to Travis and keeping two for me.
“I’ve wanted to see this anyway,” Travis said.
As the movie started up, I turned to Travis. “Makes me think of when I got my Ranger tab.”
“Did you ever see any action?”
“No. I ended up getting out of the military shortly after I married Sophie.”
Travis took a bite of the cinnamon roll and chewed. We would both be on sugar highs by the time the movie ended. “You regret getting out?”
“No, that’s what I keep trying to tell Sophie. I don’t regret it. I’d do it all over again for her. But I do miss the military.”
“I’d never been anywhere but Brentwood, Tennessee, before I came here.” Travis unwrapped two more rolls.
“Sometimes I don’t know if coming here was the right thing to do or not,” I said.
He looked at me and chewed thoughtfully. “Don’t you think everything in your life prepared you for this point?”
“Such as?”
Travis held up his hand and ticked a point on each finger. “Such as being in the Army. You were already prepared to live overseas. You were used to adapting to different conditions. Then you served in the police department. That qualified you to train law enforcement officers here.”
I held up a hand and stopped him at that point. “I have to tell you. I’ve been holding out on you.”
Travis was silent. His eyebrows shot up.
“This will be hard to say because I’ve always considered you as one of my best friends at camp. But Glenn had me pegged early on. I was running.”
“I thought so, too. Only I wanted to let you have your privacy,” Travis said.
“Travis, I had a son, the best thing that ever entered my life, other than Sophie.”
Travis’s eyebrows bunched up, and his lips drew a tight line. “Where is he now? I never heard you mention him.”
“He died. It was an accident. I had a wreck with him in my pickup truck.”
“Man. That’s hard.” Travis’s face was contemplative. Understanding passed across his expression. “Sophie blamed you for his death?”
“No, never. That’s what made it so torturous. Every time Sophie tried to comfort me, it was like shoving a knife in my gut. It got to the point where I couldn’t stand to be around her any longer. The guilt was killing me, killing our relationship. That’s why I signed up for Afghanistan. I figured it was my only chance to heal myself, to save our marriage.” I twisted open a bottle of power drink and took a swig. I thought of long nights in the most magical place, how I hated to leave her at the airport. I thought of the power of forgiveness and a good woman’s love, and another thing I just couldn’t put my finger on. “Yeah, it was hard. But it was strange. The thing I feared most never happened.”
“You were afraid she’d leave you?”
“Yeah.”
Travis stared hard at a camel spider stalking across the tent floor. Without hesitation, he squashed it with his boot. Never missing a beat, he spoke what was in the back of my mind. “That’s ironic, isn’t it? You were afraid Sophie would leave you, and she stayed. I knew Tricia would stay forever, and she left.”
The sadness that settled over the room was so disheartening I had to break it. I grabbed a box of cinnamon rolls to see if there were any left, but it felt light. I held the box up and shook it. Somehow, we’d managed to empty an entire box. An envelope fell out. Another one of Sophie’s cards.
Travis’s hand closed over the envelope. He waved it in front of me. “What price will you pay to get this back?”
“I think I’ve already fed you half a box of cinnamon rolls.”
“Good point,” he said.
The card slid out of the envelope and fell open to the floor. There was a drawing inside.
“Sophie usually writes stuff,” I said, picking up the card. “I’ve never had her draw me a picture before.”
“What’s it a picture of?” Travis asked.
I studied the scratchy drawing. “Looks like a patrol car. Aw, I don’t know. Sophie’s a better writer than an artist. Here.” I pushed the card at him. “You tell me what it is.”
Travis studied it, and the corners of his mouth stretched wide across his face.
33
“It’s a baby carriage,” Travis said.
“A what?” My hand shook as I grabbed the card from Travis and studied it. It still looked like a patrol car to me. I stopped the movie and pulled the Internet up. I didn’t see Sophie’s green symbol. She wasn’t online.
Travis jumped off the cot. “You’re going to be a daddy.” He clapped me hard on the back between my shoulder blades.
I was still standing there staring at the crudely drawn box with wheels and a handle.
A baby.
I put the card down and fished my phone out of my pocket. It rang and then went to voice mail. “Come on, Sophie. Pick up.” I punched her number again with the same result. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t contain the happiness that swept over me rushing like a flood. I felt giddier than if I’d just smoked three cigars. I paced the floor, set the phone down, then picked it up again. I stared at the display and willed her number to show up. I wanted to hear it from her lips. I wanted to hear her say she was to be a mommy.
“I have to get home,” I told Travis, still staring at my phone.
“You don’t have too much longer. Oh, man, I’m so happy for you.” He beamed. “This calls for a celebration.” He ran down the hall shouting Thorstad’s name.
In a minute, they were both back in my room.
Thorstad, the gentle giant, grabbed my hand and pumped it. “Congratulations, man. You will never know how that will change your life until you experience it.”
He didn’t know I’d already experienced it, and yes, I knew how it would change my life. I felt as if this child was a sign that we could go on. A sign that Sophie and I would make i
t after all.
“Cigar Club,” Travis shouted. “I have the perfect way to celebrate. I just got a brand new box of cigars in honor of Glenn’s award. Let’s go have a smoke.”
“I’m in.” Thorstad moved toward my door.
Travis stopped and looked back. “You coming, McCann? You have to. You’re the man of the hour.”
I stuck my phone in my cargo shorts in case Sophie tried to call me back, and we all marched out the door.
The night was blue-black once again. Stars were everywhere. I’d miss that sky. Everything looked brighter that night. Everything looked good.
A baby.
We gathered around the bench, the last of the Camp Paradise Cigar Club. Travis broke out his cigars and felt around in his pockets. That was when it hit me. I ran my hand around the inside of my pocket until my fingers closed on a metallic object. I pulled it from my pocket. Glenn’s lighter glinted in the moonlight. I’d kept it for good luck. “Hey.” I caught Travis’s attention.
He stared at my palm. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s Glenn’s. I found it on the ground the day he was hit.”
Travis held his hand out, and I placed the lighter in his palm. It was symbolic, like the passing of a baton. Travis’s grin spread across his face.
“I can’t think of a better person to receive this,” I said.
“Thanks, man. I wish Glenn were here to celebrate with us, but I’m glad he’s back in the States. He did more than enough time here.”
I nodded agreement.
Three cigars glowed in the Afghanistan night.
Travis tipped his cigar toward Thorstad and me. “To Glenn. May he recover quickly.”
“Hear, hear,” Thorstad said then nodded toward me. “To Mac and Sophie and the new little McCann.”
We stood out there an hour or so until the cigars were stubs. My head was numb. Life was good. “I’m going back inside to check my e-mail,” I said.
“We’re coming, too.” Travis put out the last of his cigar.
Thorstad did likewise.
We barreled into the room and pulled up my e-mail, but there was no letter from Sophie. Not yet anyway. “I’ll send her some flowers.” An electric current ran up my back. This was right. I rolled my old chair up to the desk and pulled up the number on the Internet for Antonella’s Florist.
“Antonella’s Florist, this is Anthony. How may I help you?”
I leaned forward in my computer chair while I pulled my credit card out of my wallet.
“Anthony! This is Mac McCann.”
I ran my fingers over the raised numbers on the plastic card. “I have an order to place with you.”
There were sounds of paperwork being shuffled.
“Look, Anthony, can you set me up with some flowers?”
“We have some gorgeous bouquets, just in. If you’d like to come by the shop, I can show them to you.” Sounds of an ink pen scratching on paper came through the line.
“That’d be great, but I’m in Afghanistan,” I said.
“Oh, I am sorry. We are always proud to help those who are serving overseas.”
“Thanks, Anthony. Can you suggest what to order?”
“Of course. We are running a special on our ‘Love in Bloom.’”
I glanced around the room. The photo of Sophie and me at the Fourth of July fireworks was on my shelf.
“Mr. McCann, are you still there?”
“Yes. Just thinking. This has to be the best bouquet ever.”
“I have our Hugs and Kisses Bouquet with red roses.”
“Great. Can you do that and make sure it has a special touch?”
“And that would be?”
I cupped my hand around the phone and asked Anthony to add something. I hoped it would make Sophie smile. I leaned back in my chair and caught myself just before it tipped over. I quickly lunged forward. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time. “Anthony, I haven’t told too many people yet, but I just found out. I’m going to be a daddy.”
“But Mr. McCann, are you not in Afghanistan?” and then, “I am sorry, I do not know what came over me. That is none of my business. Please forgive.”
I laughed with a burst of joy from deep in my chest. Like a flood when a dam has broken, flowing everywhere, bringing new life to a dry land. “Yes, I’m in Afghanistan. Let’s just say our baby’s due to a little something called beach magic.”
“The order has been placed. It will be delivered this afternoon.”
“I have your word on that, Anthony?”
“You have my word, Mr. McCann. If I must, I will deliver them myself to make sure she gets them. Take good care of yourself. You must make it home in one piece for your new little one.”
“Good man. You have a great day, and call me Mac.”
Travis stood to leave. “I’m going on to bed. Let me know when she gets the flowers. Congratulations, again.”
I grabbed his hand then threw him a bear hug. We would be brothers for the rest of our lives from this experience. “Thanks, man.”
Thorstad came around and grabbed me. “If I don’t see you tomorrow, best of luck. It was a real honor serving with you.”
“E-mail me when you get your new assignment,” I said.
“Will do.” He clapped my back one more time then followed Travis down the hall.
Silence settled on my room. I was tired but so amped about the baby I couldn’t sleep. I lay on my back on my cot, stared at the tan stitching on the roof seams. Each stitch led to the next and the next. Maybe Travis was right. Maybe my life was like those stitches. Maybe it was ordered, and everything in my life prepared me for that point.
I thought about what Sophie must be doing. I wished she’d call me back. I must have dozed off because a few hours later my phone rang. I knew who it was. It had to be her. I fumbled around in the semi-dark, grabbed the phone, and punched the answer button.
“Mac?”
“Soph!”
“You’ve been eating cinnamon rolls. I can tell,” she said.
“I love you, you crazy woman.”
“Did you like my drawing?”
“I couldn’t figure out what it was. Travis had to tell me.”
“Travis saw it?”
“He was in the room with me when the envelope fell out of the box.”
It was enough to hear her breathe on the phone. Enough to know she was carrying our child.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you, too.”
“There’s someone at the door. Do you want to wait while I get it?” Sophie asked.
“Of course.”
“I’m putting you on speaker,” Sophie said.
I heard her footsteps as she carried the phone with her. I listened to the door being unlatched. Then a familiar voice.
“Good afternoon. Are you Sophie McCann?”
Sophie made a sharp intake of breath. “Yes, I am.”
I heard the man shuffle his feet. “I am so glad to meet you.”
“You are?” Sophie asked.
And then, he must have given her the flowers because I heard a little squeak of joy.
“They are so beautiful. I can’t believe you sent me flowers,” Sophie sounded giddy.
Then, “I’m Anthony Portulaca from Antonella’s Florist.” Anthony, the sly old dog. He actually did deliver the flowers himself.
I chuckled under my breath.
“Nice to meet you, I have my husband on speaker phone,” Sophie said.
He yelled into the phone. I could picture him bent over the speaker. “Hello, Mr. Mac.”
“Hello to you, too, Anthony.”
“Ah, Mr. Mac, she is as beautiful as you said.”
“Thank you, Anthony. I wish I were there to see her with you.”
“And hello, little beach baby. I am so happy to meet you.”
Sophie giggled, and it sounded like her hand was cupped over the phone. “He was speaking to my belly. How did
he know I’m pregnant?”
“I told him when I ordered the flowers. Sorry, Soph. I was so happy I just couldn’t hold it in.”
“May I carry the flowers in for you?”
“Yes, thank you. Come this way.”
I heard the door again and their footsteps on the wood flooring.
“A quaint Craftsman, circa nineteen-fifty, I believe? And look at the floors! You must have refinished them yourselves.”
Hours and hours of me running that darn floor buffer we’d rented. It took a while to figure the thing out, but not before I’d put a dent in the drywall and bashed the edge of a doorframe.
“The kitchen is this way. Please watch the step down into the kitchen. The floors are a little uneven. We haven’t done the floors in the kitchen yet.”
“Ah, but it is glorious, glorious. The woodwork, the crown molding.”
“It’s all Mac’s doing. I don’t think there’s a spot in this house he hasn’t worked on.”
I heard what sounded like a glass vase being set down.
“For you. You want me to read the card for you?” Anthony asked.
“Well, that’s OK,” Sophie said.
But then I heard paper rustling and Anthony’s voice again. “It says, ‘Sophie, I can’t wait to get home to see you and our baby. Thank you for hanging in there, and for loving me even when things were tough. All my love, Mac.’”
I squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment. Did you really have to read that out loud, Anthony?
There was an awkward silence, and then Sophie, gracious as always said, “Thank you. That was very sweet of you to read that to me.” She sniffled.
Listening to all this and not being there was killing me. I tried to picture Sophie’s face, wished I had her on live video instead of the phone.
“There, there. I did not mean to make you cry. It is a happy time. You should be happy,” Anthony said.
“It’s not your fault. Pregnancy makes women emotional. But you’re right. It’s a happy time. The happiest of all times, and soon, Mac will be home to share it with me.”
“I must be getting back to the shop. I am so honored to finally meet the beautiful Sophie.”
“Thank you again, Anthony,” I yelled over the speaker, but I didn’t think he heard me.
“Yes, thank you again,” Sophie said.