Today We Go Home

by Kelli Estes

Emily let him pull her to her feet, and she thought she mumbled words of thanks, but she couldn’t be sure. Her mind was full of Pa—the way he smelled of saddle leather and rain-washed soil, the touch of his calloused hand on her cheek, the way his eyes squinted in the sun. The way his fingers picked out Mama’s favorite tune on his guitar late at night when he thought everyone was asleep.

  The couple was still hovering over her, asking questions and offering help. She needed to be alone. Thanking them again, she stuffed the letters in a saddlebag, untied her horse’s reins from the hitching rail, and quickly mounted. Without a care for propriety, she galloped toward home.

  At the copse of trees marking the boundary of their farm, she peeled off the road and led the mare down to the creek. It was the place where she went when she needed to be alone, and she’d never needed solitude more than she did now. She couldn’t face her aunt and uncle and tell them the news. She couldn’t even tell Ben yet. What would she say?

  With her back against the trunk of a willow tree, she read the captain’s letter again, and this time she let the deep, tearing sobs inside her come out. She held her head in her hands and cried. As the pain turned to anger—at the secessioners for causing this war, at Pa for dying, at the Army for not protecting him—she opened her mouth and screamed.

  “Emily?” Ben appeared, scrambling onto the ground beside her and pulling her into his arms. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  She buried her face in his shoulder and cried some more, knowing that she would have to tell him and then he, too, would feel his life shatter.

  After several long moments, she finally found the breath to speak. “Ben, I’m so sorry.” She looked into his terrified brown eyes and watched them fill with horror at her next words. “Pa has been killed.”

  She let him read the letter from the captain, and they cried together, lost in their shared pain. When she remembered the letter from David, she rubbed her sleeve over her eyes and jumped up to snatch it out of the saddlebag. “I haven’t read this yet. I forgot about it.”

  She ripped open the envelope and spread the dirt-stained paper across her knee. Aloud, she read her brother’s words: “‘My dearest sister and brother. It is with great sorrow that I write this letter. It is one I never thought I would write, and it wounds me deeply to know that it will cause you pain. Pa has been killed in battle. He led a charge against Confederate cowards who were hiding in the bushes on Laurel Hill. He was shot in the head, and as he fell beside me, I knew there was nothing I could do to save him. I am so sorry. I tried.’”

  Emily could not keep reading. She shoved the letter into Ben’s hands.

  He cleared his throat and had to take several breaths before he began. “‘I must also apologize, dear siblings, for something else about which you will be upset. I must break my promise to return home at the end of my three-month enlistment. We have been offered a reenlistment bounty to extend our service and sign on to a three-year term. As the head of our family now, I feel the money, which is more than we’d make in a year from the farm, is the best way for me to do my duty to you. I have signed the contract already and will not be allowed time to come home to see you before I must report for my next duty. I will send that bounty to you as soon as I receive it, and I will continue to send you my pay when I can so that you may be independent from Uncle Samuel and Aunt Harriet in some ways. Please don’t be angry with me. Love, David.’”

  They both sat in silence as his words sank in. Only the sounds of the creek gurgling in front of them and the bumblebees looking for nectar filled the air. Emily imagined that this morning had not happened, that the letters had not arrived, that she and Ben were here doing nothing more than enjoying a summer day at the creek as they’d done so many times before. But she couldn’t fool herself. The sun looked dimmer now, the flowers less vibrant. Even the water did not beckon with its promise of cool refreshment. She already felt cold. And heavy. And so very tired.

  “I wish he was coming home.” Ben’s voice sounded as worn down as she felt.

  “Me too.” The anger she’d felt earlier coalesced into a darkness she’d never experienced before. She understood that David felt he was supporting them by extending his enlistment, but she knew he would best support them by being here with them. The three of them should be together to mourn Pa and give him a proper burial. Just as the family pulled together after Mama died, they should pull together now and help each other through. But David wasn’t coming home. Maybe not ever.

  After a long time together under the willow tree, Ben finally nudged her with his elbow. “We’d better get back. Aunt Harriet saw you turn off the road and come down here, and that’s why she sent me to you. They’ve got to be wondering where we are.”

  Emily nodded in agreement and allowed Ben to pull her to her feet, her body sore and stiff from sitting for so long. Together, they walked home, the horse trailing behind them.

  As they entered the yard, Uncle Samuel rounded the corner of the house and met them by the barn. “Who do you two think you are, disappearing all day while we’re left to do your chores? I didn’t agree to look after you so you could run off and shirk your duties!” His face grew redder with each word until a vein appeared on his temple.

  “We have some news, Uncle,” Ben told him.

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Get back to work!” Samuel turned toward the barn, his dog beside him.

  “Pa is dead,” Emily told him, hoping the words might snap him out of his meanness.

  Samuel did stop, but he kept his stiffened back to them.

  “No!”

  The cry made them all look toward the house where Aunt Harriet had appeared on the porch in time to hear the announcement. Her face had gone pale, and she held a rag to her mouth. For the first time, Emily remembered that Pa was Harriet’s brother. They should have been more careful in telling her the news.

  Emily shoved the mare’s reins into Ben’s hand and rushed across the yard to pull her aunt into her embrace. Harriet’s whole body shook with her sobs, and Emily felt her own tears spill again.

  Uncle Samuel finally turned around to face them. Emily expected him to give words of comfort to them, or at least to his wife, but instead, he snarled, “I guess I’m stuck with you now.”

  Emily gasped. Ben’s hands curled into fists.

  “When David returns, we’ll have to sit down and come up with a plan for running this farm short one man.”

  “David isn’t coming home.” Ben said the words calmly, his eyes boring into his uncle. “He reenlisted for three years.”

  “What?” Aunt Harriet pulled back to look at Emily for confirmation. She nodded, and Harriet’s eyes filled with tears again. She covered her mouth with her cloth and shook her head in silence.

  Samuel and Ben were still staring hard at each other. Finally, Samuel gave a jerk of his head and pivoted on his heel with the words, “Get back to work.” He disappeared into the barn with Ben staring holes into his back.

  Aunt Harriet pulled Emily into another hug. “I’m so sorry about your pa, sweetie. What can I do?”

  Emily forced her lips to form a smile for her aunt’s sake. “I don’t think there is anything any of us can do but get back to work.”

  Solemnly, they did just that.

  Chapter Five

  Present day: Woodinville, Washington

  The moment Larkin climbed out of her car at Grams’s house, she was met with a wall of sensation. The rain had let up, and the forest was alive with scent unlike anything she’d smelled in Afghanistan or in Memphis. Even though she was eager to get inside and see Grams, she paused and breathed deeply of the moss, molding leaves, rich soil, and the mix of pine, cedar, and fir. With each inhalation, she felt energy course through her.

  Home. She was home.

  A sudden crashing sounded from the dense undergrowth separating Grams’s house from the neighbor’s.
Instinctively, Larkin reached for the weapon strapped to her thigh. But her Beretta M9 wasn’t there.

  They’d taken her weapons away from her. She was defenseless.

  A black-and-brown dog burst from the bushes and crossed the driveway to her, tail wagging.

  “Here, Bowie,” came a call from the direction of the covered porch.

  Larkin looked over and found Grams coming down the steps, one hand grabbing the dog’s collar and the other reaching for her. Larkin went to her, meeting her halfway, and pulled her grandmother into a desperate hug.

  “It was hard for your grandpa when he got home from war, too,” Grams said into her ear in a voice that indicated she noticed everything. “He reached for his absent weapon for months.”

  Larkin didn’t respond. She was doing everything she could to maintain control.

  “It will get easier, Lark. I promise.”

  Her heartbeat finally eased, and Larkin thought she might be able to talk without shattering. She pulled back to look at Grams. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the funeral, Grams. I wanted to be.”

  Grandpa McKinnon had been her biggest supporter and Larkin his biggest fan. When Larkin first became interested in being a soldier, a boy at school had laughed at her and told her that only men were soldiers. It was Gramps who told her women could be in the Army, too, and then proved it by taking her to the Smithsonian in Washington, DC, and showing her pictures of women in uniform. He never told her women weren’t allowed in combat, but when she’d found out on her own, he’d encouraged her to not let that stop her. She’d chosen military police as her occupational specialty because, at the time, it was one of the few jobs in the armed services that put women into situations where they would see combat, regardless of the official rules. Gramps had encouraged her every step of the way.

  “Oh, honey, don’t you worry about that,” Grams told her with a pat on her back. “You were on the other side of the world doing important work. I understood, and I know Gramps would have, too.”

  Larkin felt so lucky to have this woman in her life. “Thanks, Grams.”

  “I know you’re hurting, Larkin,” Grams said, holding Larkin’s shoulders, her eyes serious. “I know you don’t want to talk about it yet, but I think you’ll feel better if you do, and I’m here whenever that time comes. I love you, soldier girl. Remember you aren’t alone, okay? I’d walk through fire for you.”

  About to shatter, Larkin nodded and took a step back. She looked at the love shining on Grams’s face and tried to say something, anything, in response. But nothing would come.

  “Larkin! You’re home!” Her cousin Jenna stepped onto the porch, a huge smile on her face, her tall, slim figure encased in jeans and a burgundy raincoat. Jenna ran down the steps and launched herself at Larkin, bringing the scents of coconut lotion and coffee with her.

  Larkin laughed. “Yep, you’re stuck with me now.”

  Jenna squeezed. “That makes me so happy.” When she pulled back, she looked at Larkin as if she’d never seen her before, even though they talked on Skype or FaceTime on a regular basis. “Come in. Kaia is here, too, and dying to see you.”

  “What about Evan?” Larkin asked, referring to Jenna’s husband.

  Jenna shoved her mahogany hair out of her face. “No, he had something else going on.”

  “I can’t complain about having you all to myself,” Larkin told her, though she was certain she’d seen a shadow cross her cousin’s face at the mention of her husband.

  Larkin collected her rucksack, overnight bag, and Sarah’s urn from the car, and they went inside. Bowie came trotting in with them, which surprised Larkin since Grams had never allowed pets in the house before.

  Grams shrugged and grabbed an old towel from a hook next to the door, wiping Bowie’s wet fur. “I got her after Gramps died, to keep me company.”

  Larkin dropped her bags on the floor and kicked off her shoes. She kept the urn cradled in one arm.

  “Larkin!” a familiar voice called.

  Larkin looked up and found her younger cousin, Kaia. It wasn’t until that moment, when she stood in the cramped entry hallway with her three favorite people, that Larkin realized how deeply she’d missed them. To the very marrow of her bones. “Kaia, come here.”

  Kaia’s blond ponytail swung as she left the kitchen doorway, skirted around Bowie, and finally stepped into Larkin’s one-armed hug. Kaia felt small and fragile, but her grip was strong. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

  “I missed you, too. All of you.” Larkin breathed in her cousin’s fresh laundry scent.

  “Come on in, and we’ll fix you a plate,” Grams offered. “You must be starving.”

  “I ate at Mom and Dad’s.” Larkin pulled away from Kaia. “Thanks, though.” Together they padded into the combination kitchen and family room, which was already decorated for Christmas with a lit tree in the corner, evergreen boughs on the fireplace mantel, and lights strung up the stair railings. Seeing the lights squeezed Larkin’s heart in an unexpected way. Sarah had always strung her bunk—wherever she was in the world—with Christmas lights. She’d said they made her feel happy.

  “You girls sit,” Grams directed. “I’ll make us some tea.”

  Larkin chose the same chair she’d always sat in since she was a kid spending summers here with Grams and Gramps and her cousins. She set Sarah on the table in front of her, next to the red candle centerpiece. Although she noticed Jenna and Kaia both looking at the urn and then at each other, Larkin didn’t feel up to an explanation.

  As Kaia slid into the chair next to her, Larkin saw her eyeing the scars on her arms. Larkin tucked her hands under her thighs and wished she had a sweatshirt to hide under.

  Jenna sat with her back to the sliding door that led to the back deck and yard. It was dark outside, but soft landscape lighting kept the blackness from feeling oppressive. “It’s so good to have you home and safe,” Jenna told Larkin as she cupped her hands around the mug of tea Grams set in front of her. “What was it like over there, really?”

  Larkin’s first reaction was to hide behind jokes. After her first deployment three years earlier, she’d answered questions like this honestly. She’d talked about her job as a military police officer in Kandahar, where she’d patrolled streets and manned checkpoints alongside their Afghan National Police counterparts; of conducting route security or supporting special forces on raids in search of weapons caches; of training Afghan policemen who openly sneered back at her because she was a woman; and of training Afghan policewomen who took their jobs seriously and were making a difference in their communities.

  But then she’d started seeing how civilians here at home simply didn’t care. Afghanistan was far away and had little to do with their everyday lives, so why should they think about peace in Kabul or Herat? Most Americans asked about the war just so they could launch into their own opinions about the president or why they thought the war was stupid. In fact, most civilians she met believed the war had ended. Far from it. The ongoing conflict might no longer be labeled a war, but men and women were over there putting their lives on the line every day, with some of them losing. Like Sarah.

  “It was hot and dusty.” Larkin sipped her tea and hoped Jenna would drop the subject.

  Jenna’s cell phone rang, and she answered without moving away from the table. Saved by the bell.

  “I’m still at Grams’s,” Jenna murmured into her phone as her whole body slumped. “Larkin just got here.”

  The room was quiet enough that Larkin could hear Evan’s voice, though she couldn’t make out the words. His angry tone, however, came through clearly.

  “Do we have to do this now?” Jenna hissed as she got to her feet and shot them a look of apology. She turned to go into the front living room. “I’ll leave pretty soon…”

  Larkin spoke in a low voice. “Is everything okay with them?”

 
Grams rubbed at an imaginary spot on the table. “He’s been real busy with work is all, I guess.”

  Jenna walked back into the room, her phone clenched tightly in her hand. “Sorry to cut this short, guys, but I need to head home. Thanks, Grams, as always.” She gave Grams a hug and turned to Larkin. “I’m so happy you’re home. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll plan something fun so we can catch up.”

  After finishing her round of hugs with Kaia, Jenna headed for the door. Both Grams and Bowie walked her out.

  Larkin shot her younger cousin a look. “Do you know if everything’s okay with her?”

  Kaia shrugged and got up to finish loading their dinner dishes into the dishwasher. “She hasn’t said otherwise. Hand me Jenna’s mug, will you?”

  Larkin grabbed the mug and carried it to the sink, where she started to hand it to Kaia. Instead of taking it from her, though, Kaia paused. “Are those from the blast when you lost your friend?”

  Larkin looked down at the scars left from the shrapnel that had shredded her arms. For a moment, she wasn’t standing in Grams’s kitchen. Instead, she was back on that Kandahar street, horror exploding all around her.

  She couldn’t do this. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  She carefully set the mug on the countertop. “You know, I’m feeling pretty tired. Does Grams have me in the same room as always?”

  “I’m sorry, Lark,” Kaia rushed to say. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

  Larkin forced a smile. “It’s okay, Kai. Really. I’m just tired.”

  Grams came back into the kitchen, Bowie at her heels. “Come on, soldier girl. I’ll walk you up.”

  Larkin collected her rucksack and duffel bag from the entry hall and hoisted Sarah into her arms. Grams’s gaze flickered over the urn, and her lips pressed together sorrowfully. To her credit, though, she didn’t say a word. “I put you in the green bedroom. I know how much you love looking out into the forest. Kaia has the yellow bedroom.”

  “Oh, she’s staying the night?”