Soldier Mine

by Lizzy Ford

His embrace, scent and body calm me. My crying subsides quickly, and exhaustion sweeps through me, replacing the adrenaline. “About how you proposed during a hostage situation?” I ask and close my eyes.

  “Yep. It’s called upholding the family tradition.” He laughs once more.

  I’m not sure whether or not he’s joking, but I really hope he’s not. I may not know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want to be with him.

  Nightmare. Fairytale. Nightmare. Fairytale.

  This time, the fairytale never has to end.

  Epilogue

  “Hey, gorgeous.”

  I meet Petr’s intent gaze, warmth bubbling, before glancing down to refill his mug. The past month has been a whirlwind of emotion and change. Todd and I made the big decision to move in with Petr. While I’m not ready to give up my day job, I’ve been debating accepting a part-time position doing graphics for his father’s multiple foundations. I could work for him half the day and then return to school, too.

  I pour him more coffee and then sit down across from him. He still visits me every day at the diner. Petr takes my hands in his, the tenderness of his gaze rendering me speechless, giddy and borderline tearful, every time he looks at me like this.

  I’m living a dream. Todd is as ecstatic as I am.

  “I gave it some thought,” I say somewhat breathlessly. “Christmas Eve.”

  “Baba will love that.” Petr chuckles.

  “Do you?”

  “Absolutely. Gives us time to plan.” His eyes glow. “Honeymoon?”

  “You choose. I’ve never really been anywhere.”

  “Somewhere warm, I take it. Your mom says Florida.”

  “No, not Florida.” I laugh. I’ve laughed and smiled more the past month than I did the first twenty-five years of my life, and it’s all because of the man before me. While he hasn’t yet met my mom, he’s talked to her a few times already. I call her daily now that I can.

  “Baba showed me his secret project.” Petr’s voice grows hushed.

  “He wasn’t supposed to show you yet.” I squeeze his hands. Upon learning the intent behind the project Anton gave me, I’ve spent the past few weeks perfecting it, despite the fact Baba loved the first version just fine. The collages of the three siblings together are being printed and framed for Petr and Katya on the two-year anniversary of their brother’s death, which is next month.

  “You’re amazing,” he murmurs and kisses the back of my hands. “It’s perfect.”

  His words make my heart sing.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you, too.” His eyes twinkle with mischief and desire.

  “What?”

  “You’ll see tonight.”

  “Petr!” I look at the time. It’s barely ten in the morning. “That’s forever away.”

  “Want a hint?”

  I nod.

  “The ring’s in from resizing.”

  I hold my breath. Picking a wedding date is one thing. It seems so … intangible.

  But the ring … once I learned its history, I stressed that Petr might change his mind or I might not be good enough for it and his family.

  “Are you … ah …” Yeah, there’s no right way to ask a man if he’s going to propose, especially when I know how much this means not only to him, but his family and mine.

  Too flustered to think, I simply stare at him.

  “Claudia!” Eileen calls from the counter.

  I blink, recalling where I am, and glance at her. She nods towards Henry with her head. His cup is empty.

  Petr smiles. “Go on.”

  “Ugh!” I mutter. The only thing worse than being away from him is knowing he’s in the room with me and I can’t touch him or snuggle. “You aren’t going to tell me if you have … plans tonight?”

  He winks and sips his coffee.

  “You are in so much trouble!” I hiss and then move to take care of Henry. I refill the older man’s coffee with haste.

  Setting the coffee on its burner, I start to turn to confront Petr again when I feel his strong, warm body behind me. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into him, nuzzling my neck.

  Touching him is bliss. I sigh and rest my head against his shoulder. I melt the moment I feel his strength.

  “We have plans tonight,” he whispers. “Probably a good thing tomorrow’s your day off, too. I plan on locking the door and staying in bed with you all day.”

  A delicious little shiver slides through me. “And … Monday’s a holiday, too,” I whisper in return.

  “Perfect. You sure you’re ready for the next step?”

  “Yes, Petr.”

  “Good. Baba’s going to ask about the job again today.”

  I smile. With my nerves fluttering, I take a deep breath. “And I’ll tell him yes,” I murmur. “I already told the boss I’ll be leaving in February.”

  He turns me to face him, searching my gaze. “I don’t ever want you to feel pressured into anything.”

  “I don’t. This is my decision. I want to help your family … my family and be like you. We’ve both been given second chances to make a difference, Petr, and I want us to make the world a better place together.”

  He smiles, the tenderness back in his gaze, and cups my cheeks in his hands. “I love you, Claudia.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He kisses me lightly. “Pick you up at six.”

  He leaves, his scent on my skin and the fever he causes warming my blood. I want to scream out of happiness and instead, watch him pull out of the parking lot.

  “Told you so,” Eileen say from behind me. “No one comes here for the coffee and pie.”

  I laugh loudly, exhilarated at the prospect of my long weekend holed up with an incredible man like Petr.

  ***

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  ***

  Did you read Katya and Sawyer’s story? If not, “Semper Mine” is available on Amazon!

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  Exclusive excerpt: “West” (time travel romance!)

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  If you could change history, would you?

  Chapter One

  Take a survey while you wait!

  Only three questions!

  Free $50 gift card!

  Fifty dollars sounded like a lot when my bank account was close to zero.

  I stepped out of the crowds of tourists strolling along the covered wooden sidewalks of Tombstone, Arizona, and paused before the table with an iPad laying next to the propped up sign. It was over a hundred and twenty degrees in the shade and even hotter in the brilliant midafternoon sun. The stores were packed. The drink sellers at each corner of the tourist district wore heavy period clothing that made me feel sorry for them, as evidenced by the collection of overpriced water bottles weighing down my purse.

  The first page of the survey was pulled on the iPad’s screen, just waiting for someone to stop and fill it out.

  “Why isn’t this place crowded?” No one even glanced this way. Either it was my lucky day or no one else was wondering how they were going to pay off student loans after graduating college. “My lucky day!” I placed my purse down on the table, picked up the tablet and glanced at the window of the store behind the survey.

  It wasn’t a souvenir or jewelry shop or western-themed eatery like every other business lining the sidewalks of the popular tourist spot. The pictures in the window were sad – of Old West pioneers burying their dead and Native Americans being marched in chains while flanked by cavalry members on horseback. It was a stark reminder of how gritty life was back then.

  Every kid who was ever forced
to take an American History class knew how the Old West was won and the natives suppressed, and I had read every book about the era I was able to find when I was in high school. I wasn’t certain why this store was in the heart of a tourist trap, unless the city was trying to keep things more authentic than the Old West souvenirs made in China.

  Seeing the photos made my heart hurt for the long dead people.

  “Are you interested in the history of the Wild West?” asked a male voice.

  I looked over, not expecting the stranger to be as stunning as he was.

  He smiled. Tall, trim and sexy, with sparkling blue eyes and dark hair, he wasn’t much older than I was. Maybe the age of the Masters students in the university where I had recently graduated with my Bachelors in a field unrelated to Old West: modern languages. He had charming dimples in both cheeks that gave him a boyish appearance.

  Déjà vu. I knew I’d never seen him before, but the sense we had met was strong. Never one to pass up talking to a man stunning enough to be a Hollywood A Lister, I lowered the tablet and smiled.

  “I’m not really into American history anymore. I was obsessed with the Old West when I was in high school, but I grew out of it,” I answered. “I minored in European History in college.”

  “So you do like history?”

  “Yeah. Civilized history, I guess.”

  “Civilized?” He laughed. “Tell that to Ghengis Khan when you meet him! I mean … if you meet him.” He blushed. “If you go back in time and …”

  He reminded me of my youngest cousin, a super brain who was awkward around women. It didn’t seem possible this man had issues with women, though, because he was absolutely hot. The fact I resembled the perfect blond haired, blue eyed, bubbly cheerleader drew all kinds of attention from men, but none had blushed quite like this.

  “It’s okay if you want to try that again,” I said, struggling not to laugh.

  “Thanks.” His cheeks were almost purple with embarrassment. “I meant to say, I don’t think there’s such a thing. If we were to go back in time, I think we’d find the past anything but civilized.”

  “Good thing we’re in the here and now.” I glanced at his nametag. Carter, History Interrupted, Inc. “You’re the one doing the survey?”

  “I’m Carter. It’s nice to meet you, Josie.” He stuck out his hand.

  “I’m …” I trailed off, realizing he’d already said my name. “… not wearing a nametag.”

  “Oh.” He turned red once more. “You look like a … Josie.”

  “No one looks like a Josie,” I said with a laugh.

  “Fits the period.” He appeared relieved I wasn’t freaked out, his smile large and dimples larger. “Lucky guess.”

  This is strange. “Nice to meet you, Carter, I think.” I picked up the tablet again. “Is this one of those surveys where you try to sell me a timeshare before you give me my gift card?” I was cute, petite and quick to smile; it was how I always managed to get away with talking to people the way I did.

  “It’s an absolute honor to meet you, Josie. And no, there’s no timeshare involved. Can I at least give you my pitch?” he asked hopefully. “I’ve always wanted to talk to you. To someone like you. To someone who …” He was flustered again.

  “Wait, stop there! Let me put you out of your misery.” I smiled, taking pity on the socially awkward man. “Tell me about the survey or your project or whatever it is you’re doing.”

  There’s something odd about this guy. Not in a bad way, just like a lost puppy that clung to the first human to show it kindness. The combination of Hollywood looks – but no clue how to talk to women – and his over the top enthusiasm about meeting me were endearing. I liked him almost immediately.

  “What if I told you that all this” he waved at the pictures on the window “could’ve been prevented? That one man started a chain of events that ended with the near destruction of the native peoples of North America?” His eyes glowed, and he became animated, his hands complementing his words with flourishes. “Just one man. Someone who may not have known the impact of what he did? Maybe he made one tiny choice, like you did this morning when you put on black yoga pants instead of jeans.”

  I wasn’t able to stop my smile. His passion was apparent. “I’d say that’s an amazing discovery. But … does it matter now?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Have you ever seen Doctor Who?”

  I laughed. “Yeah.”

  “Just … pretend I’m the Doctor and you’re my companion and we can go back to any point in time. Okay?”

  I nodded.

  “One man in the eighteen forties made a single choice that forever changed the landscape –”

  “His pants,” I said, grinning.

  “- right or something else. Whatever it was, he did it on September twenty fifth, eighteen forty-two. So he does this one thing, and bam. The lives of nearly a million Native Americans and tens of thousands of pioneers are lost over the course of a century.”

  My eyes returned to the pictures. This … speech, if it could be called that, was a bit morbid. I understood his point, even if I didn’t really get why we were playing this hypothetical game.

  “What would you do if you could go back in time?” he asked. “Would you stop him if it saved a million lives?”

  “Yeah. Who wouldn’t?”

  “There are some people who think history is chiseled in stone, that it shouldn’t change, even if we could.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t agree with that at all. I mean, assuming we one day had the ability to time travel, why shouldn’t we go back and help those who didn’t have a chance? We could do so much good, save the planet from all the abuse we’ve caused during the industrial age, stop men like Hitler. Of course I’d change things.”

  He was smiling. “Good. You’re very idealistic.”

  “My uncle says the same,” I said and rolled my eyes. “I’m not totally naïve. I know there are bad people who might try to go back and change things to make themselves billionaires or get revenge on the Homecoming queen who rejected them or whatever. But I’d like to think humans are naturally good and if given such a power, we’d use it wisely.”

  Carter looked at me a little too long, his features glowing again. I was always friendly, especially since I understood he was probably uncomfortable talking to me or other humans in general. “Is that … it?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.” He shifted feet like an excited child on Christmas Eve. “Just if you could, take the survey, so I get credit for something today. It’s only three questions.”

  “What kind of research are you doing?”

  “It’s a relatively new discipline of history. Humanitarian history. There’s a lot of psychology that goes into determining how our outlooks of our world have changed over the years. What we once viewed as moral and just is now barbaric, and so on.”

  “That sounds interesting,” I said. But not my thing at all. Such a complex subject seemed right up the alley of the man I suspected was a genius behind all his blushing.

  “It’s so beyond fascinating, I could spend days … but I won’t. I’ll let you complete the survey.” He moved way to give me space.

  Amused, I turned my attention to the iPad, unable to shake the sense of déjà vu. After I filled out the portion for my name and age, I swiped to the second screen.

  If you could go back in time to prevent atrocities such as the Trail of Tears experienced by the Native Americans, and the massacring of pioneers caught between Native warriors and the Calvary, would you?

  I glanced at the pictures on the windows, once more touched by the visible pain. The people gazed at me in silent desperation, suffering clear on their features. “Sure, why not?” I selected the green button on the survey and was taken to the second screen.

  If you could save the lives of a hundred thousand people TODAY, would you do whatever it took?

  “Duh. Who wouldn’t?” Tapping the button, I read the next questio
n.

  If you could go back and change history, would you?

  “Only if there’s a modern sewer system, espresso and AC,” I quipped and then sneaked a look at the images looking over me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it,” I said to them quietly. “I’m hot and irritated. I would go back and save you all, if I had the power.” I swiped to the last screen and entered my email address.

  Carter was waiting patiently nearby.

  “That’s it?” I asked loudly enough for him to hear, once again perplexed by the simple questions. I replaced the iPad on the table.

  “It is!” Carter beamed and joined me once more. “Well … except …” He cleared his throat, ears red. “Would you maybe want to … get a drink tonight at the Victorian Vittles Saloon?”

  “Ah, I’m sorry, Carter. We’re leaving in an hour or so.”

  “Oh.” He appeared surprised. “I thought you were staying here.”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Okay. Thanks for letting me down easy,” he flashed a dazzling smile. “If you change your mind or … decide to stay in town, I’ll be there shortly. I’m packing up soon to leave.”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” I picked up my purse and offered my hand. “Nice talking to you.”

  “Thank you. So much.” He was nearly gushing as he clasped mine in both of his.

  Overwhelmed by his enthusiasm, my cheeks grew warm, and I laughed instead of answering. Pulling way, I waved and started towards the direction towards where I was supposed to meet my aunt and uncle. The tingling instinct that I knew him lingered. Not one to ignore my intuition, I halted.

  “Wait, Carter, can I ask you something?” I asked, turning.

  “Of course.”

  “Have we met before?”

  He looked like I’d agreed to go on a date with him. His unguarded expressions were something I expected from a kid, not a full-grown man. “Does it feel like we have?” he asked with hushed awe.

  My brow furrowed. I gave another small laugh, uncertain how to take his strange reaction. “Sorta. Like déjà vu.”

  “We haven’t,” he said. “But I’m really glad we did.”

  “Me, too.” And I was without really understanding why. His innocent, boyish charm made me want to tease him the way I did my youngest cousin or maybe, to ask him if he needed help doing his homework. I couldn’t explain it, except that it wasn’t physical attraction per se, more of a sense of being kindred spirits. My aunt believed in past lives and how we met the same souls over and over again throughout our many lives. I could almost believe it about Carter. “Bye.”