Notes from Home

by Dirk Greyson

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  About the Author

  By Dirk Greyson

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Notes from Home

  By Dirk Greyson

  While deployed on a covert mercenary assignment, Johnny doesn’t have much in the way of holiday cheer. But the mysterious notes from Dex that somehow appear in his bunk—reminding him of the gifts, cookies, celebrations, and most of all, love, waiting for him back in Wisconsin—help him get through the long, hot days. Will they be enough to keep his spirits up when the rest of his unit goes home to their families and he’s left alone?

  Chapter 1

  COVERED IN sweat and tired as hell, I had little time to think at the moment. Surveillance patrols were the worst, much like a stakeout for the police back home: sit, watch, don’t be seen, and try not to be bored out of your mind. Our living areas were sparse, but they had a few saving graces: power and blessed air-conditioning. This was a basic fieldwork environment—serious, and at times our only refuge from an enemy whose purpose was to eliminate us, just as our assignment was to remove their scourge from the planet. We were part of the latest battle in a war that had raged for decades and would probably continue through my lifetime. As long as people wanted to forget their troubles for a while, there would be customers for what our quarry peddled. Still, right now, all I wanted to do was clean up and fall into bed, regardless of the fact that it was three in the afternoon.

  The quarters were empty and quiet, with no one about, as I went to my small section, which consisted of a bed, a chest for my clothes, a single lamp, and a wall to block out the snoring of the others. Minimal privacy, but better than I’d had on many of my missions. With a heavy sigh, I set down my equipment, my legs about to give out from under me, when discomfort and fatigue were banished by what I saw. A white envelope, nearly square, sat in the middle of my bed. This one had a snowman on it with a black hat, an orange carrot nose, and happy eyes.

  I knew exactly who it was from, but I had no idea how they were being delivered. There was no postage or return address on the envelope, only my name printed in beautiful calligraphy on the front, as each of the previous three had been. None of the other men in my unit had fessed up to delivering them, and in fact they all seem as dumbfounded as I was about how they were reaching me with such regularity. But there they were, every three days, and now another one. As much as I didn’t want to think about what I was missing by being here and not back home, I looked forward to each one.

  I reached for the envelope as I sat on the foot of the bed, gently opened it so it wouldn’t rip, and set the envelope aside. Inside was a single sheet of paper.

  My dear Johnny,

  I hope you’re reading this when you’re alone, because in my mind’s eye as I write this, I see you sitting somewhere quiet with my letter in hand. I hope you’re smiling, because I always do when I think of you. It’s hard not knowing where you are or what is happening around you. But as you might have guessed from the previous letters, I wanted you to have a little holiday cheer, and I thought these letters might bring a little of that to you.

  I know that you couldn’t tell me where you were going and that you being gone for Christmas is difficult. It is for me as well. So I’m going to ask you to do something for me. Close your eyes and think of me. Remember that I’m here in another part of the world and that I’m holding you in my heart. I think of you every day. I know that you and I only knew each other for four months before you had to leave, but when you get back, no matter how long you’re away, you and I will celebrate Christmas, New Year’s, MLK Day, Valentine’s, and any other holiday you want. (As long as they can be celebrated by just us, and preferably in bed… long stretches of bed… lots of bed.)

  I smiled and lowered the letter for a second, doing as I was asked and drawing on the image of Dex. He was the antithesis of myself, with his shoulder-length honey-gold hair, blue eyes, and pale skin with freckles that colored his cheeks and nose. He was lithe and almost willowy, but strong and oh so smart. Me, I was just the opposite in almost every way. Broad, with short-cropped black hair, brown eyes, and skin that tanned easily in the sun. But, damn, I felt his lack of presence like a missing limb sometimes. Late at night, when it was quiet except for Jameson’s incessant snoring, I could let myself almost feel that he was with me. It was one of the things that kept me sane.

  That probably wasn’t fair, but neither is the fact that you have to be away at Christmas. Life isn’t always fair, so like I said, I wanted to bring you some Christmas cheer and to let you know that someone in Milwaukee remembers you and is thinking of you, and I’m wishing you were here with me. I have a fire all built and Christmas music playing. The snow is falling in light, silent flakes, and I’ll be dreaming of you every night. Your Christmas presents have been bought, wrapped, and are under the tree. I can’t send them to you since I don’t know how they’ll reach you, but they’ll be here waiting for you, even if it’s February, April, or June until you can come home.

  Your one present to me is to come back safe and sound.

  All my love,

  Dex

  I set the letter aside and closed my eyes, thinking I could almost reach out and touch him. Dex seemed so close for a moment, but he wasn’t here, and I was spending another holiday away from the people I knew, just like I had for the last eight years. Outside, it was hot enough to fry eggs on the vehicle hoods, and yet for a few seconds, the bracing cold and covering of white back home had carried me away.

  I stood up, put the letter back in the envelope, and set it next to the other three on the board just above my bed, the carefully crafted construction-paper snowman joining a Christmas tree, an ornament, and a Santa. I stilled, looking at all four of them, and sighed for just a second. Then the door to our quarters opened and thunked closed, popping the bubble of imagination and longing. I turned away from the letters and gathered my things before heading toward the bathroom and a much-needed shower. I stepped out of my cubicle, and Henry Cavit waved from the far side, stopping me.

  “Hollister, how was your patrol?” he asked.

  “Quiet. Yours?”

  He nodded. “Long, quiet, and boring as hell. Hopefully soon we’ll have something to move on. And now after a full shift, it’s time for paperwork. You get cleaned up, and I’ll use the shower after you.” He went into his office and closed the door while I turned back toward the bathroom.

  Once again, I wondered who could be responsible for delivering the letters. At one point or another, I had eliminated each of my team members, but right now, I didn’t care who it was. All I could think of and wonder about was if there would be a next one.

  Chapter 2

  THREE MISERABLE, mind-numbing, hot-as-hell days later, with enough dirt and sand in places that should never encounter that sort of thing, I half crawled back to our team’s quarters. The power had failed the night before, and it had taken hours for Henry and Patterson to get it running again. Thankfully, the inside had cooled down. It was largely dark because all of the shades had been drawn to try to take as much load off the cooling system as possible.

  “How was it?” Jameson asked as he passed me on the way out.

  “Hot as hell, and nothing going on to pass the time. I wish these people would do something. I know it’s Christmas, and they’re acting like they’re on fucking vacation.” I was grumpy as shit, and clenched my fists, growling.

  “God, who shoved a stick up your ass and gave it a twist?” Jameson asked as I rolled my eyes, forcing a smile. “At least the day is waning, and maybe some of this
heat will go along with the sun.”

  “Let’s hope so. We could all use a break.” I clapped him on the shoulder in a show of brotherhood and solidarity, and he turned to leave but paused as the wall of heat hit him as soon as he opened the door, which he thankfully closed, cutting off the blast furnace and leaving me alone with the first cooling puffs of air surrounding me. I stood still, unable to move and desperate for relief.

  I went right to the bathroom, pulling off my clothes, which were now soaked through. Outside, the moisture wicked away quickly, but in the air-conditioning, it clung to me as my body desperately tried to cool itself. Naked, I let my skin breathe and thought of Dex and the cool Wisconsin air.

  After showering, and feeling human once more, I returned to my little cubicle and pulled on fresh clothes, dressing lightly, and turned to the bed. That was when I saw it, one of those square white envelopes, this one with a gingerbread man in red pants, white icing features, and bright candy decorations. My heart skipped a beat as I reached for it and gently opened the sealed envelope to extract the literary gold inside. I had reread the previous letters enough times that I knew each of them by heart. Setting the envelope aside so it didn’t get wrinkled, I lay on the bed and opened the single fold of the page.

  My dear Johnny,

  I’m writing this letter in bed. It’s turned cold here, as it always does this time of year, and I’ve been very busy. Mom and Dad always have their big holiday party around the time you’ll be reading this letter, and I have a lot of baking to do. Mom is a wonderful cook but a terrible baker, so it falls to me to make the Christmas cookies. This year I cut out and baked gingerbread men, and I decorated them with colored icing. There’s one on a plate on the nightstand. He’s looking over his shoulder, wearing only a little camo jacket, his bare butt underneath. He reminds me of you, and I don’t have the heart to eat it.

  I laughed as I lowered the letter, smiling like an idiot. Dex was very much a butt man, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. After letting the happiness wash over me, I lifted the letter once again.

  I baked macaroons and chocolate chip cookies. The entire house still smells like them. I also made these new potato chip cookies that Dad loved last year, and walnut kipferl, these German walnut crescents that I found a recipe for years ago and have now become a tradition at my house. I still have the pumpkin pies to make, and I was thinking of maybe a key lime pie for something different this year. I’d send you a tin of my cookies, but I’m not able to, so the best I could do is the gingerbread man on the envelope.

  The script on the letter skipped, and I noticed a round stain on the paper. I brought it closer and closed my eyes, knowing the cause of that mark and wishing I could have prevented that tear from falling.

  There is so much more that I want to be able to tell you. Sunday, after the party, the neighbors and a bunch of friends are going sledding. At least that’s the plan. The weatherman has said that we should expect a snowy December, and I’m hoping it comes true this year. A white Christmas would be so delightful, and it always makes the holiday extra special when the snow reflects and picks up the colored lights on the houses through town. It puts me in the holiday spirit in an instant.

  Okay, this is the point where I have to be honest. I’m looking forward to the holidays and my family traditions. But I have to ask that next year, maybe you and I could start our own traditions. Maybe have our own party. You can hang up all the decorations, and I can cook and bake. The house will be filled with friends, warmth, and cheer, and the best part is that you’ll be at home to celebrate with me. That’s what I want more than anything.

  I know you have a job to do and it’s important, and I love you for doing it, for being there because you’re needed, and because of your sense of duty and honor. Those were the qualities I first fell for, and I will not feel regret or wish that things were different. They are what they are, and you are doing what has to be done. Just think about next year, and maybe we can have the perfect Christmas then… together. I hope you are able to take some time on the holiday to share some cheer. I’ll be here, thinking of you, and hoping to talk to you as soon as you are able to communicate with the outside world.

  As always, be safe and come back to me, hale, whole, and with that smile that brightens my day and turns up the heat enough to melt the snow outside the house.

  Love,

  Dex

  I folded the letter and lay back on my pillow, the paper coming to rest over my heart. For eight years, I was in the Marines, and then after my discharge, I was picked up by the group I now worked for. We didn’t talk about who we were and what we did, but the government called upon us to handle dicey issues that they weren’t able to do themselves. I’d been doing this work for four years, and it was part of my life, of who I was. But six months ago, I had used my leave to return to the Midwest, and that’s where I met Dex. Most guys were scared of me—with good reason. Even I had to admit that I was about as approachable as a porcupine. It was part of the persona and the attitude required to do this job.

  Dex instantly saw right through me, and lo and behold if he didn’t call me on it and tell me to get over myself. He also said that since I had been such a dick, I was going to take him out to dinner to make up for it. Then he smiled, and there was no way I could turn him down, even after he said that I was going to need nice clothes because I was taking him to Confit. I still couldn’t believe that I went and that the little minx worked his magic on me so completely that I stayed for four months and even turned down two optional assignments in order to spend the happiest time I could remember with him.

  But this assignment wasn’t optional and I was needed. So I did what I’d always done when the tire hit the road: followed orders, bucked it up, and went with what I had to do. It was the right thing, and I was doing good, so what bothered me was how I felt like a complete shit about it. I missed him. There, I let myself think it. I missed Dex with everything I had, and with just six days until Christmas, I knew that feeling was only going to grow. Not that there was fuck all I could do about it.

  Chapter 3

  THREE DAYS until Christmas, and I was expecting another note. I had come in from patrol, where our quarry seemed to be settling in for more holiday fun than any sort of work or productive activity, which meant that the proof we needed to move just wasn’t happening. I had been hoping that we could force them to panic or that we could simply move in, take these guys out, and gather the evidence we needed afterward, but that wasn’t how this one was going to work. So I sat and thought of Dex a whole lot while I watched and did nothing. When I got back to our quarters, I went to my cubicle and checked for a note. There had been one every three days for the last two weeks, and that meant there should be one more today.

  I found myself looking forward to those notes. It was like a lifeline to my sanity and a bastion against the monotony of just waiting around all the time. Something out of the ordinary and a way to build some sort of holiday spirit, even if only in my mind and heart, was so desperately needed. Sometimes, when I was alone and it was quiet, I’d hear a few of the guys talking about their holiday plans. Three of them were flying out late tomorrow so they could be home for Christmas, but I was staying because I always stayed. Some of the others had wives and even children, and it was more important that they spend time with their families. At least it had been that way for the last eight years, and fuck me if I hadn’t fallen into old habits and kept my mouth shut when asked about holiday leave.

  It was my own fault and I knew it. Though to be fair, not that much had changed. The other men still had children and families they wanted to see, and as much as I wanted to be out of here and to get back to where Dex was… there was no use dwelling on what was done. Still, I was disappointed that there wasn’t another note.

  I dropped my gear on the floor and pulled off my boots and socks, wiggling my toes, happy to be out of the heavy footwear. I tugged off my shirt and grabbed my kit to head for the shower and a chance to cl
ean up.

  I was supposed to keep my mind in the game—that was the job—and somehow I had managed to do that all day, but now I could barely think of anything else other than a particular letter that might have gone astray. Did one of the other guys see it and decide to play a joke on me? I turned on the water and nearly scalded my ass. When I yanked the control, the water went from hot to cold in an instant. At least that helped clear my thoughts for a few seconds. God, this was stupid. It was just a letter, but I had very quickly come to rely on them as a connection to home and to Dex. Calling him right now was out of the question. Shaking my head, I tried to get the idea out of my immediate consciousness and managed to wash. I nearly slipped as I was getting out of the shower because I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. Then I shaved, dressed, and returned to my cubicle.

  There it was, just like the others, sitting on the bed, propped up by the pillow. This one was decorated with a reindeer on it with a red nose. I smiled at Rudolph, figuring I had the complete Christmas collection. I easily opened it and set the envelope with the others, which made the drab place a little festive.

  Dear Johnny,

  Today is my last day of work before Christmas, and that is going to make it even harder. I’ve decorated the house, done the baking, helped Mom and Dad, put up lights outside, and been to the tree lighting in town. I made french onion soup for the French Club party. I’m all ready for the holiday, and now I’m done with work. Everything combined means that I’m going to have more time to think of you.

  This year, everything is a distraction instead of the excitement and fun it usually is. If I can keep my mind occupied and busy with other things, then I only think of you a few hundred times a day. But now I don’t know what’s going to fill those hours, except more wishing that you were here with me.