by Emily Snow
Aiden stares over at me, not moving a muscle; apparently not even breathing. He looks to be holding his breath as he waits for me to say something. It’s not lost on me that we’re both laying here in this place. Here, at the pond between his house and mine, where we would come together as friends and lovers in our youth, is where he’s asking me to spend the rest of my life with him.
My heart threatens to explode from my chest as I take in the man I love more than life itself. His hair is wild as it dries in the night air. A day’s worth of dark stubble dusts his firm jaw. His neck works overtime to swallow. But it’s his eyes where I see everything I need to know. I see his love and adoration for me. I see his trust and his excitement. I see my future.
So I give him the only answer I can. “Yes.”
Aiden lets out a loud whoop as he sits up, pulling me with him. On my knees across from him, he slides the most beautiful diamond onto my ring finger. It’s a perfect fit: just like him.
“I love you so much, Rainbow,” he chokes out before leaning forward and pulls my lips towards his. His tongue savors and tastes me as we seal our declaration in a heated kiss.
“I love you, too.” Four little words that represent everything I am and everything I feel for this man. Because he is my everything. My reason for living. My life.
Chuckling against my lips, I pull back and look bemused at my fiancé. “What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Your brother. You know, after I told him I was going to marry you someday, he said something that always stuck with me. After he punched me and I went home, we got together right here later that night to skip rocks. Even when we fought, neither of us ever stayed mad for very long. Anyway, he said to me that it’d be cool if I married you.” Aiden’s eyes cloud with unshed tears. “He told me I was already his brother, but that if we got married, it would make it official.”
Even though I smile at his memory, tears fill my eyes. “He loved you. You were his brother in every way that mattered.”
“The last time I saw him, he told me to get off my ass and go to you. He told me that, as my brother, he had the right to kick my ass for being stupid. Even when I didn’t want to listen to him, he always swore we’d be right here someday. He always said that I’d officially be his brother someday.”
“And I’m willing to bet he’s toasting right now as he looks down on us.”
“He’s probably trying to figure out how to collect that fifty bucks I now owe him.”
Laughter fills the night as Aiden and I hold each other, absorbed in the memories of Marcus and how we came to be in this moment. We went from best friends and young lovers to nothing at all but a memory. Then, tragedy struck. Losing Marcus was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. But somehow, he managed to bring Aiden and me back together again.
And for that I will be forever indebted to my big, overprotective big brother.
A wise woman once said, sometimes love is right where you left it.
And, for me, my love is here. He’s wrapped in my arms, showering me with eternal love.
He’s the place I call home.
**THE END**
About the Author
Lacey Black is a Midwestern girl with a passion for reading, writing, and shopping. She carries her e-reader with her everywhere she goes so she never misses an opportunity to read a few pages. Always looking for a happily ever after, Lacey is passionate about contemporary romance novels and enjoys it further when you mix in a little suspense. She resides in a small town in Illinois with her husband, two children, and a chocolate lab. Lacey loves watching NASCAR races, shooting guns, and should only consume one mixed drink because she’s a lightweight.
Her Rivers Edge series is a bestseller, including #2 and #3 in Free e-books and Contemporary Romance, respectively. The first e-book Trust Me, is free on all retailers.
Email: [email protected]
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Serving My Soldier
Written By
USA Today Bestselling Author
Chelsea Camaron
Copyright 2016 Chelsea Camaron
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Chelsea Camaron, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Thank you for downloading/purchasing this ebook. This ebook and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download/purchase their own copy. Thank you for your support.
This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. Involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are adults over the age of 18.
All characters are fictional. Any similarities are purely coincidental.
For God and Country, Angus Hilliard serves in the United States Army 82nd Airborne. As a third generation soldier, his life is his career. He allows himself no distractions, no entanglements, and no emotions.
Elementary school counselor, Gretchen Devall wants nothing more than to be a positive impact in young children’s lives around her. She allows herself no attachments beyond the kids she serves.
A program sending cards to soldiers for her school aligns their worlds. What happens when her time to serve the soldier is up? Can their connection become more than a classroom project?
A heartfelt story of two strangers supporting each other from afar coming together to build something real.
Chapter One
~Gus~
Standing on the front porch of my parent’s home, the flapping of the two flags in the wind catches my attention. Proudly, I look to the black and white POW/MIA fabric.
“I fly the POW/MIA flag to never forget,” I hear my father’s words in my mind. “I fly the black and white to remember a time before there was an internet.” He always looks to the sky before he finishes the story of his love for the flag and our country. “When I was a boy, my father was a soldier who didn’t make it back.” Like the many other times, we have shared the flag, he looks to the old red, white, and blue. “For God and Country, we serve.” He salutes before giving his mind time to think on the loss of his own father.
Fayetteville, North Carolina, home sweet home. Coming back to the city right outside of Fort Bragg where my dad retired and we settled, I inhale the scent of the pine trees as I let myself calm.
Currently, it’s also my duty station with the 82nd Airborne. My time on leave isn’t for R&R. I was called home from training to attend the services of my father. Retired Army First Sergeant Angus Alvin Hilliard II is being laid to rest with full military honors tomorrow at fourteen hundred. When my bereavement is done, I’ll return to my unit to finish our term in the sandbox.
My father, my hero; now he is gone. I look to the American flag flying proudly off our porch. I come to attention before I raise my hand to salute. “For God and Country, we serve,” I say to the air around me.
I will serve with honor, integrity, courage, and commitment. I will give my all to protect the freedoms our forefathers came here to have. I will put my needs, wants, and life behind my duty to serve, protect, and uphold the values of the United States of America.
I am Army Sergeant, Angus Alvin Hilliard III, an American Soldier in the 82nd Airborne. I will carry out my orders without delay or deviation. Tomorrow, I will lay to rest the man who gave his all to our great nation. Once I know my
mother will be okay, I will make my way back to my unit and prepare to deploy again.
I don’t remember a time in my life where I ever wanted to be anything but a soldier. From the days of GI Joes, to joining ROTC in highschool, the Army has been my life. From the time I could sit still long enough to listen, my Mawmaw and Dad told me story after story of my PawPaw, who proudly served our great nation and never made it back from Vietnam.
Going inside my childhood home, I make my way silently to my bedroom. The Go ARMY poster on my wall has been there since my teenage years; it still makes me smile. Living the Army life, we moved around, but once Dad hit his twenty-year mark, Mom told him they were staying at his last duty station. I was in high school and she didn’t want me to have to change schools once again. Being the smart woman she is, there is also the fact that being near a post, she maintains access to the medical benefits military service provides. I move to the closet and take out the garment bag housing my freshly laundered dress uniform. Unzipping it, I run my fingers over my service ribbons.
Pushing back my emotions, I clench my jaw tightly as I think of handing over my father’s service uniform for his final dressing inside the all wooden casket. All I have ever wanted is to be a man he could be proud of. As I think to the future ahead, I think of the things he will never share with me.
My life has been my career. My father won’t get to see his grandchildren play in the backyard … just like my grandfather never saw me. A name passed on, a legacy of servicemen and a life ended all too soon. I haven’t allowed myself anything outside of serving my country.
I think of my parents who were together for thirty-five years and married for thirty-one of them. I don’t know that I see myself having that. At thirty-two, I haven’t found a woman who could handle the life of a soldier’s wife. It’s hard to spend more time apart than you actually can spend together. I know of only a few relationships that can withstand that kind of separation.
My parents being one of them.
I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to have what they have shared. As I think of the flag draped over my father’s casket, I think of my future. I am married to the flag, until my death due us part.
For God and country, I serve and will continue to serve. Until my days come to an end I will give my all to protect my homeland as my father and my father’s father did before me.
Chapter Two
~Gretchen~
“Good morning, Mr. Laurence,” I greet the janitor as I make my way into my office. The old man smiles and simply nods his head. He’s never one to talk much, but he’s never one to complain either. He does what he’s paid to do and doesn’t bother anyone.
As I step inside, I look to the frames hanging on the walls. The many pictures of the students who have come and gone, each leaving some impact on my life. I don’t make it to my oversized chair behind my desk before I hear a knock to the side of my open door.
Turning, I smile softly at the school secretary and the young girl behind her. “Miss Devall, we have a new student. This is Kimberly Brink.”
The dark haired girl keeps her head down to avoid eye contact as she twists her hands nervously. Stepping over to her, I reach out and give her hand a squeeze stopping the movements. With a soft smile of understanding, our school secretary, Ms. Hamm, leaves me with the young lady.
“Welcome to Cloverville Elementary, home of the Cougars!” I say enthusiastically.
She takes a seat in the chair across from my desk as I round the corner and find my way to my chair. When I look up, iris eyes meet my stare and for a moment I’m taken back.
“Dover,” Raleigh whines at the bedroom door. “I wanna go to Emerson’s.”
“Not now,” he barks back at his little sister. “Gretchen is here. I’ll take you later.”
“Hi, Gretchen.” I hear her soft voice come through the closed door. Before I can reply, Dover’s lips are back on mine. “I really wanna go see Emerson. You think you could take me?” My boyfriend’s little sister asks, taking me out of the moment with Dover.
With a laugh, I push him off and go to the door. When I open it, her iris eyes meet mine with a glimmer of hope.
Dover is quickly at my back, frustration is laced in his voice as he dismisses her. “Go on, Raleigh. Take your bike and be home before dinner.”
With a tug, I’m pulled back, the door is shut and we are on his bed again. If only I would have known that was the last time any of us would see little Raleigh Ragnes again.
I fight back my own tears as her eyes glisten with her unshed ones. “Hi,” Kimberly whispers and I have to stay focused on my job and not my past.
“Let me get my computer up and running. We can see what we can do for you today, Miss Kimberly.” I sit back and get started planning a schedule for our newest student.
“My dad is in the Army, he’s deployed. Momma moved us back here to be closer to family,” she starts to ramble, as a tear falls from her eyes. “I think we aren’t going back home even when my daddy comes back. Momma says she can’t handle the Army life anymore.”
Reaching to the corner of my desk, I pull out a tissue for the young girl and hand it to her. I wish I had words to take away her insecurity. I wish I had a resolution to all that troubles her young mind and heart. Being in rural Tennessee, we aren’t close to a military base. Most of the students I see have been here since Kindergarten. Everyone knows everyone in a small town. I wish I could pair her up with a student who has been through something similar, but off the top of my head no one comes to mind in her grade.
Just like when little Raleigh never made it home from her friends, I wish with every wish that will never come true that children didn’t have to feel the hurts and devastations they do. After going over her transfer information, I give young Kimberly a tour of our school and show her to Mrs. McCartney’s fifth grade class.
The more I let myself think of the iris eyes of little Miss Brink, the more I want to do something school wide to support our troops and the students we do have who face exactly what Kimberly is facing herself.
How many families deal with the unknown of a parent’s return? How many families are torn apart permanently as the separation becomes too much? How many troops wonder if anyone is home thinking of them?
The more my heart worries over these people and their situations, the more I feel the challenge to do something, anything to leave an impact even if it is only for one person.
Once getting the approval of Mr. Ryan, our principal, it was all about setting up sign ups for our school’s new letter to a soldier program. With a new excitement to help make someone’s world a little brighter, I finish my day.
I may have been helpless to save Raleigh Ragnes, all those years ago, but I’m not helpless to give a little hope to those people serving our country overseas and the kids who miss them.
Chapter Three
~Gus~
“Banner, did your mom tell the neighborhood to send something this time?” I ask as I look at the box on my rack.
“Nah, man. She said we wouldn’t get another package for three weeks.” My bunkmate replies as I begin to eye the box suspiciously. “Don’t know what you got this time, Hilliard, but it didn’t come from Texas.”
Cloverville, Tennessee. I read the postmark. I don’t know anyone in Tennessee. My mom sends boxes but hers would be from North Carolina, not Tennessee.
Leaving the box in its place, I quickly sit down and remove my boots. Tucking them to the end of my rack so that I’m still at the ready, I begin to let my mind unwind. The thing about any deployment is being always ‘at the ready’. Boots never far away, don’t sleep naked, and always keep your weapon close. As I look down at the desert shade of my boots, I think back to learning to polish my original black combat boots. I think to my father and grandfather who served for so many years. Day in and day out, lacing and tying their boots much like mine today.
Out of the corner of my eye I find myself drawn back to the mystery box beside me.
Sitting back on my rack, I grab the box and inspect it once more. Return address to: Gretchen Devall, School Counselor, Cloverville Elementary School.
I certainly don’t remember a woman named Gretchen, nor have I ever attended or participated in anything involving an elementary school in Tennessee. Pulling my pocket knife from my pants, I open the blade and then cut the tape to the packaging.
Inside I find a stack of pages ranging from colorful scribblings to more defined letters all done in school age writing. At the very bottom, I find an envelope addressed to me. The elegant script shows the handwriting of a young woman and I can’t help but smile as my curiosity grows.
Dear Sergeant Hilliard,
My name is Gretchen Devall. I am a counselor at Cloverville Elementary. We have started a new program here called ‘Serving Our Soldiers Overseas’, nicknamed SoSo. Here at Cloverville, we strive to push our students to excellence and not accept getting by and being simply so-so. Instead of being mediocre, we are changing the view of So-So into service. After reaching out to the key wives of your unit we were given a list of names and through a random drawing – meaning our student, Miss Kimberly, drew a name out of a hat – we selected you as our first soldier to serve.
If you do not wish to participate, I understand completely and send you my sincerest apologies for inconveniencing you. I know that time is important and that you are away from your loved ones, as well as the comforts of home so we hope that we can send some warm wishes and let you know that there are people big and small thinking of you.
Thank you for your sacrifices for our country, in the name of service. If you do not wish to be the soldier in which we serve back, please let me know and we will find someone else. If not, do nothing and each month of your current tour, we will send you a package from different students in grade levels Kindergarten through fifth grade.