The Honor Anthology

by Emily Snow

  Best wishes,

  Gretchen Devall

  I find myself smiling and tracing the script of her handwritten letter. This woman, who knows nothing of me, put time into writing this letter. This school, who know nothing of me or my unit, have taken the time to discuss our service members. As I pick up the contents of the box, it’s page after page of drawings or letters of thanks. Each of these individuals took time out of their day to give a small token of their appreciation.

  For the future, I serve.

  Each one of these children has a future and it is my job to secure the freedoms that they have yet to fully understand. In the age of internet, email, smartphones, and technology, this woman took the time to create a project to give her service back to a soldier.

  “It’s the little things in life, son. A letter, a call, those tangible things that your mother can hold onto.” My father said as I prepared for my first deployment. “Give your mother, your wife, when the day comes, to have your undivided attention for just the time to write an I love you or make the call so she can have the reassurance of your voice.”

  When I was younger, my father never left home without a note left on a counter or on the fridge, telling my mother and myself just how much he loved us. Even in the ease of email, I still take the time to write my mother a handwritten letter here and there. As I look to the package from this stranger, I immediately feel drawn not only to write my own mother, but to write back to Ms. Gretchen Devall and the students of Cloverville Elementary School.

  Chapter Four

  ~Gretchen~

  Slipping onto the barstool, I smile at my best friend, Dawn. “Hey girl!” The raven haired pixie of a woman yells out to me as she serves another shot to a man at the end of the bar. Coming to me, she mixes my Shirley Temple with a smirk before resting on the bar top.

  Twirling the straw in my drink, I absently look off to the back wall. “Looks like you need a real drink, Gretchen.”

  I give a half laugh and shake my head.

  “It’s been ten years. Life goes on,” Dawn says before reaching out and pressing her thumb to the yellow bow that rests on the inside of my wrist.

  Meeting her brown eyes with my own, I reply with the only thing I know to say. “Life doesn’t go on for little Raleigh.”

  “Dover is gone. Been gone. He packed up, left you, and rode off on his Harley without a look back. He found a way to move on, you should too.”

  She is right. She is also wrong. I don’t bother telling her that, though. Dover did leave. He did pack up and leave me very far behind. What he didn’t do was move on. I know Dover Ragnes as well as I know myself. He left on a journey … a journey to find out who killed his little sister.

  The afternoon I gave Dover my body was the same day we all lost a piece of our hearts. The effects of one person’s crime going unpunished is beyond measure. Days turned into weeks we spent searching for Raleigh, who never made it to Emerson’s house the night before the worst came true, when her little body was found in a culvert, cold and long dead.

  I tried to support my teenage boyfriend. I tried to remain hopeful that justice would be served. As the time went on, the only thing that changed was the year on the calendar. The more people who gave up on finding the killer, the more Dover dedicated himself to being the one to solve her case. I went on to study psychology while he got a degree in criminal justice.

  Coming home from the University of Tennessee with his paper in hand was only a means to an end. After working his way to detective, Dover Ragnes dedicated every extra minute to cold case files, most especially his sister’s. The more he worked, the more everything I was holding onto faded.

  We went from friends to lovers, to lovers to strangers. The day he pulled out and never looked back was the day I let go of what I thought would one day be my happily ever after. I couldn’t save Raleigh, I couldn’t save Dover, but I can and will give my life to being a positive support system to everyone around me.

  He couldn’t let go in his way and I can’t in my own. Raleigh was an innocent girl with a bright future ahead of her.

  I sit at the same bar I have frequented, for the three years Dawn has worked here, and sip the same non-alcoholic drink I’ve sipped for more years than I care to count. A loss like young Raleigh keeps everything in perspective for me. The day she was lost, so was any ability I had to ever be carefree again.

  No longer could I simply allow myself to get lost in the sensations of the moment because, in a moment, nothing will ever be the same again. While I gave my heart and my body to Dover Ragnes, everything was taken from not only Raleigh, but everyone who knew her. As I freely gave up my innocence – Raleigh’s was stolen. While Dover and I never gave a second thought to sending her away, a predator lurked and seized his opportunity to strike.

  When we all woke up that morning, none of us could have ever imagined how the day would end. Even for those weeks we spent searching, we had hope … until there was no hope left to be had.

  In an instant, everything can change. In an instant, nothing can ever be the same again.

  Chapter Five

  ~Gus~

  My mind drifts to what Gretchen Devall is like. To have a complete stranger think of me and go through the trouble to have these kids do all this, warms my cold blooded heart. It takes me a few days to figure out the best way to say thank you but after chatting with a few of the guys, I decide what better way to say thank you than by video call to the school.

  After getting our schedules aligned and the proper approval from the school board, the time is here to say hello to all the students and faculty that have been so kind to me. I don’t often get nervous, but I’ll admit this has me a little on edge.

  I didn’t join the Army for accolades. The gratitude of strangers is greatly appreciated but that’s not why I signed up either. I stand behind the freedoms our flag represents. I believe in the cause of helping those who can’t always help themselves.

  Having this woman, who knows nothing about me, still take the time to think of me and go beyond that to teach the students of her school about giving back to service members means more than I ever thought it would.

  In all the times I’ve been deployed, I haven’t always been single. One of the greatest things for us and our families is the ability to video chat back home. Honestly, I’ve never been this nervous for one before.

  Banner comes back, smacking me on the back of the head, as I fidget in my seat. “Loosen up, Hilliard. You act like a chick on prom night or some shit. You aren’t poppin’ your cherry.”

  “Shut the hell up, dipshit,” I call back to him. Just as I get ready to give him hell for fucking with me, the round of the app ringing gets my attention.

  Here goes nothing.

  The screen blinks, connecting the call. Vibrant blue eyes, curly blonde hair, and a smile that could make every day brighter, comes to life on the screen. I have to blow out a breath as I take in the beautiful woman in front of me. Suddenly, the desert air is dryer than usual and despite being adjusted to the heat, I’m breaking a sweat.

  “Good morning, Sergeant Hilliard.”

  “Evening Cloverville,” I reply as she raises her device high so I can see the excited children behind her.

  It looks like she’s in a classroom where they have moved chairs together to better see me. On the wall behind the kids is a homemade sign that reads, Thank you for your service, Sgt Hilliard.

  “Oh that’s right, the time difference. We are just getting started with our day. I’m Gretchen Devall, social counselor here at Cloverville Elementary. The students behind me are just a few of the students who wrote to you.” There is an ease about her that I can see would be of comfort to young children.

  Does she have children of her own? What about a husband? I don’t see a ring as she sets her device on a table top and moves back. A woman as beautiful as her must have a man at home. She settles beside a little girl with dark hair and wide eyes. Gretchen is wearing a green tight fittin
g dress that goes just below her knees and a wide belt under her ample breast making them quietly seductive. It’s a perfect blend of sexy while still being modest and professional. My mind wonders what it would feel like to roam her curves and hold her close.

  Shaking my head, I push aside the thoughts before I end up half chub in the middle of this call with children present. I seriously need to get laid. This time in the dessert is a definite dry spell in more than one way.

  “Is it hot over there?” one young boy asks. Gretchen leans over sweetly telling the boy to wait his turn.

  “Well, it isn’t too bad, but it-,” I stop myself from cussing. “It’s manageable. There’s no place like home that’s for sure.”

  “Like The Wizard of Oz,” one small girl squeals with delight.

  “I guess you could say that. Only the Army doesn’t pass out ruby slippers for us to find our way back,” I joke with the kids, feeling at ease.

  Time passes all too quickly and before I’m ready, it’s time to say goodbye.

  Funny, in my lifetime I’ve said many goodbyes, many see you laters, and far too many until I see you again. Something about the final moment with Gretchen Devall and the connection ending changes the way I feel about the closure of our session. Somehow, in this short time, a shift happens in me and I wonder about when the next time I can see her smile again.

  Chapter Six

  ~Gretchen~

  “Girl, come on, give me the goods?” Dawn says as she settles onto my couch in her fuzzy peach socks, blue pajama pants with skulls all over them and crazy pink tshirt that she painted, ‘Don’t you wish you could wake up next to me?’ on it. The back says, ‘Too bad, sucka’.

  We’re having our traditional Tuesday night in. Every week we take Tuesday night and make it our own. Dinner is always some sort of junk food; like tonight was simply s’mores. Then we paint each others nails, toes, and depending on how many weeks it’s been, we break out the bottles of hair dye.

  “There are no goods to give.”

  She laughs at me. “You tell a damn lie. Trying to keep your soldier to yourself or some shit? Come on, give me the scoop.”

  I curl my legs under me. Rather than the crazy pajamas of my dearest friend. I have on my fuzzy navy blue pajama pants with yellow rubber ducks all over them, paired with the matching yellow t-shirt and no socks.

  “He’s not my soldier. It was a video call for the kids. In fact, it was his idea as a way to thank the students. It had nothing to do with me.”

  She just laughs and then looks at me. “Come on, this video call is the most action you’ve had since Dover rode out of town with Rowdy, forming the Devil’s Due MC. It’s been years and you know damn well he’s not coming back.”

  “This has absolutely nothing to do with Dover. That is long over.” I reach out and grab a handful of popcorn on the bowl from my coffee table. “I do know he’s not coming back. Even if he did, we tried to force something that maybe started in a young way but never had the staying power we both once hoped for.”

  “Yeah, well are you gonna be an old maid or you gonna get out there and live life?”

  I sigh rather than answer.

  “Just tell me: is the soldier hot or does he wear those super ugly brown glasses they issue in boot camp and have a big, crooked nose?”

  I laugh at her. Dawn has an unsubstantiated fear of men in glasses with big noses. She dated a guy, once, who wore these square framed, thick glasses and because his nose was huge, every time they kissed she would feel the pain of his nose squishing into her. Then his glasses would slide down and he was constantly pushing them back up. It did not make for good memories as well as being a quick turn off.

  “No, he’s actually very handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, from what I could see in the small screen; he has broad shoulders.”

  “Ohhhh,” she croons, “tall, dark, and handsome. He can’t be a slob with a beer belly since the Army has standards.”

  I feel the blush heat up my cheeks. “From what I could see, he was quite attractive.”

  She gets up and goes to the kitchen, returning with two small cups of ice cream and spoons. Handing me one, she settles back in on the couch beside me.

  “So, have you emailed him personally to thank him for his time.”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “This is professional. I can’t email him personally. This is a student project after all.”

  “Bullshit. People cross the personal – professional line all the time. It’s not like it’s against some school policy.”

  “I don’t even know what to say. I lined out the program. He knows we will continue to send him monthly packages. I even went online and found a way to make cakes in a jar. With the kids art projects, letters, and a few of the teachers helping to add some food stuff, we should be able to give him some comforts of home.”

  “Well look at you, Miss Domestication. That sounds pretty personal to me.” She raises an eyebrow at me, her small nose ring sparkling under the light of the nearby lamp.

  “What the heck do you expect me to say?”

  “Thank you for your time yesterday. It was great putting a face to a name.”

  “I don’t know.” I scoop a spoonful of ice cream to keep from having to talk. It’s not five minutes later, my laptop is out and the email is sent.

  I have completely lost my mind. More than that, I just gave into peer pressure something I teach children not to do.

  As Dawn would say: that’s what friends are for … or something like that.

  Chapter Seven

  ~Gus~

  Sgt Hilliard,

  I wanted to take a moment to personally thank you for taking the time to video chat with the kids. It was truly treasured by everyone who participated. If there is anything you need or want from the States to be shipped with our next package, let me know. I’m happy to be at your service ;).

  Thank you,

  Gretchen Devall

  The email from the sexy school counselor has my heart beating faster and my dick getting hard at the thought of little Ms Gretchen Devall being at my service. Thanks to social media, it was easy to scope her out without anyone knowing I checked up on the woman. Turns out Ms Devall is single. She lives her life around her students and hanging out with her best friend, Dawn.

  My first thought, when she checked in at a bar online, was people share far too much on social media these days. As beautiful as she is, Gretchen needs to be a little more careful when alerting every sick fuck in the world of her location.

  Absently, I rub my chest trying to soothe the ache forming, thinking of the blonde bombshell. If she was mine, we would have a few serious lessons in at home protection. The first being, social media is not a safe outlet to journal day to day activities.

  Certain things on her profile make me curious. Like the posts she makes every major holiday in memory of a little girl named Raleigh Ragnes. I can’t seem to sort out the affiliation between Gretchen and the girl, but I honestly haven’t had time to devote to it either.

  I notice the email isn’t from her work email, but rather a non-descript personal one that millions of people sign up for online every day. Logging into my own personal email from my government one, I copy and paste over her email.

  Ms Devall,

  The pleasure was all mine. The students and staff of Cloverville Elementary have certainly impressed, not only me, but my entire unit as I share the art work and letters with everyone. Thank you for initiating such a wonderful project.

  What’s life like in small town Tennessee? I’ve traveled many places, but I can’t say I’ve ever spent any length of time in Tennessee.

  In your debt,

  Gus – Sergeant Hilliard is reserved for work, you can call me Gus

  I click send with the hope that it doesn’t end up in her spam folder. Laughing at myself for acting like some teenage girl with a fucking crush, I shut down the computer and decide to go for a run. The more I think of the cute blon
de with the adorable southern drawl, the more my dick gets hard. Rubbing one out has lost it’s appeal since seeing her smile. Every time I close my eyes, I immediately wonder how bright she would smile as my tongue worked her over, sending her to ecstasy. Would she drag out my name? Would she call me Gus or Sergeant?

  Yes, I definitely need to pound some ground with my feet before I suffer the worst case of blue balls since I was a teen.

  As much as I fight myself, as soon as I return back from my run, I find myself on my rack opening my laptop. I can’t believe how anxious I feel when I see my inbox has a new email. Could it be from Gretchen?

  I hover the mouse over the button. Finally, I click.

  New credit card offer – fuck, I need to get my shit together. Hopping up, I close the computer and make my way to the head to shower. Maybe a cold shower will get my mind off the gorgeous stranger who has occupied far too many of my fantasies lately.

  Refusing to give into my temptation to check my email again, I let the rest of the day pass. Just before laying down for bed, I open the laptop with no expectation. After all I’m half a world away and, given time zone differences, I doubt Gretchen has had time to read my reply. It’s not like she’s on pins and needles wondering if I’m thinking of her, anyway.

  Chapter Eight

  ~Gretchen~

  Oh my heavens, he emailed me back! I fight back my urge to squeal like a little girl. Rather than open it, I climb out of bed to start my day. There is no way I can calm my nerves enough to message him back.

  Like any modern day, shy woman, I looked him up on social media. Angus ‘Gus’ Hilliard doesn’t have much of an internet presence. His profile picture is of a turtle. He seems like one of the good ol’ boys my grandmother would have swooned over. He likes hunting, fishing, hiking, and anything outdoors. He’s in the Army but has all of his location settings to private.