by Mya O'Malley
That night, just days ago, was long gone. Her emotions were playing tricks on her — up, down, and everything in between. As she drove to the airport with Declan and his mom, it took everything she had not to break down right then and there in the car.
Mrs. Blake was chattering nervously, or so it seemed. Quite honestly, some of the things she was saying weren’t making much sense. At one point she was referencing some event from Declan’s childhood. Something about an old family dog, a German Shepard named Willy. She could understand why Declan was so worried.
“You remember how you used to bring that dog everywhere with you, Declan? To the store, even to school one day?”
They had all laughed at that comment. Declan and his mom then conversed back and forth a bit about something else. Honestly, Morgan was having a hard time following the conversation. Her mind was focused on missing him, God, how she would miss how he sounded, smelled…
“Did you remember to let him out before we left?” Mrs. Blake chirped suddenly.
That caught Morgan’s attention. Watching Declan as she drove up the ramp to the airport terminal, their gazes locked. Morgan could see the concern etched upon his face.
“Mom. Willy is no longer here. He died when I was a teenager.” His words were firm, yet gentle.
Mrs. Blake made a clucking sound and giggled softly, “Silly. Of course he did.”
The response didn’t make Morgan feel any better, and she could tell that Declan was not put at ease. She had promised Declan a hundred times that she would look after his mom. Catching his eye in the rear view mirror, she nodded to him.
They had arrived at the terminal. This was it. She wouldn’t see him home for good in at least six months, possibly more. Stepping out of the car, she was prepared to say her goodbyes here in the parking area, so that his mom wouldn’t have to walk far with her aching knees and to avoid parking fees. What was the difference, anyway? Why prolong the agony?
Tears sprang from her eyes as Declan clung to his mother and whispered something in her ear. Mrs. Blake chuckled, then cried out for him. It was heartbreaking. He gently helped his mother into the passenger seat. It was now her turn for goodbye.
How she wished for that beautiful, breezy evening on the Ferris wheel. He had helped her fear of heights that night, and God, if only he could help her now. This was going to be much harder that she had even imagined.
“Oh, Declan!” she cried out. This was wrong, she had promised herself that she wouldn’t make him feel bad or add to his heartache.
“Come here, sweetheart.” Open arms swept her in, and she pressed herself close, so close that she breathed in the smell of him, his signature aftershave. “Be brave. I love you. I already consider you to be my wife, you know.” She couldn’t bear to look at him or tear herself away. “Someone like you…”
He remembered. Softly, he sang the lyrics and kissed the top of her head, rocking along with her.
Finally he released her then swiftly pulled her in again, kissing her one last time. “Hold the fort down, huh? Please check in on Mom. I’ll call as often as I can and I’ll write.”
“Go, Declan, go, before I don’t let go.”
He let go of her and then came back for one more kiss.
“I mean it. Go. I love you more than anything, Declan Blake.” She could barely manage the words.
With a deep breath, she imprinted his image leaving, walking away, and turning back one last time to meet her gaze. Right then and there, she swore that she would never give her heart to anyone else as long as she lived.
Sucking in a deep breath, she wiped her eyes, got in the driver’s seat, and buckled her seatbelt. Glancing back in the rear view mirror, before she pulled away, she searched the crowd for Declan, but he was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LETTERS — SHE NEVER THOUGHT in this day and age that she and Declan would be writing letters to each other. Emailing, yes, but now their relationship consisted of letters and occasional phone calls. It was like they were long-distance lovers.
She had tried to make the most of a bad situation. In times when her spirits were brighter, she considered their relationship to be romantic and she cherished each letter. Other times she wondered if they were star-crossed lovers, destined to a doomed love. She was just surviving, going through the motions of her work life, waiting for the mail to arrive.
Four long months — the four months that had already passed had seemed unbearable, but she knew it would be so much longer before she would see him, hold him again.
She shouldn’t have complained, for once the letters stopped coming, she prayed for just one more. One more letter or phone call, just so that she would know he was okay. How had checking her mailbox obsessively now become part of her daily life?
Time without hearing from him spanned to several weeks. What worried her most was how Mrs. Blake’s health was deteriorating and Declan hadn’t been in contact with his mom once during this time. Declan’s mom had moved down south to an assisted living home to be near her friend, but Morgan was seriously concerned that she would need more care than the facility provided. Declan had previously shared that his deceased aunt had willed her house to his family, it was close to the nursing home. She felt sad that Mrs. Blake wasn’t independent enough to stay there on her own, even though it was currently rented. Regardless of how he felt about her, Declan would never forget about his mother.
She re-read each letter from Declan, searching for signs of unhappiness with the status of their relationship. If anything, the most current letters expressed more love than before. This made her very nervous; his silence was killing her.
It was a rare occasion when Morgan picked up the telephone and dialed the familiar number. After several rings, her mother picked up. God, she must be desperate.
“Mom,” she stated.
The pause was noticeable. “Oh. Hi, dear.”
How was this going to make her feel better? Her mom was so uptight, and she’d only met Declan a handful of times.
“Mom, I wanted to talk to someone. I’m kind of having a hard time over here.”
Elle would have been the better choice, but she’d talked this through with her friend many times over the course of the past few weeks. Besides, Elle was at a play tonight, unavailable to speak with.
“Really? What is it, dear?” Her tone was clipped, as if she had taken her mother away from something more important.
“It’s Declan, Mom. He’s… I haven’t heard from him in weeks and I’m really starting to freak out.” Morgan exclaimed. Please, don’t say anything to upset me even more, please.
“I don’t know what to say to you, honey. I mean, you knew what you were dealing with when you met him. I’m sorry you’re hurting and I hope he’s well, but really, what else can I say?”
Was she kidding? What Morgan should have done was asked to speak with her step-dad. That would have been the smart choice. Right now, she was seriously concerned that she would say something to her mother she may regret for the rest of her life. Her finger pushed the button to end the call. Her mom wouldn’t call her back; that much she could be sure of. Why she even expected anything from her mother at this point in her life was a question she asked herself countless times.
Weeks passed and there had still been no word from Declan. His silence had sparked an investigation on her part. She was determined to get answers, no matter the outcome. What could be worse than not knowing? It was the only thing she could do to save her sanity. Days had been so long and nights longer, for each night she had to lie in the bed they used to share together.
Trying to reach the base had been an exercise in futility; she was told over and over again that only family could have information regarding Sergeant Declan Blake. Explaining that she was to marry him when he returned, that she would be his wife, did no good. She would have to contact Mrs. Blake again to see if she knew what was going on. Morgan hated to upset his mom and had made light of her recent concerns regarding Declan’s
whereabouts.
That dreary gray day was etched in Morgan’s mind. She had placed a phone call to Mrs. Blake, only to be left with a series of long, cold rings. Morgan had become obsessive that morning, ringing his mother’s number non-stop until bedtime. Suddenly she couldn’t get in touch with either of them.
No word from mother or son. Morgan informed her principal that she had an emergency situation that she must attend to in Florida. Morgan had secured a flight early that afternoon, her thoughts tied up in worry and anxiety. Knowing the moment she approached Mrs. Blake’s door that something was wrong, Morgan continued knocking upon her door, incessantly, until an elderly man approached her.
“Mrs. Blake isn’t home, dear. Didn’t you know? She was taken to a nursing home. She’s not well.”
It was at the nursing home, that very same night that Morgan had been told by the nurses that attempts to reach Declan were unsuccessful. The expression on the nurse’s face confirmed her deepest fears. She could only assume that Declan had died in the line of duty.
Morgan had continued to call the Army base, but no information would be given out to her, she wasn’t family after all. Internet searches turned up nothing. And how had Mrs. Blake deteriorated so quickly? Declan’s mom didn’t even recognize her. Deciding to stay the rest of the week, each visit to Mrs. Blake was darker than the one before. Shutting the dreary place out of her mind had been the only thing to do for the sake of her own sanity.
Clouds scattered overhead, cries of gulls bringing back another time, a different memory, sitting here with Declan by her side. Morgan squeezed her jaw, fighting back the pain.
Months later, there was still no word from Declan. On the Internet, she had searched out his name relentlessly but there was no mention of Declan, no death certificates and his name couldn’t be found on any list of casualties of the war. It was as if he had simply disappeared, but that wasn’t possible and she feared the worst. He was gone and there was no closure for Morgan, as his only living relatives were his mom and some family living on the west coast, whom Declan hadn’t seen in years. Even she and Declan’s old friend, Stephen seemed to be losing touch.
She could sit on this beach and watch the water forever; it was a place Declan had cherished, a place she felt close to him. Never again would her life be the same without Declan Blake. How was she going to make it without him?
The world was quiet and without joy for Morgan. Even Morgan’s mother nagged her to speak with a therapist. She didn’t see the purpose of smiling or laughing when it was all forced. Constant thoughts of Declan plagued her day and night.
Morgan nearly jumped when her cell rang. First instincts were to let the call go to voicemail, but she knew the person calling would only persist. That’s how it had been lately; she would ignore phone calls only to find tons of messages waiting.
It was Elle, calling for the second time that day. “Hi, Elle.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for hours,” Elle exclaimed.
“I don’t know, I’m just hanging out.”
“Down by the river again?” Elle inquired.
“Yup,” Morgan responded as she moved her foot around in the sand.
“Figured as much.”
Elle’s voice sounded odd, almost as if she were hearing her close by. Morgan turned to see her friend walking toward her on the grassy path leading to the small beach.
Rising to her feet, Morgan felt tears escape. Elle was by her side, arms wrapped around her within moments. Morgan released Elle and took a small step back.
“Oh, Elle, what am I going to do?” she sobbed.
“You’re going to live, dammit. Declan would want you to be happy.”
“How? How can I forget about him, just move on?” It wasn’t possible, she had tried, and it just wasn’t working. Even when she was at work, she was just going through the motions; she did her job, but her heart wasn’t the same.
“I think it’s time for you to see someone to talk about all of this. You’ve waited long enough.”
She was right and so was her mother, believe it or not. “I will, Elle. I will because I don’t know what else to do.”
“Morgan, you’re the strongest person I know. You have so much happiness and love to share. I have full confidence in you. You’re going to make it and come out stronger in the end.” Elle spoke through her own tears.
“Thanks, Elle. I love you.” Morgan felt better knowing there was someone on her side rooting for her.
CHAPTER NINE
Three Years Later
THE TURBULENT NIGHT SKY seemed to call to her, beckon her back to another time. The bleak cold and darkness was taunting her to succumb to her worst nightmare. As always, the variation of the recurring dream came crashing back, an unwelcome intruder, shoving her face hard into the past. The facts were never quite accurate, timelines confused and hazy, but the dreams were tangible and vivid.
Morgan gasped for air. His face came first, that boyish, unforgettable handsome face. The country had mourned together after September 11th; fallen heroes were in everyone’s hearts. It was unfathomable to think that years later, America was still fighting terrorists who threatened the American way of life.
Damn him, he should have stayed right by her side. But, of course, it was just like Declan to fight for what was right. He would have given the shirt off his back for anyone who needed it.
He was telling her that he loved her, that once he got back from Afghanistan, they would be together forever. Declan got down on one knee and looked up at her with love and affection.
“Will you marry me?” He pulled a tiny, black velvet box out of his shirt pocket. The princess cut diamond was brilliant, catching the light of the fire crackling in the cozy fireplace. She fell in love with him all over again at that exact moment. Raw emotions overtook her mind as she squealed, jumping into his arms.
“Yes, a million times, yes! I will marry you, Declan!”
“Get over here.” He leaned in closer and placed his lips on hers softly, gently at first. She was eager to return the kiss; the intensity was heating up, a fire fueling inside her.
Suddenly the room burst into flames as a loud, crashing boom took him out of her arms, a burst of air throwing her across the room. Silent screams came from her mouth, filling her over and over again until she thought her head would explode. There was now nothing but the crumbled ruins of the restaurant around her, the smell of smoke thick in the air. Declan was nowhere in sight, and she was left alone, silently screaming.
Morgan woke with a start, sitting up suddenly, a stream of sweat pouring down her chest, tears stinging her eyes. Her breaths were ragged, coming quickly. She inhaled deeply and felt her heart slamming into her chest. She practiced deep, controlled breathing just as her therapist had taught her, until the hammering in her chest slowed down. Another dream, or should she say nightmare? It had been years and the thoughts still haunted her every single day.
“Morgan. What is it?” Mike leaned over, placing an arm across Morgan’s lap. She looked at him and shook her head to clear her thoughts.
“It’s nothing, just a dream.” Her breathing had settled now, she could compose herself a bit. Lowering herself down to her pillow, she rubbed her hand up and down Mike’s arm. He looked at her, his eyes squinting, suspicious.
“Is it the one about Declan again?” He spoke quietly.
“No, no, nothing like that. I just…”
Mike had seen Morgan through one too many of these nightmares, and she knew his patience was wearing thin. Mike felt Declan was like a ghost hovering over their relationship, out of sight, but just close enough to cause harm. Morgan sensed that Mike could read her most intimate thoughts, that maybe she wasn’t over the memory of Declan; perhaps she would never be able to let go. If only he knew.
Mike exhaled deeply as he placed a kiss on Morgan’s wrist and cuddled against her. “Go back to sleep.”
“Sorry for waking you.”
Mike molde
d himself against Morgan’s back, spooning her. But her mind wasn’t anywhere close to shutting down. She waited until Mike’s breathing slowed down, waited for that gentle snore, until she was sure he was sleeping. Quietly, Morgan crept her way out of the bed that she shared with Mike and headed for the basement. Why did she feel so guilty whenever she did this? And why did she find herself doing this more often lately?
With the stealth of a feline, she made her way down the stairs, toward her desk in the corner of the dark basement, and opened the bottom left side drawer. Stealing a glance behind her, she was relieved to find that she was still alone.
Flicking on the tiny desktop lamp, Morgan dared to release a breath. In the very back of the metal drawer, almost out of reach, was the small, black box. After opening it cautiously, Morgan fingered the shining engagement ring. The ring was still so sparkly and beautiful after all these years, still so vibrant, full of life. It still maintained the power to bring tears to her eyes. As a lone tear slid down Morgan’s face, she snapped the box shut, staring silently ahead, lost in deep thought.
Hearing the sound of a shuffle across the room, Morgan caught her breath and spun on her heels. There was nobody there; it was just her imagination spooking her, playing tricks on her in the cold, lonely night.
“Charlie! It’s Anna’s turn. Let her have the swing now.”
Shaking her head, the wind blew stronger as Morgan moved her long, dark hair out of her eyes. Turning to Elle, she pulled her scarf closer to her neck.
“We should probably head inside in a few minutes, the wind is kicking up.”
“I guess you’re right, although I hate the fact that we’ve all been trapped inside for the last couple of months.” Elle spotted Charlie who was acting up again, grabbing Anna, trying to pull her from the swing. Morgan stepped forward as Elle ran ahead.
“I got this.” Elle raced to the swings.