21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (147 page)

“How are you sending her a letter from Santa?” She popped open her coffee and added a packet of Splenda. She’d brought grilled chicken salads, and Rebel didn’t waste time popping his own open. He didn’t really care what they ate, as long as he got to eat with her.

“Eat and I’ll tell you.” At his significant look, she stuck her tongue out at him, but picked up her fork and stole a piece of his chicken. Passing over his opened container gallantly, he waited until she had two or three bites in her before rising to go to the stacks.

“Okay, this one is from his commanding officer. Reports, mostly redacted to get the mundane feel for the language. There are even a couple of notes in here in response to reviews and to letters of commendation and the like.” He moved to the next stack. “These are letters he wrote his parents from basic through deployment.” He paused at the third and final stack. “And these are his papers from the college where he was working on a degree in psychology.”

Fork halfway to her lips, Noel looked from one stack to the next. “That’s a lot of material.”

“I need a lot. I needed to know the man, I needed to have his words, because the letter has to be from him. And this guy—Lieutenant Carol—he did most of the work already.” He picked up the paper he’d been reading when Noel came in. “He wrote an opinion piece on serving away from his family and how emotional connections kept the real world alive for him.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “You’re going to use his own words to write the letter…”

Rebel nodded. “Exactly. His words—reconstructed into one format so that Chrissy can read it to her mom. It’s the best I can do to give them the Christmas letter Chrissy wants….”

The food hit the floor and he barely braced himself in time for Noel’s hard embrace. Hugging her tight, he inhaled the sweet fragrance that was so intrinsically her. Tears soaked his shirt and he chuckled softly.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, but he only loosened his hold enough to kiss the dampness on her cheeks. “I—you are amazing. You’re going to be her Santa.”

“Want to help?”

“What do you want me to do?” Eagerness flared in her eyes and his chest tightened. That look, that moment—that was what he’d been missing—and what he’d always loved about these kinds of gifts.

“Help me pick out the right words?”

***

Noel had never done anything like what Rebel proposed, but together they found everything necessary in the lieutenant’s own words, and Rebel, it seemed, had a distinct gift for mimicking handwriting. It took them two hours and they devoured lunch while they worked, but Rebel went with her to the hospital wing and they presented the letter to Chrissy, along with a second letter from Santa to the little girl about the letter for her mom.

The man had a gift—a real gift—because the short note to Chrissy told her the truth of how the letter came to be and while
Santa
wished with all his heart to bring her Daddy home, this was the best he could do. Noel then escorted the delighted little girl to her mom and sat with her while she read the letter, and by the time Noel left the family, she’d seen real determination in Corpsman Carol’s eyes.

Chrissy’s mother had needed that lift to her spirits. Sometimes, hope was all it took for a patient to turn the corner. Despite the presence of her daughter and her sister, losing her husband and struggling with her traumatic brain injury, the woman faltered. Riding high on that success, Noel checked her watch and raced to the locker room to change. She was supposed to meet Rebel by the tree run for one last check before the big event the next day.

Christmas was four days away and while they still didn’t have a tree or any of the other decorations, Rebel was all the gift she required. His smile—

“Hey, Noel,” Kara called in greeting as she opened her own locker. “You want to grab a drink with some of us tonight? We’re heading over to a happy hour off campus.”

“I’d love to, but I have plans.” Noel stripped out of her scrub top and traded it for a USMC sweatshirt she’d pilfered from Rebel’s closet. At the rate she was going, he wouldn’t have any shirts left.
And then he’ll be naked from the waist up all the time. What a pity
.

“Someone has a hot date.” The physical therapist nodded knowingly. “I recognize the giddiness.”

“How is Derek?” She switched her scrub bottoms for jeans and shoved her stuff in the locker before grabbing a pair of Uggs to keep her feet warm.

“He’s good. We’re flying home to Atlanta to spring the news on my parents over Christmas.” Kara chuckled.

“I thought they were at your engagement party last month?” Noel tucked her work badge away and pulled out her purse. She wouldn’t really need it, but she didn’t want to have to come to the locker room before they went home.

Home
. The thought gave her pause. She already thought of his apartment as home.
No, not his apartment—him
. Blinking as that realization set in, she glanced over at Kara and her shit-eating grin.

“Oh, they were at the engagement party.” Kara slid out of her shoes and continued changing.

“So what news are you springing on them?” Noel continued to wrap her mind around the idea of how deep she’d let Rebel in—and how damn good it felt.

Kara rubbed her stomach and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh!” Jolted out of her own little drama, she hurried over to hug the other woman. “Congratulations!”

Beaming from ear to ear, Kara gave her a squeeze. “Thank you. You’re one of the first people I’ve told. But we’re at fourteen weeks so….”

“Wow. You’re gonna be a great mom.” They embraced again. “How is Derek doing?”

“Growling about absolutely everything.” Kara sounded over the moon. “I’m surprised he lets me pick up a toothbrush.”

Leaning on the locker, Noel shook her head. “He loves you.”

“Yeah.” Kara sighed and folded up her scrubs. “He does, doesn’t he?” She beamed. “By the way, your Rebel is a keeper, you know that, don’t you?”

A little uncomfortable with the switch in spotlight, Noel nodded. “I—he’s incredible.” She couldn’t really put it into words. The letter had been an act of sheer genius, but it was more than that. He’d been battling his own blues, but not once had he complained about all the Christmas activities and even after some initial reluctance, he’d thrown himself into them.

He has no idea how strong he is—or how incredibly precious
. She’d do anything for him. Anything.

“I know that look. Don’t let him get away from you. Those strong ones, they’re tough to crack—but they’re loyal as hell. I’m off to the airport early tomorrow, and we won’t be back until the new year, but Logan’s gonna keep an eye on Reb’s workouts for me.”

“Have a great trip.”

They walked out together and Kara paused for one last hug. “Hey—let me know how the
Dummies Guide for Loving a Marine
goes over with Paul’s lady.”

“Absolutely!” Noel had almost forgotten about that little gem—she had to wonder if Rebel had a hand in that, too. Master Sergeant Torres was her second or third cousin on their father’s side. She’d been surprised as hell to run into him the previous week. Funny how small the world really was sometimes.

It was dark by the time she arrived at the tree run. She frowned. The lights were off. Was she that late? Picking up the pace, she jogged to the start of the walk. Soft music filtered through the trees and something cold touched her cheek. Pausing, she glanced up at the snow drifting down through the quiet night air—and to the stars above.

Faith Hill’s voice drifted through the breeze and the first set of trees began to light up in time to the song. Noel’s mind locked up as one by one, each tree along the walk began to flicker with new color and snow continued to fall. As the last tree lit up, Rebel appeared in the multi-hued glow.

Her heart stuttered—he wore his dress blues. The lights shimmered on the polished buttons. All the air backed up in her lungs and she blinked rapidly as he approached her—her powerful, beautiful Marine.

“Rebel….”

He extended a white-gloved hand to her. “May I have this dance?”

Sliding her palm across the coolness of his gloved one, she felt positively dowdy. The lights illuminated only the softest of smiles on his face. Drawing her close, he danced with her under the snow and the stars and the Christmas trees….

Closing her eyes, she rested her head on his chest and followed his gentle sway as he squired her through the magical light show. If she could have suspended a moment forever—that would be the one she wanted to capture for all time. Only when the music faded and the lights dimmed, leaving them in perfect silence, did he stop and look down at her.

“You told Santa you wanted only one thing for Christmas.” He stroked her cheek. She recalled exactly what she’d asked. “Do you remember what it was?”

“I asked for you to find your joy again.” It seemed a silly thing at the time, but she’d seen Rebel crouch down and talk to Chrissy, his face so solemn and sober. Her chest had squeezed so tight, she’d thought it would be forever bruised. She’d offered the confession in a soft whisper, and the mall Santa had looked over at the pair and said he’d do his best.

“How am I doing so far?” he asked and the music burst through the silence—a Mariah Carey tune this time, filled with a rapid drumbeat, and the lights began to pulse away to what she wanted for Christmas.

Biting the inside of her lip, Noel looked around at his artfully constructed winter wonderland. “Shock and awe.”

Lifting her hands to his lips, he kissed her knuckles reverently. “Good. Because that’s all you’ve given me since day one, Noel Torres, and I am continuously awed by how shockingly wonderful you are. You didn’t let me surrender my joy, and even when my heart seems to be shrinking—you still make it grow three times as large. I love you, Noel.”

Dammit, she was crying again, but she met his unflinching devotion head on. “Good. Because I love you, too—so much. Seeing you smile, seeing what you do—this is the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for. It’s the best Christmas ever.”

“Not yet,” he shook his head.

“No?”

“No, ma’am. I still need to see if my Christmas wish comes true.”

Intrigued, she flattened her palms to his shoulders and stepped into the circle of his arms. “And what did you ask Santa for Christmas?”

“You.”

A snowflake landed on his cheek and the lights glittered on it for a long second—like a twinkle of Christmas magic. Noel stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “You just try to get rid of me, Marine.”

“No, ma’am, I plan to keep you for at least another eighty or ninety years.” And when his mouth closed over hers, the music segued and the lights changed and the snow continued to fall—but Noel didn’t care. She had Rebel, and it was a magical, Marine Christmas after all.

Always a Marine Book 21

By

Heather Long

~DEDICATION~

Love never dies….

Tossing three bills onto the growing stack in the center of the table, soon-to-be-retired Lieutenant Colonel Tom Baxter leaned back in his chair and stared patiently at the younger man across the table. Luke Dexter, a former captain, studied Tom, not his playing cards.

Just like his father
. Nostalgia stabbed him. Tom had known the Dexters for years, stood up with Luke’s father when he married his mother—and stood again when they’d buried her and Luke’s sister. And, one final time, when he’d been a pallbearer at the Colonel Dexter’s funeral—standing in for Luke when the captain hadn’t been able to attend.

Years of practice kept his expression neutral. Whatever tell Luke searched for in his face—he wouldn’t find it. More experienced men than he had failed in the attempt.

Tapping his cards once, Luke added another set of bills to the pot. “I’ll see your thirty, and raise you another twenty.”

“You should hold onto your money, Marine. You have a pretty new wife to feed.” Tom didn’t hesitate to add another crisp twenty to the stack. The pot currently sat at around six hundred dollars. Three other men occupied the table with them, though they’d folded one by one—it was only a matter of time before Luke did as well.

Their dealer flipped the last card for the game of Texas Hold’em; a queen of diamonds. Logan Cavanaugh let out a long, low whistle. Two queens showing meant a possible three of a kind or four of a kind for that matter, depending on who held the lucky ladies.

Barely sparing a glance at the card, Tom kept his attention on Luke. The captain maintained his cool. He had a lot of his old man in him—a lot. But Luke didn’t have his patience. “Your bid,” Tom reminded him.

“It’s kind of like watching an old West showdown,” Damon Sinclair, the resident chef and restaurant entrepreneur murmured to Cavanaugh. The two men had folded halfway through the hand.

Westwood, their headshrinker, chuckled and tapped the table. “Ante up or fold, Luke.”