Coach Maddie and the Marine (13 page)

Love,

Mama

He’d already disappointed Maddie, and now he was going to disappoint his parents, too.

He took the ring box and shoved it to the back of his sock drawer. He couldn’t bear to open the velvet box, mostly because he knew he’d spend days imagining the diamond on her hand.

But he couldn’t imagine putting a ring on anyone else’s finger either.

Chapter Thirteen

The only thing David wanted was a stiff drink, one so strong he forgot everything but the burn.

The desert, the death, the loss. Frank. Maddie. Everything. He needed a release from the grief, the worry, the heartbreak. It was all just too much.

He craved the warm, mind-numbing relief that only alcohol could bring.

He strode into the Officers’ Club and grabbed a seat at the end of the bar. The bar was empty except for a group of officers sitting in a corner booth. They were young, loud. Probably just out of training.

They had no idea what they’d signed up for. Poor bastards.

“Jack Daniels. Double. Straight up,” he told the bartender.

The man nodded. “Rough day?”

“Rough decade.”

When the bartender slid the drink to him, he took a huge sip and delighted in the fire sliding down his throat and into his stomach. For the first time all day, he took a deep breath and waited for the whiskey to blur the edges.

He was almost to the bottom of the glass and he still couldn’t get her off his mind. The way her eyes shifted from dark green to light green. The way her hair was curlier after it rained.

How could she ever love a man who got an award for watching her husband die?

How could he ever love her?

How could he not love her?

The same questions rolled over and over in his mind and he was no closer to a solution. Running hadn’t helped. Making sure Frank got the same commendation hadn’t helped. The whiskey was a bust, too. Maybe he just needed more of it.

“One more,” he said to the bartender.

“I hope you’re walking,” the man said with his fingers around the whiskey glass.

He nodded. “No choice.”

“Want a cab?”

“Nah,” he answered, shaking his head. “The walk might do me good.”

There was understanding in the bartender’s eyes. “Gotcha. One more on the way.”

His boss, General Rodgers, chose the worst possible time to walk in and claim the seat next to him. “Sure you need another one, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

“Give me a Glenfiddich on the rocks,” the general told the bartender.

When both drinks arrived, the men sipped them in silence for several minutes.

“Is this drunk about the Bronze Star I pinned on your uniform?” General Rodgers asked.

He nodded. “In a way.”

“You earned it, Sterling.”

“No, sir. I didn’t. The Corps gave me that medal for failure. A man lost his life and I was his commanding officer. I should’ve been able to prevent that.”

The general shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. You did everything by the book. You were the model commanding officer.”

“A model commanding officer would’ve saved Frank.”

The general took a big swig of his scotch. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s ever lost a man in war? Do you think Westerfield was the only casualty?”

“No, but he was my responsibility.”

“He knew the risks when he enlisted. So did you. It could’ve been you instead of him.”

He had never thought of it that way, but it could have just as easily been him. “But it wasn’t.”

“No, it wasn’t. But if you had been the one who died instead of Westerfield, would you want him to live the rest of his life mired in guilt?”

The whiskey was starting to work on his brain. Everything looked fuzzy, but even through the haze, he saw that the general might have a point.

“You can’t live your life in the past, Sterling. You’ll be my age with a metric ton of regret and resentment. I’m sorry Westerfield lost his life. I’d change it if I could. But in the Marine Corps, we’re in the war business. It’s an unfortunate fact of life. His loss would be a bigger tragedy if you choose not to live your life, too. What would he give for the opportunities you have in front of you?”

What would Frank give?

Despite the alcohol, he had a moment of clarity. Frank would give anything he could beg, borrow, or steal to have the choices, the chance at love, the chance to have a family.

Three whiskeys. The world was blurry, soft, like the edges had been smeared, but he had to get to Maddie. He finished his glass, paid, and tipped the bartender with a twenty. “Thanks.” He turned to the general. “Thank you, sir. That was just what I needed to hear. You’ve helped me more than I can ever tell you.”

General Rodgers smiled. “I’m happy to hear that, Lieutenant. Can I drive you home?”

“No, sir. The walk will do me good.”

When he passed his car, he gave the door handle a rattle to make sure it was locked and headed toward the main gate.

He was halfway to her house when he decided to turn around. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and leaned against a rock wall.

He was in no condition to see Maddie. He was loaded. He needed to walk it off, rethink things. Make sure the general really did have a point when the liquor haze wore off.

But even the impressive amount of whiskey coursing through his veins wasn’t enough to convince him to double back and walk the other route.

The night was cold with a hint of winter in the air. He walked briskly, determined not to look at her house as he passed. He even crossed over to the other side of the street, focused on the sidewalk, the ground.

The November night was clearing his head, the buzz fading quickly. His thoughts became sharper, and he realized Frank’s death was a terrible tragedy but it didn’t mean that he needed to suffer every single day of his life. It didn’t mean he should refuse happiness, love. Belonging.

He knew Frank well enough to know that he’d tell him to grab ahold of life, live big, enjoy every moment. Tunnel vision. It had always been one of his flaws. He’d had it with Robert’s death, and then again with Frank’s.

He loved Maddie. He needed her.

What kind of a fool would let the perfect woman walk out of his life just because he couldn’t see past his own baggage?

The porch light went on. At first he thought the alcohol was playing tricks on his brain but one glance across the street and he realized the light was real.

She stood on the porch, bundled up in a ratty-looking robe.

She was so beautiful that he stopped breathing for a minute.

He ducked into the shadow of a tree, hoped she didn’t see him.

He watched her. Watched the way she moved, the way she sat on the front step with a slump in her shoulders.

Noticed her hair was straighter than normal.

Maybe he hadn’t blown it. Maybe there was still time.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, David was up at daylight. He felt better than he had in months. Years. He was finally beginning his new life. After a short run and a cup of coffee, he hopped in the shower.

Thirty minutes later, he was clean, freshly shaven, and crisply dressed in khaki pants and a blue button-down.

The ring.

He stuck his arm all the way to the back of his sock drawer and breathed a sigh of relief when his hand closed around the crushed velvet box. He said a silent prayer that she would say yes.

If she didn’t, he’d just have to convince her.

He parked in front of Helen’s Florist on South Main. He walked into the store, handed Helen a wad of cash and begged her to give him the most incredible flowers a hundred dollars could buy. He left the store a few minutes later, his arms laden with a mixture of carnations, roses, daisies, tulips and a lot of other flowers he couldn’t name.

The next stop was the candy shop. He pulled out his credit card and bought two pounds of their best chocolates. He left the candy shop with two large gold boxes filled with a mixture of chocolates. He put them in the backseat beside the flowers and rushed to the grocery store.

“Do you have any balloons?” he asked a teenager stocking produce.

“Yes, sir, back right-hand corner of the store.” The kid pointed.

He rushed through the store; other shoppers quickly moved their carts aside to allow him room to pass.

He was obviously a man on a mission.

When he reached the counter, he said, “Two dozen purple balloons and throw in five or six of those foil ones. Do you have one that says ‘I love you’ or something?”

The bored eyes of a teenage girl met his. “When do you want them?”

“When? Now.”

“It’ll take me a while to blow all those up. At least,” she checked the large clock mounted on the wall behind her, “thirty minutes or so. And I go on break in fifteen minutes. You want to pick them up tomorrow?”

“No,” he said, harsher than he intended. “I want them now. Right now.”

She stared back at him, not giving an inch. Her eyeliner was coal black and ended in a strange flourish near her temples. And he couldn’t put a name to the color of her hair—somewhere between jack-o-lantern and raging inferno.

“Look,” he said, plastering what he hoped was his most charming smile on his face, “a few weeks ago, I skipped out on my girlfriend. It was a really shitty thing to do and now I realize that I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I’m guessing she’s about twenty degrees past pissed, and I really want her to forgive me, so I thought some balloons might do the trick. So, you see, it’s very important that I get them right now.”

“So what you’re saying is,” she blew a round, pink bubble with her gum, “you totally screwed her over and now you’re going to go crawling back and beg forgiveness and you need my help. Is that right?”

“Look,” he squinted to read the name tag on the green smock she wore, “I’m begging you, blow up as many as you can in the thirteen minutes before your break and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Are you going to shit on her again after you talk her into marrying you?” Amy asked.

“No. I’m not going to… Please, I’m begging you, blow up a couple of damn balloons and I’ll give you an extra twenty.” Bribery was his last hope.

“Whatever.”

She dug under the counter and found a handful of lilac balloons, then blew them up using the helium canister to her right. She tied each one with a long ribbon and handed them, one by one, to him. When she got to twelve balloons, she looked at the clock.

“Lunchtime,” she said, holding out her hand.

He dug into his pocket, and after scrounging around for several seconds, he found nineteen dollars and twelve cents. He handed it to Amy
.

“Oh, so now you’re a cheap bastard that doesn’t keep his promises. Sheesh,” she said as she stomped toward the back of the store, presumably in the direction of the time clock.

He struggled to the front cashier, paid for his balloons and walked to the car. He shoved them into the backseat and breathed a sigh of relief.

All he lacked now was a brass band.

He pulled the ring box from his front pocket and opened it. He held it up to the sunlight, letting the diamond catch the light and send out a rainbow of colors. It was beautiful. Set in white gold, a huge emerald cut diamond glittered in between several smaller baguettes. It was going to look gorgeous on her finger.

The balloons made it hard to see out the back window of his sedan. People were honking and waving as they passed him. They probably thought he was on the way to a kid’s birthday party. The smell of all those flowers filled the car. He was like a mobile gift shop.

Her car was parked in the driveway. His heart began to pound; his palms sweated. He was nervous.

He took a deep breath, wiped his hands on a handkerchief and vowed to make the moment perfect, something they could tell their kids about someday.

And he’d thought being a full-time martyr was a hard gig.

“Come on in,” Maddie yelled when she heard the doorbell chime. “I’m getting dressed. I’ll be there in just a second.”

Maybe this was going to be easier than he thought. He smiled to himself. A second chance at that body of hers sounded terrific.

He turned the knob and stepped into the living room. He tied the balloons to the arm of a chair, placed the flowers on the coffee table and carefully arranged the two boxes of chocolates beside them. He took a deep breath and fingered the outline of the velvet box in his pocket.

She stepped into the living room, her hair still wrapped in a towel from the shower. He stepped toward her. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she shouted, her face turning redder and redder by the second. “Get out.”

She grabbed his arm and shoved him toward the front door.

“Please, calm down. You told me to come inside.”

“In the first place, I thought you were Callie. In the second place, what makes you think you can just disappear for weeks, even months, without so much as a phone call and then just waltz back in here with all this stuff,” she gestured toward the coffee table, “and convince me to forgive you? Forget it. Now get out.”

“I can explain.”

“Lieutenant Sterling,” she spat, “I am going to tell you one last time: Get the
hell
out of my house.”

She opened the front door and gestured to him.

“Just let me say one thing,” he said, stopping near the door, “I know you’re angry. But I am a man of my word. I told you the night we made love that I wanted to marry you. That was the truth then and that’s the truth now. I have the ring right here.”

He pulled the velvet box out of his pocket and held it out. She stared at it but made no move to touch it. Her eyes burned with pure anger.

He raised his hands in surrender. She was in no mood to work things out. “I’m going to go. But if you ever change your mind, all you have to do is call.”

He walked to the door. She stood, still as a statue, holding the doorknob.

“One more thing.” He turned to face her. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Don’t think I’m surrendering. I’m just retreating until the dust clears.”

She slammed the front door.

...

“Can you believe he had the nerve to just show up here with all this stuff and expect that I would not only forgive him, but agree to marry him?” Maddie asked Callie as they drove to the theater.

“I think he really loves you. Why won’t you just hear him out?”

“Because he’ll just hurt me again. I can’t gamble with my heart like that. It’s too hard.”

Callie pulled the car into a parking space and turned to face her sister. She took her sister’s hand in her own and squeezed it gently.

“Love is always, always worth the gamble. Sure, you might lose sometimes, but it’s still the most wonderful thing in the world. If I had the chance to be with Rex again, even after all these years and all the water under the bridge, I’d take that chance in a skinny minute. No doubt about it. I would give everything I own just to feel like that again, even if it was only for a little while. “Love doesn’t come around too often. You’d better grab it while you can or you’ll always regret it. Trust me. I know what it’s like to be separated from the love of your life.”

“But he hurt me, Callie. He really hurt me.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Let him tell you his side of the story. If you’re still mad at him and you don’t ever want to see him again, no one would blame you. But don’t let the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time pass you by just because you’re being stubborn.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “And for the record, I’m not being stubborn, just realistic.”

“You promise me you’ll think about it?”

She nodded.

“Good enough. Now I want some Junior Mints.”

...

David drove slowly back to the empty apartment. He was crushed. He’d had no idea she would react to him like she did. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. After all, he had disappeared off the face of the earth for weeks without so much as a call. He should’ve planned it better.

She might be mad now, but he was determined to find a way to win her back. She was the girl for him and he refused to give up.

He parked in front of Jerry’s Bakery. He needed some high-test caffeine in the worst way. He locked the car and walked inside the shop.

“David,” Jerry called from the counter, “it’s great to see you. You haven’t been here in a while.” He stuck his hand across the counter.

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty busy at work.” It sounded empty and he was sure the older man heard the lie in his voice. “Just let me have the usual.”

“Let me see if I remember how to fix it,” Jerry joked. “Take a seat. This one’s on the house.”

He selected a table near the back of the shop. He sat down and Jerry brought him a triple espresso in a white mug.

“You looked like you might need a triple instead of a double.”

“Am I that easy to read?” he asked, taking a sip of the hot liquid and giving up on the idea of flying under the radar.

“Not usually. But you look like something the cat dragged in today. Are you okay?”

“After weeks of having my head up my ass, I finally woke up and decided to propose to my dream girl, but she just kicked me out of her house. Even though I came armed with flowers, chocolates, and balloons.”

“Who were you going to propose to?”

“Maddie Westerfield.”

“Ah, I figured. She told me the two of you were seeing each other.”

“Everything was perfect until the Corps wanted to give me the Bronze Star. It messed with my head. A lot.” He ran his hand through his short hair. “I was such a jackass.”

The older man nodded. “Yep. You’d better take a few days and figure out how to fix this. It’s going to have to be more than just candy and flowers. It’s going to have to mean something. To her.”

He turned the mug up and gulped the remaining espresso. He slammed the cup on the table and rose.

“Thanks for the cup, Jerry. Now I have to go straighten out this mess.” The bell on the door jangled cheerily when he hit it on the way out the door.