Soldier On (14 page)

February 1
.

Today’s date hits me like a ton of bricks. One minute, I’m rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, and the next, I’m sitting in the tub, letting the roar of the water disguise my quiet sobs.

Today is the anniversary of my dad’s death.

Mom even mentioned it last week when she called, but we had talked about it in the abstract, like “your dad’s anniversary is coming up.” It didn’t even dawn on me that it was this weekend. My life really is just too crazy with school and work.

And Brandon.

After drying my hair, I head to my bedroom to finish getting dressed. I look in the mirror and slip my dad’s dog tags over my head, but I don’t hide them beneath my shirt. Not today. On February 1, the silver metal proudly dangles from my neck for the whole world to see.

I head to the living room and find Brandon on the couch, working on homework. He takes one look at me and frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m a bad daughter.”

“I guarantee that’s not true.”

I join him on the couch. Bangle, sensing my sadness, leaps into my lap. She snuggles close, and I slide my fingers through her fur.

“Today’s the anniversary of my dad’s death.”

Brandon closes his textbook and reaches for my hand. Bangle doesn’t even hiss.

Progress.

“I’m sorry, Steph. I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t forget. I never
forget
. The date just . . . caught me by surprise.”

“Time gets away from me, too. It’s because we’re so busy with school.”

I nod.

“Do you usually do anything special on this day?”

“Well, if I can get away from school, Mom and I usually visit his grave.”

“It’s Sunday. We could go.”

“You don’t have to go, Brandon.”

“I know, and if you’d rather just be with your mom, that’s completely understandable. I just want you to know that I’m willing to go with you, if you’d like.” He grows thoughtful. “Does your mom even know about me?”

“She knows. I can’t keep secrets from my mom.”

Brandon nods.

“Are you really ready to meet her?”

“I would love that.”

“She’ll probably cook.”

“Even better.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. But only if you want me there.”

I squeeze his hand, which is a clear violation of the no-touching rule. We’ve been breaking that rule a lot lately.

“I want you there.”

He smiles.

Thanks to sleet and ice on I-70, the drive takes an hour longer than usual. Brandon’s a great driver. It’s the other idiots on the road that cause him to curse every half-mile or so. By the time we reach the house, the sleet has changed to a soft rain.

Crazy Indiana weather.

Brandon turns off the ignition and looks toward the house. “You ready?”

I nod, and we climb out of the truck. As we step onto the porch, Brandon takes my hand.

“Nervous about meeting my mom?”

“Nope. I just like touching you.”

We grin at each other just as the door swings open.

“You’re here!” Mom pulls me into her arms, giving me a tight hug that nearly takes my breath away. She’s always a little excited when I come home. “I was getting worried. I’ve heard the interstate is terrible.”

“Traffic was crazy. The snow and sleet didn’t help. Brandon’s a good driver, though.”

I step aside, and Mom’s gaze immediately locks on him.

“So this is Brandon,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. James.”

He offers his hand, and I hear my forty-two-year-old mother sigh dreamily before pulling him in for a hug.

I might be a senior in college, but that mattered very little to my mother when I told her my new roommate was a guy. At first, she had the normal fears that any mother would have when you find out that your daughter is living with a strange man. But when I told her I liked him, and that Tessa approved, Mom suddenly had a change of heart. You would think that information would have made a mother even more nervous about the living arrangements, but not mine. She was beyond excited that I was actually interested in someone.

Mom’s priorities are seriously out of whack.

“Are you hungry? I made chili. Something warm for a cold day.”

She leads us into the kitchen, talking nonstop about the crappy weather. I gather bowls and silverware and place them in the middle of the little round table. There are four chairs, which is two more than we had ever needed.

Until today, that is.

Brandon and I automatically sit next to each other, which makes my mother smile. Throughout lunch, she and Brandon talk about everything—his family, our hometown, even politics and religion. Brandon is his usual charming self, saying all the right things and laughing at Mom’s crazy stories.

I sit back and watch it all in fascination. If I had just met him, I would totally think he was full of it.

Can anyone really be this perfect?

Every day, I’m given yet another example of how completely perfect he is, and it scares the crap out of me. Guys, especially twenty-two year olds, are notorious for being jerks that are only after one thing. And while I know Brandon is attracted to me and probably wouldn’t turn me down if I wanted to . . . take our relationship to the next level, not once has he been anything short of a gentleman.

Except for that day in the library closet. But I dragged him there.

“What are you smiling about?” Brandon asks.

Crap.

I clear my throat. “Just listening to the two of you.”

Mom pours more milk into Brandon’s glass. “You’re quiet, Stephanie.”

“Well, it’s hard to get a word in edgewise.”

Brandon reaches for my hand. It should be weird holding hands in front of my mom, but it isn’t. And one look at Mom’s face assures me she doesn’t find it weird at all. The woman is practically beaming.

“Stephanie has always been a quiet one. Always thinking. Sometimes, she thinks too much. Worries too much. Doesn’t trust herself. I’ve always told her a little faith is all she needs.”

Our eyes lock, and I know she knows I’m having a mental meltdown. Living with my mom for eighteen years made me an expert at reading between the lines. She’s telling me to trust my instincts when it comes to Brandon, which I find hilarious because she’s known him for a grand total of thirty minutes.

“You know,
she’s
right here,” I mumble. “Could we maybe talk about something besides me?”

“That’s another thing,” Mom says, “She absolutely
hates
attention.”

Brandon chuckles. “I’ve noticed that, actually.”

I roll my eyes.

Mom laughs before turning her attention to the window. “I’m worried about you driving back tonight. We’ve had a rain-snow-sleet mix all day. The roads may freeze tonight. Can you stay the night and drive back tomorrow?”

“I was just thinking about that, actually,” Brandon replies, glancing at me. “What do you think?”

“My first class isn’t until the afternoon. What about your morning run?”

He shrugs. “I can run anywhere.”

“You’re a runner?” Mom asks.

“Brandon wakes up at five o’clock every morning to work out.”

Mom makes a sour face. “Why?”

“I know, right? He’s very regimented. Very disciplined.”

Mom hums quietly and smiles at Brandon, making him sigh and shift uncomfortably in his chair.

“
Now
who’s hating the attention?”

We all laugh, and Brandon offers to clear the table while Mom and I head to the living room. I follow her over to the sofa.

“I like him, Steph.”

I grin. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

She suddenly grows serious and reaches for the chain around my neck. Her fingers slide along the metal.

“I’m glad you’re here today. Both of you.”

“He wasn’t sure if he should come.”

“But you wanted him here.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it serious?”

“Not yet, no.”

“But it could be?”

I look toward the kitchen. “I think it could be, yeah.”

“What’s keeping it from being serious?”

“Me.”

She nods. “I figured as much. You should trust your instincts, Steph.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is completely foreign to me. I can’t trust this because I’ve never experienced it.”

“Experienced what?”

“Whatever
this
is.”

We’re talking in circles now, which isn’t unusual for us.

“My instincts tell me he’s pretty perfect,” I admit quietly. “But how can that be?
Nobody
is.”

“Your dad had his perfect moments.”

I glance toward the fireplace mantle. That’s where Dad’s picture has been proudly displayed since before I was born. Rising from the couch, I walk over and stare at the gold frame. He’s wearing his uniform, and an American flag is displayed in the background.

“I’m going to help Brandon with the dishes,” Mom says quietly, leaving me alone with my dad and my jumbled thoughts.

It never fails to amaze me just how handsome my father was, especially in his uniform. He looked so dignified and proud, leaving no doubt in my mind that he loved the military. But it’s impossible for me not to feel sad when I look into his eyes, because all I can think about is how much he’s missed. Holidays. Birthdays. Growing old and gray with his wife. He won’t see me graduate from college, and he won’t get to walk me down the aisle.

Was the military really worth missing all that?

I have no idea how long I stand there, but after a while, I feel Brandon’s arms wrap around my waist. He gently pulls me close to his chest and rests his chin on my shoulder.

“You have his eyes,” he says.

“Yeah.”

He holds me tight in his arms as we stare at the picture of my father.

“The rain has stopped. Cynthia says if we want to go to the cemetery, we should probably go now.”

I turn around in his arms. “
Cynthia
says, huh?”

“That’s what she told me to call her.”

“You are quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

Brandon smiles and gently places his hand on my cheek.

“There’s only one girl I’m interested in charming.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

Brandon lowers his head, kissing me gently.

“You’re sure you want me there?”

“I do.”

He nods and we grab our coats off the couch just as mom returns to the living room. She adjusts the scarf around her neck and zips her jacket.

“Are we ready?”

Brandon and I nod, and the two of us follow Mom to her car.