he’d buried.
“Hi, Samwise.” His words were choked and thick.
She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from cascading down her cheeks.
She failed.
And when his arms came around her, she surrendered to the wave of crushing sadness that dragged her under.
***
Natalie and her mom were making another batch of cookies. Gingerbread men this time, apparently. Sam and Thomas sat out in the sunroom. Sam was curled in one of her mom’s old wicker chairs, nursing a sad cup of coffee that was neither warm nor energizing. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t swallow past the block in her throat.
“We were just north of Baghdad,” Sam said quietly. “There hadn’t been any attacks in days. We were on patrol, meeting with a local sheik, trying to see what services they needed, what we could provide.”
“Did you leave the base often?” Thomas asked.
“We did. Mel was on the battalion commander’s personal security detachment, and I was with public affairs.” She shrugged. “We were always together. It was just like camp. Except for the explosions and all that.”
Thomas smiled. “You two were always into something. You and the damn Rierson boys and the McLaurin girls.”
Sam swallowed at the mention of Cass and Ashley McLaurin. She needed to go see Cass, but she hadn’t really thought through everything she was going to say.
Ashley—Cass’s sister—was still in Afghanistan. She didn’t know how to mourn one friend while worrying for others. It was too much, too overwhelming.
Still, seeing Thomas… For a moment, the floodgates had opened and released a cascade of grief and ragged anger. And for a moment, just a moment, it had felt good to release some of the pressure hiding in that black box she tried to ignore.
“Yeah. We had some good times,” she said. Because they had.
Before the war.
“She used to write home every night.” A long pause as he sipped his coffee. “I would always worry when I didn’t have a note. She tried to explain to me that sometimes, the phones and Internet were shut off because someone had gotten hurt or…”
“Yeah, we’d cut the communications when someone died because we don’t need families finding out about things on Facebook.”
He nodded, then reached for and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for telling me before the Army showed up on my doorstep.”
Sam’s throat closed off, and her eyes burned again. She’d violated the rules that day.
She hadn’t even given it a second thought. She’d been numb, dead inside when she’d picked up the phone in the signal officer’s office that was on the exemption list and placed the call.
“Your mom stayed with me the whole time.” His voice cracked a little. “It was the hardest day of my life. But couldn’t you have gotten into trouble?”
Her throat was tight, locked shut, making it difficult to speak, to breathe. “Sometimes, breaking the rules is the right thing to do.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go breaking any more rules for me. Melanie wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for her.”
Sam smiled. “No, she’d be mad at me for getting into trouble without her.”
“Yeah, she would, wouldn’t she.” Thomas chuckled. “I wonder where Nan and Natalie went off to?”
She frowned. “Mom said she was running into town for ice cream. Who eats ice cream in December in Maine?”
“Ah, everyone that I know. Ice cream isn’t seasonal. Except for peppermint stick.”
“You know you can’t find that down in Texas. Not the good stuff anyway. Just some crappy brand made with corn syrup. It’s so nasty.”
“Weren’t you going to take Natalie to finish Christmas shopping today?”
She glanced at the old clock on the beam above them. “I was thinking about it…”
“Well if you go, keep an eye on the weather. There’s a nasty storm coming in. Lake effect snow.”
“That’s what I’m hearing. We might wait until tomorrow, honestly.” She looked up, daring to meet his eyes. “How
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley