A Soldier for Christmas (12 page)

If he’d had a more miserable night, Mitch didn’t want to think about it. His turn at watch was over and as he huddled into his sleeping bag and stared at the tarp tied overhead to keep off the falling snow, he shivered hard. Now, if he could only warm up enough to fall asleep, he’d be happy.

Not so easy. The frigid chill from the permafrost he’d bedded down on seeped through the bottom layer of the sleeping bag. He let his mind wander to that summer afternoon with Kelly. It had been hot that day, so hot it warmed to the bones. He tried to remember how that felt, the warm lush green grass, the sunshine so hot and bright it sizzled across the river water onto his skin, but he couldn’t visualize it. The images remained in the background, kind of fuzzy and distant.

What he remembered, as clearly as if he were in Montana right now, was Kelly. The rippling sound of her laughter when he’d scooped her out of the river. How good it had felt to have her at his side as they’d walked through the park. She’d looked pretty as could be in the university T-shirt and denim cutoffs she’d worn, and her sneakers had squeaked in the grass, still damp from the river.

He remembered how the sunlight had brushed her with bronze, making her blond hair blow loose ripples and shine like gold. How she’d eaten her dipped cone by peeling off the thick chocolate layer first, eating it in dainty bites.

He tried to imagine her right now, using what she’d told him about her life. Her morning classes would be over. She’d probably be starting her shift at the bookstore. Maybe she’d have an eggnog latte to keep her warm, and she’d be ringing up sales in the store, chatting with the regular customers, or bowed over one of her schoolbooks during the lulls.

While he thought of her, the misery of the frigid cold and the hard day’s exhaustion released its hold on him and he slept.

T
he low squeak of a door startled Kelly out of her thoughts. She looked up from the final printed draft of her research paper. She’d been concentrating so hard, she was surprised to see the gray light of dawn sneaking around the closed blinds and her roommate stumbling in her robe and slippers toward the bathroom.

“How long have you been up?” Lexie asked on a big yawn.

“Since five. I keeled over about one and thought I’d get up early and get this proofed and printed before I left this morning. Ha.” At least, it had seemed reasonable in the wee hours of the morning, but in the light of day, not so much. “Not as easy as I thought.”

“Tough. I’ll be you next week. I’ve
got
to start the paper that’s due.” Lexie wandered into the bathroom, yawning.

It was contagious. Kelly stifled a yawn as she spotted a typo and turned to the computer to correct it. The printer she’d set up on the corner of the table whirred and spat out the corrected page. She forged ahead with her reading.

Time kept ticking past and when finally she was satisfied with her printed copy, Lexie was out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel and grabbing a container of yogurt from the fridge. “Kelly, you need any help?”

“No. Ta-da! I’m done.” With not a second to spare. She had just enough time to grab a quick shower, pack up and race out the door.

It didn’t occur to her until she was bundled up and scraping the thick sheet of ice off her windshield, that she’d forgotten to check her e-mail. Well, it was too late now. She’d faithfully sent an e-mail every day, and she hadn’t gotten a response since she’d shipped off the package last week. She’d spent the last six days trying not to think of him. And she’d failed.

And now here she was thinking of him again and feeling confused and turned upside down and vulnerable all at once.

She missed him. As a friend, right?

But, as she circled around to the rear window and began to chip away at the stubborn sheet of ice, she was no longer sure.

No answer.

Mitch swiped his hand over his face. Disappointment hit him like a brick. He’d thought for sure there would be another day’s e-mail, sent like all the others. But for some reason she’d skipped the last two days, and now this morning.

Why?
Lord, I’m too far away. You gotta help me here, I’m begging. Don’t let her start drifting away.
Considering his current altitude, he was closer to heaven, but Mitch didn’t get a sense that God was hearing him any better for it.

He felt lost as he sent his e-mail. Kelly and her world of brightness and sweetness, of eggnog lattes and studying and college-life groups no longer seemed real at all. One of his best friends had been evacuated to a hospital, and while they’d succeeded in their ambush, they had paid a price.

He’d reread her e-mails, he’d saved every one, listing all the good things in her daily life. But even reading her words didn’t make him feel as connected to her as he once had. He wanted to hear her voice. He needed to hear it. But, when he counted ahead to calculate her time, it was about eight o’clock in the morning. She’d probably be seated in her first class, bright-eyed and ready to take copious notes.

He bit back the frustration. He’d try her later, after he hit the rack and got some much-needed sleep. Maybe she would have found his e-mail by then and responded.

“I guess our Christmas rush has officially started.” Katherine sounded exhausted as she locked up her till. “I’m going to take my lunch now that we seem to have quieted down for a moment. I’ll be in the back. Page me if you get overrun, okay?”

“Are you kidding? It’s two o’clock and you’ve been running since well before I got here.” Kelly looked up from where she knelt before the point of purchase displays near the front counter. “You just go put your feet up, get something to eat and relax. You deserve it. Whatever happens up here, I can handle it for a bit. Ava should be coming in any time to help out.”

“Yeah. Send that sister of mine back when she gets here, all right?” Katherine grabbed her book from beneath the counter and tapped away in her heels.

Kelly kept stocking. While the sound system played instrumental hymns, she replenished the bookmark display, moving just as fast as she could. The coupons Spence had printed in several of the local church papers had brought in more business than they’d expected. And she still had the card section to get back up to snuff before the next wave of customers hit.

It looked as though there wouldn’t be much of a chance to study from here on out. Or, she thought sadly, a chance to log onto her account, using her laptop in the break room, to check her e-mail. Not that Mitch was likely to answer. He was probably busy climbing mountains, rappelling from helicopters, practicing his marksmanship and saving the world. He had important things to do, and she was only a friend. Like a pen pal. Which is exactly what she’d wanted all along. So exactly why did that hurt? Why was she swallowing down a wave of disappointment?

Whatever happened, she could not give in to hoping. Not even a little. So she sent a gentle
friendly
prayer his way.

She would simply have to accept that it was only natural that he would start to drift away. Their friendship was only temporary. He was partway through his tour of duty. By sometime in December, he would be back at his home base in California and he wouldn’t need a pen pal after that.

No. She had to simply deal with the fact that as much as she respected Mitch and as much as she liked him, he wasn’t hers to keep. As a friend or otherwise. Their lives had gone separate ways and that’s how it was meant to be.

She’d known that all along. Mitch would be just another person in her life she would have to say good-bye to. But if she was smart, she could keep him from getting too close. That way, she could be sure that when he did say good-bye for good, he wouldn’t be taking a piece of her heart.

It sounded logical, like a good plan. Except the thought of losing Mitch—even as a friend—cracked her heart a little more deeply.

Too late, she thought as she stood, taking the empty boxes with her.

Mitch was glad to be back at camp. He wasn’t glad that it was 0500 and he was freezing, but he tried checking e-mail anyway.

No go. No phones with the current storm. They were under whiteout conditions. When they’d be up was anyone’s guess. He might as well be based out in the northern tundra for all the good these gadgets were doing him.

Frustration ate at him like the gnawing cold. The heater had conked out again and couldn’t keep up with the subzero temps. And he couldn’t keep up with his growing frustration.

“C’mon, Dalton.” Pierce poked his head in. “We’ve got PT in five.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Mitch stood, biting down his frustration. Physical training was just what he needed. It would give him something to focus on. He’d be able to shove out these tangled emotions and struggle with something that was concrete and easier to overcome. He would push harder and harder until every problem and every feeling faded into nothing.

At least, that was the theory. But as he turned his thoughts to the workday ahead, he suspected that all the ways he missed Kelly would remain.

No matter what.

Kelly stumbled through her front door a few minutes after eight-thirty. Her veins were still pulsing adrenaline from her icy drive home. “I can’t believe I made it in one piece.”

“Whew, I’m glad to see you.” Lexie looked up from the couch, where a thick text was open on her lap. The TV droned, volume low, in the background. She capped her highlighter. “There was an emergency broadcast on the road conditions. I’m glad they sent you home early.”

“Spence closed the store when we lost power, half the town is out, but it took me forty minutes to drive three miles.” She hung up her coat and carted her backpack and computer case into the warm kitchen.

Finally, she thought as she unzipped her laptop. She’d pop online, send her daily list and maybe there’d be a letter from Mitch. And if there wasn’t…well, she refused to be disappointed.

But before she could find the phone cord to plug into her computer, the lights blinked. The TV silenced. Darkness washed over them.

“No fears,” Lexie said from the pitch-black living room. “I’ve got a flashlight here
somewhere.
”

There was rustling, the sound of something hitting the floor, and a round beam of light came to life, highlighting Lexie’s smile. “I was prepared. With the ice storm and winds, I figured we had a good chance of losing power.”

“I can still dial in if there’s a dial tone.” She checked the line. Yes! It was working. She connected the phone cord and dialed in quickly, before she lost that, too.

“I’ll light candles,” Lexie said as she rescued the remote control from the floor. “You check for love letters from Mitch.”

“They aren’t love letters, trust me. Why does everyone have the same misconception?” Kelly knew it irritated her for only one reason—a tiny part of her was wishing for love. And how crazy was that? Insane. Certifiable. She knew better, too. Whatever it took, she would
only
allow friendship-type thoughts and feelings about Mitch.

And that was that.

There was an e-mail from Mitch waiting for her. She couldn’t believe it. She had to blink twice just to make sure. His name really was there. He was safe, and he hadn’t forgotten her
yet.

She could hardly breathe past the joy filling her as she downloaded the document before the phone went out too. Lexie circled around the counter and set a pillar candle on the table. Kelly looked up. “I should get up and help you.”

Lexie grinned knowingly. “You should answer Mitch. I take it he wrote?”

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat, trying to sound blasé. “I guess he had time to write or something.”

Lexie lit a match and set it to the wick. Just as blasé, she said, “Then I guess you should answer him or something.”

“Maybe.” Kelly didn’t want to admit it, but everything within her yearned for the sight of his words.

This was more than simple friendship, a tiny voice at the back of her mind warned her, but she refused to listen. She was already opening the document, devouring his letter.

Dearest Kelly,

I know, I’m finally getting back to you. Hey, your lists are great. You don’t know what it means to come in after being out for over a week, and have so many e-mails waiting for me. Here’s my list of things:

1. I’ll never take a Saturday afternoon relaxing on the couch for granted. I especially miss this luxury after hiking with my team ten clicks with a fifty-pound pack on my back in a high-mountain blizzard.

2. Not having to watch your best buddy get shot.

3. Being warm enough to feel your hands and feet at all times.

4. Going to sleep without having first to set up claymore mines and sensors. Each man takes turns at keeping watch, but deep sleep is impossible. You’re always listening for the sound of one of the mines going off, meaning your armed enemy is close while you’re still in your sleeping bag.

5. Sleeping in a warm place instead of being too cold to fall asleep.

6. Life is uncertain. Never take your friends for granted.

I’ll give you a call as soon as I can.

In prayer, Mitch

Wow. Kelly’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t imagine what Mitch had been through. She reread his words and felt sorrow for his suffering.

“What’s wrong?” Lexie turned from lighting a pillar candle on the counter. Light flickered eerily as she hurried over. “Mitch is okay, isn’t he?”

“I guess.” What did okay mean? She didn’t know. “Read this and tell me what you think.”

“Mitch won’t mind?”

“No, we’re really just friends, and he’s writing nothing that’s private.” At least, she didn’t think so. Mostly, she couldn’t quite believe what her eyes told her, and her heart didn’t want to feel. She’d seen enough war movies to be able to fill in the blanks in all that he hadn’t said with images of her own. “What do you think?” she asked when Lexie finished reading over her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you when my jaw stops dropping. What does Mitch do, anyway? Is he Special Forces?”

“Yeah.” Kelly didn’t want to get online to answer him. What if he tried calling? He’d get a busy signal. “I hope his friend is all right.”

“Me, too. That puts my day in perspective.” Lexie pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m really glad you sent him that care package. He probably hasn’t gotten it yet?”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Kelly shrugged, wishing she could do more. So much more. Then she realized it was late where he was. In the wee hours of the morning in his part of the world. He wouldn’t be calling, so she tried to get back online, but the modem couldn’t get a dial tone.

Just as well. She was no longer a child to believe in fairy tales, but it was nice to know there were good guys in the real world. Very nice.

She shut down her computer and got right to her studies, but her thoughts kept drifting to him. To the radiance he brought to her soul, like starlight on a frosty winter’s night.

Mitch shivered in the freezing-cold tent and hooked the receiver between his ear and shoulder. While he dialed the last digits of Kelly’s home number, he knew chances were good that she wasn’t home. She had probably headed straight to work after her morning classes.

As he listened to the first ring and then the second, he figured he’d at least leave a message on her answering machine. He wouldn’t try her cell, not when she’d probably be at work.

Sure enough, a recorded message answered. “This is Kelly,” came her voice as sweet as the dawn. “And Lexie,” Lexie added. “We’re away right now,” and Kelly’s soft alto piped in, “so please leave a message!”

He waited for the beep. “Hey, Kelly, it’s Mitch. I’m bummed that I missed ya. I’ll try back.”

He hung up, the numbers on his watch showing it was four minutes past four in the morning. He’d gotten up early just to try calling her.