Full Measures (17 page)

Papers fluttered to the floor before I could catch them. I closed the book and picked them up. Sealed envelopes with names on them: June. April. Mom. August. December. “Mom?” I showed her the letters.

She sucked in her breath and stretched out her shaking hands. I gave the letters to everyone. He’d managed to send a piece of himself from so far away. I heard ripping and tearing as everyone dug into them.

Everyone but me.

If I opened it now, that would be it, and I would never hear from Dad again. I couldn’t accept that.

I tucked mine into my back pocket and went to help Gus. “I got it,” he replied, and took his letter to his room. Everyone had pulled away, experiencing a private moment with Dad.

I finished packing up his things and took the rest to Mom’s room. She might not be up for it now, but eventually she’d want to know where these things went. She’d pulled herself out of this before, and I knew she’d do it again. Until then, I’d stand watch like Dad would want.

I called Sam and stayed the night with my family, curled up in my bed. The sun rose; snow settled in and came down in thick blankets of fluffy white madness.

I walked downstairs to the smell of sausage frying in the pan, and Mom singing. Mom. Singing. I peeked my head around the corner ninja-style, wondering if she’d been snatched and replaced during the night, but no. She was singing “Les Misérables,” which was pretty dang ironic, flipping sausage while Grams scrambled some eggs.

“Good morning, sleepy,” Mom said with a wave of her spatula.

I took a seat at the bar, and Grams handed me a fresh cup of coffee, doctored just the way I liked it. I was afraid to drink, or pinch myself. I was afraid to wake up and find Mom catatonic in bed again, unable to move.

“Looks like we’re getting some snow,” I said harmlessly, testing the waters of normal conversation.

“We’re supposed to get seven inches today, but the airport should be back open tomorrow,” Grams said with a wink. “I booked my flight for tomorrow evening. Would you mind taking me?”

I shook my head. “Happy to do it.” Happy to take her, devastated that she was leaving. I took a long sip of my coffee and watched Mom. She moved with practiced ease, maybe a little stiff in places, but she was here. Her eyes were puffy from crying all day yesterday, but something had changed when she read the letter.

Mom was coming back to us.

By five o’clock, there was still no getting out of our subdivision. Not in my little VW. I really wanted to get back to the apartment. There, I could study, lose myself in campus, pretend none of this was really happening.

Now I understood why Grams had been so adamant that I take the apartment with Sam and not move home. I might have suffocated in my grief here.

Grams gathered up her sewing basket and sat on the couch next to me. She took out the service flag, the one that had hung in our window for years. I knew the tradition. Those with a son or, as tradition wavered, a husband deployed to war hung a simple white banner, outlined in red with a blue star in the middle. It was a matter of pride, announcing you had given something for this country, that the family had done their part.

But when a soldier was lost, those blue threads of the star were replaced with gold, proclaiming his sacrifice and the grief of the family. I watched, entranced, as Grams threaded the needle with shiny gold thread and began to stitch.

“This is what you were waiting for, right?” I asked. “Before you left to go home, you wanted to be here when they brought his things.”

She looked over her sewing spectacles at me. “Yes. I knew this would hit your mother, tear her apart. But whatever my Justin said to her in that letter seemed to pull her out of it a little. She’s surprising me, and I think she’s ready to begin living again. So am I.”

“I’m scared for you to go,” I quietly admitted, scared Mom would hear me.

“December, you have to trust your mother. You have held her up for so long, but you need to let her walk on her own now. Gus and April aren’t your responsibility anymore. Live your life, sweet girl.” She looked back to the flag and continued her work. “Your father died. You did not. I did not.” She ended on a whisper. “It is the business of the living to keep on doing so. We are no exception. We are not the first family to lose a man to war, and I fear we will not be the last. But we will be resilient.”

Through. Pull. Push. Through. Pull. Push. Over and over she drew the needle through the flag, leaving the blue outline of the star, all that was allowed to remain of him according to tradition. She stitched on the gold star, its shiny, reflective threads changing the definition of my father’s life from one of service to one of sacrifice. That stupid gold star declared this one event in his life, his death, more important than all of the nineteen years that blue star had witnessed while hanging in our living room window.

Somehow, in the circus of the last month, everything with Riley . . . with Josh . . . Dad’s death had overshadowed his life, and that made me angrier than anything else.

Chapter Thirteen

Environmentally friendly or not, I wished Colorado would have salted the roads. The red-gravel crap did nothing to increase traction. It was a hell of a drive to school on Monday morning.

I slid into my seat at class and took out my book and the chapter outline I’d done while reading. I’d been so rushed getting up north for school that I’d forgotten my student ID and hadn’t even had time to grab coffee, which did not bode well for my day.

A steaming cup of heaven was set down on my desk. I looked over to see Josh smile and take his seat. “I saw Sam this morning, and she said you’d stayed down south because of the snow last night. I figured it was probably a white-knuckle drive in today.”

I nodded. “It was a little hellacious.”

“I would have driven you. One phone call and you would have been cozy in the Jeep.” He pointed to the cup. “Coffee and all.”

I had to suppress my smile. “I told you, I can handle myself without you rushing in to save me. Besides, I heard you were busy this weekend.” A twinge of bitterness slipped into my tone. I couldn’t help but wonder who he’d been with.

“From who?”

I took a long drink of the delicious caffeine and ignored his question as our professor started class.

He snuck sideways looks at me all class long, and I diligently kept my head down. I could concentrate on the Civil War. Yeah, that’s what I’d do. The problem with that logic was that I spent the whole hour thinking about not thinking about Josh. Epic fail.

Where had he gone this weekend? Who was he with? Why the hell did I care? I’d made it clear to him that we weren’t in a relationship, so what right did I have to even know the answers? None.

Class could not get out soon enough. By the time the prof dismissed us, I’d already packed my bag so I could lunge for the door. I made it out of the building and into the crisp air before Josh caught up to me, matching my pace.

“Was the room on fire?”

Yes. I was going up in freaking flames.
I blushed. “Nope, just busy today.”

“Right. Want to snag a late breakfast before you head off to study?”

I paused in the middle of the snow-covered courtyard, and he stopped. “We shouldn’t. I mean, I can’t. I mean . . . crap.”

He laughed, attracting the attention of nearly every girl on the quad. “I guess that’s a no?”

I hated being this flustered. “Yes. I mean no, because we’re not dating.”

“I’m quite happy where we’re at.” A look of heated intensity came over him as his gaze dropped to my lips. “Problem is you keep telling me we’re somewhere else.”

But that didn’t change the facts here. “I’m so sorry about Friday. Some apology, huh?”

He stepped close enough that I caught his sandalwood scent. I wished I could put my hormones in time-out. In the corner. Far away.

He gently lifted my chin and brushed his lips over mine. “Ember, I adore the way you apologize.”

Crap. Was the man’s voice directly linked to the throbbing between my freaking thighs? I called on every ounce of strength I possessed and stepped back from him. I didn’t miss the appraising stares we were getting from the other kids on campus.

“Nothing has changed, Josh.” I had to repeat that enough so I’d believe it. “You’re . . . you, all Josh-y and perfect . . . now, but I know it’s just a matter of time . . .”

The muscle in his jaw flexed. “A matter of time until what?”

“You know.” I glanced around us, keeping my voice low.

“No, Ember, I’m afraid I don’t.” He raised his voice, uncaring of prying eyes.

On cue, Tweedledum waved as she walked by, giving her ass a deliberate sway. “Hiya, Josh. Maybe I can see you later?”

His eyes didn’t stray from mine. “Not a good time, Heather.”

I pointed to her back as she shimmied away. “Right there. You know girls will always be lined up for you, and it’s not like you to turn them down. I’m me . . . and you’re . . . you, and it’s only a matter of time until you realize the chase isn’t as fun when the rabbit is caught. Especially when the rabbit isn’t exactly all put together.”

He clenched and unclenched his teeth until he took a deep breath. “Listen up. Forget whatever it is you think is ‘like me.’ I haven’t so much as
touched
another girl since that night in Breckenridge. And it’s not because they’re not asking. It’s because they’re not
you
.” He raked his hands through his hair, tugging on the strands. “Have some faith!”

“Faith gets you screwed over, Josh, and Riley wasn’t even a quarter as sought after as you are. You’re Josh-freaking-Walker!”

“And you’re December-freaking-Howard, and you happen to be the only girl I’m interested in. I’m not Riley! When I make a choice, that’s it. I don’t back down. I didn’t get where I am in hockey or school by backing down, and I choose you.”

“I’m nowhere near ready to be anyone’s choice.” Not ready to risk my heart.

His eyes narrowed, but he let my jab slip. “One day you will be, and I’ll still be here, no matter how hard you push me away.” With a sigh, he turned to leave.

“Why?” I called after him. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked back, his knuckles white with restraint on his bag. “Because I’m masochistic enough to care about you, and someone has to, Ember.” All hint of teasing was gone.

I stopped at the university gym and ran six miles, trying to outpace everything that seemed to be chasing me. I lost myself in my iPod and the rhythm of my feet against the treadmill, refusing to think of anything but my breathing.

I needed a plan. I needed to know what the heck I was doing.

Once I made it home, showered, dried, and dressed, I unpacked my bag.

Dad’s letter slipped out onto my desk.

I picked it up and sat on the bed, tracing my finger over his curt scroll. I wanted to crawl inside the moment he’d penned my name, as if there was a way to reach out and touch him through the ink. I lifted the envelope to my nose, seeking some trace of him, some proof he’d really held this. No such luck; it smelled like plain paper.

The envelope was crisp and white, not like the ones that had been through the overseas mail system to make it to us. This letter had never seen the outside of his book. When had he written it? Which deployment was this penned for? Did he always write one? I stared at the sealed envelope.

Dad, did you know you were going to die?

“Ember? You here?” Sam’s voice rang out from the entry, accompanied by the sounds of her book bag hitting the floor.

“Yeah.” I stashed the envelope on the top of my bookshelf, between a picture of Gus and one taken during our last trip to Breckenridge. Time to act normal.

“Awesome, because Kappa Omega is having a party on Friday and we scored an invite!” She waved the golden envelope in the air like a trophy.

“No way. Frat boys are the ones who screw your roommate when you’re not looking.”

“Promise? I’d love to get a piece of some Kappa Omega boys.” She breezed past me into my room and flung open the doors of my closet, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Girl. You know you’re twenty, right?” She pulled out a ribbed turtleneck. “Twenty, not forty-five.”

I grabbed it out of her hands. “Hey, that’s Ann Taylor!”

“That’s ancient librarian.” She grabbed my modest neckline and yanked it lower, exposing a crazy amount of cleavage for ten a.m. “Whip out the girls, because we’re finding you a rebound. If you won’t jump Josh,” she muttered, “because you’re insane, then we’ll find you a hot little frat boy.”

Josh was off limits. I wasn’t bringing him into the shit-fest my head was at the moment, but I couldn’t see myself hooking up with some random guy either. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

Sam was already pulling me through our apartment into her room. She opened her closet and started throwing clothes into my arms. “This is a brilliant idea. Hey, put that phone away! What are you doing? We’re planning your social debut here!”

I ignored her and dialed Mom’s cell. It was Monday, and I had to check up. “Hey, Mom?”

“Ember? What’s up, honey?”

“Just checking that you got Gus’s helmet fixed.” If not, I still had time to pick up a new snap before tonight’s practice.

“All done. We’re heading to the rink after school. Did you want to come watch?”

The rink, where Josh would be. Where I’d have to listen to the Tweedle twins discuss him. Where Mom would think I was watching over her because I couldn’t trust her.

I needed a little distance from Josh to sort myself out, and I needed to trust Mom.

I had to start somewhere.

“Actually, I’m going to get caught up on some homework. Kiss Gus for me, okay?”

I heard her sigh of relief through the phone. “Absolutely. Remember, playoff game is Saturday morning, and you know he’ll be looking for you.”

Yeah, they’d both be looking for me. “No problem, Mom.”

Chapter Fourteen

Snow Bash was the sought-after party invite of February. Sam dressed me in a blue, strapless cocktail dress and pinned my hair up. Friday night came with the agenda of finding a rebound guy.