Surrender (17 page)

She closed her eyes, lines forming between her eyebrows. With pain etching her lovely features, she began to nod in acceptance. God, this wasn't how I wanted this to go.

My phone rang right then, sending goose bumps crawling up my spine. I wouldn't have checked were it not for the strange feeling that suddenly had come over me. One glance at the caller ID confirmed everything I feared. “Hang on, I have to take this call,” I told her and went outside the front door.

Julie met me at the door the moment I stepped back inside. “What is it? What happened?”

I stared at her, unable to form words.

Her face crumpled with worry. “What is it, Neal?” she asked, grabbing a handful of my shirt. “You're scaring me.”

I looked down at the phone in my hand, still willing that phone call to be a mistake. But it was no mistake. A recall roster was an organized system that had been in place for decades, with one person calling the next one on the list, and that person calling the next, until everyone had been notified.

“That was my buddy Kevin Staley,” I said, grasping her wrist to keep her from running. “They're deploying our unit.”

Of course I was getting deployed. And of course I received the news the same moment I was trying to convince Julie that being in the military wouldn't affect our relationship. Fate is a fucking asshole that way.

Even though she didn't move, I felt Julie pulling away the moment I delivered the news. She kept her eyes trained on my chest, her fingers still clutching at the cotton fabric of my shirt.

“My unit wasn't in the bucket to deploy, but I guess . . .” I stopped, deciding on how much to reveal. How could I even begin to tell her that we were deploying to replace a unit that had had major life loss from a successful mortar attack? Right on base, no less? “They need us to replace another unit at Bagram ASAP.”

She finally found her voice. “Why? Why so soon?”

“There was—” I cleared my throat. “There was a mortar attack that caught a row of B-huts on fire.”

“People died?”

I took a deep breath and nodded.

“So these people died while in the safety of the base?”

This was so painful, I could actually feel it making my stomach turn. “Yes.”

She watched me quietly. “But . . . ?”

“There is no but. There are mortar attacks on base almost on a weekly basis. Sometimes they hit something, but most of the time they're duds. B-huts are flimsy and dry and catch fire easily. The attack happened in the middle of the night. You can be in a nuclear bunker but if it's your time to die, then there's nothing you can do to stop it.”

“And what if it's your time to die this time?”

I wrapped my arms around her and gathered her close even as she resisted me. “Then I will die with regret, knowing that I couldn't give you and Will the life you deserve.”

She pressed her forehead into my chest and took in deep breaths. A moment later, I felt her tears dampen my shirt. Eventually she pressed her cheek against my chest and began to sob. “How long?”

“A year.”

I held her to me, my fingers tangled in her hair, my chest aching. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” I said, wishing I never had to hurt her, wishing I were bulletproof, wishing that love alone could fix everything.

“This can't be happening again,” she said softly. “It's not fucking fair.”

“Not, it's not. That's why I can't ask you to wait for me.”

She looked up then, her cheeks damp with tears. She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and nodded instead.

I bent down and crushed my lips against hers, kissing her like it was the last time. She eased out of the kiss and swiped a finger at the corners of her eyes.

Needing to be closer, I grabbed her and grasped her against my chest.

“Neal,” she whispered.

“Mmm?” I sifted my fingers through her hair, trying to savor every last second we had left together.

“Please don't send me letters or e-mails,” she said. “It's not that I don't care or don't want to hear from you. It's just . . . I can't . . .”

“I understand,” I said, rubbing her back. “But promise me something.”

“What?” she asked, looking up.

“Don't torture yourself looking for news about me.”

—

I left a few days later to do a week of combat skills course to prepare me for combat communications. When that was over, our unit went through two weeks of training and deployment preparation, and then we were ready to go.

On Christmas Day, I flew back to Dallas to make my final good-bye. Julie hadn't told me to stay away, and there was no way I was going to go twelve months without seeing her face again. Besides that, I couldn't leave the country without first saying good-bye to Will.

“Neal!” he cried as soon as I stepped in the door. “Merry Christmas!”

I gave him a big hug and handed over the gift-wrapped box I'd brought with me. “I'm surprised you guys didn't go to Monterey for the holidays,” I said to Julie.

“We figured you might come by,” she said with a sad smile.

“I would have flown there for you,” I said. “Or anywhere, really.”

“When do you leave?”

“I have to go back to Homestead tomorrow,” I said. “Then we fly out on the twenty-seventh.”

“Where are you going?” Will asked.

Julie looked at him. “He's deploying, remember?”

My eyes flew to her. “I didn't know you'd told him,” I said to her a few minutes later when Will ran upstairs to get something.

She gave me a meaningful look. “I didn't want to lie to him. He asked me why you'd just disappeared again.”

“How did he take it?” I asked. “Does he know it's the same place as . . .”

She nodded. “I don't think he's worried about it. He said you were going to shoot the bad guys.” She frowned.

“Julie,” I said, taking her hand, “you can't shield him from everything.”

“He's not my worry right now,” she said, looking at me pointedly.

Will came back wearing a white soccer uniform and bright new cleats, holding a new soccer ball in his hands. “Look what Mom got me for Christmas!” He turned around and showed me the
KEATON
emblazoned across his back. “Sweet, huh?”

“That is very sweet,” I said with a smile, reaching for the ball and spinning it on my hands. “Have you been practicing the drills we talked about?”

“Yeah. Mom's been helping me.”

I turned to Julie, who just shrugged. “We practice a few minutes before getting ready for bed. Mostly we do it on the weekends,” she said. “He has really improved.”

“Will you show me?” I asked Will. “I'd love to see it.”

We put on hats and jackets and went out to the backyard to play soccer on the winter-dried grass. Julie stood off to the side at first while Will and I went through the drills, wearing a pleased smile on her face when I suggested a few tiny changes and Will completed them without problem.

“Look what I've been working on,” he said and bounced the ball on his foot once, twice. He grinned up at me. “Piece of cake.”

I tucked him under my arm and spun him around. “Fantastic job!”

“Come on, Mom, let's play soccer!” Will cried once I set him down, running to Julie and tugging on her hand. With a laugh, she joined us, moving light on her toes as she passed the ball with her feet. I purposefully lost track of time as we played, laughing and playing with this little family I'd come to wish was my own, pretending that time stood still out here.

When our cheeks were red and Will began to sniffle, we went back inside and made hot cocoa. With our mugs, we all sat together on the couch, Will wedged between Julie and me, and watched
A Christmas Story
.

At about the time Ralphie was getting kicked down the slide by Santa Claus, Will yawned and laid his head on my lap. I rubbed his head as he drifted off and when I looked over, I saw that Julie was watching me with an unreadable expression. I flashed her a hopeful smile that she didn't return.

“You all right?” I whispered.

When she pursed her lips and shook her head, I reached across the back of the couch and kneaded the side of her neck. She kept her eyes on me the entire time, the muscles on her face immobile save for a slight tremble on her lower lip. Then a tear slid down her cheek and it was all I could do not to climb over her son and take her in my arms. Instead I wiped the tear with my thumb. She turned her face into my hand and kissed my skin, closing her eyes as she nuzzled into my palm.

I couldn't take it anymore, the space between us was far too much. I pulled her toward me and kissed her, taking no heed of the sleeping child between us, only showing this amazing woman that she was loved.

We didn't say much more the rest of the evening, and when I stood up to make my way back to my hotel room after that perfect Christmas Day, she rose with me and walked me to the door.

“I guess this is good-bye,” she said with some finality. The day together had been our last hurrah; there would be nothing else for us after this.

“I wish things could be different,” she said, pulling away.

“Me, too.” I kissed her forehead one last time. “'Bye, Julie. I wish you the best in life.”

I gave one last nod before turning away, noticing the bright constellation of stars in the sky. I'd unlocked the car and had my hand on the door when Julie suddenly called my name.

I spun around. “Yes?”

She remained standing by the door, fists held by her sides. “Please be careful,” she called out into the cold night air, the short distance between us seeming like thousands of miles. Then she took a step forward, and another, until she was running toward me, colliding into me. “Here,” she said, her cheeks wet with tears. She pressed something into my hand, something metallic and warm.

I looked down at the ring, my heart thundering.

“Keep it safe,” she said through her tears. “Keep yourself safe.”

I slipped the ring onto my pinkie and kissed her one last time, not wanting to let go. “I will.”

Neal was gone. I'd said my good-byes that Christmas night. He'd made his choice and I'd made mine, and even though the two didn't intersect, I was at peace with that.

Still, it didn't make the separation easier. Each day I still awoke with a gaping hollowness, as if a piece of me were thousands of miles away. Each night I went to bed with a quiet prayer in my heart, hoping that if I never said my worst fear out loud, it might never come to pass.

The only time my mind was ever truly at peace was when I danced. For those precious few moments, I was lost to the music. I wasn't Julie, the woman with all the worries. I was just a feather on the breeze, flitting and soaring wherever the wind saw fit to take me. Dance was my respite, my sanctuary, and along with my son, I was able to forget my worry over Neal for a time.

—

One sunny Saturday afternoon, while I sat on the bleachers watching Will and his team playing soccer, my eyes wandered down to a young Asian couple in front of me. I looked down at the empty spot beside me, thinking it wasn't that long ago that I had someone to fill it.

I allowed myself the rare luxury of thinking about Neal, because out here, with the sun on my face and the sounds of children's voices, it was hard to imagine anything going wrong in the world. Neal would be fine, he'd be working on computers, setting up e-mails and other monotonous things like that, and would never come to harm.

After the game, I took Will to the frozen yogurt place near our house. We sat by the windows that faced the dance studio across the parking lot. I watched the girls and boys entering the place, wondering how their lives would turn out. Would they go on to dance professionally or was this a temporary thing, a way for them to try various things in order to find their one passion in life?

On the way back to the car, I stopped on the sidewalk and said to Will, “Hey, why don't we check out the dance studio?”

“Sure!”

We walked over and went inside, our ears greeted by hip-hop music. Three girls of about six or seven were dancing in the middle of the dance floor, performing a hip-hop choreography that involved some pop locking.

Will and I stood off to the side of the room, careful to keep from becoming a distraction, until the performance was over.

A woman with a long, flowing red skirt that echoed the hue of her fiery red hair walked over. “Hi. Can I help you?” She glanced down at Will. “Are you looking to start dancing?”

“No,” I said before Will could get ideas. “We were just checking it out.”

“Well, welcome!” She held out her hand. “My name is Carol and I own this studio.”

“I'm Julie,” I said, shaking her hand. “And this is my son, Will.”

“Feel free to stick around and watch. We're rehearsing for the spring showcase.”

“What do you think? Do you want to stay and watch?” I asked Will, whose attention was on another girl of about six who was across the room. “I guess that means yes.” I tugged him sideways and sat him down on a nearby wood bench.

We stayed for the rest of the hour, my attention on the dancing while Will remained rapt by that one pretty girl with the short hair.

“I want to take dance lessons,” he said some time later, tugging on the end of my cardigan.

I bit back a smile. “How about after soccer season is over? Deal?”

“Deal,” he said with a bright smile, glancing across the room not at all surreptitiously. I figured he had at least a decade before he needed to really fine-tune his skills of subtlety.

I walked over to Carol after the rehearsal was over. “Do you have any adult classes?”

She shook her head, her chandelier earrings clinking. “I wish I did, but I'm shorthanded as it is. My modern dance instructor left before Thanksgiving and I haven't been able to fill her spot.”

An involuntary shiver went up my spine as I was reminded of Jason's dream. “Do you need to have a teaching license or anything to be an instructor?”

She was taken aback by my question. “No. Why, are you interested?”

I looked around the room, suddenly filled with hope. “I might be.”

We spoke for a few minutes about my qualifications, then she asked if she could see me dance. “Just a quick contemporary.”

There was no way I'd refuse to dance when the opportunity presented itself. “Sure. Why not.” I kicked off my ballet flats and performed a quick set of stretches. Then I stood in the middle of the room and performed a choreography that I'd been working on the past few weeks. It was a longer piece—probably longer than Carol was ready for—but once I started, I couldn't stop. It was as if liquid melancholy were sliding through my veins, controlling my every movement.

When I was done, Carol's eyes were wide, her mouth slightly agape. “Um,” she said, shaking her head.

“What's wrong?” The performance had felt good—had I become so lost in the dance that I'd forgotten about technique and control?

“Honey, I think you're way overqualified. You belong on a stage, not in my little studio,” Carol said.

I felt the blush rise up my face. “Thank you.”

“If you don't mind my asking, why aren't you in a big city, dancing professionally?”

“Life,” I said, flashing Will a smile. “And I don't regret one second of it.”

And it was true. Though my life had been anything but easy, I would not have done anything differently. Every decision I'd ever made had led me to this point in time, with this amazing little man in my life.

“Right now I'd really like to try my hand at teaching,” I said.

Carol smiled. “Well, I would feel guilty taking advantage of your experience, but if you really would like to try, I won't turn you down.”

—

I started teaching two days later, with an hour-long class on contemporary dance for older kids on Monday and one on ballet for the younger set on Wednesday. It made our already-tight schedule even tighter on those days, but Will and I quickly acclimated to the change. He sat in the corner of the studio and did his homework while I taught the class, and afterward we went home and ate what I'd prepared earlier in the slow cooker.

The first class was a learning experience, but I quickly found what worked and what didn't when it came to children. It wasn't all that difficult, as I had plenty of experience—with both dance and children—to draw from. By the end of that first week, I'd earned a nickname from the older kids.

“Why Miss Lovely?” I asked when it was first said.

“You know, because you're lovely?” one girl said.

I chuckled, feeling warmth on my face. “That's sweet but you can just call me Julie or Miss Keaton.”

—

In the last week of January, Will and I flew out to Denver to attend Henry's police academy graduation. It was a nice change of pace, even if the cold mountain air felt unwelcoming the moment we stepped off the plane.

After the graduation ceremony, we went back to Henry and Elsie's house and cooked up large T-bone steaks and vegetable kabobs, their kitchen a whirlwind of activity.

“This is really good,” I told the young couple as I cut up a few bites of the steak for Will, who was having trouble with his knife.

“Right?” Elsie said, almost done with her steak. “I don't normally like eating steak, but this is really good.”

“Thank you for making my favorite,” Henry said to her, a look of adoration in his eyes. “And thank you for bringing everyone here.”

“You're welcome,” she said. “I didn't want this day to go by without having family around.”

“And how are things with you, Julie?” John asked, sending everyone's attention my way.

“Busy but good. I'm teaching dance at a small studio ten minutes from our house and I'm really enjoying it. It keeps us busy, but Will and I manage.”

“That's wonderful,” Elodie said. “I honestly don't know how you do it, raising a child on your own.”

I shrugged. “I've had years of practice.”

“And what about that man you were dating?” she asked. “What was his name? Neal?”

“Harding?” Henry asked. “Yeah, he's a good guy. Met him at Randolph Air Force Base during training.”

I glanced at Elsie to see if she'd told her parents about the situation with the letter but she shook her head. “He and I are no longer together,” I finally said.

“They broke up,” Will piped in. “Neal doesn't pick me up from school anymore.”

“Oh, that's a shame,” Elodie said, frowning. “You seemed very happy the last time I talked to you on the phone.”

“I was, but that was before the letter.”

“What letter?”

I glanced at Will and decided he finally needed to hear the truth. “All this time, Neal had Jason's good-bye letter.”

Elodie's eyes were bright when she said, “Our Jason?”

I nodded. “Yes. Neal was the guy who cleaned out Jason's room and packed up his belongings. He found the letter but, for some reason, decided to keep it.”

Everyone was quiet for a time, chewing on what I'd just said.

“Is that why you and Neal broke up?” Will asked. “Because he didn't give you my dad's letter?”

“Yes. Because he had kept it a secret,” I told him gently. “He should have told me right away.”

“Did you bring it with you?” Elsie asked.

I nodded. “I figured you'd want to see it.”

“May I read it?” Elodie asked. “If you don't mind, that is.”

“Of course I don't mind,” I said, glad I'd brought the letter with me. “Jason was your son.”

—

After dinner, we retired to the living room and, while Henry told Will a story, I went to the guest room to find the envelope that was tucked safely inside my purse.

“Can I read it, too?” Will asked as he watched Elsie handing the letter over to her mother. John took a seat on the couch beside Elodie, holding her close with one arm while they quietly pored over the last words of their son.

Elodie dabbed at her eyes and John blinked rapidly as they handed the letter back.

“Mom, can I?” Will asked, his little blond eyebrows furrowed, his palm held open.

I stared at Will's hopeful little face and wondered just how much he could take. I'd shielded him from pain, had tried to keep him from learning more about his dad's career in hopes he wouldn't follow in Jason's footsteps. But maybe it was time I stopped sheltering him. More than anything, he needed to know that his dad loved him even before he was born.

So I nodded and handed the letter over. “But there are some bad words.”

Will grinned up at me. “Don't worry. I won't say them.”

All eyes were on this tiny replica of Jason as he read over his father's words in silence. Every now and then he'd turn to Henry and ask him about a particular word, and Henry would patiently read it to him and try his best to explain.

When he was done, Will set the letter on his lap, deep in thought. “My dad never saw me when I was a baby?” he asked in a little voice.

“You already knew that,” I told him. “Remember, he died before you were born?”

Will blinked fast as his little chin trembled. “So he never saw me?”

“No. I'm sorry.”

“Does he even know my name?”

I shook my head, my heart breaking into a million pieces. “No, he didn't.”

“But . . . how will he recognize me in heaven?”

“Oh, Will.” I scooted over on the couch and hugged him to me, muffling the beginnings of his sobs in my chest. We'd been in this same situation so many times before, it was almost second nature to us; Will grieving, never knowing his father, and I bowing over him, hoping to protect him from the pain.

I started when I felt Elsie's arm wrap around my shoulder, and a second later, Elodie came over to offer her comfort. John and Henry, too, seemed closer, watching us with tearful eyes, their hands on our shoulders.

“Don't worry,” Elsie said with absolute conviction. “He'll recognize you. There's no way he won't.”

It was in that moment, as I looked around at these people who would do anything for my son, I realized I wasn't alone in raising Will anymore. I had a family now.

And I breathed a little sigh of relief.

—

“I don't get it. If you love him and you're obviously good together, why won't you wait for him?” Elsie asked me the next day on the way to the Cherry Creek Mall for sushi.

“I can't stand to lose someone else,” I said. “It's self-preservation.”

“I guess I'm the opposite. I tend to just run out there without protection and hope for the best.”

I smiled at her. “That's because you're braver than I am.”

She sighed through her nose. “You know, love like that doesn't come along every day.”

“That's what I'm counting on,” I said, causing her to glance at me in surprise. “Can you imagine if our every relationship were all-consuming and passionate? We'd have no control of our emotions and our lives would descend into chaos.”

She smiled. “Yes, but it would be beautiful on the way down.”

“No, thanks.”

“So if you wanted to be in a lukewarm relationship, why not just get back together with Kyle? At least you know he's a good man and will take care of you.”

I looked out the window, chewing on her words. What Kyle offered was appealing: a simple, stable relationship. He was offering me security and a tender kind of love. But all that hadn't been enough the first time; would it be enough now?

“Hello?” Elsie asked, looking over. “Earth to Julie.”

“Neal has ruined me for all men,” I mumbled as she turned into the mall parking lot. “I was perfectly happy without him in my life. Before him, I didn't know how deep a love could go, but I also didn't know how badly a heart can hurt after being betrayed.”