Unspoken: Deploying Faith, #3

Dedication

To Kendrick. It is a joy and honor being the mother of such an insightful, compassionate, and loving son.

I pray to you, O Lord, my rock.

Do not turn a deaf ear to me.

For if you are silent,

I might as well give up and die.

─ Psalm 28:1

You keep track of all my sorrows.

You have collected all my tears in your bottle.

You have recorded each one in your book.

─ Psalm 56:8

Prologue

Around of shots rang out, sounding distant but deafening to Captain Jamie Allen as she rigidly held her salute.

She blinked back her tears and gritted her teeth to maintain her composure, then hazarded a glance at her son standing next to her.  Patrick’s electric blue eyes held the same sheen as her own, and his chin quivered as he tried valiantly to restrain his tears. A memory of him as a teary-eyed toddler cradling his favorite toy in his hands crept into her mind. His chin and lower lip had trembled as he sniffled, I broke it, Daddy. Can you fix it?

Now thirteen, Patrick stood next to her, watching them lower his father into the ground.

Anger slashed through her heart as she thought, How are you going to fix it now, Richard?

The honor guard fired another round of shots, startling her again. Her sister, Carolyn, reached over and squeezed her shoulder in comfort. Jamie wished she could lean into her sister and draw from her strength, but protocol demanded that she stand and salute her husband.

After the final round of shots rang across the cemetery, she lowered her arm.  Her son reached for her hand, but she didn’t know if it was comfort he was giving or requesting. She squeezed back and watched as the flag, once draped over her husband’s casket, was expertly folded.

Like the slow progression of gunshots, this was the heartbeat of who she was now. First came the startling jolt of a new reality. One day she was sitting with friends and family, laughing about their yesterdays, dreaming about their tomorrows. Then it was over. Just as the flag no longer flew vibrantly in the wind, this soldier, this husband, this father, was now a folded flag. Symbolizing what once was active but now silent, still, and lifeless. No more snapping, no more rustling - a memory, to be folded, secured, sealed, and symbolized as a hero.

Hero - she scoffed.

Her lips thinned as the words from the letter she received a month ago slogged through her mind, dragging with it the bitterness they carried.

Jamie, I appreciate your strength and patience with me, but Patrick deserves a father who can control his anger, his emotions, and does not need to hide in war to escape the war within. You deserve better than me.

She accepted the flag they handed her, just as she nodded, smiled, and acknowledged the comforting words from those around - all the while she bit back her anger and pain.

One soldier shook their hands as he said, I was honored to serve under Major Allen.

The post commander offered his condolences. The Army lost a fine soldier, a fine leader, and an honorable man. 

Jamie bit back the cynical words that sprang to her lips. She would accept their praise of her husband, but the truth of his death, her anger at his choice, and his reckless actions - they would remain unspoken, folded away and placed on the mantle with his folded flag.

There was her son to think about. She would not lose him, too.

RUSSELL OWENS STARED down at the screen of his phone. I’m sorry, Chelsea, appeared on the right-hand side. Underneath the blue bubble was one word, Delivered.

Rogan Quinn clapped him on the back. How are you doing?

Russell shrugged. Just trying to get through this day.

Yeah. One day at a time.

Russell looked at his brother-in-law. He saw the man’s sadness at the loss of his sister, but wondered how Rogan was able to smile, offer encouragement, and not feel like his world was frozen in time. He looked down at the unread text message again - stuck on Delivered but never to be Read.

Rogan grabbed the phone from his hand. Stop. He lifted the lapel of Russell’s blazer and slipped the phone into the inside pocket. Chelsea would not want you to hang onto this.

Out of the corner of his eye, Russell saw one of the mourners making her way toward them. Seeing his intense face must have dissuaded her because the woman turned and made her way to the food table instead.

Fine with me. I don’t want to smile at anyone right now.

It’s going to take some time, Rogan said, pulling Russell’s attention away from the woman. Take time to heal, to mourn, and to honor my sister. Patting Russell’s front pocket where the phone was, he added, Not to dishonor her with recriminations. She knew you loved her.

Love, Russell corrected. At Rogan’s raised eyebrow, he continued, "I love her. Not past tense. My heart is spoken for. Her death does not change that."

Chapter One

As soon as the pilot announced they were flying over American soil, the three soldiers sitting in front of Jamie began humming Reveille , while the other lifted the paper American flag attached to the toothpick that had adorned his sandwich.

Jamie’s lips lifted slightly at the soldiers’ antics.

The young lieutenant sitting next to her leaned forward to reprimand him, but she placed a restraining hand on his arm. Leave them be. They’re just eager to return home. It’s been a year since they’ve seen their loved ones.

He sat back and agreed. I can’t wait to see my son.

The lieutenant’s words echoed her own thoughts. He’s three now? Jamie asked.

Yes, Captain. And your son is a teenager?

A soft smile touched her lips as she thought of Patrick. Yes, he’s fifteen.

The other officer in the seat near the aisle leaned forward and joined the conversation. My boy is just six months old. I’ve only seen pictures. He smiled and added, I can’t wait to be able to throw a ball around with him, go fishing, all that stuff.

She smiled at a memory of Richard and Patrick throwing a ball with their dog, Rebel, in the backyard. Happier times, she thought. That was before the dog passed away, her husband faded into his PTSD, and her son became a shell of his former self. She drew a breath and exhaled slowly, blowing out those painful memories at the same time.

It goes fast. Treasure each moment.  The trite response was all she could muster.

The lieutenant continued, I’m sure he’s going to be excited to see you.

Jamie only offered a murmur in agreement and then turned back toward the window. Truthfully, she was worried about what she would find when she returned home. While deployed, Jamie had watched her son slipping further from her with each video call. The reports from her sister were less encouraging.

Before she deployed, Patrick had looked okay - acted okay - but two months into her deployment, his grades had started slipping. Then came the phone calls from school. Little things, stunts to gain the attention of other kids, disruptions in class, and talking back to teachers. Her sister, Carolyn, suggested counseling, and Jamie readily agreed.

Patrick doesn’t object to going to counseling, Carolyn had explained the last time they spoke, he just doesn’t participate.

If only Richard hadn’t...

Jamie slid the window cover down, blocking out the beautiful view of the sun’s sparkling rays glistening off the tops of the clouds. She rested her head against the shade and closed her eyes, begging sleep to come and blot out everything.

When the lieutenant gently nudged her shoulder hours later, she sat up and stretched.

His face was wreathed in a smile as he said, We’re about to land.

She’d never seen her soldiers work so hard as they loaded up the bus that would take them to the Army post, and eventually, their families. It seemed like minutes, and yet felt like hours, until she finally stood in front of her soldiers in formation. The risers that lined the sides of the hanger were filled with excited family members and restless children tired of waiting. As the brigade commander addressed the crowd, she fought the urge to search the stands for her son.

She was ready to dismiss her company and would have loved to tell the Colonel to wrap up his speech. He droned on about their accomplishments, and she zoned out until she heard her name. ...Captain Allen would tell her unit that they were all coming home. She spoke of today, where we would stand in this hanger, surrounded by our family members eager to see us. Captain Allen charged her unit with the responsibility of making sure that every one of you had a soldier to welcome home. And she did just that. Her unit did not have one fatality. After the applause died down, he continued. You should be proud of your soldier. With that said, Company Commanders, let’s let our soldiers find their families.

Finally, she thought to herself. Once she and the other leaders dismissed their units, pandemonium broke out. People milled about looking for their loved ones.

She scanned the crowd, but her five-foot-four frame was swallowed by much taller individuals. She slipped through the crowds, her eyes frantically scanning the hugging couples, the fathers with a child on their shoulders and another wrapped around their legs. She made it through to a small opening in the crowd and scanned one half of the room. Her shoulders beginning to sink when she couldn't spot Patrick or Carolyn.

Mom!

She whirled at the sound of his voice, much deeper than when she had left. A strangled laugh mingled with a sob escaped from her lips as she ran up to him, circling his neck and pulling him down for a hug.

Patrick. His name came out in a poignant sigh.

Mom, he repeated. When she didn't relinquish her hold on him, he laughed. Okay, enough with the mushy mom stuff.

When he tried to pull back, she said, No you don’t. I haven’t got to hug you for almost nine months. You can spare me a few more seconds.

She felt him laugh, and then he squeezed her tightly. I missed you, Mom.

She did pull back then and cupped her son’s cheeks in her hands. You’ve grown up so much. You were my height when I left.

He lifted the side of his lips in a smile, much like his dad’s. I’m a teenager, mom. We grow - that’s what we do.

When she finally turned to her sister, Carolyn said, Good to have you home.

Jamie squeezed her tightly. I know I've said it a thousand times, but let me say again how much I appreciate you. I couldn’t have done this without you.

Nonsense, the chance to get to spend a year hanging out with my favorite nephew-

I'm your only nephew, Patrick interjected with another half-smile.

That doesn't diminish the love. Carolyn smiled at him and finished, It’s been a blessing getting to be here for him and for you.

The two sisters stared at each other, their silent concerns for Patrick lingering in their eyes. After a moment, Carolyn said, While I’d love to stay and chat with some of these handsome soldiers, I think we should get you home.

Home - the word sounded so bittersweet.

Her sister, as if reading her thoughts, squeezed her hand and pulled her along. They gathered her bags, and Patrick and Carolyn carried them to the car while she wrapped up with the unit. Again, she was thankful for the eagerness of her soldiers to get home. Her own impatience chafed as she waited for the last of the soldiers to grab their belongings.

She finally approached her son and sister, who were leaning against the car waiting on her. Before they slid in, she hugged Patrick one last time. He grumbled a protest but returned her embrace just the same.

Amid his complaints, she finally relinquished her hold on him.  She reached up and brushed his hair back before sighing, Let’s go home.

The trio rode home in a flourish of stories volleyed back and forth between Carolyn and Patrick. Tales of a life lived while she was thousands of miles away. Accounts of first driving lessons, outgrowing jeans three times in six months, and track practices were equally shared alongside a date her sister missed, a new book that was sitting in the outline stage, and too many nights of pizza and ice cream.

Her sister cried in defense, Hey, pizza and ice cream may have been an oft-repeated meal, but it’s my specialty. Besides, if you don’t think my cooking is nice, you should grab a pizza slice.

Jamie and Patrick groaned.

Patrick shook his head and added, I'm not complaining. Just saying, I may or may not have sprouted due to the abundance of pizza we ate while you were gone.

Jamie listened to the exchange with a sad smile. While her son spoke, she watched his eyes. There was a heaviness about them, a sadness that the funny stories couldn't pierce.

She had recognized that same desolation in Richard, and