21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (99 page)

“I’d like that. Don’t work too hard.”

“You let me worry about that. Want me to talk to the bump for a bit?”

“Nah, he…she…it is quiet.” She yawned again, already drifting. “’Night, Paul…talk soon.”

“’Night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

***

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, the weather turned frigid with biting, winds slicing out of the north. Lillianna didn’t mind the cold; the baby kept her pretty damn toasty, even if the wind nipped at her ears and froze her nose. She was supposed to take the Thanksgiving shift, because Paul would be there for Christmas. But the nurses got together and four of them were taking her holiday shifts and donating their pay to her.

She would have planned a visit with her parents in New York, but she didn’t find out about the surprise ‘work-in’ until the day before. One trip to the grocery store later, she settled in with a small turkey in the oven, stuffed with homemade breading, and diced zucchini for grilling when everything else was ready. She’d be eating turkey sandwiches for a week. She navigated around the rapidly growing pile of boxes, more came each day it seemed. Every single one said don’t open ’til Christmas. Curiosity plagued her, but she did her best to keep them all closed.

While the food cooked, she did her nails, paid her bills and watched several of her DVR’d shows. Oddly, pregnancy gave her more time at home and after seven years of working every holiday, left her with very little idea of what she should be doing. The oven dinged and she sent a text to Paul. Maybe he didn’t have anything to do on Thanksgiving, either.

Whatcha doing?

He texted back immediately.
Watching football with the guys. Thought you were working.

Taking the turkey out first, she set it on a cutting board and got the zucchini started before retrieving her cell phone.
Nope. Girls gave me the day off with pay for my present. I’m making a dinner and about to sit down and eat it while I watch a movie
.

The scent of the fresh roasted meat aroused her appetite and her stomach growled with enthusiasm. She stirred the zucchini, lightly browning it and spoiled herself with a bottle of sparkling cider. No wine, no coffee, and only a little bit of chocolate here and there. Add celibacy and swollen feet to the package and she was a basket of fun.

Her phone chirped.
What movie?

Something action. Probably a Bourne flick
. She’d missed the most recent release and she liked Jeremy Renner.

Give me fifteen
. Her phone buzzed. She stared at the phone and frowned and typed
okay
. Fixing her plate, she had to heat some rolls in the microwave and she was ready. After putting up the extras, she carried her plate, glass and bottle of cider out to the living room. In addition to Bourne, she’d rented a half dozen other movies ranging from musicals, to romantic comedies, to action films. Flipping through her options, she nibbled on a piece of turkey.

Her phone buzzed.
Turn on your computer and open Skype
.

Curious, she fetched her laptop from the bedroom desk and carried it back into the living room. Flipping it open, she turned it on and nibbled another piece of turkey. After starting the program, she connected to the Internet and waited. A phone ring filled the silence and she double-clicked to answer it.

Paul’s face filled the screen. “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart.”

“Hey,” she laughed. It never occurred to her to Skype him. They always talked on the phone. “How did you know my Skype address?”

“It’s not that hard to figure out. And I asked Rebecca.” He grinned. “It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday next week. But since you’re home today….”

He looked so good. Tears flooded her eyes and she blinked rapidly. “That’s—wow…you look great.”

“Hey, are you okay?” He frowned and leaned closer, as though trying to get a better look at her.

“I’m fine…pregnancy makes me really hormonal.” She sniffled. She’d enjoyed her day off, shopping and catching up on her personal stuff, even the food was fun, but lonely.

“You are just as beautiful as I remember.” His smile was just as sexy as she remembered.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a mess. I’m dressed for comfort. Like how I’m rocking the PJs here?” Shifting, she showed off the black and white zebra print flannels. Most of her clothes were too tight and she divided her time between scrubs and stretching pants, but even they were going to have to be let out.

“You’re gorgeous…shift the camera and let me see the belly and then back to that beautiful face of yours.” Funny how he made an order sound like a caress, but she obeyed. She sucked her stomach in even if it had no visible effect and then settled back, angling the screen so the internal camera focused on her again.

Balancing her plate on a knee, she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail at her nape. She hadn’t straightened it or done much of anything that day. At some point, she needed to make an appointment and get it trimmed and styled, but since she wore it up most of the time, no one would notice except her.

“So how does one celebrate Thanksgiving in Germany?” Her voice went husky. She didn’t really care how they celebrated the holiday; too busy drinking in the sight of him.

He looked…stronger somehow, even better-looking than when she’d met him. His tan had faded some, and there was a shadow of stubble on his chin and cheeks. “One of the officer’s wives hosted a dinner for all the singles, we ate around noon and then we watched a game someone recorded. Not one of the Bowls, but it’s like a slice of home. I skipped out when you texted though, I’d rather spend it with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell, yeah. So, what movie are we watching?”

“Well, I was thinking Bourne…but you can’t see the screen there.” She ate another bite and watched his grin grow.

“No, but I have a screen and I’ll just buy the movie and we can start at the same time and watch it. What did you fix?”

“Turkey, some stuffing and zucchini and….” she reached over and held up her wine glass. “Sparkling cider for the maternal order.”

He laughed. “Mind waiting a sec while I get beer and popcorn?”

“Hmm.” She mock scowled. “That’s mean. You get alcohol and I don’t.”

“Fair enough. I’ll get water and popcorn. Since Mama can’t have it.”

She laughed. He was easy. “I’ll be here.”

“Good.” He vanished off the screen for a minute and she ate, a silly smile playing around the corners of her mouth, all traces of loneliness fleeing her soul. Setting her plate aside, she put the DVD in the player and cued to the beginning of the movie before settling back on the sofa and angling the computer so she could see him and screen. She might need to get the power cord…with a groan, she rose and fetched it from the dining room where she usually charged the laptop and carried it over. A little bit of struggling and stretching, she plugged it in and sat back down.

Damn belly got in the way of everything. She laughed at the direction of her thoughts and then giggled harder when she saw Paul peering at her. “What were you doing that required all that grunting?”

“Plugging the laptop in. I didn’t want to lose you while we watched the movie.”

“You can’t lose me,” he promised. Anyone else might have made that sound like a line, but a shiver raced over her. “Okay, popcorn. Check. Water.” He showed her the bottle. “Check. You good to go there?”

“Yep, but I apologize in advance for the frequent potty breaks.”

“Duly accepted and forgiven. Go.” They hit play at the same time, but if anyone asked her later, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them what happened in the movie.

She spent most of it watching Paul.

And God help her, missing him.

“Master Sergeant?” The corporal saluted from the doorway and waited for Paul to nod to him. “Sir, we’ve concluded with all classes for this term?”

“Yes, Corporal Barnes. We have. Those of you who received acceptable scores will graduate to the next level of training.” Special Intelligence assignments required men from all levels and pay grades. They did work in and out of uniform and had to be prepared to blend into a region if the mission required it.

“Sir, may I ask if I received that grade?”

Barnes excelled in the class, but suffered from arrogance. He expected to do well, and didn’t always put forth the effort. If he learned to temper his pride, he’d go far. “You can ask Corporal, but you’ll find out when the scores are posted and you receive your orders.”

The man’s mouth flattened. He didn’t like the answer. Paul didn’t look at him directly, but watched him from the corner of his eye. He knew he appeared to be studying the reports in front of him. It chewed on Barnes that he refused his request. The young man would benefit from a lesson in patience.

But he didn’t lack in discipline. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” He saluted again and waited.

“Have a good holiday, Marine. You’ll be plenty busy when you get back after the first of the year.” It was a small reward, but the flicker of a smile around the corners of the Corporal’s mouth said he received the message loud and clear. “Dismissed.”

Alone again, Paul finished scanning the last report and signed it. It had been a good class. He passed twenty-one percent. The others would be reassigned or reassessed. But it was the high number for insertion special operations and tactical assessment training. Only eight percent of Paul’s class had graduated with him.

“Master Sergeant.” His commander’s voice sent Paul to his feet and his back ramrod straight.

“Colonel.” He saluted.

“At ease, Master Sergeant.”

Paul obeyed the order, relaxing, but he didn’t sit. Facing the older man, he nodded to him. Colonel William Sanderson spearheaded the intelligence operation for over two decades. Rumor held that he’d turned down a CIA post three times. He was that good. He’d also been Paul’s induction instructor a year out of basic.

“Assessments complete?”

“My portion, sir. Yes, sir.”

The colonel walked over and lifted the top sheet, scanning the numbers and the grades. “Good showing. I knew you were the right man for this job.”

“Thank you, sir.” He’d never imagined a gift for teaching. As honored as he’d been by the approach, Paul thought it was just another pit stop on the way to a better assignment in the field.

“Anything left to do?”

“No, sir. Most who have leave will begin it in the next forty-eight hours or begin transition interviews and PCS within seventy-two.” At least four of his students were bound for Afghanistan, another three would return stateside for a different set of training. The rest were yet to be decided or returning to the training facility after the first of the year.

“Excellent.” Colonel Sanderson paged through the report. It was unusual for him to review the information directly in front of a subordinate, but Paul kept his opinion to himself. “You need to go, Master Sergeant.”

“Sir?” He eyed the Colonel.

“You have a flight in ninety minutes. A seat opened up on the Secretary of State’s plane, it’ll get you as far as Andrews. You can take a commercial flight from there to Dallas.”

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t have leave for another week. He didn’t have the time accrued.

“Oh, while you’re Washington, I have some mail that I’d like delivered and if you review some video footage on the flight back and draft some training options, I’d be interested in your opinion.” The colonel set a thumb drive on the desk. “Everything you need is on there.” He headed for the door and paused. “Oh, and Master Sergeant? I expect the amount of work on there would take an average of a week to complete. A skilled hand could see to that.”

“Yes, sir.” Paul didn’t smile or express the fist pump flexing in his soul. “I’ll make sure it’s done, sir.”

“I know you will, Marine. Happy holidays and dismissed.” The colonel left him with that gift and strode out the door. Paul grabbed the thumb drive and his case with the laptop in it and strode out the door. His go bag was already packed and waiting. He just had to change into his Class As for the flight. A seat on the Secretary of State’s plane was a gift. Thirty minutes later, he checked through security and boarded the plane.

Christmas was in ten days, Lily didn’t expect him for another week. He curbed the temptation to call her, but it was still early in Dallas and she likely already left for work. He would be on the ground in Washington before her shift ended.

***

He arrived at Andrews by evening of the same day he left Germany and took care of the colonel’s letter deliveries—all two of them—before departing the airbase. He changed out of Class As and into some fatigues that were a heck a lot more comfortable for traveling.

A cab ride later, he checked on the flights departing National for DFW. Most were full, but he scored a standby spot on a flight departing in thirty minutes. His military ID and information got him through the TSA line swiftly. The gate area was packed, but a plane was parked at the end of the jetway. A good sign.

An airline employee called out names and Paul listened for his while checking his texts. Lillianna sent one telling him her shift ran late, and she didn’t expect to be home for another few hours so she wouldn’t be able to call until he was in class. He grinned and sent back
No problem. Get some sleep
.

Another three names were called and he watched passengers hurry up to the desk. Standby was a bitch of a way to fly. He sent a message to Damon and asked if he’d be available for an airport run that night or put him in touch with someone who could pick him up. If necessary he’d rent a car, but the car rental places didn’t tend to stay open late at some airports. If he scored a ride on the standby flight, it would be landing near midnight Texas time.

Another two names and then the attendant announced that all standby boarding seats had been filled. Any passengers waiting on a standby for Dallas-Fort Worth would have to check in for the next flight, which wouldn’t be leaving until five a.m. the next morning.