Dear Donovan,
I hope this letter finds you well and drier than you were when you last wrote. The weather here has been unusually warm. We’re having a hot summer—not much rain.
Michael is starting to walk. He’s really starting to fall down, I suppose. He does pretty well if he’s got something to hold on to, and I know he’ll get the hang of it soon. He’s talking now, enough to get across what he wants.
I’ve started the night school I told you about in my last letter. Carol or Daddy take care of Michael the nights I’m in school. Carol will be starting college this fall. I feel a little stupid trying to get my high school diploma, but I guess it’s a good idea. Anyway, it fills some time.
I’m enclosing pictures of Michael. He’s grown so much since you left. I wish you were here to see him, but I’ve taken a lot of pictures so that you’ll be able to see those when you get home.
When will you be home? I promised myself I wouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. I miss you so much. Michael tries but he can’t fill the gap his daddy left. Our home feels empty without you. I feel empty without you.
We hear so many frightening things on the news. I dread turning on the TV for fear I’ll see your face, maybe lying in the road somewhere hurt or dying. I probably shouldn’t tell you how frightened I am. I don’t want you to worry about me. I want you to think about yourself.
Remember you promised to come home to me.
I love you.
Beth
#
Donovan folded the letter and carefully slipped it back into the envelope before picking up the pictures. His fingers were trembling as he sorted through the half-dozen photos. They were all of Michael, and he felt an ache in his chest as he realized how much his son had grown. He looked happy and healthy, his smile proudly showing off his first few teeth.
Beth was holding him in one picture, and Donovan stared at that one the longest. It had been taken outside and the sunlight poured over her, turning her hair to pure gold. She was smiling at the camera, her arms wrapped around Michael’s sturdy little body.
“Letter from your wife?”
He dragged his eyes away from the photo. ‘‘Yeah. She sent pictures.”
“Pictures, huh? Of her and the kid?”
“Mostly Michael, but one of her.”
Smitty sat up, swinging his feet off the cot. “Let me see. I want to see if she’s as pretty as you said she was.”
Donovan grinned and handed the photos across the short space that separated them. Lowell Smith—Smitty, if you didn’t want to carry your teeth in your hand—fancied himself a connoisseur of women. In the months Donovan had known him, he’d discovered that Smitty had opinions about everything, from the proper way to chew tobacco to the proper way to hold a rifle. He didn’t really expect anyone to follow his suggestions, but he made damn sure everyone knew what he thought.
Smitty shuffled through the pictures until he found the photo of Beth. Donovan leaned back on his cot, already knowing what the Southerner’s comment was going to be.
“O000eee! That’s one powerful pretty woman. I bet her mother was from the South. The prettiest women—”
“Grow in the South.” Donovan. finished the comment for him. “Beth’s mother was born and raised in Indiana.”
Smitty shrugged, not in the least disturbed. “Might’a been her grandma, then. But I can tell she’s got southern blood in her.”
Donovan shook his head, reaching out to take the photos back. Smitty handed them over, his thin face wistful. “That’s a nice little boy you got there, too. You’re a lucky man, Dono. A lucky, lucky man.”
“You hear from your girl?”
“No. But I reckon Sue Ann is pretty busy with college and all. She’s going to be a doctor. That takes a lot of work.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.” Donovan slipped the photos back inside the letter and put both under his pillow. In the months they’d trained together and then shipped out, Smitty had received two letters from Sue Ann.
Outside, the rain poured down without showing any signs of stopping. Donovan lay back on his cot, hearing the soft crackle of Beth’s letter beneath his head. It made him feel closer to her. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that the endless sound of the rain was the dusty rustle of a cornfield, the silks no brighter than Beth’s hair.
“We’re heading farther in tomorrow.”
“So I heard.”
“Don’t you ever lose your cool, Dono?”
“I might if you don’t stop calling me Dono.” Donovan’s voice was lazy. It was an old argument, one they’d had since boot camp.
“I mean it. You always look like you expect to go home in one piece. Don’t you ever worry, ever think that some of us ain’t gonna make it?”
Donovan opened his eyes, turning his head to look at his friend. “I don’t think about it. I’m going home. I’ve got a wife and kid to take care of.”
“You think the VC care? A lot of guys got wives and kids. They ain’t all going home.”
“I promised Beth.”
“Dammit! Don’t it ever occur to you, you might not keep that promise?”
Smitty’s voice held a ragged edge, and Donovan sat up, clasping his hands between his knees. He stared at the canvas floor.
“Don’t you ever get scared?” Smitty’s question was quiet, blending with the rain.
“Yeah, I get scared. We’re all scared. This is supposed to be a war. I’d be nuts if I wasn’t scared. But it doesn’t do any good to think about it. I try to think about Beth and Michael and how much they need me.”
“Must be nice to have someone need you that much.”
Donovan looked at Smitty and then looked away. There was too much vulnerability there, too much pain. No man wanted another to see him like that.
“Sue Ann needs you.” Whatever his personal thoughts on Smitty’s girlfriend, he knew how much it meant to know that someone was waiting for you, that someone cared about you coming back.
“Hell, she don’t care none. That last letter I got a month ago? It didn’t say how much she missed me, like I told y’all. It said that she thinks we got no business being over here, and it wouldn’t be moral of her to keep writing to me. She said I should refuse to fight, even if they send me to jail for it.”
Donovan stared at his hands. He didn’t need to see the naked pain on Smitty’s face, it was in his voice. Somewhere in the distance, they could hear a staccato burst of gunfire, too far away to be a threat, too close to ignore. Someone was dying out there. Someone would never go home. In both their minds was the thought that tomorrow it might be one of them.
The firing died away and Smitty spoke again. “I wrote her a letter. I tried to explain what it was like over here. The jungle and the rice paddies and how you never know when a sniper is going to pick you off. You just don’t refuse to fight because of some moral issue. How else am I going to stay alive? I guess I don’t think much about the politics of it. I just want to keep me and my buddies in one piece.”
“That’s about all any of us do. We’re just trying to stay alive. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Smitty rubbed his hand over his face, his angular features twisting in a smile that held so much pain, Donovan felt an ache in his gut. “I suppose. I never sent the letter. I reckon she ain’t going to change her opinion none.”
“She probably doesn’t really mean it. I bet in a few weeks you’ll get a letter saying how sorry she is. She’s young, Smitty.”
“I used to think I was pretty young. I guess maybe I won’t never be young again. None of us will.”
Donovan stared at him, the words echoing in his mind. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.
“Incoming! Incoming! Hit the dirt! Hit the dirt!”
Donovan dove for the floor, hearing the whine of the rockets endless seconds before they hit. Time was suspended between life and death as he and Smitty braced for the impact, wondering where the ammo would land, wondering if these were their last seconds alive.
The explosion rocked the ground. The gunfire must have hit one of the few solid buildings in the camp. Boards smashed against the tent, ripping the walls apart. Debris scattered over them. The light went out. Donovan put his hands over his head, his cheek pressed to the thin, canvas floor, feeling the hard dirt underneath. The second rocket hit nearby, the sound shattering around them. The tent collapsed like a badly stacked deck of cards, smothering them in damp canvas.
“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” He groped for Smitty, finding his arm in the darkness and tugging. There was no response, and Donovan edged to his knees, fighting the layer of canvas, finding Smitty’s shoulders and dragging him toward where the entrance had been. Two more rockets slammed into the ground, and he heard the sound of answering fire, knew that their gunners were trying to get a fix on the enemy’s location. He didn’t think about any of that. All he thought about was getting the two of them out. Smitty was a deadweight, knocked unconscious in the blast.
Donovan edged backward, groping for the opening, finding it at last and, backing out into the rain, dragging Smitty with him. The rain fell steadily, not the gentle rain that fell on Indiana cornfields but a heavy, smothering curtain of water that made it hard to breathe. Donovan wiped his hand over his eyes, casting a quick look around the camp, seeing the scurry of activity, then hearing the-heavy boom of a rocket launcher. All of that was secondary to his concern for Smitty. He wiped the rain out of his eyes again and reached for his buddy. The medic was across the camp. He was halfway to his knees, Smitty cradled against him, when he realized that there was no rush.
There wasn’t anything a medic could do for him.
It must have been the first rocket that did it. From the looks of it, a board must have caught him, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. Donovan laid him down gently. He reached out to close his friend’s eyes, vaguely disturbed by that blank stare. He knelt there for a long time . . . until someone came along and took him by the shoulders, lifting him to his feet and pulling him away from the body. He didn’t say anything while the medics dabbed antiseptic on his numerous cuts, cuts he hadn’t even been aware of. They released him, going back to the more seriously wounded.
Donovan walked back to the remains of the tent. Smitty’s body was gone, but there had been no time to do anything about the collapsed tent. There were more important priorities. But not to Donovan. He shifted through the debris to find Beth’s letter. It was wet but it would be all right once it dried out. He tucked it in his pocket and then went through Smitty’s belongings methodically, packing them up to be shipped home to his folks.
He found the letter Smitty had written to his girlfriend. Without thinking about it, he tucked it in his pocket. The next day, it was on its way back to the States, exactly as Smitty had written it but with a simple postscript written by Donovan.
“He’s dead.”
#
Dear Beth,
I wish I could be there for Thanksgiving dinner. I know you’ll be having turkey and all the trimmings. Eat some for me, would you?
I know I said I might be able to make it home for Christmas but, as it turns out, that won’t be possible. If everyone who wanted Christmas leave got it, there wouldn’t be a war during the month of December because no one would be here to fight it. I’ll be home in January, though. Save some Christmas ham for me.
I can’t wait to see you, Beth. I miss you so much. It’s like an ache in my gut every minute. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you to think about. You and Michael are what keeps me going.
I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to worry you, but Smitty was killed a few weeks ago. I guess I mentioned him in some of my letters. He was a great guy. I don’t want you to worry about me, though. I’ve been really lucky. Nothing but a few cuts and scrapes.
There doesn’t seem to be any real sense to anything that happens over here. Who lives and who dies seems to be a matter of luck sometimes. Or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m doing my best to be in the right places at the right times.
I miss you and I love you. I’ll send you all the dates for January just as soon as everything is cleared. Kiss Michael for me. I wish I was there to do it myself.
Love, Donovan
#
“Do I look okay? Do you think this dress is too wild? Or too uptight? What about my hair? Maybe I should have cut it.”
“Beth, you look just fine. Donovan is going to be dazzled. Besides, it’s a little late to start worrying about that now. Your plane takes off in twenty minutes. Did you tell him you were going to meet him in San Francisco?”
“No, I wanted to surprise him.” She stared at the open gate. Passengers were filing onto the plane, but she couldn’t seem to move. “What if he doesn’t recognize me, Daddy? What if he’s changed and he doesn’t love me anymore?”
“Don’t be silly, muffin. That boy loves you enough to find you in the dark.”
“What about Michael? Are you sure you can take care of him?” She fussed with the fringes on her suede purse, her eyes anxious.
“Stop stalling. I didn’t buy you a ticket just to wait here at the airport while you missed the flight. I raised you okay. I think I can take care of my grandson for two days.” He picked up her small case and handed it to her, edging her toward the gate. At the last minute, Beth turned and threw her arms around him, giving him a fierce hug.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Just have a good time, muffin.”
The flight to San Francisco was endless. Beth felt as if she could have walked to California in less time than it was taking the plane to get there. Her flight was supposed to get into San Francisco two hours before Donovan’s arrived from Honolulu.
Despite the way time crawled, she was soon standing in the terminal, watching Donovan’s plane taxi up to the building. She smoothed her hair again, hoping the upswept style made her look older and more mature. She wanted Donovan to see how she’d grown up in his absence. She’d coped without him, dealt with being a single parent, and she wanted him to be able to see it all.
Her heart started to pound with slow, heavy thumps as the first passengers exited. She watched anxiously, her thoughts scattered in a million different directions. There were several men in uniform, but she knew Donovan the minute he stepped off the plane even though his head was bent, and his cap shielded his face.
She opened her mouth to call his name, but nothing came out. Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, and she could only stand and stare at him, her eyes filling with foolish tears. He seemed to feel her gaze, because he suddenly looked up and looked directly at her.
She wanted to run forward, but her feet were frozen. Time was frozen as they stared at each other. She’d never seen anything more wonderful in her life.
She wasn’t sure which of them moved first. But all that mattered was that she was in his arms, feeling them tight and warm around her. He was holding her so close that she couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t matter, either.
“Oh God, Beth. Are you really here? I’m not dreaming you?”
“Donovan, Donovan.” She couldn’t seem to get out more than his name. His hand cupped the back of her head, destroying her carefully pinned hair as he tilted her face back until he could look at her. She knocked his cap off, oblivious to everything around them as his mouth found hers. It was only a kiss, but it held a solid year of loneliness—twelve months of being apart and a lifetime of worry.
She had no idea how long they stood in the middle of the terminal kissing. People bumped into them, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but the feel of Donovan’s mouth on hers.
“Sir? I think you dropped this.”
It took a bit for the voice to penetrate. Donovan lifted his head, his eyes locked on Beth’s.
“Sir?” the voice prodded again.
Donovan dragged his gaze away, lowering Beth to her feet. His arms slid away as he took his cap from the stewardess, dusting it off on his sleeve as he thanked her. He bent to pick up his case, throwing his other arm around his wife.
“We’d better hurry if we’re going to catch our flight. You’re flying with me?”
“I canceled your tickeet. We’ve got reservations at a hotel, and we’ve got two days together before we go home. It was a Christmas present from Daddy. He’s taking care of Michael. Please don’t get mad. I didn’t let him get me anything else. I didn’t even let him buy me a birthday present, so this isn’t like taking charity from him or anything.”
“I don’t care what it is. All I care about is that you’re here. I guess even my pride has its limits. Do you have a bag?”
The ride to the hotel was short and full of news. Donovan wanted to hear everything Beth had done and everything Michael had learned in the past year. It seemed as if there was so much to tell him, and he was hungry for every little detail.
A light drizzle was falling when they got to the hotel. San Francisco was damp and gray, and a shadowy fog blanketed the bay. The tall, narrow buildings and famous hills might have been flat desert and wooden shacks for all Donovan and Beth cared.
It wasn’t until the door to their room was shut and they were completely alone that Beth felt a wave of uncertainty. In the warm lamplight, Donovan looked different. He looked harder, older. She was suddenly out of things to say. She glanced at him and then looked away, moving to the window to stare out at the rain.
It had been a year. They’d both changed.
She felt him come up behind her, but she didn’t turn. What if he didn’t love her anymore? He laid his hands on her shoulders, and Beth felt a shiver run up her spine. It had been so long. She responded to the gentle pressure he applied and leaned back against him, letting the broad strength of his chest support her.
“I missed you so much, Beth.”
“I missed you, too.”
He slid his arms around her waist and rested his cheek
on the top of her head, staring out the window with her.
“Nervous?” His breath whispered against her hair. She nodded, vividly aware of his arms around her.
“So am I. All I could think about was getting back to you. It’s what kept me going, kept me alive. Now that I’ve got you, I’m afraid you’re going to disappear. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find out that you’re not here at all.”
Beth felt some of the tension slip away. He was as nervous as she was. His arms loosened as she turned. She laid her hands on his chest and looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. Yes, there were changes there, but his eyes were the same—green gold and warm with love.
“I love you, Donovan.”
“Oh, Beth. I love you so much.” The last word was a caress against her mouth. Beth closed her eyes, her hands sliding upward as he pulled her closer. The kiss was full of love, full of healing.
Gradually, the texture of the moment changed. Desire slowly edged in. Donovan’s mouth firmed over hers, his tongue tracing the edge of her lips. With a sigh Beth opened her mouth to him and his tongue slid within, tracing the ridge of her teeth before moving on to softer territory. He relearned the velvety softness of her mouth, their tongues tangling, twining.
He broke the kiss slowly; easing away. Beth’s eyelids felt weighted as she forced them to lift. His gaze was on hers, heating to gold, half asking, half demanding. She let her eyes drift shut again, her hands sliding upward into the thickness of his hair, giving him an answer without words.
He kissed her again, this time more a demand—less a question. A year of hunger lay dammed up in both of them. A year of nights alone, days of worry. Passion lay simmering near the surface. It took only a kiss to set it free.Donovan’s fingers fumbled with the zipper at the back of her dress, finding the tab and sliding it downward. Goose bumps came up on Beth’s back as the zipper opened, but it wasn’t because the room was cool. Her bones seemed to melt with every inch it slid.
Donovan flattened his palm against the small of her back, pressing her closer, letting her feel the heat of his arousal. Beth moaned, a soft plea muffled by the pressure of his mouth, and suddenly desire was an urgent presence in the room.
She tugged at his uniform, anxious to feel his skin against hers. Donovan gave a choked laugh as he dragged his mouth from hers and stepped back. Beth would have protested, but she saw his hands on the buttons of his jacket, his fingers shaking with urgency, his eyes never leaving her face. She shrugged out of her dress, letting it drop to the floor.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer drapes, filling the room with soft, gray light. The last of Donovan’s clothes hit the floor, and he was reaching for her. Beth went into his arms, knowing it was the only place in the world she wanted to be.
Her breath left her in a sob as he lifted her, cradling her to his chest as he crossed the few feet to the bed. He tossed the covers back impatiently and set her on the cool, linen sheets. Beth reached up to pull him down to her but he held back, catching her hands and pressing them against the pillow, holding her a gentle captive.
“Let me look at you. Do you know how many nights I dreamed that you were lying next to me? I can’t quite believe you’re here, really here.”
She tugged her hands free, reaching up to cup his face in her palms. “I was always there. Always. There wasn’t a moment when I wasn’t thinking of you, praying for you. A part of me will always be with you.”
“You are so beautiful.”
Beth’s smile was shaky. “Kiss me. Love me.’
“Always, Beth. Always.” The promise was whispered against her lips.
She moaned as he lowered his weight onto the bed. He lay half over her, half beside her, his chest gently crushing her breasts, one thigh resting across her hips. She was captured, a willing prisoner. Her hands slid over his shoulders, testing the heaviness of new muscles, feeling the feverish heat of him.
His mouth slid down her neck, his tongue tasting the frantic pulse that beat at the base of her throat. Her short nails dug into his shoulders as his mouth sought softer territory, his tongue swirling across one pink nipple before taking it inside and suckling deeply.
A year’s separation had only made the fire burn hotter between them. Beth arched against the pressure of his leg across her thighs and Donovan shifted, allowing her to draw one knee up so that she cradled his hard thigh between her own. The pressure was tantalizing, but not enough. She could feel his arousal burning against her, the pressure urgent, but no less urgent than the pressure building inside her.
He switched his attentions to her other breast, painting it with quick strokes of his tongue, building the fire higher and higher until Beth was sure that she would be consumed in the blaze of need.
“Please, please.” She wasn’t even aware of the breathless repetition, but Donovan heard it. He lifted his head from her breast, capturing her mouth in a hard kiss, his body shifting.
Beth drew her knees up, cradling his body. She could feel him against her, hot and hard. She arched, her body quivering, but he drew back. She whimpered as he caught her head in his hands.
“Look at me, Beth. Open your eyes, baby.” Her lashes lifted slowly, weighted down with passion. His eyes were pure gold, reflecting her hunger, burning with her need. “I’ve spent a year dreaming about this. Show me, Beth. Show me.”
Their eyes never shifted as she reached down, her slim fingers closing over him. His breath caught, his lashes flickering at the feel of her cool hand on his heated flesh. She drew him to her, leading him home, her fingers sliding away to rest against his hip.
He thrust forward slowly, ever so slowly, giving her body time to adjust. At last he was sheathed in the velvet warmth of her. He rested against her for a moment, their eyes still locked, each savoring the feel of his warmth within her. He shifted and her lashes dropped, her body arching hungrily.
“Beth.” Her name was a mere breath as he lowered his weight, his chest gently crushing her breasts. Beth swallowed a moan as he began to move, a slow, undulating movement that quickened, gaining power, hurtling them both along the path to fulfillment. Pressure built, wonderful, delicious pressure, demanding release, promising pleasure.
“Donovan.” His name broke from her on a whimper as the pressure exploded into satisfaction. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body arching beneath his. Donovan groaned, feeling the delicate contractions tighten around him, holding him, caressing him. With a sound that was almost a sob, he released the tight control he’d held. Beth held him, her hands clutching his shoulders as the shock waves raced through them, tossing them both high and leaving them to float down to earth on a cloud of contentment.
It was a long time before Donovan moved. He shifted to one side, ignoring her whispered protest.
“I’ll mash you.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
He chuckled, his breath stirring the fine hair at her temples as he pulled her close. “I would. I like you too much the way you are.”
She snuggled up to his side, her fingers sifting through the light dusting of hair on his chest. “I missed you.”
“All I thought about was you.”
“I don’t want you to go again. I don’t think I can stand saying goodbye again.”
“Shh.” He lifted her until she lay along his body, feeling the strength of the muscles supporting her. He reached up to tuck her hair back, his eyes tender. “Don’t think about it, Beth. I’m home now. Don’t think about anything else. I’ll always come home to you.”
“Promise?” Her voice broke on a sob, and she buried her face in his shoulder, ashamed of her tears. His hand stroked the back of her head.
“I promise. Hey, don’t I always keep my promises?” She nodded against his shoulder.
“Sometimes I get so scared.”
“I know, baby. But it’s going to be all right. I’m not going to let anything happen to me. I’ve got too much to come home to. Now, stop crying and kiss me. Tell me you love me. I’ve got a year to make up for.”
She lifted her head and his hands cupped her face, his thumbs stroking away the tears, his smile coaxing her.
She smiled. It was shaky around the edges, but it was still a smile.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I—” His mouth stopped the rest of her words. He rolled, pinning her beneath him, making her forget all her fears. Making her forget everything but Donovan. For now, he was home. That would have to be enough.