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Letters to a Soldier (Traveler x romancerper)

Irene did take notice that her text to Nate had gone unanswered, but she figured he was probably really busy with flight school. He would answer when he could, and in the mean time, she had gotten his letter, which had confirmed her suspicions. His days did sound full, and the fact that he had taken some time to write to her about his life and say he was thinking about her was more than enough for her.

The rest of the week passed slowly, and while her mother fussing over her was a bit much, Irene found she enjoyed the time she got to spend with both her parents. When she was feeling up to it, she'd try to help her mother in the kitchen, only to be shooed away, so she'd either sit at the bar counter and watch while listening to her mother spew out stories about the neighborhood drama or join her father, wherever he had gotten off to. Most times, she'd find him out on the back porch, sitting in his mother's old rocking chair with a glass of scotch on the rocks. Occasionally, he'd light a cigar, but he knew not to when she was around. Irene worried about his health, even if it was a rare thing for him to do, and the smell was suffocating.

Early Sunday morning, just like he used to, her father opened the door to her room a crack, peaking his head in. He whistled, getting her attention in her half awake state. "Come on, now. Up."

Irene lifted herself up a bit, her one arm supporting her weight as the other came out to tap her phone screen and check the time. It was five in the morning. Way too early to be up on a Sunday, by her standards, but she didn't complain. She got out of bed and moved to her suitcase to grab a pull over to put on over her pajamas--just a tank top and old sweat shorts. It was as she was doing this that she heard her phone vibrate, and as she straightened out the fabric over her torso, she went over to the bedside table, peering at the screen. A text from Nate.

Instantly, her lips spread into a smile, and she unlocked the device to quickly type out a response.

Yes. I forgot some of the fun things I used to do with them when I was home. Although, my Ma is starting to drive me up a wall. Privacy doesn't exist with her. How are you? How was your week?
​
She put the phone in the pocket of her sweat shirt before heading downstairs. Her father was in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as if his gaze would make it boil faster.

"Ma awake, too?" she asked, knowing it was a stupid question.

"At this hour? No." He laughed, glancing at her over his shoulder. "But she'll be up by the time we come back in. You know why I woke you, right?"

"Lois?"

Lois was their cow. A sweet animal, one her father bought off his older brother when Irene was just out of high school. It was on Lois that Irene had first learned how to milk a cow, and her father had been the one to teach her. He'd wake her up most mornings, like he had today, made her a cup of whatever she wanted--usually tea--and walk out to the barn with her. It was a great bonding experience, and most of there conversations had occurred during those early hours of the morning. He had been pretty busy on the force, and with two rambunctious boys in addition to herself, Irene didn't get a lot of attention from her parents as she got older, which was fine. Ben and Blake were handfuls, and it made this time now more special.

He hummed with a nod just as the water boiled. "Get your work boots. I'm pretty sure your mother kept them in the closet."
 
As soon as he hung up he saw the text. He as surprised to see that she had been up so early on a Sunday, or maybe she had been up all night. He texted her back.

My week has been awesome! One more week left of Phase 1 training and then we're into 10 weeks of flight and hands-on training for Phase 2. What are you doing today?

He really wanted to say 'can I call you?' or 'on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being 'I'd do it again for fun' and 10 being 'kill me now', how are you... really?', but he didn't know her well enough for the second one and the first one was too pushy. He pocketed his phone, expecting that she was busy with friends or family, and walked the short distance back to the barracks to read.
 
It was as Irene and her father were walking out to the barn, after their respective drinks, that she felt her phone vibrate against her stomach. Reaching her hand into the pocket of her pull over, she took out the device and unlocked it. She hadn't realized that she was smiling until she heard her father's deep voice in front of her.

"What are you grinning at?" he asked, his tone light as he stood by the door to the barn, waiting for her.

"Nothing." She glanced up at him, deciding that she did want to answer Nate now rather than make him wait until they were done. "I'll be right in."

"Alright." He turned on his heels, pulling on his work gloves as he entered the old structure.

That's so exciting! Are you looking forward to flying? And I'm not doing much. I should be free later today. If you have time, I'd like to call you.

She hit "send" before pocketing her phone and entering the barn. Again, her father didn't pry. Instead, they spent the morning milking the cow and collecting some of the eggs the couple of hens they had laid. Their conversation was light, mostly nostalgic, and Irene made a note to spend more time with the most important man in her life from now on.
 
Not long after sending the text he heard the small 'ding' of his phone letting him know that he'd received a message. He thought it might be Pops, but it was even better. Irene. He stopped under an awning so he could shield the screen and see her message in the hot sun, and when he read it, he instantly replied:

I am excited. Like waiting for Christmas and getting the car keys for the first time rolled into one. I'll be here if you can call. I'm studying. No rush.​

He rucked a duffel bag of clothes to the laundromat and let it run while he studied, taking notes in a spiral bound book. Most of the other personnel there scanned through their phones or played video games, but Nate was of the mind that he didn't have time to waste. He had a goal, and until that was achieved everything else could wait.

Almost everything. About an hour and a half later he was back in the dorms, folding his clothes into precise configurations for the Monday morning inspections.
 
After spending time outside, Irene and her father went back into the house, welcomed by the smell of eggs and bacon. Apparently, Donna was going all out. Pancakes were on the griddle, too; in Irene’s opinion, there was nothing better than homemade buttermilk pancakes. She didn’t have them often, since moving out and becoming busy with her job, but occasionally, her mother would whip up a batch or, if she had time, she’d make them for dinner for her and Tom.

She showered and got ready following breakfast, and it was such a nice day out that she thought she’d call Nate outside. This way, she could get some privacy (hopefully) and not worry about her mother prying and asking questions. The woman had to know everything about everyone, especially when it came to her own home and family. Irene knew she would jump to some silly conclusion about her and Nate if she learned about him.

The barn was mostly quiet. Lois was out to pasture, so the place was empty of any animals. Irene climbed to the second story loft, where she used to hang out with Tom and their friends before she started dating him. There were a few old chairs still up there, including a rocking chair her father had made at one point. She sat on it, taking out her phone and bringing up Nate’s number.

It began to ring, and Irene waited for him to answer, eager to talk with him again.
 
He'd just slid the drawer shut when the phone rang. Once glance at the picture of her photograph he'd loaded into his contact list and his day immediately improved. When he answered it, he had a smile on his face. "Hey, Irene - how are you?" He shut his door partially to block out the sounds of the others in the dorm and sat on his bed.

The song 'Come on Eileen' immediately came to mind as he listened to her voice on the line. Like her, the song was full of joy and potential, and the song he'd heard his parents play when he was a kid took on new meaning in his life. He put the phone on speaker and rested his hands on his knees so he could look at her, looking at he camera, as they talked.
 
She could hear his smile in his voice, and it caused her own to widen. “I’m doing okay. I still have the drains in on one side. They’re kind of annoying, but I’m dealing with them. The pain isn’t as bad as the first couple of days—Advil’s been good at getting rid of it, though.” Pausing, she wondered if she should talk about the site itself. Maybe that was too much information. As a medically-trained person, it was easy to forget that others didn’t see discussing that stuff as “normal”.

“I’m still a bit tired, but I’ve been feeling much better with each passing day,” she added. “How are you? How’s school?”
 
He didn't know what drains were used for in surgery, but he filed that away as something to look up later. It was good to hear that the pain had subsided, and she sounded optimistic, which he knew was important in healing. "I'm glad. Thank goodness for anesthetic and pain killers, huh?"

“I’m still a bit tired, but I’ve been feeling much better with each passing day,” she added. “How are you? How’s school?”

"School's good. I sent you a letter describing a typical day, it should be there soon. Next week will be much the same, and then after that we graduate to Phase Two. So far we've only had three people leave the program, so that's promising. I heard that by the time we're done we'll have almost half leave voluntarily or by failing out." He stretched his back as he talked and let himself relax. The tension he'd held the past week seemed to flee at the sound of her voice.

"We'll be learning on little copters that are a lot like those helicopters that they used for news cameras or police surveying; about the size of Pops old Bell, but more advanced. It's should be a pretty easy transition for me."

"Hey, how long does it usually take to heal up from what you've been through? And, if it's not too personal to ask, what's the next step for you? Are you doing chemo or something like that, or are they pretty sure they got it all?"
 
Irene chuckled, relaxing back into the old wood of the rocking chair as she found this position more comfortable than sitting forward. The piece of furniture groaned under her weight, but she wasn't worried. Both her brothers had managed to squeeze themselves onto the chair before, curious just how much weight it could handle. Fortunately, it didn't fall apart or splinter, even with the two of them piled in it; it even withstood Blake pulling her into their mess against her own wishes. For a man that wasn't a carpenter, their father had done a good job.

"They definitely have made the process easier," she agreed, gently pushing on the balls of her feet to get the chair moving.

"I got your letter, and I put my response in the mail on Friday. I enjoyed reading it. I wouldn't know the first thing about what goes on in flight school, so it was interesting to learn about your day." It made her realize just how busy he must be, and even as he further described his experience now, she was happy that he was willing to put some time aside for her; talking to him had been such fun last time. She wanted to ask about the kind of helicopters he would be flying once he had finished schooling, since it sounded like what they would be practicing on something different, but he asked about her before she could, not that she minded.

"I don't find it too personal." They both had shared a lot with one another through their letters; although, she supposed it was a bit different over the phone. "In fact, if I over share, please let me know. My friends are sometimes grossed out by some of the stories I share about work." She laughed sheepishly, feeling she should give the disclaimer. "I'm not allowed to go back to my job for at least a month. Most likely, longer. And as for the next step...I'm not too sure yet. They took a biopsy of one of my lymph nodes during the surgery, and I'm hoping they'll tell me the results when I go tomorrow to get the drains removed." Irene paused, her expression falling a bit as her fingers fiddled with the necklace around her neck. "Depending on what they say, I may have to have some more surgery done, chemotherapy or radiation. Or maybe even a combination of those three."
 
"Ah, you'll find out tomorrow. I hate the 'not knowing' part. I'd rather just know what it was I was dealing with so I could start planning, but that uncertainty...it sucks. I'm glad you'll have some answers tomorrow." It was odd - uncertainty when you buy a lottery ticket and all you can do is think about what you'd do if you won was fun. That kind of daydreaming was worth the couple of bucks you might toss down. But when your ticket was a diagnosis from
an oncologist and your mind masochistically revisits the worst case scenario incessantly...that was hell.

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," he said, unconsciously including himself in her 'we'. "Let's play the 'best case scenario' game."

He'd done this with new team members, those who had passed all the training to be on the team, but who had never been in a truly 'live' event, where people could die. He stood up as he talked, walking around his little room and then moving to the window to open the old pane glass and let fresh air in. The best case scenario game was where you imagined the ideal outcome for the mission; visualizing how it would work if everything went perfectly. It drew men's minds from dwelling on the horrific 'what ifs' that always seemed to hover over them as they brooded on what might go wrong. You hit what you aim for; like a motorcyclist who got fixated on an object of the road, if you kept looking at what you feared, you'd start to drift in that direction. It was better to look at where you wanted to go.

"What would it look like if everything worked out in the best way possible? What happens on that road a week from now, two months from now? Next year? What is the best thing that could happen?"
 
t definitely was the worst. Irene had always been a planner. In fact, by the time she was 15, she knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. Her father, having been the same way, had always warned her that life didn't always work out the way you wanted it to; she supposed she should have learned this lesson this past year, but it was who she was. In her mind, the plan just need some modifications; she could still make it work. The goals hadn't changed just because of the cancer or Tom's own desires.

"The 'best case scenario' game?" She had never heard of it. Well, she had heard of thinking about the best case scenario, has even done it in a lot of cases, but she had never heard someone refer to it as a game.

When Nate explained, Irene understood. It was basically what she had done her whole life up to this point. She imagined herself five, ten, fifteen years from now and what she would be doing. Those images never deviated from what she had initially wanted as a young teenager. Occasionally, they were modified, but the basic want was still there. Then, she'd do what she had to to make it a reality.

"Well, I suppose best case scenario is that the biopsy comes back negative for cancer. These drains come out, and the stitches heal up nice." She could only imagine what they looked like; she was still too afraid to look when her mother helped her change the bandage. "I don't ever have to worry about it coming back because it doesn't. My body doesn't reject the implant. I don't need any other interventions. I heal up, and go back to work. I finish my residency..." Tom would be back before that, and from there, things looked a bit murky. If she took his own intentions into consideration, her future would be completely different than what she had wanted for herself. Should the best case scenario reflect that?
 
Her reply was positive, that was a good thing - she wasn't quoting survival chances or any other discouraging thought that it couldn't happen. Her answers were all factual, though. A statement of events. He wanted her to dig deeper. "That all sounds good, Irene," he breathed in the outside air through the window and gazed up at the clouds. It was probably going to be another spring thunderstorm tonight; one of the perks of living in the South. "And when your residency is over? You've been focusing on becoming a doctor for a long time, and recently you've been fighting this cancer, but what happens after that? What kind of life do you want to live once you reach those goals?"

The window was lined with old paint that kept it from opening all the way. As he spoke to her he used his free hand to wiggle it loose until it swung out all the way, grunting slightly at he effort. It made a little ~shnick!~ sound and gave way. Now the light breeze was coming in more and he could smell the ions in the air from the gathering storms.

What do you want to come home to every day, Irene? What do you want in your life that would give it meaning? He leaned on the sill with his hands and sighed at the change in the weather. Too many days and nights had been spent in the arid, unwelcoming deserts of the world. It felt good to be this close to home.
 
What kind of life do you want to live once you reach those goals?

Irene's mind kept focusing on the fact he was asking her what she wanted. Nobody else. Not her parents. Not Tom. And if she were to answer him with just her own selfish desires, then there was no point even thinking on it. She knew since she was a little girl what she truly wanted in life other than a stable job that she enjoyed, and yet, she hesitated a moment before speaking once more.

"I've always wanted a big family," she said softly, continuing to rock her chair, using just one of her boot-clad feet now. "I never really thought about exact numbers, but I definitely want a couple of kids. They'd be excited when I get home because they hadn't seen me since I left for work." Doctors typically worked twenty to thirty-six hours in a row, to make things easier on themselves and have a longer stretch home. Right now, it didn't really matter to Irene, but then, when she had people to go home to, waiting for her, it would. "You know, running up to the door with the dog between their legs." She always liked dogs. Cats, too, but they typically didn't care when their humans got home. "I wouldn't mind a farm house, either. One with some land for some animals possibly. A garden. Not too far from the rest of my family." She wouldn't have minded a fixer-upper that she and her husband could work on, make their own.
 
His smile slowly widened as she described her ideal life. It wasn't about achievements at work or making a lot of money; it was about home. Family and connections; relationships and deeper meaning. As she continued to describe what it would look like he began to nod in agreement. The life seemed ideal. And then she described a farm house and he imagined an old home with a lot of history, that had seen multiple generations grow up. He saw a corner of the door in the kitchen with pen hashes where children grew and were measured, a porch with bright wooden chairs, a swing in the backyard...all the wonderful images that painted the perfect country home; and nearby were grandparents who would come over with too many presents for the grandchildren at Christmas and too much candy on Easter.

"Now that," he breathed, "is a future worth looking forward to. That's what you focus on. Not the test results, not the residency, not even the career. Focus on that family and that moment when you walk in the door and your kids come running up for hugs from their mommy." He smiled and turned around to lean on the windowsill with his back to the outside. The sound of thunder rolled behind him, then died off in the distance. A few seconds later the crack of lightning sounded nearby and the sky opened up, dropping a deluge in the camp.

"And I bet," he added, "you'll be a great mom."
 
Her heart warmed at his words, the smile on her lips growing. She really hoped that she would be. Even now, Irene was doing everything she could to make sure she would be able to give her kids--whenever she had them--the life she thought everyone deserved. One where they would never want for anything, where they felt safe and knew that there was no greater love than that between parent and child. Perhaps it was odd to think so far in advance about people that didn't even exist yet, but she couldn't help it. One could argue, without even knowing them yet, she adored the family she wanted to build.

Lifting a hand, she wiped at her eyes with the outside of her sleeve, a few tears having escaped without her realizing she had formed any. "Thank you, Nate. I'll do my best, now that I've been reminded what the bigger picture is," she responded, hoping he couldn't hear the emotion in her voice; she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

"What about you?" she asked with a quiet sniffle, wanting to know his best case scenario while simultaneously shifting the focus off her while she got a hold of herself.

Irene knew he wanted kids of his own, to settle down, too, but what did that look like for him?
 
He thought he heard the soft supping of tears, but the storm behind him thundered out the more delicate sounds coming from the phone. He stepped away from the window, back to the desk, where the loud thrumming of pounding water was lessened. He heard her ask about himself, and sniffle softly. I didn't mean to make you sad, he thought, I wish I could hug you and tell you it would be okay. I wish I could promise that for you, but I can't. I'm so sorry.

"Me?" He cleared his throat. That gentle brokenness had reached out and touched him. He drew in a breath as he considered what she asked. Would he go back to his Pops and fly the crop duster the rest of his life? No...he couldn't imagine that as the end result. Plus, Pops had a life of his own, and though he had put up with Nate over the years, and surely loved him, he had a life that he had built, and people he loved. Nathan thought of Sue, from church, and the way the widower and widow always managed to find each other at the Sunday afternoon potlucks. Yes, Pops had a future that included a widow who loved to scrapbook and morning coffees spent talking about fund raisers and community outreach.

"Well, after this I have to give them four more years, but I can take three of those in the reserves. I thought I'd fly overhead support for some country law enforcement agency; maybe meet someone there, someone with roots in the town." He smiled as the previously unspoken dream came to life. "I've always liked big families. I came from one. Well, not that big, but I had a brother and a sister..." memories of a house fire and the sounds of his father shouting at him to 'get out, we're right behind you!', slowed his thoughts. He swallowed and took a shuddering breath. "I miss them. I want what my parents had - a big, messy family full of love and laughing around the dinner table."

Somehow it was safer telling someone like this, with the phone between them. Something about Irene made him feel like he could, and like he should. "And...that what we fought about, me and Michelle. She didn't want kids. We'd never talked about it before we got married, and I didn't know until after she had the surgery, so I was pissed..." he paused and blinked away the memory. "I had already filed for divorce."
 
Sad.

Irene wasn't really sure if what she was experiencing at the moment was sorrow. When Nate had told her to focus on the future she wanted and that he thought she would be a good mom, she was overcome by a whole array of emotions. It wasn't necessarily a negative thing, but it had been enough to move her to tears. It was a bit frustrating, though. She had never been this sensitive before the possibility of cancer was put on the table or Tom leaving, and before, when she had moments when she was feeling sentimental, she was much better at hiding it.

Perhaps she was more overwhelmed by her situation than she had initially thought.

Fortunately, she was able to calm herself in the few moments that Nate spent thinking about his answer. Like her, he had started with where he would go with his career, but then he went on to mention meeting someone. Irene knew he would, eventually. He was quite the catch, after all, and she was pretty certain he wouldn't be single, talking to her on a Sunday evening, if he had moved on from Michelle. For some reason, the idea of him being on the phone with some other woman didn't make her as happy for him as it probably should have. Instead, she felt a familiar squeezing in her chest, the kind of thing she only experienced when Tom talked to another girl, one that was very obviously checking him out.

It was an ugly feeling, and she had never acknowledged it. Not with Tom, and certainly not with Nate. She probably just enjoyed talking to Nate so much that the thought of not having that time with him didn't sit well with her. It was selfish and stupid, so Irene ignored it and continued to listen.

So, he had lost more than just his parents...Her heart went out to him. She couldn't imagine what that had to have been like for a young boy, and while she didn't know the circumstances surrounding their deaths, she realized it must have been something tragic and sudden if he was the last one alive. Fortunately, he did have his Pops, but she could hear just how hard this was for him to talk about from his tone of voice. Losing people that important to you...Irene was pretty sure Nate would never stop grieving or missing them, and from her own experience, watching parents have to deal with a child's death, she realized that that was normal and perfectly okay, as long as it didn't stop him from living his life. Clearly, it hadn't. He still had dreams and goals that he wanted to reach.

When she heard about his problems with Michelle prior to her death, her thoughts briefly went to Tom. They had never discussed children, mostly because she assumed he wanted them. She did. Their parents expected them to. But it bothered her that they had never actually sat down and had that conversation.

"Well, then, you made the right decision," she said softly, once she had realized he had finished talking. "A marriage between two people that don't picture the same or similar futures isn't a happy one, typically." Irene saw it all the time at work. A child would basically become a permanent dependent upon his or her parents' due to their new mental or physical disability, and while one parent was willing to take that on, the other knew they couldn't handle it. She always respected both their decisions, but it was sad to watch a family fall apart. Fortunately, Michelle knew she didn't want to be a mom, and that was her choice.

"But I really think that's a beautiful future to want, Nate, and it's definitely something you can achieve for yourself." She smiled. "You'd make a good dad. I'm not just saying that. I truly believe it."
 
He chuckled softly. "Well, thank you, Irene. That's very kind of you. I guess I need to figure out how to be a good husband first. The mom and dad thing, we can figure that out together." He leaned against the desk and crossed one arm over his chest, supporting the other elbow. "I mean, my future wife and I, not...not you and me." He laughed nervously and glanced at the floor. She belonged to Captain Thomas Williams, after all. She was someone else's girl.

He wanted to ask her how she was doing with Tom. Had they talked? Had things gotten better? But he couldn't bring himself to pry, though it was killing him not to know. Then he thought that he didn't have a right to know. Tom had been his commander. Irene was Tom's almost-fiancee, and the only reason that Nate and Irene talked was because he wrote her that thank you note for the care package. He had to change the subject before he got too deep. The thoughts of his family and siblings had opened up a tender room in his heart that he had thought long closed, but talking to Irene made him realize it was time to fill that spot again. He had spent too long not wanting to let someone get that close, because losing them was too hard.

He had to change the subject. l. He knew it was unreasonable to feel the way he did. He'd just met her, practically, but he felt like she was the closest person to him aside from Pops. "So - what did you do today? You said that you weren't doing much earlier, but you had to be doing something more exciting than laundry. 'Cause," he chuckled, "aside from studying and waiting to hear your voice, that's what I did."

Remind me to kick myself later, he thought, turning to his desk. He pulled out the chair and sat down to take a few notes. Along the top he wrote Care package - Irene, and underlined it twice. As she talked he wrote a few things down that he thought might make her day a little brighter.
 
As he was talking, Irene brought her legs up onto the rocking chair with her, crossing them as she placed her free hand over her ankle, fingers playing with the dirty laces of her old sneakers. They were from high school, her first pair of Converse, that she had begged her parents to get her because everyone was wearing them. It was a silly, teenaged thing to do, but they still fit, surprisingly enough.

She hadn't even noticed the way he had worded his statement or what it implied until he was elaborating further. Biting her bottom lip, she tried to keep from laughing because she could almost feel his anxiety over the phone; she didn't want to make things worse by making it known that she found his little faux pas adorable. It was very hard to resist teasing him, too. A few different responses came to mind, but she didn't have the heart to say any of them, knowing they were likely inappropriate and would probably make the situation worse.

When Irene felt she could trust her voice, she spoke, "Of course. I knew you meant your future wife, Nate."

He changed the subject, and she let him, knowing she would have done the same, had their roles been reversed. Hell, she had done it earlier in their conversation to get the attention off her.

"Well, my day has been pretty boring. My parents won't let me lift a finger, especially Mama. Although, my dad did let me milk the cow this morning. It's been a while, but I didn't forget how!" she said, sounding quite proud of herself, even though it really wasn't that big of a deal. "He woke me up early to do that. And then my mom made us breakfast. She's been making pancakes practically every day; she knows they're my favorite other than oatmeal. And then I showered and got ready for the day before calling you."

"So not much more exciting than laundry and studying." She chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You going to try to relax at some point today? Taking a break does help, by the way. Doctor's recommendation."
 
He wrote as she talked; maple syrup, Udderly Smooth lotion, European chocolate...

"I can't believe you're a milkmaid," he teased. "Who in the world today knows how to milk cows?" He laughed in a way that said he thought it was cool that she knew those things. "Is she a Jersey? Pops has a neighbor with one and the creme makes the best ice cream."

He 'Mmm'd' at the pancakes and homemade breakfast. "Sounds like they're doing a good job spoiling you. Your folks are good people. I like them already."

As she chuckled over both their 'not exciting' days, he imagined her smile and returned the laugh. "Yeah, well...this is my relaxation - talking to you. All the others went to town to drink or hook up; none of that's for me. I'm not interested in a short-term fling with a Townie, and I don't drink, so...unless I want to hand around young bucks and does playing the mating call game and be their designated driver, there's nothing there for me."

Her 'doctor's recommendation' brought another laugh from him, and he looked down at his list. He needed a few more things, but he was on his way to putting together her care package. "But, since my doctor did recommend it, I may run into town today and take care of a few things." He could package it up and mail it between classes Monday. "You'll have to tell your parents 'thank you' from me. I'm glad you've got that support network around you, and you can count me as one of them, okay?"
 
Who in the world knows how to milk cows?

“Excuse me,” she said, feigning outrage and bringing her free hand up to her chest as if his question has physically wounded her. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people that know how to milk a cow, and Lois’ creme makes the best ice cream in this town. My dad got a Jersey cow for that very reason.” And she wasn’t lying. The retired police officer had a freezer in the unfinished basement, full of different flavors of ice cream. Personally, she thought it was richer than Missy’s Sweet’s ice cream, but her brothers always insisted on going there. They said it was the toppings, but she was pretty sure they both had a crush on one of the cashiers.

“They are,” she groaned, her head falling back against the head of the rocking chair, the movement causing it to pitch forward before swinging back. “And as much as I love and appreciate them, I’m getting tired of just sitting around and doing nothing.”

Irene could picture his amused expression through the phone, finding she liked the sound of his laugh.

But since my doctor did recommend it.

She chuckled, sitting forward in her seat and only calming some when he started speaking again. He sounded like he was going to try and wrap things up, and as much as she wanted to keep talking to him, she realized that she wasthe one who told him to take a break. There was also only so much time she could get away with hiding from her parents. “Thank you, Nate. Honestly, I don’t know if I would have handled this whole thing as well as I did without you. I’m glad Tom asked you to write to me in his stead.”

“I’ll let you get going, then. You’ll have to be back by a certain time, yeah?” He likely and an early rise tomorrow, and she didn’t want to be the reason he was late to bed, even if it was indirectly.
 
"I'm glad Tom did too," he replied, thinking of how one choice had made such a big difference in his life. "Hey, if you talk to him tell him 'hi' for me. If I write him people might give him a hard time, you know? The guys like to tease each other and I think he's got enough going on right now." He was thinking about the sudden reassignments in the unit and his own departure. It was a lot for any commander to handle.

“I’ll let you get going, then. You’ll have to be back by a certain time, yeah?”

"Well, curfew is ten, but I need to be in bed by seven. Eight at the latest. But...I'm glad I got to talk to you, Irene. It made my week. I'm hoping this becomes a habit, talking to you. I only have my personal phone on Sundays; it's not mandatory, but I need to focus. If something does come up, if you need to talk, you can call my commander's office and they'll get me out of class. Anything, okay? I'll text you the emergency number when we hang up."

He paused. He didn't want to hang up. But he also wanted to send her the care package, and tomorrow he'd start writing her another letter to send by Tuesday. Then before he knew it, it would be Sunday, and Phase One training would be done. It seemed like time went fast, now that he was settling into a schedule. "You take care of yourself Irene. I l-like talking to you a lot. It's better than therapy." He smiled and listened to her say her goodbyes, then pulled the phone away so he could look at her picture before he swiped the phone off.

A few minutes later he was walking out to the parking lot, texting her the emergency number. He had a lot of things he wanted to get; aside from the items on the list he picked up a girly gossip magazine, a journal of gratitude, a "Fort Rucker" t-shirt in medium, and then, because she mentioned having a dog, grabbed a Gund plush to fill up the rest of the box. Was it too much? Maybe. She did a lot for the unit with her care packages, though, and he wanted to return the thought.
 
“Well...to be quite honest...he doesn’t know that I’ve still been in contact with you. It just never came up, but I’ll tell him.” It was probably about time she did. He had a right to know, even though her relationship with Nate was completely platonic. Initially, she had a feeling he wouldn’t take it very well, but she’d rather tell him than have him find out some other way. It wasn’t like she intentionally hid the fact they were speaking from him.

“I understand, Nate. I’ll call that number if something does come up, but I don’t want to bother you needlessly. This is important for that future you want, right? Do what you have to do. Focus. And call me if you’d like a break. I always enjoy our chats, written or verbal. In fact, I look forward to them.” It was true. Getting to talk to him again made the wait worth it, made everything she went through this past week worth it. He somehow always knew what to say, how to make her feel better, and she appreciated his friendship more than anything. “It made my week, too. Thanks for giving some of your time to me, Nate. I can’t begin to tell you how much talking to you has impacted me.”

“So take care of yourself, too, and don’t be a stranger. Even if it’s in the middle of the night, call me. I’m used to being up at odd hours anyway,” she said with a laugh, referring to her job as a resident.

They finished up the call after that, and already, Irene was looking to next Sunday. It might be too much to hope for, having their calls be a weekly thing, especially when he was busy chasing his dreams. But, if he called her because he had a couple of minutes, she wouldn’t be the least bit disappointed.

Stretching a bit, the young woman got up from the rocking chair, feeling ten times better than she had prior to coming in here. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, thanks to Nate, and she felt better able to face the rest of her day, climbing down to the first floor of the building. It was as she turned around, feet firmly planted on hay and dirt, that she first spotted her father. He was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, with a thick brow arched at her.

Immediately, whatever wind she had been flying on had been stolen from her. She could tell by the look on his face that he knew she was hiding out here, and he likely heard some of her conversation on the phone, including their goodbyes. “Daddy...” she murmured, surprise evident in the way her brown eyes widened.

“Who’s Nate?” he asked, dipping his head as he pushed off the old, chipped wood of the threshold to stand straighter, his hands in his flannel jacket pockets.
 
Nathan packed the Priority Mail Express box up for Irene, then added a hand written note before placing the label on and sliding it into the slot. By tomorrow morning it would be on its way to her. He smiled, hoping it gave her as much enjoyment to open as it did for him to put it together.

Hi Irene, Hope you don't mind but I wanted to spoil you a little too. The stuffed animal is a place holder until you get your family and that dog that races the kids to greet you every evening. Take care of yourself and keep smiling. ~Nate

The next few weeks went quickly, with Sundays set aside to talk to Irene and Pop, and the rest of the week dedicated to studying and doing well in his training. He stopped worrying about his old unit as he became accustomed to life at Fort Rucker, and it seemed like the time he had there would pass more pleasantly than any other time in his service.

Maybe it was having Irene to talk to. Maybe it was because he'd never thought about what he'd do 'after' the Army. He'd gone in when he was lost; he had no idea what to do with his life, so he enlisted. Now, he had a plan and a purpose, and he could see how what he was doing was going to lead to his tomorrows. It was a strange feeling for him, but one he cherished. Even Pops noticed, and he asked if it had anything to do with his pen pal, laughing and telling Nate he was just kidding. But Nate wondered if he was right. Pops was usually right about a lot of things.

~ * ~​

It had been a full month since Tom had been under a doctor's care for his pain, and though there had been difficult times when he thought about going to drink to numb it, he resisted. The putting off of treatment had cost him valuable recovery time, but it seemed like the addition to the opioid would be harder to recover from, and he was warned to let his future doctors know he needed a non-opioid pain killer if it ever came up again. It seemed like once you had been hooked it was easier to get addicted again. The psychologist was the most help; he had assisted Tom in figuring out that it wasn't a display of weakness to admit what he had done. His need to cover the pain was born out of his desire to take care of his troops and not be a detriment.

Some of it sounded like touchy-feely bullshit to him, but he was willing to sit and listen. At least he could keep command, and he'd started the process to start in law school. The L-SAT kicked his ass but it was done, and now he just needed to wait and see how his numbers turned out. The waiting was the hardest part; not knowing if the answer was going to be a good one or not. His life rested on that decision. It could mean that his entire life went one way or another, and the waiting...it was killing him.

The irony of Irene's test results having the same affect on her hadn't occurred to him. He had that amazing ability to compartmentalize his life into tidy little squares, and while he was thinking about his law school square, he didn't think about his Irene square.

After he wrote a short note to his parents he sat down and started writing to Irene. After about an hour and a half of just staring at the page, wondering what to write, he put pen to paper.

Dear Irene,

I should have written you sooner. Time really moves differently over here, but I realize it's been nearly a month since we spoke. I don't want you to think that I'm mad at you or anything like that. I've just been busy. My offer still stands - I love you and I can't imagine anyone else as my wife. I don't want to be anyone else's husband.

I hope you are doing well. I heard from my mom that your surgery went well, and you're home recovering with your parents. I bet that's nice, even though they're probably treating you like a kid again.

I took the L-SAT and now I'm waiting on results. It should be soon. If I can start this year, then I'll be out in two years, right on time to leave the service and start at some law firm. It might mean a move to the city, but I know with your residency over you won't have any problems finding a good position wherever we go. I can see it now - Esquire Thomas Williams and Dr. Irene Williams. We'd be quite the power couple!

I'm going to get a chance to come back for a couple of weeks in early November. My mom didn't want me to tell you. She thought it would be a nice surprise, but I wanted you to have something to look forward to. Mom was thinking of having an early Thanksgiving to celebrate. We'll have to fit in Christmas, New Year's, and Valentine's too - once I come back it may be next summer before I can visit again. I went ahead and asked Dad to cancel my lease to the house until I get back full time. I don't know why I didn't do it sooner, but it doesn't make sense to pay rent on a place I'm not using, and we probably should have moved in together a long time ago. Maybe once I get back permanently we can find a nice place in the city, maybe a flat downtown, and make a new home for ourselves.

I haven't been able to get to the secure location for calls yet, but when I do I hope you can pick up. I miss hearing your voice.

Love,
Tom
 
Irene couldn't find it in her to lie to her father, and in the end, she told him how she came to know Nate, assuring him that he was just a friend and that she would never, ever betray Tom like that. Of course, her father believed her; he knew she wasn't the type of woman to cheat, but he warned her of the dangers of keeping in contact with someone she had never met. Again, she assured him that she was being careful. Besides, Tom did know Nate.

Fortunately, her father knew not to mention this to anyone else, and he continued to turn a blind eye, even when he went with Irene back to her place to get some mail. She had been so surprised to see a package waiting for her as well. At first, she thought maybe Tom had contacted her parents about getting something for her as a way to cheer her up, but that idea was completely scrapped when she saw the sender's name. Nathaniel Davis. But instead of feeling disappointed that her fiancé hadn't been behind this, she had been touched by just how sweet a gesture this was. Somehow, Nate had known some of her favorite things--the chocolate, the magazine and maple syrup. The lotion and journal had been so thoughtful, too. And, like a kid, she didn't go one night since receiving the gift without sleeping with the stuffed animal in her arms.

That weekend, when she was back on the phone with Nate, she had thanked him profusely, telling him that he really shouldn't have but she loved the care package all the same. She also shared the good news--her biopsy had come back negative.

Much to Irene's joy, their calls became a regular thing to do on Sunday. She'd sneak out to the barn while her mother was occupied to spend some time just talking to Nate. He'd tell her about his week, and she'd do the same. It was mostly small talk, but there was something about their conversations that made them very hard to end. It did help, though, knowing that just a week later, they'd be chatting again. The letters continued back and forth as well; although, they were a bit shorter now that they conversed pretty regularly over the phone.

A month had quickly passed, and Irene's time with her parents had come to an end. She still wasn't healed enough to go back to work, but she felt she had enough strength to take care of herself, at the very least. Her mother wasn't too happy with letting her go, even going far enough to ask if she would consider moving back in. It was a silly question. They both knew it, but Irene had every intention of visiting them more regularly, especially since she was off for the time being.

It was a couple of days after being settled back in her house that she got Tom's letter, reminding her that she had never answered the one he had dated the day after her surgery. Immediately, the guilt hit her, and she tore into the envelope, hoping he wasn't upset with her. Fortunately, he didn't even acknowledge the lack of a response from her; in fact, he was apologizing for not writing her sooner, but as Irene finished reading what he wrote, she found herself frowning down at the paper.

The city? He wanted to move to the city? Why? Couldn't he commute? She did. Savannah wasn't far. Where did he want them to go that he was asking her to find a job at a different hospital?

Her hand fell to her lap, letter still in its grasp as she leaned against the kitchen table, her opposite palm supporting her forehead.

How could she respond to this without acknowledging the elephant in the room? While, yes, she was happy that Tom found a passion in law, going far enough to sit for the L-SAT. She'd support him in that dream, but what about her own? Irene couldn't picture herself in a city without a garden or space for a growing family. If he wanted to move far, she couldn't see her parents as often as she liked to...

It didn't sit well with her at all, and the disappointment she felt trumped any excitement she had felt at reading that he would be coming home in November and the possibility of living together. Her mind kept going back to that first phone conversation she had had with Nate after her surgery, about him and Michelle and what she had said about the divorce being the right thing...Was she in a similar situation with Tom? No. He didn't say he didn't want to have a family or have kids. Maybe, if she told him how much it meant to her, he'd be willing to stay where they were.

But that talk was also something that had to happen in person.

It took her a couple of days, but by the weekend, she had a response to Tom's letter that she felt she could send him.

June 21, 2020

Dear Tom,

I never considered that you might be angry with me. I do realize that you are busy, and that's okay. Your job is very important to you, and your safety is what's important to me. So, if it means that the time you'd normally take to write to me is spent taking care of you, I'm perfectly fine with that.

My surgery did go well, and the biopsy came back negative, meaning the cancer did not spread to other parts of my body. I am now back in my place, but still out of work until Dr. Rosen clears me. I had a good time with my parents; they were so good to me, but I was ready to go back to my own home.

As for the L-SAT, I think it's great that you want to do something different! Just because our families are mostly military and cops doesn't mean that you have to follow the same path. You can do a lot of good as a lawyer, and I think you'd be fantastic at it. Let me know how you do, and also let me know how you're doing. In your last letter, you told me about your back problems and the subsequent issue you were having with the oxycontin. I didn't tell anyone. Don't worry. I'm glad you're getting help. Addiction is really common, especially after an injury and in the military, but it is treatable. I'm sure your parents would understand that, but telling them is your decision to make. I'll support you no matter what you choose.

Please give me an update on your health, if you can. Just a couple sentences will do. I'm fine, but I do worry about you.

I love you so much, and I can't wait to see you in November. I'll be counting down the days, and if we get in contact through some other means before then, I'll just consider myself lucky.

Take care of yourself.

Love,
Irene

She read it over a few times, hoping her boyfriend wouldn't notice how she avoided the topic of moving to the city. In the end, she supposed it was only something she could hope for as she folded up the letter and slid it into an envelope. It would go out the next day.

Once she had finished writing out the address, Irene glanced at her phone, seeing a text from Molly. Picking it up, she unlocked the device to read it.

Did you see what Jenna just posted on Facebook?!

Without answering her friend, she opened the app, and the first post that was on her feed was a pregnancy announcement. Jenna and her husband were in the pictures, followed by a February due date and a sonogram. They both looked unbelievably happy, and Irene couldn't resist calling them to congratulate them. However, the whole time she was listening to her best friend speak excitedly, the contents of Tom's letter lingered in the back of her mind, and as much as she wanted to talk to someone about it, she didn't want to ruin Jenna's moment by bringing it up to her. And her parents weren't exactly people she could go to, considering how biased they would be.

So she kept it to herself until she brought up the topic on her next phone call with Nate.
 
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