Norton raised an eyebrow.“I doubt we’ll be complaining, sir.”After the Colonel left, he said, “We’ll gather in the ready room before you all leave.”
Jerry stepped up to the counter and handed his weapon through the cage window.As soon as he got a confirmation from Norton, he picked up his duffel bag and made his way to the ready room.
His eyes burned, and he checked the time.Christmas Day, 1732 hours, or 5:32 PM Central Time for civilians.No, not day, evening.Christmas evening.He sank into the leather couch and startled when Peña grabbed him by the shoulders from behind.The clock now read 5:41.“Wakey, wakey,” Captain Peña said.“Daddy’s home.”
Jerry sat forward and rubbed his eyes as Norton came into the room.“Well done.Couldn’t be prouder.Colonel Jenkins wouldn’t have come out on Christmas Day if we hadn’t done a respectable job.”He looked around.“Cynthia and I want to invite anyone who needs a seat at the table over for a late Christmas dinner tomorrow.Sixteen hundred.I’ll be frying a turkey, and rumor has it my father-in-law will also be there.”
Waller whistled under his breath.“Rubbing shoulders with the VP after this somewhat black bag op?”
“Even better, Drumstick intends to join us.I know he’ll be glad to see everyone who can make it,” Norton announced.Years back, Bill “Drumstick” Sanders had gotten out of the Army and almost immediately stood up a personal security company that also performed private investigation work.
Norton started taking RSVPs.When he looked at him, Jerry shook his head.“Sorry, Daddy.Got a date.”
“Don’t want to get a selfie with the VP again?”Norton probed.
Jerry had met the Vice President of the United States two years ago when he hosted a medal ceremony followed by a luncheon at Number One Observatory Circle.“My date’s better looking,” he said.
Norton rubbed his red beard.“I thought you liked redheads.Cheating on me already?Doesn’t really speak well for our future prospects.”
He thought of Olive’s red braid.“Oh, definitely like this female redhead.No offense, sir, you are permanently afflicted with being a redhead of the male persuasion.”Everyone laughed as Jerry stood.“Merry Christmas, everyone.And happy whatever, Abe.”
Abe grinned at the good-natured jab.“This year, I call Christmas Day, Monday.”
“Happy Monday, then.”
Every bone ached for a hot shower and a warm bed.He wanted to call Olive, but he honestly didn’t know if he had the energy.He felt drained, tapped out.He tried to remember the last time he slept more than three hours at a stretch and couldn’t recall.
He crossed the compound to his barracks building and slowly climbed the stairs to his floor.When he got to the door, he mentally patted himself on the shoulder for fishing his keys out of his bag in Karpovia and putting them in his cargo pocket.Experience told him he’d not sleep well—or at all—on the multiple-stop flights home, and jet lag would break him on this side of the Atlantic.
He let his bag hit the tile floor with a thud as the metal door swung shut with a loud clang behind him.If he sat down, he’d sleep, and he’d rather wash away the last several days first, so he stripped his uniform blouse off on the way to the bathroom.While the water heated, he turned the room’s thermostat up to 75 degrees, then pulled his boots off for the first time in four days, relief washing through every toe.
He examined his reflection in the mirror.White and gray camouflage paint hid inside his chestnut beard, in the lines of his eyelids, and against the hair at his temple.His eyes stared back at him, bloodshot with deep dark circles under them.The cold had chapped the skin around his nose and his cheeks, leaving them raw and red.But he was alive, whole, home, and starting to feel warm.
Hot water pounded his shoulders, steam fogging the tiles as he scrubbed Karpovia off.The spicy smell of his soap gradually filled the steam in the air, clearing out the fuel smell from his sinuses that came with riding in the cargo hold of a C-17.He thought of Olive and his intent to spend Christmas with her after her shift ended.Not happening tonight.
Wrapped in a towel, he grabbed his phone—1829 local.She’d finish up her shift soon.He typed, his thumbs slow and clumsy.
Jerry: Just got in.Beat.Crashing hard.Tomorrow okay?
He flopped on the bunk, barracks silence pressing in like a hum, the warm air seeping the last of his strength away.Her reply dinged fast.
Olive: So glad you’re home safe!I’m off tomorrow.Breakfast at my place?9?
A grin cracked his tired face.
He gave her text message a thumbs-up, then pulled the OD Green Army issue wool blanket up over his shoulders, asleep before he could even plug in his phone.
Clarksville, Tennessee
Nerves jittered in her stomach as Olive slid the pan of biscuits into the oven, then wiped the flour off the countertop.She knew how she had left things with Jerry, but she didn’t know what that looked like nearly two weeks later.She stirred the corned beef one more time, put the lid on the skillet, and turned the stove off.Before she could pull the fruit salad out of the refrigerator, her doorbell rang.
Heart pounding, mouth suddenly dry, she turned down the Christmas music she’d had pumping through her Bluetooth speakers and made her way through the living room, eyes looking around for anything possibly out of place.When she opened the door, unexpected joy burst through her at the sight of Jerry.
He was clean-shaven, wearing a gray cable sweater and an OD green skull cap that made his hazel eyes look emerald green.The bridge of his nose and his cheeks looked chapped red.He carried two gift bags.
“Merry Christmas,” he said with a smile that made her heart flutter.
“Welcome home, soldier,” she said.
