Wedding a Warrior Read online

  “So you weren’t looking at rings?”

  “I was.” He raised his head and met her eyes.

  “You do want to marry me?”

  “Yes. One day.”

  “And you’re really leaving for the Army?”

  “I have to.”

  “Because you feel it’s what God wants you to do?”

  “Because I know He wants me to.”

  “Those people out there. The table I was waiting on when, well,” she pointed to the soda and barbecue on his clothes. “That’s Brady and his family. The little boy from school whose dad deploys on Monday.” Her eyes watered. “He wanted to bring his mom and dad to meet me.” She sniffled. “They thanked me for praying for them.”

  “I’ll be okay, Whit.”

  “You don’t know that.” She yanked a hand away and swiped at a tear.

  No, he couldn’t promise his safety or the well-being of Brady’s father.

  “You leaving—joining the Army.” She shook her head and tucked her lip under her teeth. “It’s a lot to process.”

  “I have every intention of coming back for you.” Collier gave her hands a squeeze. “Please wait for me. Two years.”

  “After graduation?”

  “That gives me time to prepare a good life for us. You’ll graduate and land a teaching job. Sky’s the limit for us.”

  “Is the Army a career or—”

  “I honestly don’t know.” His shoulders skimmed the bottom of his ears. “I can tell you that as of right now, it’s only going to be three years.”

  “And then done?”

  “Done.” He couldn’t promise an uncertainty. “That’s the plan at least.” Collier blinked. He brought her hand to his lips. “Three years will fly. Two of those years you’ll be so busy with school and work you won’t even miss me.”

  Whitleigh sniffled through a smile. “How will I get through Professor Rhine’s class without you next semester?”

  “Bryant always keeps it interesting.” What an understatement. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

  “When do you leave?” Her long lashes lowered and then rose.

  “I’m going to swear in next week, but I won’t have to leave until early next semester. Delayed entry program.” Collier intertwined his fingers with hers. Her hand appeared small in comparison with his. “I needed to finish out the semester. Finish well and spend as much time as possible with you.”

  Collier leaned forward. He kept hold of her hands as she squirmed about in her chair, head lowered. Whit ran from anything out of her comfort zone. Who wouldn’t? She closed her eyes as if it helped clear her mind. Her inner struggle marked an outward expression with each twisted grimace.

  “I know you’re scared, Whit.” He lifted her hands to his lips. “If you had no fear, no setbacks, what would your answer be?”

  “It’s not that easy.” She shook her head and sucked in a deep breath. “You know what I’d say if it were that simple.”

  “Have faith, Whit.”

  Whitleigh rolled her eyes. “This isn’t how things were supposed to go for us.”

  “Don’t you think I know this?” Collier scooted from the table. The chair screeched against the concrete floor. Whit could be so stubborn. Where was her faith? “Plans change and we can trust God even if His plans look different from what we have in mind.”

  He reached for Whit’s hand. She stood from the table and faced him. Her blue eyes gazed up at him and pierced his heart. How could someone so pure, so kind, and lovely have so much reluctance? Collier swallowed.

  “Whit.” He kissed her forehead. “Just wait for me, that’s all I’m asking. Please.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. For being petite that girl had a grip. Her expression grew resolute. “I will wait for you. As long as it takes.”

  Collier opened his mouth to speak, but she pulled him close, placing her lips on his. Where did that thought go? Whatever he had to say could wait.

  “Ahem. Knock, knock.”

  Collier pried Whit’s arms from around his neck. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  Andy laughed. The dim light overhead gave his aged skin a yellow hue. “Break’s over.”

  Whit covered a sweet smile with her hand. “See ya after work.” She scooted past Collier. The tips of their fingers prolonged the goodbye.

  Collier sighed. She said she’d wait. His back pressed against the barn wood wall. Life was good.

  Chapter 3

  WHITLEIGH crossed her arms around a set of binders and books, pressing them firmly against her chest. Her shoulders protested, laboring beneath the straps of her cumbersome backpack. If only time remained for a quick stop at the dorm. Rain drizzled from the gray clouds above, a sure sign that spring had arrived in Kentucky. She tucked her head until the tip of her nose touched the Basics of Education and European History textbooks. Regardless of her attempts to avoid the drops, the rain continued to beat a steady rhythm on top of her head. Whitleigh batted a raindrop from her lashes, or maybe a tear. Those came without warning lately, ever since Collier left. Where had their time together gone?

  The clock tower chimed and resonated throughout the campus. Class started in five. Her sneakers picked up the pace, racing faster than the dribbles of sweat spiraling down her back from kickboxing — an easy but much needed stress reducing elective. She wove through the morning coffee shop line pouring out onto the sidewalk. Fragrant bold blends awakened her senses. Her feet rounded the neatly landscaped corner.

  Oh great. The pickles.

  Whitleigh kept her head lowered, passing the college cadets in their Army green ROTC uniforms, huddled on picnic tables beneath the trees. They — the pickles — guffawed with one another as if the world wasn’t at war. While they played soldier and studied military tactics, Collier prepared for the real deal in basic training. He would graduate in early June, but this was March. Cold, wet, lonely March. She slowed for a moment, remembering his face, his embrace. The tips of her fingers rose to touch her lips in reverence of their last kiss. Collier.

  “Whit. Wait up.”

  Bryant. Great. “Hey.” Whitleigh spun on her heels. Bryant jogged forward, Army beret on his head.

  “Can I walk you to class?”

  Whitleigh pressed her lips together with a pop. “And if I say no?” She turned, walking away. He followed behind. “Figured no wouldn’t stop you. Never has.”

  “C’mon Whit. Lighten up. We’re friends.” Bryant’s laugh began in his stomach. “If I didn’t know better, it looked like you were trying to scoot by without saying hi to me.”

  Caught. Whitleigh bit down on the inside of her jaw. “I haven’t been too social lately. I’m trying though.” She kept up a swift pace.

  “I know you miss Collier. We all do.” Bryant matched her steps and then some. “He had a lot of guts dropping out of college like that, especially during wartime.”

  Whitleigh winced and adjusted the weight of her backpack. “You gotta do what God wants you to do.”

  “I guess. Here, let me get that.” Bryant tugged on her shoulder straps.

  Whitleigh halted, turning on her heels once more, and tilted her chin upward to face Bryant. The square line of his jaw appeared more prominent as he smiled, arching his sandy blond eyebrows. “I know you’re trying to be nice right now, and I appreciate it, but I also know what you’re doing.”

  “Me?”

  “Don’t act innocent. What would Collier think about you hitting on me all the time?”

  “You need to consider your options, that’s all. Long distant relationships don’t fare well, statistically speaking. And —”

  “And you think you’re a better choice?” She grunted. “You’re so arrogant.”

  “Confidence is easy to mistake.”

  “Oh, there’s no mistake on my part.”

  Bryant opened his mouth, but Whitleigh lifted a hand. “Listen carefully. I love Collier. You and I are friends, and yes, we went on one date, but that was a year ago, before Co
llier and I got back together.”

  “But —”

  “But, as great as you are, and you of all people know how great you are, you’re still the kind of guy who hits on his friend’s girlfriend.”

  “Ouch, Whit.” Bryant arched his back, pulling an invisible arrow from his heart.

  Whitleigh rolled her eyes. “You’ll survive.”

  “Did you know you’re beautiful even when you’re mad? And sweaty? And with no makeup on? Even with your hair all pinned up and crazy looking. You’ve been to kickboxing, right?”

  “Bye, Bryant.”

  “Wait up. We’re in the same class, you know.”

  “Yeah.” Whitleigh inhaled, filling her lungs. She took her time releasing the breath. The stress remained. Maybe she should sign up for another combative elective.

  WHITLEIGH scooted into her seat with a minute to spare. Good thing too. Being late would never fly since Professor Rhine and her father went way back.

  Whitleigh ignored the cheesy grin on Bryant’s face. Her backpack fell to the old marble tile floor with a thud, giving her shoulders a well-deserved break. The chair next to hers — Collier’s place — remained empty. Her heart sank. No matter how noble his actions, Collier dropped more than classes when he left for basic training.

  She flipped open her calendar, highlighted, color coded, and scheduled to perfection. Volunteer at two. Class after. Dinner. Laundry. Work at seven. Whitleigh closed her eyes. Her breathing steadied. Strange how comforting structure felt. Safe, secure, no surprises.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  The sound of a voice beside her pulled Whitleigh from her daze. Reese stood, tall and willowy as ever, in a multi-patterned dress only she could pull off. Her dark eyes smiled.

  Whitleigh patted Collier’s seat. “I’d like some company.”

  “Figured. Bryant giving you a hard time again?” Reese’s long fingers picked through her well-manicured afro. Bryant wiggled his fingers to wave in their direction.

  Whitleigh shook her head. “I can handle him.”

  “And anything else that comes at you.” Reese nudged at Whitleigh’s side with an elbow. “One of the things I love most about you.”

  “It’s the power of the calendar.” Truth be told, planning was just as much of a pain as it was a comfort. Whitleigh crossed her legs and rested her chin in her palm.

  Professor Rhine closed the thick wooden door to the classroom and stepped up to his podium, straightening his bow tie. A small ponytail gathered at the nape of his neck, held in place with a thin red ribbon. Did anyone else find it as comical as she and Collier that the man teaching European history resembled Napoleon? Whitleigh covered her smirk with an index finger.

  “Let’s begin.” Professor Rhine pushed up his wire frame glasses and turned from the podium, walking toward the stool.

  Whitleigh’s stomach grumbled. Blueberry scones were tasty, but not filling. She reached in her bag for an apple, hoping to keep the crunch factor low.

  “World War I, the war to end all wars, the Great War. We’ve talked about the logistics, the causes, the battles, the new weapons that were birthed from this global war, but today,” he raised an aged finger, “I want to talk about the human element of this epic war.” He wet his lips as his face came to life. “What was lost in this war?” He scanned the room of elevated hands.

  Whitleigh looked away, hands on her desk. Anyone else not raising their hand? She couldn’t answer with an apple in her mouth.

  “You, Ms. Reese.” The professor motioned with a nod of his head.

  Reese lowered her hand, legs crossed. “Life was lost.”

  “Please explain in further detail.” Professor Rhine tugged at his bow tie.

  She rose, arms at her side. “Life is sacred. Taking a life should be avoided at all costs.” Her voice raised a few octaves. “Soldiers were killed in horrific ways, but think about the citizens; the women who were raped and murdered. The school aged children struck by bullets or blown up because they stepped on land mines as they played in the fields. Children lost mothers and fathers.” Reese folded her arms across her stomach. “There are some wars meant to be fought, but this one, Professor Rhine, should’ve never been.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Reese.” The professor nodded. “You may be seated.”

  Reese eased back into her seat, careful to keep her short skirt in place.

  “Well said.” Whitleigh gave a quiet round of applause.

  “Thanks.”

  The professor searched the room with an outstretched arm. “Anyone else want to speak up on what was taken from those affected by the Great War?”

  Should she answer? Whit swallowed a chunk of apple. What would she say?

  “No takers? Well then, let’s play on what Reese pointed towards for a second, shall we?” Professor Rhine adjusted his glasses, pulled on his vest, and leaned forward, tipping the stool on two legs. “What justifies war and the horrific loss that ensues? Would the assassination of say, our President, or an elected official as in the case of World War I, be a worthy cause?”

  “No,” the class answered in unison.

  “Then what?”

  Whitleigh raised her hand, swallowing the bit of apple in her mouth. “If our country was invaded, then war’s justifiable, like with what happened on September 11th.” She twirled the stem of the apple between her fingers, her back pressed against the chair. “And I would fight for the rights of others. If someone was being persecuted in some way, it would be right to fight for them.”

  Professor Rhine pushed up from the stool and strolled toward the whiteboard, popping the top off of the dry erase marker. “What else? Keep ’em coming.”

  “Dr. Rhine, it seems like you’re trying to make a point, and with all due respect, I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but I don’t think I like it.” Bryant straightened his uniform as he rose to his feet. Reese threw a glance Whitleigh’s way. She responded with a combination shrug and scowl.

  “You have something you wish to say?” The professor tucked his hands behind his back.

  Bryant put his hands on his hips. “My great, great grandfather lost his life in World War I. Generations of my family have served and died for our nation, and their service in life or death was valiant. They died out of obedience to their country. Our nation asked them to fight, and they did, so write that down on your whiteboard as a reason for war and all its aftermath. I’ll even spell it for ya. O. B. E. D. —”

  “I can spell just fine young man.” Professor Rhine’s glasses dropped down to the tip of his nose, but he didn’t push them back into place. He glared over the frames, drilling a hole into Bryant. Whitleigh held her breath.

  Bryant made his point. Professor Rhine was about to make his.

  “Son, thank you for your response.” He eyed the tiled floor and locked fiery eyes with Bryant. “I understand duty to our country very well. I understand obedience. I gave this nation twenty-eight years of my life.” Professor Rhine nodded. “Watched my buddies blown to bits in Korea and Vietnam. A few of them captured. Those that weren’t lucky enough to be killed were tortured out of their minds. Bamboo shoots shoved up their fingernails. Far more stories too terrifying and disgusting to repeat.

  I bet your great, great grandfather saw similar things. If he was anything like me, then he probably did some pretty grotesque things too. Things you think you’re never capable of doing until you’ve already done them.” He licked his lips, looking away for a moment. “I live with those realities every day. You. Do. Not.”

  Whitleigh and Reese shared a horrified glance. Bryant stood still as stone. His Adam’s apple bobbed once.

  Professor Rhine cleared his throat. “I’m more than happy to serve my country when called upon, but when asked, I want to be sure of how I am to serve, and not get caught up in the patriotism as you seem to be doing, son.”

  Bryant looked away as the Professor continued to glare in his direction.

  “Asking someone to serve should never mea
n unnecessary slaughter, especially at the expense of the innocent. Repercussions of war last long after the battle ends.” Professor Rhine snatched a piece of scrap paper and pen from his desk and marched toward Bryant, shoving them into the young man’s hands. “You, son, can write that down.”

  Collier’s face flashed in Whitleigh’s mind. What would the Army ask of Collier? Would he see horrors similar to or worse than Professor Rhine? The apple churned in her stomach, climbing up her throat. She shook and blinked a few times to shrug it off and push it down. She needed air. Her chest tightened as she hurried to gather her belongings. Whitleigh lunged from her chair, creating a clatter. With a flip of her wrist, she tossed the apple in the trash on her way out the door.

  She raced down the hall and through the double glass doors until she stood beneath the dreary sky, sucking in deep breaths and exhaling sobs.

  Why did he have to leave now — when the world was at war with terror? Waging a war on terror was as futile as declaring a war on evil. Why couldn’t he wait until they were through with college?

  Two years wasn’t so far off.

  “Pull yourself together.” Whitleigh wiped her eyes. She trudged over to an empty bench that had been set beneath the ancient oak tree near the center of the campus. Worse things went on in the world besides her boyfriend leaving. She worked a folded envelope from her jacket pocket, running her fingers over his name. Collier kept his promise to write while away, but would he keep his promise to come back for her? Two years, he said, and then they would marry.

  Whitleigh’s phone buzzed from the mesh siding of her backpack. She bent, swooping it up, flipping it open against her ear. “Hello?”

  “Whit.”

  “Collier.” Another round of tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Whitleigh didn’t try to hold back her smile.

  “I don’t have too long.”

  “That’s okay.” Short conversations were better than none. Whitleigh folded her legs beneath her.

  “Whit, I can’t live another day without knowing you’ll be mine forever.” Collier’s voice reached out and grabbed her heart.