The Marine's Embrace

“Okay,” he said reluctantly.

“Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

He grinned, so eager to please. So thrilled to be praised. Even when it was obvious he was only doing it to make someone else happy.

Just like she did.

“Can I put the dirt in?” he asked.

She couldn’t speak, her throat was too tight, so she nodded. Worried now that she’d made a mistake in speaking the truth. That she’d somehow tainted him with her fears.

“But not too full, right?” he asked, hopping from foot to foot, either in excitement or because he had to pee. “’Cuz there has to be room for the flowers’ roots. Right?”

“Right.” But the word came out a whisper, so she cleared her throat. Tried again. “That’s right.”

He dived at the bag of potting soil, using his hands to scoop some out. Most of it drifted to the ground before it reached the pot, and even more clung to his pants and shirt, covered his arms.

She was surprised he didn’t climb into the bag and just dig it out like a dog.

He stopped jiggling, which meant his little dance had been excitement. Best of all, he was smiling, talking cheerfully, a running commentary about what he was doing. He was, in this moment, happy.

Maybe she wasn’t ruining him after all.

Still, she only had so many bags of potting soil, and at this rate, more than half of it was going to feed the yard.

“Wow, great job. If you want,” she said, as if just coming up with the idea, offering to do him a huge favor, “I could finish filling it. Then you can dig the holes for the flowers.”

She held out a small garden shovel. His eyebrows drew together into an adorable frown, as if he wasn’t sure whether this new development was to his advantage. She could almost see him weighing his options: play in the dirt or get to use the potentially lethal tool.

He grabbed the shovel. Lethal it was.

Using an empty flower container, she scooped the soil into the pot. “There you go.”

“Three holes, right?” he asked, his pudgy hand gripping the shovel tight. His tongue sticking out, he stabbed the pointed edge of the shovel into the pot then flung it up in an explosion of dirt that showered his hair and clothes.

“Yes. But maybe not quite so hard?”

He nodded. And showered himself with even more dirt.

Oh, well. No harm in getting dirty. Clothes—and little boys—were washable. Though she might have to hose him off before getting him into the tub.

“Look! I did it,” he said. “I made a hole.”

“Yes, you did. Good job. Two more to go.”

She thought she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Covered it with her hand, holding her breath. Yes, that was a vibration. Wasn’t it? She pulled it out and exhaled heavily at the blank screen. She quickly unlocked it just to double-check. But there were no texts, no emails, no missed calls.

Where was Shane? Why hadn’t he called her? Or better yet, stopped by?

She’d practiced her apology to him in the shower, had it memorized and perfected only to have her call—all five of them—go straight to voice mail. Which was understandable. She was sure he’d been busy preparing for his interview, showering and shaving and getting dressed. So she’d texted him, had poured her heart out to him, told him how sorry she was, let him know how much last night had meant to her. How excited she was for the future.

That had been hours ago. It was now past two and she hadn’t heard from him yet. She just didn’t understand what she’d done wrong. If he’d tell her, she could fix it. She could change.

“Mama, are you sad?”

She looked down to find Mitch frowning up at her. He was so like her—from his coloring to his blue eyes to the shape of his mouth. They both hated peas, burned easily in the sun and hummed constantly. He’d inherited her sensitivity, too. Was always wondering how others were feeling. Worried if they were sad or upset or angry with him. Needed to be told constantly that the people in his life would always be there. That they loved him—would always love him.

She didn’t know whether to hug him tight and reassure him that everything was fine or demand that he snap out of it. That he not be like her.

She wanted him to be stronger than she was. More confident, capable of facing challenges. Able to live without constantly worrying.

All good life skills. She wished someone would teach them to her someday.

Crouching, she smiled at him. “I’m very happy. It’s a beautiful day, I’m planting flowers with my best helper and after we pick up your brother from school, we’re going to stop at City Creamery.”

Eyes wide, he started doing his happy dance again. “We’re getting ice cream? Can I get two scoops?”

City Creamery was known not only for its homemade ice cream but also its huge portions. “You can have whatever you want, baby.”

So what if he’d be full before he finished one scoop? There was no harm in making sure he was happy.

He pumped his fist—a move he’d picked up from Elijah—then gave her a hug. “I love you, Mama.”

She squeezed him carefully, knowing she had a tendency to hold on too tight. “Love you, too, baby.”

When he let go to finish digging his holes, she straightened. Brushed at the dirt on her shirt. She hadn’t lied. Not really. She was happy. It was just that she’d be happier if Shane was there.

She was sure of it.

What if he stopped by while she and the boys were out? She hadn’t planned on going to City Creamery after getting Elijah, but she’d wanted to do something for Mitch, to prove to him that she was fine.

She’d better call Shane. So he wouldn’t come over and be disappointed they weren’t here.

It went directly to voice mail. Again. “Hi. It’s me. I hope the interview went well. I mean... I’m sure it did. I’m sure you were great.” She stopped. Inhaled deeply then blew it out as quietly as possible, strolling to the other side of the yard. “I wasn’t sure what time you planned on coming over, but the boys and I are going to City Creamery after school. Why don’t you meet us there? The boys would love to see you. You can call me back if you get time or just meet us. Whichever is easier. Okay? ’Bye.”

She clicked off before realizing he might not know what time Elijah got out of school. Ugh. She lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged, holding her head in both hands. Should she call him back? Send him a text?

No. She’d bothered him enough. He hated it when she was too persistent. When she didn’t give him enough space. He’d call her back or show up here. So she’d wait.

She’d waited for him for three years. She could wait a few more hours.

This time she and Shane were going to work. They’d both made mistakes, yes, but they’d also grown and learned from those mistakes.

After making sure Mitch was still occupied, she shifted around to kneel on the grass. The sun warmed her face and arms, and she shut her eyes. Focused on that warmth, that light. Imagined absorbing it into her skin, her body glowing as the rays shot out of her fingers and toes.

She smiled at the fanciful thought. Pressed her palms against her jeans, her body relaxing. Her mind quiet, if only for a moment.

A shadow briefly blocked the sun. Her scalp prickled with apprehension. She was being watched.