скачать книгу бесплатно
“Honey, Bo wouldn’t want his wife and only son running around in clothes off the discount store clearance racks.”
In the zinger department, this was point one for Cessy. Maxine knew her mother-in-law wasn’t trying to be insulting, but apparently the woman couldn’t help sounding a little, well, snobbish.
“Besides,” Cessy added, “I love doing this for you two. I’m the only family you have around.”
Point two. Cessy always seemed to find ways to remind Maxine that she wasn’t able to stay in frequent contact with her own scattered family.
When Hunter came back downstairs, pulling on the too-short waistband of the hated bear sweater, Maxine said, “Be good tonight for Gram.”
Cessy ushered the boy out the back door and into her brand-new red Lexus. Her former mother-in-law got a new car every year, even though she was no longer married to the dealership’s owner. Maxine suspected that a yearly lease was part of her last divorce settlement.
“And wear your seat belt,” she added. “No TV or screen time tonight until you finish your homework.”
Sometimes it seemed as though Maxine was constantly issuing orders, and it didn’t sit well with her. She feared it was a residual from her days as a military brat. Maybe she shouldn’t worry so much about Hunter. He was a good kid.
“Mom, I got it,” Hunter said. “Stop stressing about me.” Still, he lifted his head so she could drop a goodbye kiss on his cheek.
“Have him home before bedtime,” Maxine called out, but nobody in the Lexus seemed to hear her over the Barry Manilow CDs Cessy played constantly at high decibels.
As Maxine stood in the doorway, watching them drive away, a wave of loneliness swept over her. In the early mornings, when it was still dark outside, she loved the solitude as she creamed the butter and sugar in the warm industrial bakery kitchen, no sounds intruding to penetrate her thoughts. But she hated the empty feeling that engulfed her when that same silence enveloped her in the afternoons and evenings, when the outside sounds were a constant buzz of activity and a reminder that families everywhere were coming together to share the ups and downs of their days.
Normally, she would run upstairs to change into her workout clothes. She and her two best friends, Kylie and Mia, had a standing yoga date every Thursday evening. Afterward, they would have a dish session over dinner at their favorite local Italian place. She might not have the family home life she had always hoped for, but she’d sure done a fabulous job of creating a different sort of family—even if it was nontraditional.
However, now that she had met Cooper in person, her girlfriends would have to wait. Or she could call them and have them meet her here for an emergency strategy session.
She checked her watch. She had time to read just a few letters, so she went straight toward Hunter’s room. On the bulletin board above his desk, she recognized the photo she hadn’t given a second thought to when it’d arrived with the initial letter. In his camouflage uniform and helmet, he looked just like any other marine on duty.
But at some point in the past few months, that picture had been affixed right on top of an old copy of the Sugar Falls Advocate article Cessy had given her grandson about high school tight end Bo Walker.
Cessy wouldn’t like that placement too much.
A stack of APO addressed envelopes sat in a loose pile on top of the Harry Potter book that the school library had called about last week. Hunter had assured her he’d returned it on time, but maybe Maxine should’ve been checking his desk more often.
When she was one of seven siblings growing up in the cramped quarters of base housing, she’d promised herself that when she had kids of her own, they’d have privacy. She’d respect their boundaries.
But this was different. Wasn’t it? She had a parental obligation to learn more about who her son wanted to spend time with. Besides, it wasn’t as if Hunter kept to himself about these things. If it were up to him, he’d be shouting from the Victorian rooftops along Snowflake Boulevard about being the fifth grader with the coolest pen pal.
She looked at the postmarks until she found the one dated in September. That must be the first one. There was a picture still inside the envelope. She pulled out the photo and studied the desert camouflage of his uniform and the high and tight haircut of his dark hair. She’d seen enough military uniforms to last her a lifetime. Soldiers usually all looked the same to her. But the guy kneeling next to the dog seemed different. Maybe because she’d already seen that handsome face and strong jaw in person.
He wasn’t smiling in the shot, but his arm was looped around the neck of a shaggy red dog, and his black Ray Bans were propped on his forehead. Something about the sadness in the marine’s eyes called out to her, and she fingered the photo along the hardened chin as if she could force him to smile.
There was a loneliness reflected in his gaze that struck something deep inside her. Gunny Sergeant Matthew Cooper, huh? She pulled out the letter and started reading.
28 Sept.
Dear Hunter,
I’m a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps and I work as an MP, which is military police. I don’t fly jets or drive tanks, but I do have my own patrol Humvee and get to arrest terrorists and other soldiers who break the laws. I enclosed a picture of me with Helix, a stray dog my squadron adopted off the streets of Helmand province. I’m trying to train him to be a K9, but he doesn’t seem to want to do anything but eat MREs and hide under my bunk to sleep.
I’m impressed with your knowledge of assault aircraft and vehicles. Does your mom know you research all this? Also, I doubt your friend Jake’s cousin is a real fighter pilot if he is in the Coast Guard. That branch of the military doesn’t use those kinds of jets. Plus, it takes a long time to become a pilot, and 18 seems a bit young. Sometimes, kids make things seem bigger and better so they can show off to other kids.
Let’s see, some of the other stuff you asked about me... I’m a man, I like baseball, but I played more basketball when I was in school because I grew up in Michigan, and there were more hoops around my neighborhood. Plus, playing basketball was free. When I watch baseball, I like the Detroit Tigers best, but I don’t know much of their stats. I don’t really like the UFC. I’ve seen enough fighting in my life that I don’t want to watch it for fun.
I guess it would be pretty cool to have a mom who makes so many cookies, but I hope you eat lots of healthy foods, too. You said your mom doesn’t let you play sports, but remember that as a growing boy, you still need to get exercise in some way. We marines are required to keep fit every day. It’s called PT—physical training.
Take care,
GySgt Cooper
Maxine read that first letter, then a few of the others, before taking a break to run out to the kitchen to pour a glass of chardonnay. Together, the letters gave her a little more insight to the man who would take the time to train a stray dog and write regularly to a fatherless boy.
She brought the wine back to Hunter’s room and set her glass next to the keyboard. Hunter had asked permission to email Cooper back in November and Maxine had given her blessing, knowing that she could monitor the emails easily with the parental control program she’d installed. Even though she felt like a voyeur spying on their relationship, she had to remind herself that Hunter would’ve been willing to show her the correspondence, had she not wanted to be alone to mull over everything.
After minimizing the screen, she scrolled through all the prior email attachments that had pictures of Cooper. One of the photos showed him holding some type of foil-wrapped food package above his head. A dog—not Helix—was jumping vertically into the air trying to get it. He was laughing at the dog, his mouth open and head thrown back.
From what Maxine had pieced together from the emails, the man had recently lost his dog in some type of bombing incident. Poor guy.
She scrolled through a few more and paused at one of the shots of him not wearing his customary sunglasses. She had to admit that he was good-looking in a tough, military sort of way.
Who was she kidding? The man was good-looking just off his long flight with beard stubble, jet lag and a bum leg. Of course he’d be even more handsome in uniform. She’d never been attracted to those types, though. They represented everything she’d tried to get away from during her childhood.
But somehow Cooper seemed different. He didn’t really look as if he fit the military mold despite the regulation haircut. And mercy, Kylie was right—he really was hot. His running shorts showed off tan, well-muscled legs. She could see the outline of his washboard abs through his beige T-shirt.
It could just be the wine warming her up, but something pulsed in her lower lady parts. She hadn’t experienced any pulsing down there in a long time, and she was uncomfortable with it. Maybe because it was a complete stranger who was making her feel this way. Or maybe because she was getting slightly turned on by his photos while sitting in her son’s room surrounded by Angry Birds posters and Lego sets.
She needed to get ahold of herself. Or go out on a date once in a while.
Just then, a text message popped up on her smartphone. Kylie was running late and Mia’s knee was too sore for yoga. Maxine took another sip of wine. She could either back out of their dinner plans now and sit in front of Hunter’s computer screen staring at Gunny Heartthrob, or she could walk down the street and meet her friends at Patrelli’s for pizza and another glass of wine.
Her nerves won out and she grabbed her heavy jacket off the coatrack and practically ran out the door, trying to get as far away from her thoughts as she could.
* * *
To: hunterlovestherockies@hotmail.net
From: matthewcooper@usmc.mil
Re: Star Wars
Date: Jan 25
Hunter,
First of all, the femoral surgery went well. Dr. McCormick is supposed to be the top orthopedic surgeon in the Navy, and he expects me to recover quickly and undergo the knee replacement surgery just as well.
Second of all, Han Solo is in no way “more awesomer” than Luke Skywalker. You can’t even compare the two. Han Solo is a smuggler. He isn’t even a Jedi. Also, Luke is royalty, and he went through a lot of training. Han doesn’t even have a light saber.
Third of all, I’m still learning to use Skype and I’m not used to it yet. And you have to promise that you’ll get your mom’s permission before we start talking on the computer like that.
Speaking of your mom, please thank her for sending that box of her cookies. When I shared them with all the guys on my floor, I was more popular than PFC Spooner, whose dad sends him magazines with— Well, I’ll tell you about those when you’re older.
I got the list you sent me with the names of every local police department that is hiring. I’m really not sure if I’m going to try to be a civvie cop. And I’m definitely not going to love Idaho “the way a drunk loves a martini.” Does Jake Marconi even know what a martini is? Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on when I can start having visitors.
Cooper
Cooper hadn’t been lying to the kid. The surgery really had gone pretty well. It was too soon to tell if he’d make enough of a recovery to reenlist, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Hunter that there was no way he planned to stay in Idaho permanently.
It was bad enough that he’d been putting off Hunter’s visit, but, honestly, he didn’t know if he could handle being around Maxine Walker again. The woman had brought out the worst in him that day at the baggage claim area, and it had been all he could take when she’d had to help lift him out of the airport-issued wheelchair and into her car.
She’d smelled as incredible as she looked. And the drive to the hospital had been just as intense as the woman’s forced smile when Hunter had insisted on waiting for the admission paperwork to be completed and for the nurse to wheel him away to the orthopedic wing.
He didn’t look forward to having to endure Maxine’s stiff presence, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to see her again. To smell her again. Hell, to feel her hands on him again—even if it meant asking her to help him get out of this damn hospital bed to hit the head.
A light blinked on the bottom of his open laptop and he pulled the wheeled tray table closer to him.
He was receiving a Skype call from Dr. Gregson. The damn shrink was the one to blame for the whole mess. Back in September, Gregson had gone right over Cooper’s head and his objections. He’d purposely sought out Cooper’s commander to force him to participate in the pen pal program, knowing full well the honor-bound marine couldn’t refuse a direct order.
As Cooper clicked on the mouse to connect their call, he had a lot more than some soul cleansing to discuss. There was hell to pay.
“Gregson,” he bellowed, when the counselor’s grainy image jumped onto his screen.
“How’d the surgery go, Gunny?”
Cooper relayed what Dr. McCormick had told him, including the part that his leg would never be 100 percent.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I know the Corps was your life.”
“Yeah, well...” he cursed, though it hardly raised one of Dr. Gregson’s eyebrows.
“Language, Gunny.”
“Do you have to be such a sainted do-gooder all the time?”
“Do you have to be so cranky and miserable all the time? Here I thought you’d like Shadowview, being close to your pen pal and all that.”
“That’s another thing, Gregson. I’m still pissed about that whole program. I told you I didn’t want to play pen pal to some kid. And yet you went up my chain of command and had me ordered to participate? You made me look like a loose cannon to Colonel Filden. And now he, and probably everybody else in my unit, thinks I’m some lonely PTSD candidate who needed a damn morale boost.”
The only man Cooper had opened up to in his almost sixteen years in the Corps now sat behind a web cam with a self-righteous smirk on his saintly face. Gregson might make a good psychologist, but he was too softhearted to be a marine in a combat zone.
“I gave you the opportunity to accept graciously, Coop. You forced me to take it up with Colonel Filden.”
It was hard to stay angry at Gregson when he simply sat there, passively and politely nodding his head and listening to Cooper’s heated argument. Did they teach shrinks to smile and nod like that in grad school?
“Why are you still so upset about that?” Gregson asked. “What else did you have to do when you were off duty? You never associated with any of your fellow troops. And you never went anywhere besides the chow hall and the weight room. And look at what you got out of the program.”
“The decision should have been mine to make.” Cooper tried to scratch under the bandage covering his recent incision. He knew Gregson was right and that meeting Hunter had been exactly what Cooper needed in his life at the time. Hell, his letters and emails with the boy were the only thing that got him through the aftermath of that explosion at the base, followed by a helo evac to Okinawa, where he’d had to stay while his body and leg stabilized enough to fly back to the States for surgery. If it hadn’t been for Gregson, Cooper wouldn’t have Hunter in his life.
Nor would his pain-addled mind be hosting those damn dreams of wrapping Maxine’s sexy blond curls around his fingers. Being laid up in the hospital was making him stir-crazy and had his emotions spinning all over the place. Logically, he knew this situation that he’d landed in wasn’t Gregson’s fault, but the fact remained that his leg hurt, his pride hurt and he wanted to be mad at someone.
But Gregson didn’t get riled. Instead, he changed the subject. “So when the knee replacement surgery is over, how long will it take to recover?”
“I’ll stay in the hospital for a couple more weeks, doing rehab, and then they’ll release me to go home, provided I come in for regular physical therapy sessions. But that could take weeks.”
“Where would you stay?”
“I don’t know. I guess a motel somewhere. Or I could probably rent a furnished apartment. I’m just trying to take everything one day at a time.” Gregson knew enough about Cooper’s background that he didn’t have to expand on the fact that he didn’t really have a home to go to. Even the apartment he’d once lived in as a boy never felt like a home since his mom had died and his stepdad never wanted him around. When Cooper had been married to Lindsay, she’d tried to make their tiny house on base a home, but it just always seemed so forced—as if they were just playing house. He was always more comfortable being on deployment than living with her, which was probably why their marriage didn’t last.
“You know, my family lives in Boise. We have a cabin up in Sugar Falls you could use.”
“I’ve got news for you, Gregson. Spending time in your quaint little vacation hideaway isn’t going to give me back anything I’ve lost.”
“Well, if you’re going to keep your expectations low, you might as well do it in Sugar Falls, where it’ll be more comfortable than some no-tell motel. Use the cabin, let your knee heal and think about your options if you can’t reenlist. What are you so afraid of?”
Cooper bristled at the implication that he was afraid of anything. He had both a silver star and a purple heart to prove otherwise, and Gregson knew it. But Sugar Falls meant seeing Maxine on a regular basis and Cooper was smart enough to understand that hiding out in enemy territory wasn’t brave, it was downright foolish.
“Forget the reverse psychology crap,” he told the doctor. “I know they teach that BS in shrink school and Terrorist Interviewing 101, but it won’t work on me.”
“You and I both know the real reason you don’t want to spend any time with the kid. You don’t want to risk getting close to anyone. It might mean creating a crack in your hard shell of a heart.”
Cooper gritted his teeth at the unwelcome analysis, his jaw fixed even harder than his alleged heart at that moment. Hell, he wasn’t even a patient of Gregson’s. The only thing they had in common was a proclivity for using the weight room after everyone else in their units had hit the rack.
When Cooper didn’t respond, Gregson continued. “You know, maybe if you would’ve had a positive male role model back when you were a fatherless fifth grader, it wouldn’t have stunted your emotional and social growth.”
“Yeah, and maybe if you’d had a date or two while studying for your PhD, it wouldn’t have stunted your ability to get laid.” Cooper slammed the laptop closed.
“Uh, hello?” a feminine voice asked from behind the curtained partition that barely provided any privacy from the busy hospital floor.
“Yeah?” Cooper responded as he used the trapeze handle to lift himself up into a better position on the narrow bed.
Right before his brain registered the owner of the voice, Maxine Walker’s very pretty face peeked around the curtain and her large blue eyes locked on to his. “Are we disturbing anything?”
He practically knocked the tray table over in his haste to pull the bed sheet over his exposed legs. Damn these short hospital gowns.
What was she doing here? And how much of his conversation had she just heard?
“Uh, no. I was just talking on Skype with my buddy and uh...” He trailed off as she lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow at the closed laptop. “What are you doing here?”
There he went again with that gruff accusatory tone, the defensive one he found himself reverting to whenever he was in an uncomfortable situation. He saw the ugly little cellophane-wrapped plant in her hands and tried to force his lips into a smile so he wouldn’t seem like the world’s biggest bastard for barking at her in such an ungrateful way.
“Hunter said you could have visitors, so I brought him down and...” She paused as her gaze swiveled around the room and then behind her into the corridor, as if she’d lost something. “Well, he was with me just a second ago. Maybe I should go find him.”
She turned to walk out, and he pulled himself up as if he could will his useless body to physically stop her from leaving. “Wait, you don’t have to go. I mean, I’m sure he just got distracted and will be along any minute.” Cooper nodded his head toward the wilted green thing in the plastic pot. “Is that for me?”
“Oh, this? It’s just a little something to cheer up your room.” She walked toward the small window and set the plant on a bare cabinet, causing some curling leaves to fall off their stems.
He’d seen interrogation huts in third world countries more cheerful than that dying shrub. But he thanked her all the same.
“So, the surgery went okay?” Now that her hands were empty, she’d reverted back to that same stance she’d displayed at the airport—arms crossed tightly across her torso.
