A Soldier for Christmas by Jillian Hart Page A

he had been in her prayers every one of them. “You sound like you’re calling from the moon.”
    “Just about. I feel like I’m in another world. There are no ice-cream cones here.”
    Oh, he sounded so good—so good and alive and strong…just like Mitch. She closed her eyes, and there he was in her mind’s eye that day on the river. Standing waist-deep in water and grinning at her with a challenge. So larger than life and vital, looking as if nothing could hurt him. Of course, she knew that he was as vulnerable as anyone. “I can’t believe it. I thought I’d never hear from you again.”
    “No way. You just try and get rid of me. I thought we were…friends.”
    “We are.” The light in her heart brightened.
    “I’ve got about ten minutes on this card. It has to be early there.”
    “It’s twenty past seven in the morning, but I’m already on campus. Sitting in the cafeteria and trying to get some reading done before class. It’s good to hear you. I’ve been—” Missing you. “—worried about you.”
    “Hey, I miss you. The guys I hang with aren’t nearly as pleasing to the eye. How did the math final go?”
    “I pulled an A. Thanks to you, but you don’t want to hear about my classes.”
    “Sure I do. I put you in prayer every night. Even when I’m out with my team doing things I can’t tell you about, in places I can’t tell you about either. Let’s just say you’re on my list, Kelly.”
    “L-list?”
    Mitch’s chest hitched painfully at the uncertainty in her voice. Nearly four weeks had passed since he’d left, and yet everything came back in a single heartbeat. The way her honey-blond hair gleamed. The dark-blue strands in her jeweled eyes. How her smile lit up his world.
    She was the one. Thousands of miles away and continents apart, mighty affection crashed through him like a tsunami.
    Whatever he did, he couldn’t let her know. Not yet. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare her. He cleared his throat. “The list of the best things, to get me through. You know: ice-cream cones, riding the rapids, walking in the sunshine with a good friend.”
    “Right. That list.” She sounded relieved, relaxed.
    He was glad about that. They were friends now, but in time, he thought they could be more.
    Her gentle alto warmed. “You’re on my list, too.”
    “That means a lot. You can’t guess how much.” He didn’t know how to tell her how tough the past weeks had been. It was a different planet where he was, or it seemed that way, where the phone bank was a luxury, and the fact that he’d had a lukewarm shower and hot chow for the first time in three weeks felt like a blessing. So were phone cards. His time was ticking away, and he hated that.
    “When you called me before you left last month, you mentioned a team that was l-lost.”
    He squeezed his eyes shut, briefly, to hold everything in. “Yep. No one died. They were lucky, but there were serious casualties.”
    “Anyone you knew?”
    “Yep. All of ’em. Don’t worry. Those guys in 3rd Recon aren’t as superior as my platoon.”
    She heard the catch in his voice. “I suppose you’re invincible, huh, Mr. Action Figure?”
    “Nope, just very careful. I intend to make it back home. You liked floating the rapids so much, I thought I might make good on my threat to take you mountain-climbing.”
    “I’m going to hold you to that threat.”
    His voice rumbled with reassurance. “Then we’ve got a deal. I’ll be here in camp for a bit. They have us training pretty hard, but I’ll be able to e-mail.”
    The line was crackling worse. “Mitch, I can barely hear you.”
    “Time’s up. I’ve got to—”
    There was a click and then nothing.
    Be safe, she added silently as she disconnected.
    The noise of the cafeteria was increasing around her as more students filed in for a quick breakfast. The tables nearby filled with students who gathered in groups to talk or sit quietly alone with their books and their