coffee.
How come Mitch had such a hold on her heart? It took all her effort to turn her attention back to the work before her. She kept going over their conversation, over the sound of his voice. She kept picturing him, so handsome and capable in his camouflage clothing. Her heart gave a tug of admiration.
Careful, Kelly. No dreaming allowed.
Her phone rang again. Foolish seeds of hope sparked inside her, but it was Amy’s number on the ID screen. Life went on as it should—with school, work and babysitting.
She knew better than to hope for more, but she sure wanted to.
Mitch hung up the phone. The hootch around him buzzed with pieces of conversations between other soldiers and loved ones at home, making him feel more alone than ever. Kelly was just so far away.
He tried to picture her in a campus cafeteria, probably lots of tables and chairs, noisy talking and the clatter of flatwear and dishes. She’d said she was reading, but was she studying? Or reading her devotional? He should have asked more questions to fill in the missing pieces.
She’d probably bought a cup of coffee, but anything else? A muffin? A breakfast sandwich? What was she wearing? It could get pretty cool in Bozeman—probably a pair of jeans and one of those feminine cotton blouses she was always wearing. Maybe with a sweater. Was her hair pulled back in a ponytail with those little silken wisps curling around her face, or was it unbound, falling in a long sleek wave past her shoulders?
Not enough time. Not time on the phone and nowhere near enough time with her in Montana. When a man got down to it, there was never enough, not in a life, and he hated this feeling of regret. Of leaving things unfinished. His life had always been tidy, he liked things that way. It’s what made him a good Force Recon marine. But the loose ends he’d left when he’d said good-bye to Kelly were ones he feared would unravel with distance.
There’s not much I can do from here, he thought. His way of life was rugged and solitary, and there was no room for much else but his work. It would be simple just to let this go, whatever it was building between him and Kelly. That would be the safest route. That way he wasn’t putting anything on the line. But he didn’t want to move on from her, not deep down.
As uncertain as the path ahead was, he was committed. He was going to risk it all. She was far away, but he would do what he could.
He’d write her and he’d keep writing her until this tour was over and he was back on American soil.
While the noodles from her box of macaroni and cheese were boiling, Kelly set up her laptop on the dinette table in the eating nook and went online.
Should she be checking her e-mail? No. She had a ton of reading to do, but could she concentrate?
No way. Her conversation with Mitch had been on her mind all day. Of course.
Hearing his voice had done her heart good. Her day had been brighter as she hurried across campus from one class to another, took notes, grabbed a bite to eat on her way to her afternoon shift at the bookstore. Knowing that he hadn’t forgotten her, that he still wanted to be friends, meant more than she wanted to admit to herself or to anyone.
She popped up from the table to give the noodles a stir—they were bubbling merrily on medium high—and then returned to study her screen. There was a new e-mail. Already? She couldn’t believe her eyes. Her computer screen still looked the same—it wasn’t her imagination. There really was an e-mail from Mitch. She opened it and started reading.
Kelly,
No hand-dipped cones here. Chow hall pizza isn’t half bad, except there are no cheesy sticks. But no complaining there. It’s a step up from the meals in a can I get when we’re out. Base camp is basically a lot of tents, but we’ve got heat most of the time. I’m glad I got hold of you this morning. Good to hear a friendly voice from home. How did your classes go today? The next time you order
How come Mitch had such a hold on her heart? It took all her effort to turn her attention back to the work before her. She kept going over their conversation, over the sound of his voice. She kept picturing him, so handsome and capable in his camouflage clothing. Her heart gave a tug of admiration.
Careful, Kelly. No dreaming allowed.
Her phone rang again. Foolish seeds of hope sparked inside her, but it was Amy’s number on the ID screen. Life went on as it should—with school, work and babysitting.
She knew better than to hope for more, but she sure wanted to.
Mitch hung up the phone. The hootch around him buzzed with pieces of conversations between other soldiers and loved ones at home, making him feel more alone than ever. Kelly was just so far away.
He tried to picture her in a campus cafeteria, probably lots of tables and chairs, noisy talking and the clatter of flatwear and dishes. She’d said she was reading, but was she studying? Or reading her devotional? He should have asked more questions to fill in the missing pieces.
She’d probably bought a cup of coffee, but anything else? A muffin? A breakfast sandwich? What was she wearing? It could get pretty cool in Bozeman—probably a pair of jeans and one of those feminine cotton blouses she was always wearing. Maybe with a sweater. Was her hair pulled back in a ponytail with those little silken wisps curling around her face, or was it unbound, falling in a long sleek wave past her shoulders?
Not enough time. Not time on the phone and nowhere near enough time with her in Montana. When a man got down to it, there was never enough, not in a life, and he hated this feeling of regret. Of leaving things unfinished. His life had always been tidy, he liked things that way. It’s what made him a good Force Recon marine. But the loose ends he’d left when he’d said good-bye to Kelly were ones he feared would unravel with distance.
There’s not much I can do from here, he thought. His way of life was rugged and solitary, and there was no room for much else but his work. It would be simple just to let this go, whatever it was building between him and Kelly. That would be the safest route. That way he wasn’t putting anything on the line. But he didn’t want to move on from her, not deep down.
As uncertain as the path ahead was, he was committed. He was going to risk it all. She was far away, but he would do what he could.
He’d write her and he’d keep writing her until this tour was over and he was back on American soil.
While the noodles from her box of macaroni and cheese were boiling, Kelly set up her laptop on the dinette table in the eating nook and went online.
Should she be checking her e-mail? No. She had a ton of reading to do, but could she concentrate?
No way. Her conversation with Mitch had been on her mind all day. Of course.
Hearing his voice had done her heart good. Her day had been brighter as she hurried across campus from one class to another, took notes, grabbed a bite to eat on her way to her afternoon shift at the bookstore. Knowing that he hadn’t forgotten her, that he still wanted to be friends, meant more than she wanted to admit to herself or to anyone.
She popped up from the table to give the noodles a stir—they were bubbling merrily on medium high—and then returned to study her screen. There was a new e-mail. Already? She couldn’t believe her eyes. Her computer screen still looked the same—it wasn’t her imagination. There really was an e-mail from Mitch. She opened it and started reading.
Kelly,
No hand-dipped cones here. Chow hall pizza isn’t half bad, except there are no cheesy sticks. But no complaining there. It’s a step up from the meals in a can I get when we’re out. Base camp is basically a lot of tents, but we’ve got heat most of the time. I’m glad I got hold of you this morning. Good to hear a friendly voice from home. How did your classes go today? The next time you order
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