The Marine Next Door by Julie Miller

homework.” She sat Travis back in his chair and returned to the living room. John followed her out to escort her to the door.
    She’d been in such a rush on the way in that she hadn’t paid any attention to the decor. While she had to admire a man who could move in one day and have most of his stuff unpacked and put away so quickly, she wondered at the lack of personal touches. The only shots of color in the room were the spines on a collection of books that filled an entire shelf from floor to ceiling—and the rich navy blue of his Marine Corps uniform in a plastic cleaner’s bag draped over the back of the couch.
    “That’s impressive.” Drawn to the subtle display of pride and patriotism, she detoured to the sofa to get a closer look at the brass buttons and royal blue slacks with the red stripe down the side.
    “Just got them out of storage yesterday.”
    “My dad was a marine, too. But his uniform was a little different—he was enlisted.”
    “Ooh-rah.” John stopped at the front door and turned. “Where did he serve?”
    “Quartermaster Corps out in Barstow.” She blinked away the grim memories of her teen years in Southern California. “He was killed in a motorcycle accident off base.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    Soon after, she’d met a young Navy seaman named Danny Wheeler, who’d seemed like the answer to her heartbreak. Her late mother had approved of Danny, had told her it would be good to have a man in the family again. Thank God her mother hadn’t lived to see how her marriage to Danny had turned out.
    Maggie blinked again and forced herself to concentrate on the computer-generated pattern of grays and tans on John’s utility work uniform. She gently shifted the carefully pressed dress blues aside to get a better look. “Even the camouflage looks different from what Dad wore. That was a different generation, I guess.”
    Beneath the camo uniform she found an open box. She immediately recognized the Purple Heart container and reached inside to retrieve it. Danny had burned her father’s service mementos one drunken night in an effort to keep her from putting any other man before him. She blinked away that raw memory, too. “Dad had one of these from his tour of duty in Vietnam. Before I was born.”
    She couldn’t help but let her gaze slide over to the denim pant leg that folded in around John’s artificial limb. “Can I ask what happened? Does it still hurt?”
    John crossed the living room and plucked the felt box from her fingers. “That’s a conversation for another night.”
    She noticed the felt covers of several other medals when he placed the Purple Heart back inside the moving box.
    “Are you pinning these on your uniform?”
    “No. Just haven’t got them put away yet.”
    Another medal case caught her eye and she reached inside to pick it up. Her neighbor was even more of a hero than she’d defended against Lawrence Boyle that evening. “But you should, Captain. At least put them in a display cabinet. A Silver Star is something to be proud—”
    He grabbed the medal and dumped it back with the others. Then he quickly scooped up the box and uniforms, shoved them in the front closet and shut the door—taking away any trace that he was a military man…beyond the buzz cut of pecan-brown hair and the proud carriage of those broad shoulders. “It’s just John, remember? You’d better get out of those wet things before dinner gets cold.”
    “I’m sorry if I said something wrong. I was just admiring—”
    “You didn’t say anything wrong.” He drilled her with a look that told her his words weren’t entirely true.
    She’d touched a nerve. But as someone who’d completely fried her own nerves for the day, she understood his need to avoid touchy subjects right now. She headed for the door he held open for her. “Okay, Just John. Thank you—for everything this evening. I’m not used to depending on anyone else.” She wanted to say or do more, but the steely cast to