Disclaimer: I only own my ideas. That and the minor character of George Hartley.
Author's Note (IMPORTANT: Please Read!): I wrote this story for my creative writing class, but used Simon's name and used "Jean" instead of "Jeanette," but as you can see I changed it back to their original names to share this story with you guys. It's AU, which I NEVER write, so this is new for me to be posting this. Please review and let me know what you think!
Call of the Brave
The sun was high in the sky as Jeanette began packing food into the basket. Honey ham, turkey, wheat bread, mustard, carrots, crisp celery, and two cans of soda. All of Simon's favorites. She hummed merrily to herself the song that had been playing on the radio that morning when she had woken up. The bed was empty beside her, but she knew that she would be reunited with her beau soon.
Jeanette finished packing the blanket and candles in her wicker basket, and reached for her car keys when the idea of walking to the base struck her. She went upstairs to change into her pale blue sundress and twisted her long brown hair into a bun, then adjusted the purple frames of her glasses that shielded her bright emerald eyes. She slipped on her white sneakers, knowing that Simon would laugh when he saw the odd combination, but Jeanette knew that her feet would blister if she wore flats. The sapphire earrings that Simon had given Jeanette for her birthday a few months ago dangled from her ears, and they sparkled in the sunshine as she stepped outside. It was a good day, she thought to herself.
Jeanette's neighbor, George Hartley, looked up from his hedge-clipping as she walked by. He was a man in outstanding shape for having just celebrated his seventieth birthday, and was a kind old man, always concerned for the well-being of his family as well as his neighbors. When he saw Jeanette, a smile crept across his wrinkling face, and his hazel eyes twinkled.
"It's good to see you out, Ms. Miller! And you look mighty dressed up, dearie. Where are you headed off to on this fine day?" George called out to Jeanette.
"I'm going to meet Simon! I figured I'd dress myself up just a tad and surprise him," Jeanette smiled to her neighbor.
"Well ain't that cute. What a lucky man, that one, to have as thoughtful of a woman as you. How come Mr. Seville doesn't come around here anymore?"
"He's just busy and all, you know. His navy training takes up a lot of his time. But Simon said he gets off early today, so I'm off to the base," Jeanette grinned.
"Well you have fun now. And be careful! Those navy men just may whisk away a girl as pretty as you," George winked.
"Why thank you," Jeanette blushed furiously, but smiled all the while.
The San Diego Naval Base wasn't far from her home, and there was a national park just a few blocks over from it. Jeanette twisted her engagement ring wistfully as she walked, wishing that Simon was relieved from his training just a bit earlier. She reminisced the day Simon had proposed to her under the old willow tree in the park of their hometown. When Simon had expressed his wishes to fight for his country in the navy, they moved into San Diego. The couple planned the wedding for the week before his deportation, which was only a month from this very day. It would be a small wedding, only family and a few friends, which was perfect for two such quiet people as Jeanette and Simon.
"Mrs. Jeanette Seville," she whispered to herself, enjoying the way her future name rolled off of her tongue.
Jeanette missed Simon dearly; she missed his gray eyes that shone and the way his emotions were given away by them. They clouded whenever he was angry, and sparkled when he laughed. He was quite tall, with a round face and small nose and mouth. Jeanette always kept a picture of him on hand, always admiring his strong and proud demeanor, but knew the softie that Simon was inside. A man of ethics and morals, Simon heard the call to defend his country when Pearl Harbor was bombed by Japan in the chill of December, five months ago.
Obviously Jeanette was worried for him. War time was never pretty. She would have joined the movement herself, only if she had something she believed to be a worthy contribution. A literary scholar, she loved to read classic and modern literature, her favorite classic being The Odyssey by Homer. There was a tattered and beaten paperback copy she kept on her nightstand, dog-eared and quite a few pages threatening to fall out of the binding. One day as she had been reading her battered book, Simon had asked Jeanette why she loved it so much.
"I like Odysseus. I admire his strength, and his will to arrive safely home to his family is undeniably virtuous," Jeanette had responded. Simon said no more, but was stuck deep in thought for a while.
Jeanette was pulled from her deep thoughts as she arrived at the gates of the San Diego Naval Base. A sailor stepped forward and asked her name and business at the base. When he learned she was the fiancé of a sailor and checked her visitor's identification pass Simon had given her for emergencies, the sailor let Jeanette through, warning her of the explosive testing on the other side of the base.
Jeanette remembered that his building number was thirteen, and counted in her head as she walked along the sidewalk, stopping at a large building with the number thirteen etched into the slate of stone above the main door. She walked in and sat down on one of the chairs in the front room. The clocked ticked slowly, time dragging by until three o'clock finally struck. Sailors in their standard uniforms trudged out of a far off room about five minutes later. Jeanette scanned the file of men, looking for one particuar head of light brown, short-cut hair. Finally Jeanette spotted him. Simon was in the middle of the line, and his gray eyes sparkled and smiled in surprise when he saw her.
The commanding officer dismissed the sailors, and then Simon immediately ran to her, picked her up and spun her around. Simon fiercely kissed Jeanette on the lips, earning a series of derogatory comments from the other sailors. He laughed, a low rumble emanating from his chest, when it happened. There was the sound of a large explosion, and then everything went black.
The next thing she knew, dust was everywhere, screaming ensued, the bellow of the commanding officer shouting orders. Jeanette slowly and dizzily sat up. Her eyes frantically scanned the dark room, looking for any sign of Simon. Another rush of pain, and she blacked out again.
When Jeanette woke up, arms were carrying her. Arms that definitely were not Simon's. Jeanette cleared her throat, then asked the sailor carrying her where Simon was, Simon Seville. The marine's face became grim.
"He was taken to the base hospital. That's where I'm taking you now. You took a mighty blow to the head, as Simon did. Saw it with my own eyes. That sailor is fast for sure- he pushed you right out of the way. Poor chap…he was a good sailor."
Jeanette let the information sink in, then asked the sailor to put her down as they neared the hospital. He obliged, and she took off running. Jeanette ignored the sailor's cries, and ran into the hospital, dodging nurses and ignoring the wet, warm liquid trickling down her neck. Then she found him. Simon was laying on a cot, a white bandage soaked with blood wrapped around his head with a doctor and two nurses attempting to revive him. She could tell he wasn't breathing, his chest deathly still, and they were about to give up. Jeanette ran to his side, crying his name, hot tears pouring down her cheeks. A nurse tried to pull Jeanette away, but the doctor motioned for her to stop.
In all the confusion, not one person noticed that a weak pulse was still throbbing underneath Simon's skin.
Jeanette grasped one of his hands with both of hers and leaned down to whisper in his ear.
"Simon Geoffrey Seville," Jeanette said brokenly, attempting to force some resolve into her voice, "if you can hear me, I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I got in the way, I'm so sorry," she croaked.
After a few moments of silence, Jeanette kissed his lips gently, and then pulled away, choking back sobs as the nurses came forward to clear his cot for another injured sailor to take. Jeanette could have sworn that she saw his eyelids twitch, but her heart had already sunk so low that she dismissed it as false hope playing a cruel trick on her eyes.
Then Simon dragged in a deep, shaky breath.
My teacher said that he liked it for the most part, but thought the ending was melodramatic and suggested that maybe I write an alternate ending. What do you think?