All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for emotional content and sensitive subject matter. Minor character death . . . sort of. Babefic. No disrespect is meant towards the military or the honored dead. All mistakes in protocol, etiquette and history are mine alone. I took some liberties with both the setting and funeral protocols for plot purposes only. Nothing in this story is meant to portray actual people, living or dead, or actual events. Beginning and ending quotes are from Trace Adkins. Thank you to SueB for allowing me to use her character of Corporal James from "Musings, Memories and Maybes".
To the men and women—past, present and future—who stand between us and the powers of darkness:
Thank you.
The Best of Company
I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property
I'm on sacred ground and I'm in the best of company . . .
"Because God has chosen to call our brother from this life unto Himself, we commit his body to the earth. . ."
Stephanie Manoso bowed her head beneath the black veil as hot tears ran down her face. The drops splashed onto her black-gloved hands, spotting the material with moisture. They measured her grief with each drop, but not the pain in her heart. That was full to overflowing, but there was nowhere for it to find relief. Steph drew a harsh, gasping breath and fought against the aching emptiness.
"Now let us pray as Christ the Lord taught us. Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name . . ."
Mechanically, her lips formed the words but she couldn't say them aloud. To voice them would make this real, and she didn't want any of it as an irrevocable part of her life. On her right, her mother sobbed, muffling the sound in the handkerchief pressed to her lips.
A hand reached out and covered her tightly folded hands, giving her comfort with their reassuring strength. Steph took Carlos's hand and gave an answering squeeze as the priest concluded the graveside service. The mourners stood silently as the military guard on either side of the flag-draped coffin came to attention. Carlos and the other veterans in the group also saluted, rendering a final honor to Frank Plum.
The first volley of rifle shots rolled across the green hills and through the leafless trees. Steph flinched at the crack! of the shots, then steeled herself as the rest rang out in rapid succession.
Tears blurred her sight as familiar bugle notes pierced the grey air and sounded the last post of Taps.
Then good night, peaceful night
Till the light of dawn shineth bright
God is near, do not fear,
Friend, good night.
The honor guard folded the flag above the coffin with precise movements. As it was handed down to the sergeant at the end, Steph's mother sobbed again. The sergeant received the flag and walked towards her, holding it carefully in his arms against his chest.
He held it out to her and waited until she took it with shaking hands. "As a representative of the United States Army, it is my high privilege to present you this flag. Let it be a symbol of the grateful appreciation this nation feels for the distinguished service rendered to our country and our flag by your loved one."
"Thank you," Mrs. Plum whispered, and clutched the hard folds against her heart.
Carlos gazed at the coffin for a moment before glancing at Steph. "You okay, Babe?" he asked quietly.
No, she thought desperately. I'll never be okay again.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'll be all right."
The gathering broke up as the guard filed off and the mourners clustered around Mrs. Plum and Valerie. Steph searched her little clutch purse for a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, trying to wipe the smudges of tears from her skin. The priest spoke a few words with her mother, then escorted them towards the limousine that would take them back to their hotel.
"You ready to go?"
She wasn't ready to leave at all. Steph didn't want to leave her father alone in this strange, empty place. "I'd like to stay for a while. I need some time."
Carlos pulled out his cell phone and sent a text. "I'll let the driver know to take your family to the hotel and then come back. Will that be enough for you?"
"Yes," she said, grateful that he understood. "I just want to sit here with him for a while. You don't need to stay here with me."
Carlos hesitated, then glanced up the hill towards a grove of trees. "I can walk over to the next section, if you're sure you'll be okay. A member of the flight crew on one of my missions received orders for Afghanistan before I returned. Corporal James . . . didn't make it."
"Go. I'll be fine." Steph gave him the best smile she could muster. Carlos gave her a hug and pressed his cheek against her hair. Without a word, he strode across the grass, moving with the graceful ease that always made her breath catch.
She watched until he was hidden from her sight before approaching her father's coffin. Laying an unsteady hand on its polished wood surface, she bent and pressed her cheek against the chilled, damp smoothness. "Daddy, I miss you so much. You've been my hero for so long, and I don't know what I'm going to do without you. There's so much I want to tell you, and I can't anymore."
Gently, Steph kissed the wood, a shiver running through her at the coldness. The low-hanging clouds blanketed the sky, and the mist fell heavier as fog drifted between the trees and gravestones. She took a chair from the row by the grave and set it underneath a nearby oak tree. Dropping into it, she rested her head against the tree and gazed at the plain wooden casket, her mind empty of everything except the enormity of this new reality.
The pain in her heart dragged at her, and the grief and sorrow of the past few weeks drained her of energy. Steph's eyelids drooped and she closed them for a brief moment as she listened to the sound of her own breathing.
"Ma'am? Are you okay?"
Sunlight dazzled her as she opened her eyes. Steph raised her hand to shield against the glare and squinted at the young man standing in front of her. He looked about twenty years old and wore a faded blue uniform with brightly polished metal buttons.
"What? Where . . ." she trailed off, not quite sure what question she was supposed to be asking.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just checking t'see if you were all right."
He stood in front of her, blocking her view of Frank Plum's coffin, and suddenly Steph didn't want to see it again. She half-turned towards the road and struggled to get up. Quickly, the young soldier slid a hand under her elbow and helped her to her feet.
"Thank you," she said. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she almost collapsed onto the chair, but he kept her upright until the roaring faded in her ears. "I don't know what's come over me. I guess I should find my husband and go back to the hotel."
"The name's Corporal Jedidiah Stevens, ma'am. I'd be honored if you'd allow me to walk with you." He offered his arm with the elbow bent, and Steph slid her hand into the crook. "It's an honor, ma'am."
"Stephanie," she said. "Please, call me Stephanie."
"Miss Stephanie," he said, and chuckled at her expression. The black veil suddenly seemed too restrictive, and she folded it back over her hat. The clouds and gloom had given way to an afternoon sun that burned through the fog and turned the air golden. As they walked along the road, the tiny sounds around her seemed loud in the quiet. The crunch of her shoes on the gravel and the twittering of a bird in the trees were like counterpoints to the steady beat of her heart.
"So, Jedidiah, are you a park guide?" she asked.
He grinned and shook his head. "Not really. Me and the boys like to keep things squared away, so we volunteer our help where it's needed. It's real easy to get lost around here, especially when you're grieving over a loved one."
"I've never been here before," admitted Steph. "It's not exactly what I thought it would be."
"What's inside Arlington is bigger than what you see from the outside." Jedidiah paused as a soft feminine laugh floated through the trees. "Can we turn off here, Miss Stephanie? That sounds like the girls."
Steph nodded, curious as more laughter broke the silence. Jedidiah guided her to a dirt path that wound through the gravestones and along a clump of trees and underbrush. Past the trees, they found several women in nursing whites, sitting on a green knoll with a picnic lunch. Jedidiah waved to them and they broke into grins and waved back.
"Hey, Miss Betty!" Jedidiah called. "You and the girls fixin' to serve refreshments tonight?"
"You better believe it, sugar!" a plump, red-haired woman answered. She nodded towards one of her companions. "Hazel baked her oatmeal cookies, and we're making popcorn for the movie in our section. You coming?"
"Wouldn't miss it. Hold out one of them cookies and I'll come running all the way from Savannah." Jedidiah grinned as he said it and the women laughed, the sound merry and joyous in the golden air. Steph gave them a tiny wave as Jedidiah set off again, and then smiled when they returned it cheerily. Before they had reached the next turn in the path, she could hear the nurses chattering away again.
Jedidiah held a branch out of Steph's way. "Don't mind the girls. They have hearts of gold, even if they be tougher'n nails on the outside. I once seen Miss Betty take charge of a ward and calm it down quicker than wrassling a treed raccoon."
"Are they part of your group?" asked Steph. As they walked down the path, she heard the murmur of voices growing louder, and curiosity pulled her forward. Nothing in the literature or instructions given to the family mentioned gatherings here at the cemetery, and she wasn't sure she wanted to crash someone else's funeral.
"Oh, yes'm. We count on them to remind us what's important." He paused for a moment, looking around at the peaceful fields spread beneath towering trees. Wisps of fog still clung and eddied around their trunks, fading beneath the strengthening sun. "Sometimes warriors forget about everything but the fighting and the struggle and the dying. But the women . . . the nurses were warriors, too. They had the fighting and the struggle, but it was about life. Plenty of men owe their lives to the nurses and medics who dragged them back from the brink and plumb refused to let 'em die."
"You served," said Steph. Instinctively she already knew the answer; she'd spent enough time around Carlos and the Merry Men to recognize that tone of voice.
He smiled to himself, looking down at the ground. "Yes ma'am, with the First West Virginia. Walked up and down the Shenandoah more times'n I can count, until Cedar Creek."
Jedidiah shook his head as if to dispel old memories and turned his boyish grin on her. "Care to walk a little farther, Miss Stephanie? There're refreshments up yonder and you're lookin' a bit peaked."
"Oh, I couldn't impose . . ." Steph trailed off, not quite sure what she expected to find around the next corner. It certainly wasn't a party. Not here.
"It's just a meet and greet we host in th' afternoon," he said. "Just the new folks gettin' acquainted and all. We host them away from the scheduled activities, so we don't disturb anyone."
The road branched ahead of them, and Jedidiah steered her to the right. The road dipped down to a little clearing in the trees where older grave stones shone blinding white in the dappled sunlight. Splashes of color between the trees became men and women dressed in costumes that spanned the whole of American history. Some she recognized as they drew closer; there was an officer from her father's generation and the Vietnam era. Others were old like Jedidiah's and a few times she caught glimpses of what could only be uniforms from the Colonial times. Only a very few were from the present, and those were worn by men and women who watched the gathering with somber expressions.
A long table was set up at the far end with a white tablecloth and plates of food. Punchbowls anchored either end, and ladies in Civil War dresses poured cups of amber liquids for the people passing through the line.
As they reached the table, a man in a drab brown uniform with high leather boots turned. He spoke softly to his companions and walked towards where Steph and Jedidiah stood. Steph inched a little closer to her guide, uneasy as she scanned the man's face. There was something about him that looked so familiar . . .
"Corporal Stevens," the man said.
"Major," answered Jedidiah. He nodded slowly, and the Major nodded back. Steph blinked as she found herself holding the officer's plate and glass of punch.
"Wha—"
The Major chuckled and offered his arm. After a moment's hesitation, Steph set the punch cup on the plate and tucked her hand into his elbow. He covered her hand with his and motioned with his head to Jedidiah. "General Buford said to tell you there's an arrival in Section 60 from West Virginia. Might do him good to see a face from home."
"My pleasure, sir." Jedidiah saluted, then bowed to Steph. "Miss Stephanie, it's been a right pleasure to escort you. The Major will see to it that you find your husband."
"Uh, sure, no problem." She tried a smile that wasn't nearly half there, but Jedidiah was already gone. Steph glanced at the officer beside her. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
He smiled down at her like a father at his favorite child and guided her towards the edge of the clearing. A marble bench curved around the trunk of an ancient tree there, and he helped her sit down. "Call me Antonio, dear. It's been so long since I've heard it spoken in the dulcet tones of my beloved New Jersey and known it was for me."
"Okay . . . Antonio." Steph found herself smiling at his delighted grin, then ducked her head and looked at the piece of cake on her plate. It was a white cake, with a heavy butter cream frosting decorated along the edge with piping and rosettes. "This looks delicious. Is the caterer local?"
"As local as we can get," he said. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair. "Go ahead and try it. I would guess you haven't eaten since last night, and this morning were too upset to even think about food."
Steph picked up the fork and cut off a corner. As her lips closed over the morsel, it melted into a burst of sugar and flavor that nearly had her eyes rolling into the back of her head. "This is so good. I don't think even Ella could top this one."
"Enjoy it, piccolo belleza. You deserve a little joy to leaven the sorrow today."
The fork dropped onto the plate with a chink, and Steph set it on the bench, her appetite gone. She stared at the ground, her fingers twisting in her gloves until she impatiently stripped them off. Her pale skin was in stark contrast to the dark mourning clothes, and she felt the tears rising up in her eyes again.
"I can't believe he's gone," she said, her voice thick with the unshed tears. "I just married the man of my dreams, and he was supposed to live long enough to see all the grandsons I was going to give him. He was going to teach them how to fish, and play poker, and do things with their dad and grandfather that mothers aren't supposed to know about."
"It's hard, Estefania, but he wouldn't want you to grieve so," said Antonio. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands loosely in front of him. "Death isn't everything you're feeling right now."
"How would you know?" she asked, her tone sharp. The exhaustion from weeks of sorrow was like a sharp pain through her. "I can't see anything but the cold, and the loneliness. How can there be anything else?"
Antonio clasped her hands in his. "Estefania, look around you. What do you see?"
Steph obeyed, noticing the smiles and the sparkle in people's eyes. "People."
"Alive?"
"Yes," she said, clearly puzzled.
"Do you see grief, sorrow, loneliness?" asked Antonio.
She shook her head. "No. But that doesn't mean anything."
He patted her hands and stood up. "Come, Estefania. If it is meaning you want, then we will find it."
Steph hesitated a moment, then took his hand and let him pull her upright. Antonio expertly guided her through the crowd until they approached a group of men gathered at one side of the clearing who seemed more interested in talking than eating. Their voices were a little louder than the others, and accompanied by more laughter.
Antonio stopped at the edge of the group and someone called out, "Officer on deck!" The men snapped to attention with the well-practiced alacrity of enlisted men. Antonio slid Steph's hand from his elbow and singled out a man near the center of the group. He stopped three paces from him and slowly brought his hand up in a salute as well.
The man choked, then struggled to regain his composure. "Granddad?"
"Francis," said Antonio as he ended the salute. "I knew you'd remember me."
The man took off his hat, the shock and surprise written in his tanned face. "Granddad," he repeated, a slow smile dawning. "It's really you."
A small voice filled to the breaking point with pain and hope interrupted him. "Daddy."
Frank Plum jumped forward to catch Steph as she swayed. "Easy, kitten. You look like you've seen a ghost."
"You're supposed to be dead," she said as she grabbed onto the last shreds of her sanity. "This can't be happening."
He grinned, an easy, boyish expression that she had never seen in her entire life. "It's me, Steph. Just like I've always been."
Someone fetched a stool, and Steph sank onto it, holding onto his arm like a lifeline. "I don't understand. We just buried you."
"No, Estefania," Antonio said. "You buried the part that Francis isn't using any more. He is here, very much alive and very much himself."
Frank winced. "Um, Granddad? Could you ease off on the 'Francis'?"
"Sorry, my boy. The way you cringe gets me every time." Antonio chuckled at his grandson's pained expression and slapped him on the back. "So, my little great-granddaughter, is this enough meaning for you?"
Steph looked at her father as fear wrapped a cold hand around her heart. "Am I dead, too? Is that why I can see you? Does that mean everyone else here is dead?"
"You're not dead, kitten." Frank pulled her into a hug, and Steph pressed her ear against his chest to hear his heart beating slow and steady. "If I understand correctly, Jedidiah gave you special permission to be on this side for a while."
"Oh. That explains a lot." She peered up at Antonio. "So, you're my great-grandfather. I thought Grandpa Plum came over from Italy."
"He did. My wife Maria carried him off the ship at Ellis Island. The clerk was in a hurry and Maria spoke little English." Antonio shrugged. "It was 1918, and I shipped to Europe in two weeks. Losing a few letters off the family name wasn't important compared to ensuring my wife and child had a roof over their heads."
A ripple passed through the crowd around them, and both Antonio and Frank straightened and looked towards the east. Steph turned as well, but couldn't see anything beyond the trees.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"It's the last burial in Section 60 today," said Antonio quietly. "Come with us, Estefania. You will see more of the meaning you seek."
She swayed a little as she stood up, and Frank put an arm around her. "You okay, Steph?"
"Yeah, just a little dizzy." She took a deep breath and blew it out, feeling the calm spread through her. "I'll be okay."
Frank stayed beside her, and Antonio took up position on her other side so she walked between them. Steph put her other hand in Antonio's and smiled up at him. "I'm glad I met you, Great-Granddad."
The lines around his eyes crinkled with his answering smile. "I'm glad, too, Estefania. I've wanted to meet you since you jumped from the garage roof. I knew some day your fearlessness would lead you here."
They reached the main road and joined the others as they spread out to line each side two to three deep. The talking was hushed now, and many stood silent as several women gave deep red roses to each person. Steph took hers hesitantly, and bent her head to breathe in its deep, rich perfume. Down the road, she saw the women in nursing whites, their expressions somber as they held their roses.
Jedidiah squeezed in behind her. "Miss Stephanie. You doing all right?"
"Yes, thank you," she answered. Steph smiled at him. "Thank you for what you did, Jedidiah. I needed to see my father again."
He ducked his head. "You were hurtin', ma'am. I couldn't just walk away."
"Thank you," Steph repeated.
Faint pink tinged his fair skin, and Jedidiah cleared his throat. "You're welcome. It was the least I could do."
A somber bell tolled in the distance. As one, the people turned and looked down the road, towards the east.
Antonio straightened his already perfect posture. "Jedidiah, who is the officer in charge?"
"General Casimir Pulaski, sir. He's picking up the escort on this side of the Memorial Bridge." Jedidiah straightened as well, his fingers tight around the rose he held.
"Who are we waiting for?" asked Steph softly.
"A young soldier from Afghanistan," said Antonio, equally soft. "Cavalry unit, since General Pulaski is involved in the escort. An explosive device hit the patrol and disabled his vehicle. They took fire from the flank and while the others engaged the enemy, he went back to free a trapped comrade. The second device exploded before he succeeded."
Steph was silent, unable to find words that could acknowledge the magnitude of that courageous deed. Her father put a hand on her shoulder, and she found herself leaning into his comforting strength.
Antonio sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Understand that we honor each one who took the sacred oath to defend this country. Ever since the first man was laid to rest here, we make sure no one takes this last journey alone."
"I don't understand—" She broke off.
It was Jedidiah who answered her unspoken question. "Whether they pass from their old life at home or in the theater of war, each one is brought home surrounded by his brothers in arms. The living may fulfill this duty on their side, but we're there, too. It's the least we can do for those who carry on our legacy. They're our children in spirit and our brothers in arms."
The sound of horses' hooves on the pavement carried through the air, and Steph grasped her rose in both hands. The lead horses turned the corner, and the people began to gently toss the roses into their path.
Steph blinked back the tears as the road in front of the six horse team drawing the caisson filled with the deep red flowers until it was a sea of crimson. Behind the escort from the Old Guard marched at least twenty more men and women in perfect unison with the living, their uniforms spanning over 200 years of history.
A dark-haired man in a blue uniform trimmed liberally with gold bullion walked at the right front. His left hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his piercing dark eyes were trained directly ahead. He moved with the confident, easy grace of a born horseman, his stride never faltering through the sea of roses. As the cortege approached the mid point of the gathering, he spoke a quiet command and the lead horses halted, tossing their heads. Another command floated through the air, and the Dead of Arlington rendered their final salute. The civilian men and women placed their hands over their hearts, and Steph followed their example, inwardly wishing that she could do more.
The setting sun broke through the trees, bathing the road and the coffin draped with Old Glory in its golden light. For that moment, the dead and the living joined in one purpose, and they gave the honor as ones indebted beyond measure. Then a horse snorted, and the cortege passed between the double ranks until another corner hid them from sight. Only the crushed roses showed where they had passed.
The salute held until even the sound of the hooves had faded. The Dead paused for a moment, then broke ranks to return to the reception, silent out of respect for the grief of the family bidding farewell only yards away.
Frank took Steph's hand and led her away from the road. Antonio flanked them, and Jedidiah walked on Frank's other side. The men were silent until they reached the bottom of the hill. Antonio glanced back the way they had come.
"Who was with the family?" he asked quietly.
"Major Generals Nathanael Greene and Henry Lee, as well as members from his battalion," said Jedidiah. "General Greene felt their presence was needed; the private was very young."
"Ah," Antonio said on a sigh. He was silent for a moment. "Bronze Star?"
Jedidiah nodded. "Yes. General Patton is on the administrative rotation in Europe this month. He will expedite it on his end, and General Von Steuben has volunteered to lend his . . . 'influence' as well. Colonel Ortiz will keep watch over the wounded with General Doolittle."
Steph glanced from one man to the next. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"My dear Estefania," Antonio said, a faint smile on his face, "we are military men and will not sit by idly when our brave warriors have so much need of our support. We do what we can to keep the bureaucracy moving and out of their way, and we fight the shadows that would claim the ones who have paid the price of our freedom with their own blood. It is our privilege and honor to help our brothers wherever we can. "
The men traded a knowing look, and a slow chill crept across her skin. A General was intimidating enough among the living; she couldn't imagine being confronted with one who had earned his rank in the crucible of the past.
"General Von Steuben's English is much better. He don't need help with his cussing anymore," Jedidiah said, a twinkle in his eyes. "When he's in a temper, the only words the clerks know are 'yes, sir'."
They came to the marble bench, and Steph sat down with relief. Frank sat next to her, and Jedidiah leaned against a handy tree. Only Antonio remained standing, seemingly tireless as he stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
He gazed into the distance, where the evening shadows were beginning to pool beneath the trees. His thoughts seemed very far away, but when he spoke it was with fatherly gentleness.
"Do you see now the meaning that was not in your heart before?" he asked. "There is life, death, and life again. No cold, no darkness, no loneliness. Not while we watch."
Steph pondered his question. Her heart still ached, but it was duller, instead of being fresh and sharp. Peace wrapped around her, and she closed her eyes as she realized that she would not look at death the same way again.
"I'm ashamed I was so blind," she said. "I only saw the pain and grief that I couldn't bear."
She put a hand on her father's as it rested on his knee. "Daddy, I'm sorry I didn't talk to you more. There's so much I want to know about what you did. It doesn't seem right that who you are should be lost because I didn't take the time to ask you."
Frank grasped her hand and squeezed it. "It's okay, kitten. War isn't pretty, and I didn't want you to know about the ugly part of it. It's best left alone."
"You shouldn't have to carry that," Steph said. "I could have helped you."
"Help Carlos. Tell him every day how much you love him, and prove it over and over again." Frank gave her an encouraging smile. "Bring him back from the shadows he walks in to protect you and the country, and keep him in the light. Our families are the anchors that we cling to, even in our darkest hours."
A rustle caught her attention, and Steph twisted around to see General Pulaski walking towards them with two men she didn't recognize. The fading light flared on the gold braid of their uniforms, and she held her breath as the tallest man glanced their way and gravely nodded to them as the trio passed by.
"That was . . ." She trailed off, uncertain of how to finish the question.
"General Greene," answered Antonio. "One of His Excellency's trusted staff officers. He and General Knox were the only officers to serve out the entire length of the war with him. He's a decorated veteran of both the northern and southern campaigns."
"And one of them always comes to the funerals here?" Steph watched them as they disappeared into the gathering mist.
"For the ones who die in battle," Jedidiah said. "For the rest of us, there's usually family or friends who are already here."
Antonio nodded. "It started with His Excellency, actually. He felt it was his responsibility to welcome each of his men home. Then time passed, and our country found herself with new battles to fight. So the staff officers volunteered to act as his proxies and reserve his presence for only certain occasions. General Pulaski is always here for the cavalry units, and General Von Steuben for the infantry."
He paused for a moment. "You must understand, Estefania, that bravery and courage under fire are held in high honor. When we are at war, the generals and other staff officers gather here to accord honor to those who died. His Excellency is always present, without exception, for those who receive our country's highest honor. In this new life, he personally welcomes the Medal of Honor recipients."
Steph felt completely out of her depth. "His Excellency?"
Frank dropped an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. "General Washington, kitten. The father of the country."
A shiver went through her, and chills raced along her skin. Steph swallowed hard, not sure that she had heard correctly. When her father folded her into a tight hug, she closed her eyes and buried her face into the stiff fabric of his uniform.
"It's okay," whispered Frank. "I've got the shakes, too."
"Who was there for you, Daddy?" she asked softly.
She could feel the laugh reverberate through him. "My platoon and my commanding officer from 'Nam, Second Lieutenant Johnson. He saluted me and his first words were 'Plum! I don't understand how someone as ugly as you could have a daughter that good-looking.'"
"Daddy!" Steph tried to keep the shock out of her voice, but it was hard. It didn't help that Antonio and Jedidiah both choked on their laughter.
"It's okay, Steph. I told him you'd hand him his ass without breaking a sweat and your husband would clean up afterwards." By this time Frank's eyes were crinkling at the corners with amusement, and Steph leaned back so she could properly glare at him.
"That's not funny."
Frank slid an arm around her shoulders. "If you'd seen his expression when he saw Carlos, you'd know exactly how funny it is."
She stared up at him for a long moment, then felt her lips twitch slightly. When Antonio choked back another laugh, Steph gave up and let the smile break through. "You are so going to get into trouble with Mom for this."
"I'm looking forward to it, kitten." He sobered a little, the smile dropping off his face as he met her eyes with a directness she'd never known in life. "Tell her not to grieve too long, and to take a page from Edna's book and live. Life is too short to waste one single moment. And when the time comes, I'll be waiting for her."
The tears stung in her eyes, and she sniffed a little. "I'm going to miss you, Daddy."
"For a while. But you and Carlos have a wonderful life together." Frank grinned. "Just remember all the hell you put me through when your kids are stretching their wings to fly free."
That pulled a watery laugh from her. A bell struck the hours from the tower on the hill, and Antonio sighed. "Ah, Estefania. I wish we could talk longer. You are a fine young woman, and I am proud of you."
"I have to go back." She didn't ask it; in her heart, she knew that this short window of time was closing for her.
"Carlos is waiting. I don't know what would happen if he had to come and get you." Antonio drew her to her feet and crushed her in a powerful hug. "Be well, my little great-granddaughter."
"I love you, Great-Granddad," she answered. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the parting she didn't think she would ever have. "Daddy . . ."
Frank pulled her into his arms for the last time and rocked her gently. "It's okay, Steph. It's only for a little while. But do me a favor, okay?"
"Anything," she said, gulping back a sob.
He leaned in close and whispered, "Don't name this first one Francis. The poor kid will need older brothers to help him."
"Got it." She sniffed again. "What about Antonio?"
Frank's grin was blinding. "I think it would be perfect."
He pulled back a little, and she reluctantly let him go. "I love you, Daddy."
"I love you, too, kitten."
Jedidiah reached out his hand, and Steph allowed him to tuck her hand into his elbow. She tried to smile for her great-grandfather and father, but the corners of her lips trembled as tears rose in her eyes again. Antonio placed a hand on Frank's shoulder and both men nodded. Steph forced the tears away and lifted her chin, determined that sadness would not tinge her memory of them. With a last look and silent farewell, she followed Jedidiah across the grass.
Silently, they retraced their earlier route. As they passed by a copse of trees, Steph saw a soldier in desert camouflage jogging towards them. He raised a hand and she slowed, waiting for him to catch up. Another young one, she thought as he approached.
"Ma'am, are you Mrs. Manoso?"
"Yes," she said warily, wondering if she knew him.
He grinned, his teeth white against skin tanned by wind and sun. "I worked an air drop with your husband in South America a while back. Could you tell him something for me? Tell him Corporal Brady James says 'thanks'. What he said means a lot to me."
"I will. And thank you for serving our country," said Steph.
"My honor, ma'am." He hesitated for a moment, then held out his closed hand. "Would you give this to Colonel Manoso? I . . . I'd like to have a part of me stay in the fight with the guys until they're home."
As Steph brought up her hand, he pressed something into her palm. She felt warm metal, and the sunlight glinted on the dog tags as he dropped his hand and took a step back. Swallowing hard, Steph nodded. "I'll make sure he delivers them."
"Thanks. I appreciate it." Corporal James nodded to Jedidiah and headed back the way he'd come.
Standing in the middle of the field, Steph looked around her, setting everything in her memory so she would remember for the rest of her life. A chill wind blew across the grass like the hand of fate, and she shivered.
"I guess we should get moving," she said, and turned to find only emptiness beside her. "Jedidiah?"
A complete turn proved that she was alone. A motor coughed in the distance, and she saw a caretaker's tractor trundling along the maintenance path at the bottom of the hill. For a moment she felt bereft, but she glanced down and saw that she still held Corporal James' dog tags.
"Thank you, Jedidiah," Steph said to the air. "I won't forget you."
Steph went down the hill towards the road wending between the trees and turned east when she reached it. She hadn't gone more than a couple hundred yards before she saw a familiar figure standing by a white headstone. Her pace quickened, and she hurried to Carlos' side.
He glanced up as she stopped and then pulled her into a fierce embrace. Steph hugged him back, feeling the tension in his body, and knew that she would start taking her father's advice. It wouldn't come easily for Carlos; he was too used to bearing his burdens alone. But she would persist, drawing it out of him bit by bit until she erased the worst of the shadows he faced.
"Hey," she said softly. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah." Carlos gazed down at the name and the dates on the stone, and sighed.
Steph took his hand. As one of his eyebrows went up in surprise, she dropped the dog tags into his palm. "He said 'Thank you. What you said means a lot to me.'"
His dark gaze sharpened, and Carlos stared deep into her eyes for a long moment before turning the tags over and reading the name engraved on the silver surface. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he tightened his fingers over the tags. "We need to talk."
Steph smiled and slipped her hand through his arm. He walked with her towards the limousine rolling towards them on the road. "Yes, we need to talk."
He opened the door for her, and she slid into the warmth of the luxurious interior. As she scooted over to make room for him, she looked out the window at the evening mist gathering outside.
"I'd like to come back here again," she said.
Carlos settled into the seat next to her. "Any time you want, Babe. I'll bring you here myself."
"Thank you," Steph said. "Thank you for everything. I don't think I've said that enough to you, or to the guys. I didn't realize until now how much you've done for people who don't even know your name."
He put an arm around her shoulders and brought her close to his side. As Steph nestled into his warmth, Carlos rested his cheek against the top of her head. "It's always been my honor," he said softly. "You okay?"
"I'm okay," Steph said. She watched as the rows of headstones slipped past. "And I'm glad that my dad chose to be here. He has the best of company."
The limousine passed through the eastern gate and turned onto the highway towards Memorial Bridge, heading towards the twinkling lights of Washington, DC and leaving the silent fields of Arlington to those best chosen to dwell there.
We're thankful for those thankful for the things we've done
We can rest in peace 'cause we are the chosen ones
We made it to Arlington.
Trace Adkins/"Arlington"