Chapter 11: Holiday Healings
"Sydney dear, could you please grab the butter from the fridge?" Emily was what seemed to be elbow deep in mashed potatoes and Sydney set down the rolling pin to dust her flour-covered hands on the apron before fetching the chilled butter and passing it over.
The Thanksgiving feast was almost done being prepared, which was a good thing as many of the guests had already arrived and were loitering on the patio and in the living room. Tony was cutting the turkey on the island across from Sydney as she rolled and placed the croissants into the hot oven.
Children were bounding around the yard, but everyone came together as the Thanksgiving dinner was laid out. Tony clinked the glass and stood, several of the men at the table booing.
"Quiet ya hooligans. Thanks so much for those that could make it to the Vaughn Thanksgiving Stuff-Your-Face. While not everyone is here, we're thankful to those we have with us." He turned his attention and lifted his drink to the new flagpole bearing the POW flag hanging in the garden of the backyard. "Come home soon, Mike."
Sydney sought Emily's hand under the table and gave it a squeeze as folks cheered, sent up a Marine hoo-rah, and clinked glasses before then digging into the meal. The holiday flew by, Sydney feeling comfortable unlike the first Vaughn family gathering. Several of the out-of-state cousins were there for the first time, bringing along with them their children, and it was nice to have kids running about playing games and laughing.
"Sih-nee, tuck me in?" The three-year old Micah had tugged at the edge of her shorts, and she grinned down at him. His green eyes were drooping and his sandy blonde hair was disheveled, and he lifted his arms up for her to carry him.
"Sure, big guy." Excusing herself from Tony and the other Marines as Tony was trying to egg her on to tell her 'helicopter crash', she hefted up the toddler and made her way into the house. "Do you want a story?"
"Yah!" He cheered and some of the other kids crowded into the large guest bedroom, piling onto the bed. Tucking them all in together she began to weave a tale of a brave knight that set out to rescue a princess from a tall tower in a dungeon far away. But when the prince arrived at the tower, the princess had already slain the dragon and taken over the tower. The knight was still welcomed with open arms as they fell in love and got married and lived happily ever after.
Most of the children were asleep save for the eight-year old sitting in the chair on the other side of the room. He hadn't wanted to be tucked in with four other, smaller children, and she held out her hand to him after turning off the light and led him from the room.
"You've been quiet, James. What's up?"
"Could you tuck me in too? In my own room?"
"Sure. Want a story?"
He scoffed and rolled his brown eyes. "Only if it's a real story."
She laughed as he pushed open the other spare room door, the one he and his parents were sharing. He climbed into the little cot at the edge of the room and she pulled the blankets up to his chin. "What would you classify as a real story?"
"Could you tell me a war story? A real war story?"
Sydney stopped for a moment, looking at him with curious eyes. "Why do you want to hear a 'real war story'?"
"My dad doesn't talk about my uncle's and how they were in a war. But…you've been in a war – you could tell me one of your stories. Like what you do with Uncle Tony and my dad and Uncle Dave?"
She laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. "You might not be old enough for war stories, Jamie."
He groaned and tossed his hands up. "I'm not a baby anymore, Sydney. I never get to do older kid stuff. I have to hang out with babies all day and it's stupid!"
She nodded, thinking of something quickly. "Okay. Here's the deal. I tell you a tiny war story and you don't tell your mom and dad. You tell him I told you tales about dragons and spaceships and far away future cities. Deal?"
He perked up and scooted back into the bed with an excited, "deal!"
She thought for a moment before beginning. "Once upon a time-" she started, James rolling his eyes with a groan. "Do you want a story or not?" He settled back down with a look on his face that screamed 'swindled'. "On what felt like the hottest day in the sandiest desert, a group of Marines went out to fight. That was the day that I met your Uncle Michael." James' eyes went wide as he settled in.
"They went out in the big trucks ready to go save the day, but there were so many bad guys that they couldn't get through the bad guy town. So they fought. These guys were tough, you know? Big, tough Marines."
"Hoo-rah," he whispered and she smiled.
"When things got really bad, they called me in. Because I was the toughest Marine they had."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. I wasn't the strongest, or the fastest. But when I get called in, it's only during the hardest fights."
"Wow."
"There were loud bangs and sand was flying everywhere. And there we were – your Uncle Michael and I. He protected us all while I put band-aids on everyone that got a scratch. But you know what?"
"What?"
"Our Marines were so good at fighting, that hardly any of them got scratches." She lied.
"And then helicopters showed up and we started giving people rides to get out of the city filled with bad guys. Your Uncle Michael and I were keeping everyone safe while they got into the helicopter. And then, BOOM. The sand sunk underneath me."
"Oh no," his tiny voice whispered as he partially hid his face under the edge of the blanket. "Is that how you got your leg hurt?"
"Yep. But you know who saved me?"
"My Uncle Michael?"
"Yep. He carried me to the helicopter and made sure we were all safe."
"When is he coming home?"
She sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know, big guy. But you know what I do know?"
"What?"
"Is that he is a hero. He'll come home. I believe it right here," she pointed to her heart.
James nodded as his eyes drooped. "Could you tell me a different story?"
"Maybe next time, buddy. You need to get to sleep. Did you brush your teeth? Wash your face?"
He grumbled, "yes," before she tucked the blanket around his legs. "Good night, Sydney."
"Good night, sleep tight. We'll see you in the morning light."
Moving out of the room she pulled the door behind her leaving a small sliver open. "Band-aids, huh?" She whipped around with a gasp seeing Tony against the wall.
"Damnit, Tony. Gonna give me a heart attack."
"I appreciate what you told him. It was a good story." He left off knowing they both knew it was about a fabricated as anything else she'd told that night. "So you're the toughest Marine, eh?"
She laughed as they walked down the stairs rejoining the family for the rest of the evening.
…
"Dig the hole approximately two to three inches deeper and wider than the roots of the tree," Sydney read from her phone as she and Tony stood in the backyard, the full-grown peach tree over by the back gate where it had been dropped off that morning. The sun was high and though a little cooler that usual as it was the beginning of December, only around 65 degrees, the weather was clear and nice. Perfect for helping Emily finally plant her peach tree.
"Well how the hell deep and wide are the roots of the tree?" Grousing, he stood with dirt smudged across his forehead as he watched the young woman flash him a wry grin.
"There's only one way to find out." She strode purposefully to the tree across the yard, squatting next to the large plastic pot it had been growing in for the last two years back at the nursery. "What do you think; can we just measure the pot and go from there?"
"Well what does your phone almanac say?" He jested, making fun of her for looking up how to plant a tree.
She scanned the web page, scrolling with her thumb, before stopping and reading. "For container-grown trees, remove the plant from its pot and remove any circling roots by laying the root ball on its side and using shears to cut through the roots."
"Before we do any of that, we should get it over by the hole."
If anyone was watching over the next ten minutes, they would have had a front row seat to a hilarious show filled with slips, trips, tree-dropping, and a lot of cursing. Emily watched them get hilariously to the center of the yard before poking her head out. "Why don't you two use the rolling cart?" Pointing to the small, plastic, flat cart with wide rubber wheels on the patio, she slipped on her work gloves and made her way to the front yard to trim the bushes and water the flowers.
"I'm gonna need my other leg for this." Sydney stood and grabbed at her knee, the regular leg with the tennis shoe not offering her as much as she had hoped during this endeavor. She jogged into and through the house before grabbing it from the back seat of the mustang. The running leg would give her more purchase, so she switched them out as Emily filled the water jug and moved over the flower beds.
"Thanks for helping today, Sydney."
Giving her an answering kiss on the cheek she made her way back to Tony's side. He'd grabbed the cart and was attempting to lift the tree over the plastic on his own. "Easy macho man, don't put your back out."
Grunting, groaning, and ever more cursing, the two got the tree onto the cart and then over by the hole. Cutting away the plastic and following the rules on the website, they managed to get the hole the right size before Tony laughed to himself. "I have an idea. Give me your leg."
"What?"
"Trust me."
She plopped down on the ground, more than willing to participate in a decent practical joke. He stuck the end of it into the loose dirt until it stood upright as if the leg itself was growing out of the dirt. He sat her smiling beside it and snapped a picture with his phone, texting it to Emily in the front yard with a message that read, "here's hoping that leg crop comes in nice next year."
They swore they heard her laugh from the front yard, though the returning text just said a simple 'ha'. Dipping the leg in a bucket of water to rid it of the dirt they set out to finally get the tree into the hole – arguably the hardest part.
Emily tucked the phone back into her pocket with a chuckle as she finished watering the flowers by the mailbox and moving over by the bed around the flagpole, the American flag hanging low with little to no breeze to keep it out. Finishing up she moved back to the rear of the house, content to sit and laugh at the two as they tried to get the tree planted. The first try was a failure as they got the tree into the hole, but on top of Tony's leg, so they had to pull it back out to free him before trying again. That attempt lead to them finishing triumphantly and then drooping their heads and shoulders as Emily yelled, "it's crooked as hell," from the patio. Sure enough, it was tilting about twenty degrees. Once last attempt got it into the hole; straight and without crushing either worker.
The next argument came by way of the soil that needed to be put in around the roots. "Look, I did most of the work. You shovel the dirt in."
It ended when Sydney feigned a limp, "c'mon, Tony, I've but one leg. Get to it, Marine." Tossing him the shovel she turned and strode to the patio, a waiting glass of water placed in her hand by the laughing mother-figure.
Ten minutes later, everything was set. Tony kissed both their heads as he left to, 'peel this shirt off and take a long shower', Sydney heading out shortly after making sure they were still on for dinner later that evening. Emily stood and took the glasses and pitcher back into the kitchen.
Remembering that she'd left the hose and water canister out in the front she returned to get everything put away. The sun was still high, though it was tilting toward the horizon, and she decided to pour the rest of the water in the canister on the flowers by the porch. The slight rumble of an engine and a squeeze of brakes made her turn to the street as she spotted a black sedan, windows tinted and bearing the USMC emblem on the front passenger door.
The water canister fell from her hands with a clunk and a slosh onto the grass, tears springing to her eyes as her throat tightened. The front passenger door opened and a young man stepped out, his tan shirt and blue pants neat and clean. Emily sobbed as a hand flew up to her mouth and her gaze quickly swung to the grass at her feet where the water can lay.
She lifted her eyes once as the younger Marine opened the back passenger door and a full dress blues Captain stepped into the sun. The white hat hid his face in shadow as he adjusted his suit before turning to reach back into the car.
Her knees gave out and she sunk into the wet grass, sobs wracking her slim shoulders as she waited for the Captain to bring her a folded American flag and a letter explaining how valuable her sacrifice was to her country. She'd read it before. Now she'd have two.
The car door closed and padded steps from shiny black shoes moved across the grass slowly. She heard the sound of something settling down ahead of her into the soft greenery but she didn't look up. This couldn't happen. She didn't want to look into the sympathetic eyes of another high-ranking officer and have them utter the words, 'I'm sorry, ma'am.'
A hand reached out and cupped the back of her head pulling her into a hug against his warm chest, the medals on his left breast cool to the touch. A whispered voice broke through her sobs, "I'm sorry."
Emily fell against the shoulder, simply allowing herself to be held and comforted. She wished it was in more familiar arms, however. If only Tony and Sydney were still fighting over the damn tree in the yard – they would be there with her right now. They could hold her and comfort her.
The voice broke her resolve once more, "I'm so, so sorry, mom."
'Ma'am. I hate when they call you ma'am.'
The Marine pulled away and his left hand cupped her cheek, thumb wiping at her tears. Her eyes open and she saw that he'd removed the crisp white hat. Looking past the shoulders she noticed that the ominous black sedan was gone. It wasn't until her eyes met his, light blue gazing into wet, tear-filled bright green eyes that she realized that the captain sitting in front of her was saying 'mom', not 'ma'am'.
She gasped and fell back against her heels, her hands balling together over her folded knees. It was him. Her son was kneeling on the grass in front of her. His uniform was immaculate and clean, save for the grass stains settling into the dress pants. His hair was short and buzzed, also perfect. The eyes gave it away, so much like his father's and his uncles'. She reached out an unsteady hand, the fingers shaking uncontrollably, and touched his face. He was real – he was in front of her.
"You – you made it home. You came home," she sobbed, throwing herself against him again and flinging her arms around his back to clutch at the blue coat.
"Of course, mom," was his only response as he smiled and held her against him. He'd dreamed of this moment for months, and was fairly sure she had as well. They sat for long moments in the wet grass merely holding each other, the world around them forgotten. Michael pulled away first, a wince marring his handsome face.
"Oh, honey. Are you hurt?"
He laughed and shook his head, pushing up into a stand as he grabbed the cane he'd dropped into the grass before kneeling to hold his crying mother. "It's almost healed, just stiff after a long flight and car ride. C'mon," he tucked the cane under his arm and hoisted his bag over his shoulder before reaching his left hand out to help her off of the ground.
He led her in a blur into the home and set her down onto the armchair in the living room, placed just where he remembered. Pulling up a footstool he sat down in front of her and held her hand in his on her lap. She took a moment to look him up and down once more, settling on his right arm where the sleeve was clipped up against the crook of the elbow in an effort to hide the portion of missing limb. She sobbed and lifted his arm into her hands to place a kiss on the folded piece of cloth at the end.
He pulled away for a moment and reached into his overcoat, Emily noticing for the first time the awkward lump against his right breast. Pulling a crumpled series of letters bound together with a piece of tattered string, tears filled her eyes as she recognized every letter she'd sent him after Sydney had first visited. The young woman had said, "he may be trying to make his way home to you right now", and the mother took that sentiment quite literally.
"You got them...my - my letters."
"Better late than never, right? Mom, listen. I'm sorry I couldn't write back; I'm so sorry. I don't know what they told you – if they said I was dead. I'm so sorry. I – I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't tell you what had happened and why I've been gone for so long," he started in a rush, Emily smiling as tears trailed down her cheeks.
"Oh, Michael, I know what happened. I knew you were missing, and I knew how heroic and brave you were before you went missing. You may have been taken from me for a short time, but you sent me an angel before you left."
Confusion flickered across his face. "An angel? How? How do you know what happened, mom?"
She rose and stepped to his side moving to the mantle to grab a photograph in a thin silver frame. He rose and followed a few feet, taking the photo into his hands. He smiled wistfully at Uncle Tony, dressed in a pressed suit and his mother in a long gown. The third person, however, he did not know. Familiar yet not, he couldn't place who it was. She was standing in a lovely dark green dress, brown curled hair up in a half ponytail. The dimples on her cheeks were standing at attention as she smiled brightly for whoever was taking the picture. He couldn't get her out of his head – he knew her from somewhere.
"I - I think I know her but...but I don't know how." He joked, though his mom just rolled her eyes.
"Look harder – look lower."
He brought the picture closer, looking lower 'whatever what means.' A faint glint of metal shone on the young woman's left leg. It was clearly a prosthetic, and it was apparent that she'd chosen the gown and the way it hung because of her leg. His gaze moved back up to her face, and though he knew it was someone he should know, he wasn't able to recall a name or place.
"She came to see me, just over one year ago. The last combat she ever saw in Iraq was the last moment you were seen by anyone." Emily spoke softly – reverently – taking the picture from his hand and smiling lovingly at it before setting is back on the mantle. Meeting her son's eyes she saw confusion, sadness, and incredulity at the slow and deliberate words she was speaking.
"The words that she shared with me that day made me so proud of you at the same time as they broke my heart. You chose her over yourself. You gave her the second chance." Pausing for a moment she'd noticed that his gaze had reverted back to the photograph as he lifted it up and traced his thumb over the metallic glint of the prosthetic in the photo.
"You said, 'you've got my seat', and sent her back. It saved her life and – and she didn't go a day in this city without finding me to tell me what you had done for her. And as sad as I was, I loved you for what you did. It's who you are, Michael."
"The doc – her leg. God…I remember. I did – I did give her my seat."
"And if you hadn't I'd have gotten a letter from the government and a half-assed attempt to assuage my guilt. No. You gave me a living, breathing, wonderful person to share my hard times with. And she's been there every single time I've needed her."
They stayed quiet for a few moments. "I don't know anything about her," her muttered as he leaned on the cane after putting the photo back onto the mantle.
"Oh, you'll get to know her. She's been waiting for you to come home just as long as the rest of your family. She's been at every family gathering. And every Thursday she and I get dressed up fancy and go to an expensive restaurant simply because 'we deserve it' she says. Her presence kept me sane while you were gone, Michael. She's not going anywhere."
"Today is Thursday, mom."
Realization made her gasp and look at her watch. "Oh, she'll be here in an hour. Michael, we should all go. All of us – we'll call Tony. Oh god – how…how have we not called Tony?!"
Michael smiled as she fretted. "You've always been able to think clearly while simultaneously worrying about a dozen things, mom. I'll go get dressed; dinner sounds great. I'll buy. And I'll call Tony while you get ready."
…
The front door flew open fifteen minutes later as his uncle, dressed in a haphazardly tossed together suit, barged into the home out of breath. Michael relied heavily on his cane, his hip much sorer than he'd expected, but he was on his feet before his uncle had him in a bear hug. They both shed tears into each other's shoulders, pulling apart as Tony held his face in his hands with a relieved exhale.
"God I'm glad you're home, son."
They talked as Emily got ready upstairs, Michael turning the conversation to the young woman due in a few minutes. Surprisingly, he was nervous and couldn't really figure out why. He'd never really known her, merely names that had passed like a breeze in the desert. Hell, he half expected her to be exactly as he remembered – a soldier in combat gear showing up for a fancy dinner. "Can you tell me about her, Tone?"
"Sydney is…unique. I mean, in all my years of service, your dad's, Dave's, hell – even yours – I've never known anyone in any squad to do more than send a letter. This woman found us. Not only found us, but found us and told us everything she knew and then stuck around. Though, to be fair, with her having no real family of her own, she was really easy to adopt. She's funny, always willing to joke or prank, and she just has a decent head on her shoulders. It's weird…we like her better than we ever liked you," Tony jested as Michael punched him in the shoulder.
The familiar purr of the mustang's engine had Emily squeal with excitement, nearly tripping down the stairs on the long dress, her heels thankfully in her hands. The moments went by slow, almost like a long shutter. The car turned off; the car door opened and then closed. Footsteps made their way down the pavement, and then silence. Nothing. Tony peeked out the window seeing her step into the grass, the sparkling, bedazzled, completely metal prosthetic glinting in the fading sunlight, and she was picking up the abandoned watering can and setting it on the porch. 'Jesus, Syd – too thoughtful sometimes. Get the fuck in here.'
The jingle of keys was a prelude to the opening of the door, and the young woman stepped in. Her heel made a tap on the wood floor of the foyer, the black dress clinging to her curves as her curled hair was pulled into a loose and messy bun at the top of her head. She turned to close the door behind her while speaking. "Emily?" She hollered, "you left the can out. I put it away for-"
Turning into the living room she was stopped in her tracks and her keys and purse fell to the floor in a clatter. Her heart jumped into her throat and tears sprang to her eyes. "You…you're," she faltered, her hand reaching back to the door in an effort to steady her suddenly shaky legs.
"Oh, Sydney, isn't it wonderful?" Emily couldn't contain her excitement as she rushed forward and pulled the girls hand between hers. "He came home his afternoon – just after you and Tony left. I…I added to our dinner plans."
She'd had this dream before – too many times. Vaughn comes home, Emily is delighted, they do family dinners, brunches, and he's like the brother she never had. Then she wakes up, hopefully. Sometimes it turns into a nightmare as insurgents come from every corner of the restaurant, their guns blazing as the Vaughn family is shot before her unscathed body. She weeps over their corpses before waking with a gasp, sweat clinging to her skin.
But this was real. She looked down to see Emily's fingers twined with her own, grounding her in reality. Michael stepped forward and pulled her shocked frame against his chest.
"You saved my mother so much grief, Lieutenant. There's no way I can thank you for what you've done for her while I've been gone." His voice was an emotional whisper in her ear as he embraced her, his hugs reminding her of Tony's. 'Must be a Vaughn thing.'
Slowly, as if they were filled with lead, her arms rose to pull him in close. 'Barnett's gonna get a kick out of this. How's this for closure?'
"I owed you," she smiled into his shoulder, speaking through a sob as her tears leaking into the soft cotton of his dress shirt.
They pulled away from one another after a long moment, Michael reaching up with his left hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. "I'm glad you're okay, doc. The last time I saw you it was pretty brutal."
She laughed and shook her head, accepting the tissue Tony was holding out for both her and Emily. "You're tellin' me," she joked and took in a deep breath before letting it out, the growling of her stomach making everyone laugh.
"To dinner," Tony announced, and the four of them left the warm house with wide smiles.
…
The four laughed as they sat in a secluded part of the restaurant. The food was amazing and they were now sharing a bottle of wine, though Tony had stopped at one glass as he was driving.
"You've gotta tell me," Michael started, sipping the wine and setting it down before turning to face Sydney. "The bedazzled leg – what's up with that?"
Emily laughed as Sydney rolled her eyes. "Emily got so fed up with me wearing slacks to our Thursday night dinners. She even bought me this dress, hounding me that I wasn't wearing it. I finally explained that I was tired of the looks and the sideways glances at the prosthetic, so I just decided to hide it when we were out. I've kind of gotten over the embarrassment, but it took a while." He nodded in complete understanding.
"You know me, Michael; I wasn't having any of that. So one night I had her come over under the guise of being pretty down. She showed up that evening with a stud-filled movie, quart of ice cream and a bottle of wine, remember?"
Sydney nodded wistfully as she sipped at the moscato. "That's right. I said, 'whatever you're feeling right now, we have three ways to drown it: alcohol, ice cream, or sexy guys'. We ended up doing all three and I ended up staying in the guest room. Sneaky woman had faked it and during the night got out her trusty hot glue gun and a bucket of rhinestones."
"The whole thing took me four hours, but when she woke up the next day, I introduced her to her 'fancy leg'."
The group laughed as the waiter brought the check, Michael grabbing it and waving everyone off. "Do you know how many dinners I owe you guys? A literal years worth," he reminded as he slipped his card into the book and set it on the edge of the table. He winced as he leaned wrong on his hip in the seat, Tony and Emily chatting but the moment not escaping Sydney's medic eyes.
"Hip or leg?"
He looked surprised at her as she sent him a warm smile, a dimple popping out on her left cheek. "Leg and hip; busted around the socket."
She winced and sucked in air through her teeth. "Ouch. That's a rough one."
"Yeah it is. But, it's on the mend. The flight and the car ride didn't help, so it's just stiff."
"Did they give you exercises to do?"
"No, said I'm supposed to do everything within the 'guidelines of physical therapy'." He said using his left hand to imitate rabbit ears, his right arm rising as well as he rolled his eyes embarrassed for a moment that he'd forgotten his right hand wasn't really there.
She reached out and, seeing his discomfort, set her hand against his wrist. "Phantom limb is a bitch. It gets easier…but it's still a bitch. I'll show you some exercises for your leg; it should help the speed up the physical therapy and get you outta there sooner."
He nodded and thanked her, realizing that he was finally with someone that understood a lot of his problems. The four captured Marines had been separated early after their rescue and everyone else had just treated him either like a patient with a missing limb similar to a thousand they'd already seen, or someone that was deserving of their pity. But he didn't get that vibe from Sydney.
'I mean, why would I? She's gone through the same shit. Okay…I hope not the same shit, but still.'
"Thanks. It's nice to finally be able to do that in front of someone without feeling like an asshole." 'Why am I just opening up to her?! I don't even talk this much in therapy!'
After paying and heading out to the vehicle, the drive back to Emily's house was quiet but content. A smile was still plastered on the mother's face as she stole glances at her son seated beside her. Sydney and Tony argued a bit about the station to turn on and since no compromise could be found they settled for silence.
Michael grinned at their antics realizing that Sydney really had become just another family member. Tony reached out and flipped on the radio, soft classical flowing from the speakers. "You didn't win, okay? I wanted to listen to some…whoever this is."
"Bach," Michael and Sydney said simultaneously, Syd laughing and reaching her hand back for a fist bump. He obliged and Tony rolled his eyes.
"Good; great. Teaming up." Dropping the lot of them off, Tony pulled Michael nearly through the window into a big hug as he left for the night saying he'd be back by tomorrow if they could spend some more time together.
Sydney excused herself as well as she made her way over to the Mustang. "Why couldn't we have driven in this tonight?" Michael whistled as he limped over, the cane supporting most of his weight. She laughed and tossed her purse in on the passenger seat.
"Because Tony would have had to sit on the roof."
"Deal."
They shared a laugh, Emily pressing a kiss to Sydney's cheek and heading inside to get ready for bed.
"Take me on a ride some time. It's always been one of my favorite cars." Michael stood next to her for a few silent moments.
"Hey," she started, looking down and not really sure how to continue. "I'm glad you're home. I know it's weird, I mean – you don't really know me at all but for over a year I've been…waiting for you to walk through that front door. I mean, every single day I hoped you'd come and make her the happiest woman in the world, you know? I'm just glad it finally happened."
Her brown eyes met his green and they shared a quiet smile. "You won't be able to play that card for too long, doc." Michael pressed a kiss to her cheek before hobbling up the walkway. "How many photo albums has my mom shared with you?" he asked.
"Oh, all of them." She laughed.
"I'll get to know you. Drive safe, Lieutenant."
"Have a good night, Captain." Offering a small salute she stepped into the car, firing it up, and it purred down the street into the night.
Michael smiled as he watched the tail lights turn and return the street to dark save for the single light at the crosswalk. "God it's good to be home."
…