Vacation
Day One
"So, where are we going again?"
"Home."
A beat of silence. "Mine or yours?" Even with her eyes closed, she could tell he grinned.
"Mine."
More silence. "So, explain to me, the commercial flight?"
"You'll see, Coop. Just trust me."
He hated those words. That phrase never gave him the answer he wanted. Just once he wanted her to open up a little more, spill some information, but even after a month of forging a friendship over late night coffees in the rec room, she was still more of an enigma than he wanted. Granted, he'd been equally sparing of the information he'd shared, but he had vowed to be more forthcoming in the future. Cooper MacBride sat staring at his fellow sniper. She was so relaxed, leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, her feet crossed at the ankles. He almost couldn't tell that the airline seat pushed on all the wrong spots, grinding supposed lumbar-support into tender, half-healed bullet holes along her spine.
She would never say either. Grunting softly to himself, he readjusted. The red-eye would be landing in St. Louis in the next half hour or so, just in time to watch the sun rise as they disembarked. As much as he groused about Hawk's insistence that leave be taken in pairs, he was starting to be thankful for it. Not that Kirsten was a great conversationalist, he didn't care about that. She appreciated silence and it's place as much as he did. He leaned back in his seat slightly, stretching out his full frame. With a sigh, he tucked his hands behind his head.
Silence it was.
((LINE BREAK))
They had traveled light, no more than a duffel and a backpack a piece. As they wove their way steadily through the sea of people, Coop watched how Kirsten avoided touching anyone. She was good at it, so good that it seemed like second nature; he almost envied how she moved, quick and fluid between the civilians. The people she wove easily through, parted to make way for him. He liked it that way. He didn't walk, he stalked, a hulking figure in black. He caught sight of Kirsten's honey-colored head just before she ducked out the doors.
Following, he emerged from the crowd, and shouldered through the automatic door before it managed to fully close. The sight before him made him pause. "I knew it. Minnesota is the Twilight Zone." He muttered. Stepping forward, he reached down with his free hand to pick up Kirsten's duffel bag from where she had dropped it.
She was on the sidewalk, on her knees. Surrounded by more kids than Coop could count. They were all hugging her, or at least, touching her. Coop was surprised by the outpouring of affection, so much that he failed to to take more than a passing notice of the quiet woman standing beside the nearby van.
Kirsten hugged her last few tight hugs, and slowly managed to get to her feet. She was smiling, a look that Coop had yet to see so easily and honestly upon her features. She stretched out her hand, and gestured him forward. Five pairs of youthful eyes instantly lit upon him, a few brimming with distrust.
"Coop, this is my family. Guys and gals, this is my buddy, Cooper. He works with me, so you treat him right." Kirsten looped her arm around the two tallest of the bunch, grinning from ear to ear.
The older woman standing by the van approached then. Coop was a little taken aback to notice that she wore jeans, a tee shirt, and a nun's habit. He questioned Kirsten with a tilt of his head, but she denied him the answer as she moved to hug the nun. Something tugged on his sleeve.
Glancing down, Coop found himself staring into the freckled face of a little girl, sporting strawberry pigtails, and a missing front tooth. "Mister Cooper? Are you gonna help us fix our house?"
Alarmed for a moment, he shot another look back at Kirsten. She gave him one of her enigmatic smiles. "C'mon, Coop. I'll explain in the van."
In the van. With the kids. He gave himself a shake and approached her. Even the kids parted way. Taking her bicep in hand, he squeezed until she looked up at him. "What sort of racket you got goin' on here?" He asked, voice low.
"No racket. This is my family." Kirsten spoke just as quietly. Turning slightly, she raised her voice. "Toby?" A young face, just into his teens, looked up. "Why don't you sit up front with Sister Catherine, so I can introduce the rest of the kids to Coop?"
"Sure thing, Kirsty!" he piped back, his voice cracking.
Kirsten waited with Coop outside while all the kids got settled. "I should've told you earlier."
"About what? That this'd be a working vacation? I don't do well with kids."
"You'll be fine. They're good kids." Kirsten sighed. She wouldn't make eye contact with him. There was something wrong. She kept looking at the faces of the kids, worried about something. She sighed softly, while the young ones jostled for the best seat. "I grew up in an orphanage. Unadoptable. Unstable. The state had a bunch of different labels for me."
Cooper was quiet, as she ducked to climb into the van. "Tyler. Rafe. Cool it." The two squabbling boys immediately clammed up and sat down. Cooper climbed in and settled beside Kirsten. A hand reached out and patted him on the knee.
The nun had turned slightly in the driver's seat. She smiled kindly; the sort of sweet old woman that you liked to help across the street. "Thank you for bringing Kirsten back to us."
He felt himself smile in response, then shot a glance at his partner. For a moment, she was gazing out the side window, but she caught his reflection in the glass. Ducking her head, she twisted slightly to get comfortable. He swore he caught a hint of blushing.
(LINE BREAK)
The sign out front proclaimed the land belonging to the Sisters of Mercy Children's Home. There was a grazing field with a few head of dairy cows milling about listlessly. Maybe an acres worth of hay field, left completely untouched and lush green in the late spring sun. The Home itself consisted of a small church with a large addition, and a pair of barns. A trio of long narrow gardens stretched out behind the Home. By his reckoning, Low Light figured the nearest military base was another six or seven hours away by car. Her reasoning for a commercial airliner was getting clearer.
Two more nuns greeted them at the Home. One stood with a pair of toddlers, while the other came forward to embrace Kirsten. Cooper marked that again; someone touched the Marine who avoided as much contact as she could. He was grateful to be out of the confines of that van. Kirsten had managed to listen and respond to the babble of high-pitched voices nonstop. Coop rubbed his temples. While Kirsten hugged and talked, he went to grab their bags, only to draw up short when the two eldest boys had already taken care of that.
Toby nodded slightly. "We'll take care of these, sir." He had tried to keep his pubescent voice from cracking too much, but it still tweaked. They were gone quickly, leaving Cooper with a pair of empty hands and a gnawing confusion in his gut.
"Lo- Coop!" Old habits die hard, he was finding. Even just being civilian for a week was going to wear on his nerves a bit. It was difficult looking over at Kirsten, and knowing that she was the same thick-skinned Marine he'd met just a few weeks prior. By the time Coop joined Kirsten, all of the children, and Sister Catherine had disappeared inside. "Cooper, this is Sister Bernadette, and Mother Angelica."
He stuck his hand forward, expecting it to be shaken, only to find himself drawn into a pair of hugs. Sister Bernadette was short and round, but never stopped smiling. The Mother Superior however was a spry, but elderly woman, rail-thin. When she embraced Coop, she did so with nothing but acceptance, and joy. Even as he bent to return the hug, he saw Kirsten looking toward the main house, sadly.
"You cannot imagine the joy you have given us by bringing Kirsten home." Angelica was saying, reaching out to take Kirsten's hand as she released Cooper from the embrace.
This time Kirsten moved out of the way, causing both nuns a moment of fear. "Mother," Kirsten began without ever looking in their direction. "Where's Annie?"
(LINE BREAK)
Dinner had been a simple affair, made opulent by the pride the youngsters took in proclaiming which dish they assisted in making. But when the sister's hustled the children upstairs to their respective beds, Kirsten's brave face fell to pieces and the sadness Cooper had watched grow since arriving began to edge in. The two of them still sat at the dinner table, nursing cups of after-dinner coffee. Well, he nursed, Kirsten simply stared at her mug. Finally, as the giggles and laughter from upstairs began to subside:
"Who's Annie?" Cooper asked it in the softest tone he could manage.
Kirsten took a deep breath. "She was going to be my daughter..." She turned the coffee mug in her hands, stalling for time. "We... we had this dream, that we'd be a family. Her and I, and a big white dog."
The Mother Superior had told them that Annie had been adopted, shortly before Kirsten had been rescued from Cambodia. "Isn't that a good thing being adopted?"
"She thinks I'm dead, Coop. They all thought I was dead... how's that a good thing?"
She had a point, and he conceded by falling into silence once more. He got a little more worried about her as she pushed her coffee mug away and started to stand up.
"We should at least try to get some sleep." There was a wry chuckle in there, as she knew both of them were unlikely to sleep that night. "There's fences to fix tomorrow." She smiled softly, resting her hand on Cooper's shoulder for just a moment.
