Disclaimer: I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon.
The Hardest Mission
I had arrived from my deployment only four months earlier, and Lester had been called for duty, which, to us, was a familiar routine. We would be away from each other four to five months at a time. So now, he was standing in his green uniform with a heavy camouflage backpack strapped around his shoulders.
"We need a pregnancy test," I announced, closing my eyes as if doing so would reduce the fear that had taken over me. Lester and I had spent the last two years of our six-year marriage struggling to get pregnant.
Lester froze on the spot, dropped his duffle bag, and kneeled to my feet. He ran a hand through his shaved head and narrowed his eyes.
"Are you sure?" I cocked my head and rolled my eyes. He grinned in response. Lester was a handsome man, tanned and with a full set of eyebrows framing his green eyes. "Let's get a test, then."
"We should get chocolate cake too," I said, fidgeting in my seat before adding, "just in case."
It had taken a long time for us to agree to have children. Lester came from a big family, and I was an only child. My skills were zero to none when it came to taking care of little people. My expertise remained in working with machine guns and grenades. I could be a beast when it came to grenades. The soldiers we trained called me the terminator.
Ten minutes later, we were riding on the elevator. Lester gripped my hand tighter and pulled me closer to him. He must have sensed my fear. My self-doubt increased with every step we took toward the door. On our way to the store, we neared the park, where shrieking children ran wild kicking a soccer ball. They seemed so fragile and small. I forced myself to tear my eyes away.
The green sign over the grocery store read, "Milan," and the place was empty when we arrived. The aisles were organized, and the floors sparkled under the bright florescent lights. I had driven vehicles in war, fought my way out of ambushes, and completed missions without losing anyone on my team, yet the store, with its sterile floors and yellow walls, made me feel as though I was going in for surgery.
The cashier gave us a military salute as we walked inside. Old Sam was a veteran and an old friend of ours. I followed after Lester, letting him lead the way through the aisles. The rows appeared to elongate on our way to the back shelf, where the tampons, sanitary pads, and pregnancy tests lived.
"If the test is positive," I said, "don't go dying on me."
"I'm only going on a training mission," he said, "Only three months."
"Children are not my area of expertise." My voice was shaky, half an order and half a whisper. "I would be counting on you to help me through it."
"It'll be our personal mission," he replied. I could not remember which one we picked. I did remember, however, how the walk home seemed shorter. I remember the pink plus sign on the window of the white stick, Lester's soft laugh, and his back when he marched out the door.
A three-month mission turned into a six-month deployment. The time stretched before me until he came back home.
"We never got the chocolate cake," I said, settling next to him and to the welcoming rumble of his chest when he laughed. I traced the bullet scar over his heart, now completely healed, and focused on the sound of rain hitting the window. The rain and the heat of his skin next me felt like home.
"Babe, go back to sleep." Lester reached out to touch my belly. The baby kicked. My heartbeat quickened, but it was no longer out of fear. The fear had been replaced with the proactive drive of a soldier.
"Babe, go back to sleep." Lester reached out to touch my belly. The baby kicked.
My heartbeat quickened, but it was no longer out of fear. The fear had been replaced with
the proactive drive of a soldier.
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