I woke up again, but this time, it was no nightmare that haunted me. In fact, it wasn't even a haunting in the first place. It was just a dream, a good dream compared to the other nightmares that were plaguing me since I came home. This was just a regular dream, a nice one really. I was in the middle of a field, the tall grass that was around me and I was in a summer dress that was ivory, cotton and simple along my pale arms and legs. The one thing that made it a pleasant dream was Joe, whom was with me and holding me close in his arms. We were smiling and just enjoying each other, even having me feel him kiss my hair and run his fingers against my arms and skin. It was soothing, so soothing compared to the dreams I had had in the past. Before, they were filled with chaos and sorrow and pain. But with this one, only one out of the dozens of nightmares, this was one was real enough to make me smile as I woke up.
This was the first time I woke up without screaming, but it was still shaking me where I was. I have missed him to the point of dreaming about him. Dreaming about kissing him, holding him….damnit. I have never been deprived when it came to love and intimacy before, and this was killing me not being near him. I was acting more like a girl these guys, a girl who was not near her boyfriend. It would be time before we would be together again, but who knew that would be since I would think Joe was too trying to get his own life together with his family and his sanity before he would come to me. My father was fine with the fact that he was a Jew, though it was still a shock to him. I knew he had no say on who I loved since I was now an army veteran. His argument was invalid.
I blinked a few times, staring at my ceiling of my room and just stayed content in the silence of the house. I could hear the noises of the fireflies in the bayou grass outside my window, along with the leaves of the willow tree rustling in the new breeze since my window was wide open to let the coolness come into my room. Archer was on my bed, his head was on my legs and was fast asleep, not moved from my being awake. My sheets were cool against my pale skin, though I looked down at my arms and saw some of the thing scars that were there from the Battle of Carentan and Operation Garden Market. They were small, almost looking like scratches that I would get from a cat, but they were there and I remember running through those battles and those streets to get to my brothers and make sure they were okay.
"You are stronger than you think."
Doc's words rang in my head, having me clutch the blanket over me closer to my body as I thought of my best friend again. He was concerned about going through the same thing as I: going back to normal life. I couldn't picture his life without being involved with medicine since he was so good in my opinion. It was still a shock to me that he has never worked with medicine before the war, that it was assigned to him like any kind of job, and yet he took it and ran with it. I had more respect for him because of that, since I grew up around medicine and was trained in it for five years before I went to the war. He had more of a drive for it, when I had more of a gut instinct. We worked well together as a team, a great team. The Crazy Cajuns, according to Spina. It made me think of Spina then, having me wonder if he ever went into painting since he swore he would never do medicine again. What was Doc doing now actually? It made me wonder, really wonder as I drifted off back to sleep, and for the first time in awhile, I slept in content.
I slept in peace.
I was awake the next day in the cool summer morning, sitting at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee in hand as Owen was making breakfast for the both of us. Our parents were in town for the day, going shopping for food together and then heading over to the church to see if they could get any volunteer work done. It was a slow morning for me, though it was the first time I woke up without bags under my eyes. I actually got retest for once in two weeks and after the long days of staring into nothing and the nightmares flooding my mind over and over like a record player on constant repeat.
I heard Owen tap something on the oven, getting my attention as I was looking at the coffee cup in my hand. I looked up, seeing Owen looking at me and then pointing to the counter hear the archway that lead to the living room. He pointed with his fork that he was using, then placing it on the floor and signing to me You got a letter early this morning. Mom wanted me to remind you.
Getting up from the table, I signed Thank you to my brother and then glided over to the counter, rubbing my eyes and trying to get more of the tiredness out of my own eyes. Once I looked down at the letter in front of me, my eyes went wide and my heart almost went out of my throat when I saw who it was from.
Doc.
Greedily I grabbed the envelope and ran over to the living room, plopping down on the couch and ripping it open with haste. I haven't heard from Doc since we separated on the train when we were at his stop. I unfolded the paper, seeing his neat handwriting that I knew well from looking at his medical journal. Just seeing his handwriting was enough for me to get by as I started reading what he wrote out with such delicacy and grace:
Gingembre,
I hope you get this letter and write back. I've been wanting to write to you since I got home, but I haven't had the time at first. My mom and dad have been all over me, making sure I was comfortable being at home. Please telling me you're getting loved all over too, it's about to get old on this end of Louisiana.
I can't sleep, I keep hearing someone call out "Medic" to me, and I can still hear the guns going off in my own head. It's hard for me to sleep, since whenever I close my eyes, I see ghosts. There have been times where I sleepwalk, my mother catching me outside in the dead of night in the middle of our field, looking for someone or something as if they were calling for me. It's Bastogne all over again, Marley. Are you going through the same thing as me?
I got a letter from Babe. He's going through a rough patch with his own demons involving Julian and his death. He went to the Doctor, and the Doc told him it was Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and it's supposed to be common with soldiers coming back from war. Maybe I'm going through the same thing as Babe: hearing voices and little things setting me off. I'm going to the Doctor in a couple of days and I'll let you know.
Please tell me how you're doing. I do miss your company and talking with you every day. It's hard for me, not being around my best friend on the Company. Babe is going to come out here pretty soon to visit, you should come out too and see him as well. It would be nice to have a small reunion with some of us in order to get better. I figured if we're together, we can get better and go forward.
Miss you like crazy and love you to pieces,
Eugene.
I smiled from seeing the letter in my hands, folded it back up perfectly and thinking to myself about Doc again. What he wrote, about him suffering as bad as I was. And Babe, how he too was going through and having the same kind of pains and horrors. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, it sounded so medical that it wouldn't be involved in my life. I read about it from Medical school with medical disorders and psychological problems, but for me to live with that? Was it even possible? I had to find out for certain, and even as a nurse I still had to make sure that it was true on my mind of the spectrum.
"Marley." I looked up and over, having me see that it was my mother, looking over at me from the front door holding her groceries in her paper bag. She was just smiling at me, having me smile back at me and place the letter on the floor. Carefully she walked over, placing the food on the coffee table in front of me and standing next to me, placing some of her fingers in my hair and having me see him tilt her head to the side.
"Would you like me to cut your hair, fille?" She asked me in a soothing tone, having me see her grin at me the same kind of grin that she would use on me as a mother to a daughter. I felt bad for my mother, since I felt like I was shutting her out the past two weeks and not showing any sign of warmth on my mind. It was not right for me to treat her like when she was trying to come back to me in her own way. So I nodded my head, not knowing what else to do for her at that moment.
So my mother had me sit in front of her, running her fingers in my hair and cutting my hair short again. I was in the kitchen at the table, having my hands on the table in front of me as my mother worked on my hair as she did when I was a child. It was a sweet moment for the both of us as my mother took away every strand of damaged hair as if she was taking away fear and nightmare with a cut of her scissors. As she did this, I told her all I told my father and Owen. This time, though, I was no longer sad of what happened and how it all happened to me. I just told her in a simple tone, hearing her hum in agreement and gasp at moments of sadness. She as also kind to me from what I told her, though I knew it pained her from the information of me almost dying so many times. It was good that I told her, hearing her being understanding with me.
When I finished, she just hugged me from behind and whispered that she loved me. It made me remember, back years ago on the ship to England and how Doc hugged me there from behind in the same manner. It was an intimate hug, a hug that showed that the person cared and somehow knew my pain that I was feeling. My heart was no longer hurting or cutting deep within my soul, having me smile as she started to sing to me again. I got to hear her voice fully again, no longer having to listen to the memories and the dreams of her voice from the past. Now this was real, real enough for me.
Black clouds are behind me, I now can see ahead
Often I wonder why I try hoping for an end
Sorrow weighs my shoulders down
And trouble haunts my mind
But I know the present will not last
And tomorrow will be kinder
I smiled widely: I knew this song. She sang this song to Owen when he was an infant to calm him from his tears at night. She knew he could not hear her, but something about feeling the vibration of her voice against his cheek and skin made him stop crying. This song was so gentle and soothing, a promise that tomorrow was going to be better and more soothing than the day that was suffered through. I watched from the door of his room, seeing her there with my brother as a baby in her arms and watching her with his big eyes. I never saw anything more beautiful than my mother, and I have never heard anything more beautiful than her voice. Her voice was heaven, it was home, it was a safety net. Now I knew why she was singing to me, she wanted to bring me back home to her again, to bring me back to safety. I sang with her in the chorus, singing the harmony with her as out voices filled the house again as if we were younger and no touched by the stains and sins of war.
Tomorrow will be kinder
It's true, I've seen it before
A brighter day is coming my way
Yes, tomorrow will be kinder
I sang the next part, knowing it by heart since she taught me the song when I was 10 years old. I pictured Joe in my head again as I sung the song, but there was no pain in the picture of Joe in my head. He was just smiling at me, the moments we had together that were stolen and hidden in the shadows of battle and the ruined cities. I missed those moments, hearing him laugh against my lips as we kissed and how his fingers were against my skin to touch me with such intimacy.
Today I've cried a many tear
And pain is in my heart
Around me lies a somber scene
I don't know where to start
But I feel warmth on my skin
The stars have all aligned
The wind has blown, but now I know
That tomorrow will be kinder
A few more days went by, having me still trying to be able to walk from one place to another without being haunted by the war. It was getting harder and harder for me, since I too went to the Doctor and he gave me my own diagnosis:
PTSD.
I knew I had it after all, but it was another thing to hear it from a Doctor that was not me. I was skeptical to go, but my mother and father insisted. As soon as we got word of what it was, I only shrugged and rubbed my eyes in a tired state as the doctor was talking to my parents about the long run of my condition. It all depended on how I was getting through daily tasks, and it could take years until I was well again. It seemed fair to me, because I knew this was something I was not going to snap out of overnight. I was still in the fresh stage apparently, since loud noises freaked me out and made me jump of my own skin and some bright flashes of lights made me want to scream. But most of the time I was a zombie, still not able to eat most of the food my mother gave me and tried to force down my throat since I lost 30 pounds, according to the doctor. I was now looking worse than ever, and there was nothing that could help me.
But it all changed one early morning, having me up and about as usual as I had a cup of coffee in my hand. It was a foggy morning for summer, since a storm was going to come through and make it chilly for the summer storm season in Louisiana. I had the cup in my hand, breathing it in and closing my eyes to harness the images popping in my head again. The chilly fog rolled around our farmhouse, having me look out and only see a glimpse of the outlined willow tree and the shadow of the tire swing. However, there was something else that was in the fog, something in the shape of a person.
I walked over to the front door, opening it and walking out. I was barefoot, wearing jeans that were rolled to the ankles, a blouse tucked into the jeans and my hair short framing my face. I peered out to see who it was. It was odd to see someone at the house so early in the morning when the sun wasn't even poking out from the fog. But the person was walking closer, having me see them clearly and then the cup n my hand dropping within an instant. I was frozen solid on the porch since I thought then that I was dreaming again and this was a nightmare, a cruel one. Was it real? Why was I awake, I should be asleep and have another haunting of him. No, this was no real, yet there he was.
Joe.
He stood near the tree, his army bag was in his hand as he looked at me with the very eyes that I dreamed of. He wore slacks, a jacket over his white shirt and sneakers, though the one thing that was the same was his face, his beautiful lanky face that I loved more than anything. My God, he was here in front of me, and I Prayed to God that I was dead, ascended into heaven and I was meeting him there with no more pain or horrors to face. No, I was alive, this was real and he was in front of my house. He looked so different, as if he too suffered from the aftermath of war. But he looked so warm to me, the cheeks and the lanky figure he had. I was too frozen in my spot to move, since I was still convinced this was some kind of trick, but I looked at him with such shock on my face.
All of my thoughts were gone within that moment, seeing him smile at me and stop there on the dirt road as I felt my feet move before I could think. My instincts kicked in, having me run down my porch and over to him, tears in my cheeks as he dropped his own bag on the dirt floor and ran over me too, the look of pure determination in his face and eyes. We collided in the middle, my arms around his neck and my head digging into his shoulder, knowing that this was real. His arms were around me, holding me close and having me cry into his shoulder. There were so many reasons why I was crying then: seeing him again after two weeks of being apart, knowing that he was here and no longer plaguing my dreams, and seeing another person who knew my nightmares and understood where I was coming from. Joe just held me there, having me miss his hugs on me and how he held me in the dead of night. But this time we were just normal people now, no longer in uniform and no longer having to hide our love from the rest of the world and the Company.
"I'm here now, Marley," he soothed me, rubbing my back as one of his hands were on the back of my head to hold me close and never let me go, having me smile to hear his voice again, "I'm not going anywhere. I promised you, I'm not leaving you ever again." He pulled my head back to look at me directly in the eyes. I saw his eyes examine my face, seeing how damaged and thin I looked and there was pain in his eyes from seeing what PTSD was doing to me. I broke his heart again, but I smiled at him as he stroked the tears from my face with his long fingers tenderly. I touched his cheeks with my own, making sure this was real. I could feel him shaking from under my fingertips, and I rested my forehead against his, breathing out a shaky breath.
"You're here, you're real." I croaked out, seeing him smile and then kiss me so gently that it felt like a whisper against my lips. I felt it there, not wanting to let go of that kiss since we both were suffering without each other and now we were reunited again.
This nightmare was going to be melting away because of him. He was saving me now as we kissed on the dirt road on our knees and touching each other's skin. There was nothing else sweeter than this, what I had with him, and I wanted nothing else but this with him. He was going to heal me, and I would heal him in return.
Tomorrow will be kinder
It's true, I've seen it before
A brighter day is coming my way
Yes, tomorrow will be kinder
Author's note: Hey readers, thanks for the reviews as this story is going to wind down to an end. Please let me know how I am doing and spread this story around to other Band of Brother lovers. I used the song Tomorrow Will Be Kinder by the Secret Sisters since it sounded like a hymn that would be used for this scene and part of the story. Thanks again for reading!
