Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Brooke
When I met Levi, I knew in my heart I could be happy for the rest of my life. He made me laugh, he was brave, handsome, and charismatic, and he was as smart a man as I’d ever encountered. He was a soldier, and one with a strong sense of pride in his country and an even stronger sense of duty to uphold his ideals.
Levi was coming to the end of his enlistment, but I never counted on Afghanistan. I thought things there were winding down…boy, was I naive.
Levi and I married only six months after we met. We were positive we were destined to be together. I knew he was a military man, and I got used to him having to be away for a few weeks at a stretch. But each homecoming was sweet and laden with pleasure. We could make love for hours, wrecking each other with our words of devotion and our divine lovemaking. He could be a gentle lover when the mood struck him, or he could burn me to a crisp with his passion. He was always unpredictable except for letting me know that I was cherished and adored. We were both insatiable and desperately in love. Most of all, I knew his loyalty to me was as strong as his loyalty to his country.
But five months after our wedding, he was deployed, and I felt like a wreck. I was so lonely for him—my best friend in all the world, my lover, my protector, the father of our future children. I was sad I wasn’t pregnant; then at least I would have had that bit of him with me. I tried to hide my fear before he left, but I know he knew.
We went from daily interaction to virtually no communication at all. I couldn’t call him or text him, so I wrote daily letters telling him about regular life, not knowing if he’d ever even see them. My job as a data analyst was going fine and paid well, so I had no complaints other than I missed Levi and hoped he would stay safe. When my friends asked how I was doing, I would thank them for their concern and say I was worried for Levi, but I always downplayed the absolute nightmare my nights had become. I was used to Levi’s large presence in bed—his soft snores and a body that warmed me like a sauna. It had been a pleasure to work remotely for the past few years, but now our house felt oppressively quiet except when jets flew over, and they were a cruel reminder of the military that had taken my beloved Levi into danger. We didn’t even have any pets I could dote on. I routinely lay awake for hours trying not to worry.
Often during that time, I thumbed through our wedding album. He was dashingly handsome in those photos, and his happiness and pride were obvious. But it was a candid shot of him that was my favorite—one I’d snapped when he was sitting on his sister Kate’s couch talking to his four-year-old niece Louisa. He called her Lulu the moment he met her, and the nickname stuck. His earnest expression and the sweet look in his eyes just flattened me. So I blew up and framed that picture and carried it with me from room to room. He would eat dinner with me that way. He watched over me as I did my work, and I could say goodnight to the Levi I loved each night.
I counted the months, the weeks, the days, the hours of his deployment. Time passed too slowly, but I tried to stay positive. After all, the longer he was gone, the sooner he’d be home. The idea bolstered my spirits tremendously—especially when I knew it was less than a month away. I started going back to the gym and spruced up the house for his return. All of the household projects I’d planned to do finally kept me occupied so I wouldn’t fixate on his return. I wanted everything to be perfect for him. I cleaned the carpets, painted the kitchen, planted some flowers, and got rid of a bunch of junk from the garage. Our little house in Hopkinsville, Kentucky gleamed with readiness for his return. In the back of my mind, I decided it was time to talk about starting a family when he came home.
But a week before he was supposed to arrive, I got the word that his deployment was extended for another unspecified length of time. I understood this was often the case, so I wasn’t overly worried…just really frustrated. It was so unfair!
Though, I reminded myself, no one promises that life will be fair. I squared my shoulders and waited.
Anyway…it got worse. Three weeks after that, I got a call that made me want to faint. Sergeant Levi Spencer had been injured in the line of duty and would be treated in a military hospital in an undisclosed location.
I was crushed and terrified. What had happened? How was he? When could I see him?
All I knew was that he’d been in a “skirmish.” Facts were scarce. I thought my world would fall apart. Calls to his parents didn’t afford me any relief. They were just as freaked out as I was. No one knew what kind of shape he was in or if he’d come home draped with a flag. His dad had been in the Army too, and he tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but the poor man was losing it with worry. He vowed he’d make some calls and try to get more information, but he didn’t know how effective he would be. We promised each other to call the minute we had any more news.
Levi’s dad surmised that the next step for Levi would most likely be a transfer to Walter Reed, “Depending on his condition.” No one would give him any more specifics than I already knew. I had to ask him where Walter Reed was and found that it was in Bethesda, Maryland. I didn’t grow up in a military family, so my knowledge of things like this was lacking.
Time ground to a halt. I lost weight from not eating and worrying myself into a stupor, and each time my phone rang, I thought my heart would beat right out of my chest. Finally, I got a call telling me that Sergeant Spencer’s surgeries (yes, plural) had been successful, and he would be transferred to Walter Reed as soon as he was able to be moved. I asked if I could speak to him, and the caller had no idea what to tell me about that. He was just the messenger, he told me, and had many more calls to make. “Have a good day, ma’am,” he said and hung up. Good day ? I wanted to scream.
At least I knew Levi was alive.
I waited one day before calling Walter Reed. I called every morning and every evening to see if Levi had been admitted. A week went by, and then, finally, I got an affirmative answer. I asked to be transferred to his room so I could speak with him, but I got absolutely nowhere. Nor would they tell me anything about his condition. “HIPAA rules prevent that,” they said. Caregivers would only be given information upon the patient’s discharge if it pertained to their well-being. I called his parents, and we all booked flights to Reagan Airport.
Although my imagination had come up with every scenario I could dream up, I was not in any way prepared for what I found.