Chapter 6
Clarksville, Tennessee
November
Olive eased the front door shut and dropped her keys in a dish on the little entry table.
She walked through her living room, the late afternoon light spilling through the big window onto the worn hardwood.
Her beige couch held a riot of mismatched pillows—pink, yellow, orange.
A crocheted blanket from her sister draped over the back, its bright stripes a splash against the brick hearth’s quiet gray.
As she kicked off her shoes, she pulled the band off the end of her braid and finally freed her hair from its confines. Her scalp sighed as the auburn strands spilled free, and she rubbed the ache loose, fingers gently massaging her scalp.
She needed a shower and bed, but as tired as she felt, her mind raced ninety-to-nothing, reliving the three-hour lunch with Sergeant First Class Gerald A.
“Jerry” McBride, thirty years old, O-negative, decorated Special Forces sniper.
She went into the kitchen, the white tile cold against her socked feet.
After she turned on the kettle, she grabbed an herbal tea bag from the box on the counter and plopped it into the waiting mug.
A mischievous grin pulled on her cheeks when she thought about the way he’d retreated when she first said the word, “Captain”.
Clearly, lunch would not have happened today if she had required Jerry to render her a parade ground salute from time to time.
Jerry continued to serve as a Non-Commissioned Officer.
Mixing ranks like that would break so many rules, hers and Uncle Sam’s.
That didn’t matter now, did it? Her mind flickered back to the way amusement filled his eyes while he told her an anecdotal story, his hand strong when he shook hers, his grin that made her heart thump like a cannon inside her chest. She hadn’t felt anything like this in a long time.
Post surgery, he’d oozed with a careless kind of anesthesia-induced charm. Today, he radiated a sober strength and steady character. He’d stirred something inside her she didn’t really recognize yet.
She poured steaming water over the teabag. The chamomile’s soothing floral mist rose, already relaxing her before even taking a sip.
With a sigh, she carried the mug to her couch. She settled in, pulled her legs up under her, and stared blankly into the cold hearth of her fireplace, letting her mind relax.
The vibration of her phone startled her out of an almost doze. She glanced down and read her sister Irene’s message to their family chat.
Irene: Thanksgiving! Excited to do Tennessee instead of Mobile.
Thanksgiving already? How had the last week gone so quickly?
She wrote back:
Olive: So excited. Can’t wait to see everyone and show you my new place.
It took seconds for her mom to reply.
Mom: Freddy’s flight arrives in Nashville Wednesday morning. We’ll pick him up on the way to your new place. Dad confirmed we’ll be in the motorhome.
She glanced around her home. Her sister could sleep in the spare room.
Her brother could take the couch in here.
She had plenty of room for the motor home next to the house and an outlet right there for her father to plug into.
She could not wait to open her home to the people she loved most in the world.
Olive: Sounds good.
She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keys. Even though she knew her mom well, she went ahead and asked:
Olive: Did you already buy food?
She chuckled at her mom’s reply.
Mom: Turkey’s already in the fridge, getting ready for dad to brine it. We’ll bring it with us. I’ll send you a shopping list for the fresh items we’ll need once we get there.
She took a sip of her tea and leaned further back against the couch cushion, yawning a jaw-cracking yawn that made her eyes tear up a little.
Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at it, expecting to find her mom’s shopping list. Instead, to her delight, she saw a new text from Jerry.
Her heart rate increased slightly as she opened it.
Jerry: Enjoyed coffee. Hope we can do something again soon.
The grin she couldn’t erase after leaving the food court matured into a toothy smile. Her fingers hovered over the screen, then she typed back.
Olive: Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?
While Irene unpacked her suitcase, Olive sat on the corner of the bed with her legs pulled under, chatting with her sister and catching up.
“So, tell me about this guy you invited tomorrow?” Irene asked.
Heat flooded Olive’s face. “Argh!”
“Argh? Why Argh?”
“It was so spontaneous.” Olive covered her face with her hands. “We just finished chatting about Thanksgiving, and then he texted me, and I was sleepy, and I just invited him without thinking about it.”
Irene playfully shoved Olive’s shoulder. “It’s a good thing! I approve.” She slipped a dress onto a hanger and put it in the closet. “It’s been a long time since Bryan. Have you even gone out with anyone since then?”
She’d met Bryan at her father’s church when they were five.
They didn’t attend the same schools, they had church, and their families spent a lot of time together growing up.
He asked her out during their senior year of high school.
As soon as they started dating, people around them talked about marriage.
He encouraged her to apply for an ROTC scholarship with him, and they both received one.
Once they got to Auburn University, something inside of him changed.
He started partying, drinking, and the more he drank, the meaner he got.
She broke up with him very quickly. He dropped out midway through their sophomore year. She had never seen him again.
“No. Well, a lunch or a coffee here and there, and then nothing. I mean, obviously, being surrounded by so many military men. I do get asked out. A lot, really. There was just never any desire to date anyone. I didn’t want any fraternization to affect me or my career.
” She smiled. “There was this one doctor in Germany, though. I will admit I was tempted.”
Irene closed her empty suitcase and plopped on the bed. “I would be interested to hear about the man who almost made you break your own rules,” she said with a giggle.
Olive toyed with the end of her braid and told anecdotal stories about Germany.
An hour later, she left her sister getting ready for bed and moved quietly through the living room so as not to disturb her jet-lagged brother, Freddy.
Working nights for the last two months threw her off her sleep schedule.
In her kitchen, she’d organized the dishes for tomorrow.
She had grouped dry ingredients with their serving containers.
On index cards inside each serving dish, she had listed required refrigeration and wet ingredients on one side and recipes on the other.
She flipped the oven on and started on the pies.
Normally, when she cooked, she had music pumping through the speakers above the cupboards. In deference to her sleeping family, she slipped earbuds in and turned up the music. While she measured and poured, she danced and moved.
Just as she put a pumpkin pie into the oven, her back door opened and her mom came into the kitchen. Olive pulled the earbuds out. Her mom glanced at the organized ingredients on the counter.
“Oh, I was coming in to do the pumpkin pie myself. You beat me to it.”
Olive turned the kettle on and gestured at the collection of sugars and nuts next to a glass pie plate. “We still have to do the pecan.” She opened the fridge and pulled out the plastic-wrapped crust she’d made. “I made a double piecrust when I made the crust for the pumpkin.”
Her mom slipped on an apron. “Perfect. If you roll it out, I’ll mix the batter.”
They worked in silence and very quickly had the pecan pie in the oven as well. Olive poured them each a cup of herbal tea, and they sat at the little table.
“As much as I loved my time in the Army, I sure wish all my holidays could have been spent with you guys. I’m really happy you’re all here.”
Her mom rubbed her back. “You have a beautiful home. I’m glad you’re so happy here.” She blew on the surface of her tea. “I mean, obviously, I’d be happier if ‘here’ was in Alabama.”
Olive shook her head and chuckled. “Did Freddy ever have a second date with that one girl?”
Her mom shook her head. “No. They still work together, though. My understanding is there was no chemistry.”
“That’s too bad. He seemed to have high hopes.”
As if sensing their conversation, Freddy appeared in the kitchen doorway. His tousled red hair gave him a mischievous look. “Delicious smells woke me.”
Cinnamon and nutmeg swirled thick in the air, laced with the caramelizing sweetness of browning sugar from the oven.
“You’ve been asleep for hours,” Olive said, glancing at the clock and performing a quick calculation to determine her brother’s normal local time in the UK. “We were trying not to wake you.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just jet lag. It’s mid-morning in London.” He joined them at the kitchen table. “I don’t mind getting woken up. I don’t get to see y’all very often.”
The timer for the pumpkin pie dinged. Olive checked it, pulled it out, and set it on a wire rack.
“Dad’s putting the turkey on the smoker at seven. What time did you tell your friend to come over?”
Nervous energy darted through Olive’s stomach at the ready agreement Jerry gave to her invitation. Why had she done that? “Uh, noon. He has duty at five, so we had to do early.”
“Noon is plenty of time.” She waved in her direction. “You go on to bed. Get a couple hours sleep. I’ll handle the pecan pie.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Olive tousled Freddy’s hair. “Help yourself to coffee and food.”
“Thanks, sis.”
When Jerry rode his Indian Super Chief Limited motorcycle—painted teal blue and bright yellow gold to match his Special Forces patch and tab—into Olive’s driveway, an older man with graying red hair came from around the side of the house. Jerry cut the engine and doffed his helmet.