Chapter 13
Fort Campbell, Kentucky
February
The wind beat against the ready room window as a late February snowstorm howled outside.
He should be at the chapel, sitting next to Olive, enjoying a sermon from his favorite chaplain in the rotation of chaplains.
Instead, he stared at a Monopoly board, battling Fisher and Brock for Realtor dominance.
The room smelled like microwave popcorn and coffee.
“Show me the money, Jerry Maguire,” Fisher grinned, shaking the dice cup. His lean frame slouched in the leather chair, socked feet kicked up on an empty ammo crate they used as an end table. “Two hotels on Park Place—five hundred bucks.”
Jerry snorted, shoving fake bills across the table. “Robbery. You’re worse than the brass with TDY cuts.”
Brock laughed, a New York Yankees baseball cap covering his head. “Says the guy who owns all the railroads. You’re just mad Trout’s fleecing you first.”
“Strategy,” Jerry said, dry as the desert in Djibouti. He rolled a six, then moved his top hat past Fisher’s remaining hotels. “This is the dumbest game. You’re both toast when I can build that hotel on Baltic.”
Two inches of ice topped by an inch of snow, followed by another ice storm in a thirty-six-hour timespan, had grounded everything.
It was barely safe to walk outside, much less drive.
The commanding general had closed Fort Campbell to anything except emergency services.
As much as he enjoyed the break in training, he’d love to have the ability to get to Clarksville and spend some time with Olive.
“This game may be stupid, but we’re not dumb enough to challenge you to a dart game ever again,” Brock explained. “Who throws seven bullseyes in a row? You’re not human, man.”
Fisher said, “It’s like playing golf with Waller.”
Jerry had made it back to Fort Campbell in time to take Olive out for New Year’s Eve.
They’d enjoyed a movie, Chinese food, and a long kiss under a gazebo covered in Christmas lights.
Between her shifts and his training, they’d managed a couple more breakfasts, two lunches, and two dinners.
He’d also met her at her car after an all-night shift again, coffee in one hand, a bag with buttery croissants in the other.
But they talked every day on the phone, texted each other all day, and had not missed a chapel service together yet. Now, snowed in, he missed her—the strawberry smell of her hair, the smile always present in her eyes, that constellation of freckles across her nose.
“You know something boys?” Jerry mused. “I am getting pretty sick and tired of snow.”
Fisher rolled, landing on Jerry’s railroad. “Hundred bucks. No free rides. Cough it up, Trout.” Fisher smirked, tossing the cash. Before he could retort with a quip, Jerry’s phone chirped. He expected to see Olive’s name, but instead saw Phil Osbourne’s.
“Pause, boys. Gotta take this.”
Brock made kissing noises, and Jerry shook his head as he swiped. “Ozzy, what’s up, brother?”
“Ozzy!” Fisher yelled, loud enough for Osbourne to overhear.
“What’s up, Doc Oz?” Brock yelled.
“Hang on, Ozzy.” Jerry put Osbourne on speaker phone so he could talk to the other two. They traded friendly insults for a few minutes, then Jerry moved to the other side of the room. “How’ve you been? What’s up?”
He could hear the smile in Osbourne’s voice. “Better than I have ever been.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“What about you? How is it going with Olive?”
Just the thought of her made his heart beat faster. “Weird, really. Strange. It’s like I no longer count time by days, just by moments with her.”
“Sounds like true love to me, man.”
After a brief pause, Jerry said, “Expect so.”
“You made any serious plans yet?”
Despite the fact that Osbourne could not see him, Jerry instinctively shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Well, make plans and trust the plan, brother.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jerry quipped.
“I’m guessing after hearing from the guys, you’re not conveniently snowed in at her house.”
“Yeah, unfortunately, she had a shift last night, so she’s actually been trapped at the hospital since yesterday. Too much ice to risk her going home.”
“The way people there drive in the snow, I wouldn’t blame her.”
Jerry chuckled, “Not to give too much credit to drivers in Tennessee or Kentucky, but you and I know the worst drivers on earth are in…”
“…are in North Carolina,” Osbourne finished along with Jerry.
Osbourne chuckled and said, “Worse than Kuwait. No joke.” Jerry watched Fisher lace up his boots and don his coat. He glanced at the clock. Lunch time. “Listen, I called for a reason.”
“Aw,” Jerry clicked his tongue. “I thought you just missed me, Doc.”
With a chuckle, Osbourne said, “Melissa and I have started planning the wedding.”
A grin spread across Jerry’s face. “We talked about this. I cannot be the maid of honor, dude. Seriously.”
“Keep that up, and you won’t even get invited.” He cleared his throat. “We’re going to do it on a cruise ship.”
“A cruise ship?” Of all the things he might have predicted, that did not make the list. “Interesting choice.”
“Comes with the ability to completely secure the area,” Osbourne said.
Again, Jerry nodded, even though his friend couldn’t see him.
Jerry knew Melissa’s sister was in witness protection.
Clearly, they planned something around the security and containment of the cruise ship so she could attend.
Since Phil’s dad was a federal judge, he could probably make that happen with few hitches.
“What do you need from us?”
“Just you, brother. I can’t ask you to be my best man, but I want you to be a groomsman. My best groomsman, let’s say.”
Emotion clogged his throat, and he couldn’t speak right away. With a harsh clearing of his throat, he said, “I would be more than honored.” After taking a deep, cleansing breath, he asked, “Who is the best man?”
“Dad’s gonna stand in for my brother.” He could hear the emotion in Osbourne’s voice.
Drug cartels tied to Melissa’s sister had murdered Osbourne’s brother to send a message. “That’s very cool,” he said.
“Dad thought so.” He took a deep breath. “I have a few more calls to make, but I’ll shoot you the deets. My dad has already covered the cruise for the team and their plus ones. Norton confirmed block leave dates last week of May with me before I called you. You were next on my to do list.”
“I guess we’ll all be on block leave together, then,” Jerry laughed. “Thanks, man. I’ll let you get to that list. Shoot me your dad’s number, too.”
“He already has yours.”
“Okay. Well, count on me. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Jerry.”
“Talk later.”
After he hung up, he sent Olive a message.
Jerry: Hope you’re sleeping. Headed to chow.
She immediately called him. “Hey there,” he said as he answered, “doesn’t sound like sleeping to me, young lady.”
“Yeah. The snowplow came by the hospital about five minutes ago. Someone said the interstate’s clear. I’m trying to decide whether I want to try to make it home or just wait it out. I’m off until Wednesday, so if I could get home, I could just stay there.”
“Still coming down hard here.” He looked out the window at the snow pouring down. “I could come get you. The truck has four-wheel drive.”
There was a long pause. “I’m so close to saying yes.”
He checked the time. “Let me grab some chow and see what the weather does here.”
“Thanks, Jerry.”
After he hung up, he opened the weather app on his phone. The storm looked like it would pass through in the next hour. He took a screenshot and texted her.
Jerry: Be there around two. I’ll call when I get there.
Her response came five minutes later.
Olive: You’re the best. ??
When he stepped out into the courtyard, the cold hit Jerry in the face like a sucker punch .
He tried to walk in Fisher and Brock’s footprints, placing his steps very carefully to avoid slipping on the ice.
His foot broke through a top layer of snow, through a layer of ice, and through more snow.
As he entered the chow hall, he slipped his cap off and put it in his coat pocket.
He didn’t see anyone working the grill, but the sandwich bar and salad bar looked open, so he headed that way.
He piled roast beef and cheese onto some rye bread. The tomato soup smelled good, so he added that to his tray and made his way to where his buddies sat.
“What’s up with Doc Oz?” Fisher asked as he slathered peanut butter on an apple slice.
“Would you believe wedding bells are ringing?” Jerry replied. “Apparently, we’re all invited. He already cleared block leave dates with Daddy.”
A smile covered Fisher’s face. “Kinda presumptuous, but still awesome. Be great to get down to Florida again.”
Jerry shook his head. “They’re getting married on a cruise ship.”
“No joke?” Brock asked.
“I went on a cruise when I was a kid,” Fisher said. “Pretty cool. Lots of cartoon characters on board, so probably a slightly more grown-up venue this time around.”
“It really is pretty cool.”
Brock pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Do you have the dates? I need to get it on the calendar before Erin adds something to the honey-do list.”
He looked at the text from Osbourne. “All expense paid cruise sailing 22 through 28 May. Miami to Bahamas to Haiti to Miami.”
“Wow,” Brock said. “Erin will be quite impressed with me. She’s all about cruises. Goes on like three a year with her mother.”
“You’re going to be boyfriend of the year.” Fisher licked the peanut butter off his thumb. “You’ll be able to ride that wave for a few weeks at least.”
They ate in silence for a while. They had spent so many hours a day together that none of them felt the need to fill the silence with useless banter. They ate and then stood in unison to take their trays to the belt that carried them off to the dishwashing section in the back.
Fisher said, “You’re off to a good start. Ready to finish losing?”