Chapter Four
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With his flight canceled, Brent came home and changed out of his flight suit and into a pair of faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He couldn’t wait to get downstairs to his woodworking shop. If he couldn’t be in the air, it was the next best place.
He considered calling Clara to see if she wanted to get together, but it was the first Friday of the month.
She would have plans with her friend, Lily.
It was probably for the best, anyway. He couldn’t just throw a date together at the last minute like that.
A girl like her deserved a little preparation and planning—like what he had in store for their upcoming romantic dinner.
As far as he was concerned, there were more important matters to attend to tonight.
His disappointment from the canceled flight was soon forgotten as he descended the creaky stairs into the damp basement.
The smell of pine filled the air. There was nothing he loved more than that musty basement aroma, especially when he had one of his projects underway.
His tools sat neatly organized on a sturdy workbench.
A modest piece of eastern white pine lay on top. He took a slow inhale through his nose.
Brent had bought his house, a small 1970s fixer-upper on a great piece of land, when he first arrived in town a few years ago.
Knowing the Air Force wouldn’t keep him in any place too long, it didn’t make a lot of sense for him to buy a property, especially one that needed extensive renovations.
But there was something about this house he couldn’t resist. He could tell it had potential, and all it needed was somebody who could put the time and effort into bringing it back to life.
After a year or so of planning, painting, and polishing, he had transformed the old house into a beautiful home.
He planned to sell it for a sizable profit when it was time for him to move on from the area, a nice bonus.
But, mostly, it was about the work he put into it and the pride he took in a successful outcome.
Brent turned toward his latest project and current source of happiness: a Christmas gift for Clara. He picked up his handsaw and began working away at the piece of wood, executing each move to perfection so it would turn out according to his plan.
That’s what he loved most about woodworking, the skill involved.
Dependent entirely on good planning and careful execution, nothing was left to luck.
He blew the extra sawdust off the wood and stood back to take a look.
Perfect. It looked exactly the way he’d anticipated.
If all went according to plan, so would his Christmas with Clara.
Brent thought about the plans he’d made for the two of them.
He flipped on the small radio he kept on the workbench.
Michael Bublé was singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” and Brent couldn’t help but hum along as he carved.
He already had several activities lined up for their week together, all laid out in a well-organized checklist. The first item on his list was to take her to Cranberry Pines Christmas Tree Farm.
He knew she’d been there before, but he—a relative newcomer to the area—had never visited.
He hadn’t even bought a tree last year, having spent the holidays at his parents’ house.
From his online research, Brent knew the farm could be the perfect spot for a romantic holiday outing.
He would be able to show off his natural lumberjack skills by cutting down a fresh tree. He loved that idea.
Brent felt as if choosing their first tree together would finally solidify them as a real couple.
It seemed like a rite of passage only a couple would do, as opposed to a date.
He smiled to himself. He liked the idea of them choosing something together, syncing up their individual personalities to achieve a shared goal. Even if it was just a Christmas tree.
As he continued to carve away at the wood, Brent thought about the next item on his checklist: the squadron Christmas party. He hoped it would give Clara a positive impression of the squadron and not scare her away from Air Force life completely.
Although she had grown up in Cranberry Pines—only a couple dozen miles from the Air Force base—he didn’t think she had ever dated anyone in the military before.
Had she? She’d only mentioned having dated that sharply dressed boss of hers, Matthew.
Brent rolled his eyes. That guy seemed to be about as different as one could get from most of the Air Force pilots he knew.
If that’s what she was used to, what was she going to think of his Air Force buddies?
He knew deep down she was going to love his friends.
Still, Brent couldn’t stop his mind from cycling through the worst-case scenarios.
They had talked about his job quite a bit over the past couple of months, and she seemed to be supportive of what he did.
Even so, he wasn’t entirely sure yet what Clara thought about that part of his life or if she was interested in getting involved in it for the long term.
How could anyone really know what they’re getting into with this lifestyle?
He glanced over at his list to peek at the most significant item. He was planning to take Clara to his parents’ house for their annual Christmas party. She would get to meet his parents for the first time, along with all their closest friends and neighbors.
Brent adored his family. They’d been his constant rock in a life that sometimes felt like sand that never stopped shifting.
Living in the northeast, his parents had been thrilled when he got assigned to the base in New Hampshire.
Their house was a short two-hour drive from his, and he loved to visit them as much as possible.
He was ready for them to finally meet Clara.
There would be other holiday fun too, and it was all laid out in his list. They would bake cookies, they would explore the idyllic New England villages, they would drink cocoa, and they would exchange gifts.
On the surface, each item on his list appeared to be simple holiday fun.
But he knew the truth. Each activity was well thought-out, with the specific intent of bringing them closer together as a couple.
It’s how missions are successful. If it all went according to plan, their relationship would take a huge step forward over the course of the holidays.
First things first, he was planning to take Clara out for a romantic candlelight dinner the next evening.
Though December had just begun, this date would be the official kickoff to their romantic Christmas together.
He thought about the upcoming weeks and imagined everything going perfectly as he continued to hum along with the music.
Deciding to remain optimistic, he made a last-minute decision to add an additional detail to her gift.
Taking his chisel, he inscribed the current year into the back of the wood.
If things worked out between them—and he was beginning to think they might—they would always have this reminder of their first Christmas together.
Brent placed his safety goggles on top of his head to get a closer look at his work.
A satisfied grin spread across his face.
His phone rang, and he took off his gloves, hoping it would be Clara.
Instead, the number for the squadron appeared, suddenly reminding him of the one thing he could never control.
The squadron rarely called. A simple issue like a schedule change or logistic update would usually be communicated through email. No, a phone call meant there was something urgent: a squadron recall, canceled leave—or something worse.
Brent’s vision of his perfect Christmas plans came dangerously into view. Despite all his planning, there was one truth that always lingered in the back of his mind: Life in the military was completely unpredictable.