Chapter Eight
CLARA
Clara woke up with a start. Had she missed it completely?
She looked over at the alarm clock beside her and lay her head back down with relief. No, she still had a couple of hours before she needed to be on base. The faint light of Sunday morning was beginning to come in through her window.
She had barely slept. After leaving Gram’s house she had come home, changed straight into her pajamas, and fallen into bed. She had only wanted the long day—and its many complications—to be over.
Sleep cruelly eluded her, though, as thoughts of Brent and his deployment kept her up most of the night.
She had tossed and turned for hours, replaying the things he’d said in her mind.
Clara was still trying to grasp the fact that he wanted them to try to make the relationship work, even with the distance of a long deployment.
The crazy thing was that she wanted that too. She just had her doubts about whether it was even possible. The simple truth was that she didn’t like the idea of it at all. They really hadn’t been dating long enough to endure something like this.
Still, she had to show up for him today.
When he’d asked her to come to the base to see him off, she’d been flattered.
She hadn’t realized she was so important to him already.
How could she possibly say no to that? No, Clara could never let him leave without being there to show him that she cared about him—for whatever it was worth.
And to Brent, it seemed it was worth a lot.
Lying on her back, she placed her hands over her chest. Her heart grew warm at the idea of them staying together.
The romantic side of her was ready to run to him with a long embrace, ready to fully dive into a long-distance relationship.
But her practical side was second-guessing the entire situation.
Maybe showing up wasn’t such a good idea.
Perhaps it was a sure way to inflict more pain upon herself.
How was she supposed to watch him fly away from her for a whole year?
Was she supposed to simply go home afterward—lonely and broken-hearted—just in time for Christmas?
Even though she hadn’t spent one with Brent yet, a Christmas without him sounded miserable. A year without him sounded unbearable. Maybe it would all be easier if she didn’t go. Maybe watching him leave would be another cruel twist of the knife.
Clara blew out a breath. She lifted her head from the pillow again and crawled out of bed.
What was done was done already. She had agreed to go, so she would keep her word.
Besides, it was all too overwhelming when she let herself think about it too much.
She needed to get herself out of the quicksand of her thoughts for a moment.
Grams was right. Clara needed to stop thinking about what she wanted and instead accept the fact that she was in this position, whether she liked it or not.
She needed to get ready and get herself to the base. She would think about the rest later.
She showered and dried her hair, then applied her makeup quickly.
She wanted to give herself plenty of time to find Brent before his plane left.
Clara had no idea how any of this worked or what she was expected to do.
She did know, however, that she could not be late.
Military precision wasn’t merely an expression.
Clara realized she had no idea what to wear to the base. She pulled out her phone and searched:
what to wear for a military
She stopped. What was this situation called, anyway?
A farewell? A deployment departure? An unjustified ripping apart of two perfectly happy people?
She gave up and threw her phone on the bed.
This would be the last time her boyfriend would see her for a year, possibly forever.
She wanted to make an impression, one he couldn’t easily forget.
On the other hand, what did it matter at this point?
This time next year, he probably wouldn’t even remember who she was.
Clara sifted through the closet half-heartedly, finally landing on a gray wrap dress with a pair of tan leather heels.
It seemed an appropriate enough outfit to match the lackluster mood of the occasion.
Her hands trembled as she threw her wavy hair up into a neat ponytail, then added some earrings and a necklace.
She hoped her light makeup was enough to hide the dark circles that had already formed under her eyes.
She pulled on her favorite ivory dress coat with gold buttons down the front to add a little touch of elegance to an otherwise muted outfit.
She gave a nod of approval to her reflection in the full-length mirror.
Then she stopped, caught off guard by a change in her appearance she hadn’t noticed until now.
She tilted her head to inspect herself. She looked different in a way she couldn’t exactly identify.
Was it her hair? Her skin? She seemed more mature somehow.
It was amazing what one poor night of sleep could do to someone’s appearance.
She waved it off with the flick of a hand. She didn’t have time to worry about that right now. She grabbed the written instructions Brent had given her, telling her how to get on base, and headed out the door.
Dozens of questions swirled around her head as she made the thirty-minute drive from Cranberry Pines to the Air Force base.
She was still trying to come to grips with everything and understand exactly what was being asked of her.
Was she really expected to say goodbye to him for a year and act as if that wasn’t going to change—well—everything?
How could Brent be so optimistic? And how, she wondered again, could the military just ruin people’s holiday plans like this?
That constant thought kept repeating itself: It was all so unfair.
A rumble of jet engines in the distance let Clara know she was getting closer to the base. The water tower donning the official seal of the US Air Force loomed on the horizon. She nervously swallowed as she turned off the highway toward the main entrance. Well, here goes nothing.
The Air Force base was busier than she had imagined.
It was like its own little town—plopped down in the middle of nowhere—surrounded by iron gates and armed guards.
Planes flew overhead, and dozens of flags waved in the wind.
She bent her head to see out the window, looking at the sky.
A fighter jet was taking off into the clouds with the impressive roar of combat air power.
A helicopter appeared larger before her eyes as it quickly approached from the distance.
Clara was taken off guard by a sudden surge of patriotism. She supposed being on a military base would do that; it was just that up until now, she had never been on one. Since Brent lived off base, this was her first opportunity to see it all up close.
Or was it? A fuzzy memory popped into her head of a time when her father had taken her to an air show as a young child.
Now that she thought about it, it must have been right here on this base.
She didn’t remember too much about it, but she could recall the look on her father’s face as he looked to the sky in awe.
Or perhaps it was gratitude. The loud engines had scared her at the time, but her father had held her hand.
He said they were the most comforting sounds in the world.
She supposed she understood now what he’d meant. There was something impressive about the Air Force, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of security, knowing the country was in good hands.
Clara parked her car at the security office, just outside the gate, as Brent had instructed her to do.
“Ms. Jenkins?” A young man in a security uniform was standing behind a desk. “We’ll need to see your photo ID and have you fill out a little information. Senior Airman Peck will escort you out to the flight line as soon as you’re ready.”
Clara smoothed down her coat. She fumbled through her bag for her wallet, casting a glance over at Airman Peck, standing by a door.
He was a short, stocky man with dark hair and a solid mustache.
He wore a camouflage top that looked like something between a shirt and a jacket.
The matching pants were baggy, but tight at the ankles above a pair of heavy black boots.
Clara was instantly intimidated by him. He looked like the typical boot-camp commander in an Army movie who would shout orders in the faces of new recruits.
Why was he going to escort her anywhere?
She handed over her ID with a trembling hand and began filling out a form.
Airman Peck tapped his boot and let out a sigh.
Clara chewed on her lip.
He cleared his throat. “The bus is ready when you are, ma’am.”
She looked up from her paperwork. “The bus?”
“To take you out to the flight line.”
She shook her head to indicate she didn’t understand.
“To meet the aircraft.” Airman Peck turned to the door and walked outside.
She had assumed Brent would be the one to meet her here. Where was he anyway? Clara quickly handed her paperwork over the desk and followed close behind.
“Excuse me,” she said to the airman’s back.
He didn’t seem to hear her.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Major McNally?”
“The jet should be landing in about ten minutes,” he said, ignoring her question. “I’ll have you out there in time to see them arrive if you hurry.”
“See them arrive?” She rushed around to the front of Airman Peck, forcing eye contact.
She held up both her hands. “Wait, you must have me confused with someone else. I’m here to see a flight depart.
Major McNally is leaving on the . . .” She pulled the notes from Brent out of her bag “ . . . the C-17. It should be departing soon.”