“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” G.K. Chesterton
Hard Knox, made up of members of the high school marching band, was in its glory as it delivered the driving beat of a current rock anthem to a hotel ballroom filled with soon to be graduated seniors, their dates, and the members of the faculty there to oversee the event. The prom was in full swing and everyone seemed to be having a great time as young women and men belied their formal attire to dance unabashedly, their laughter barely heard over the screams of an electric guitar.
Looking on from a table just off the dance floor, Jana Copeland couldn't help smiling as she watched her students celebrate their final year of high school. It had only been five years since her own prom and she was easily remembering a magical night spent in the company of friends, most of whom she had long since lost touch with as their lives had taken a myriad of paths into adulthood. Jana's path had led to an Education degree and her first year as an English teacher in a small southern town. It had been the culmination of a dream extending back to sixth grade and the special interest shown to her by another English teacher who had recognized not only Jana's talent as a writer, but also her innate abilities as a tutor to other students.
Jana, perhaps because she wasn't much older than they, was already one of the most popular members of the faculty. Pretty and personable, her warmth, enthusiasm, and honest affection for her students had endeared her to many as she helped prepare them for their lives ahead. Some were college bound, some had decided to enroll in trade schools, and some, even at this late date, were still undecided as to what they wanted to do with their lives, but all were subjected to her genuine interest in them as individuals.
The music ended on a final downbeat that reverberated from the very walls and the couples made their breathless ways back to their tables. Not long after, the lights dimmed and the band began playing a romantic soft rock song that had many returning to the dance floor to gently sway in one anothers arms. Privately, Jana welcomed the switch in music as it allowed the ringing in her ears to gradually dissipate.
“Miss Copeland?”
Turning her head she found Thomas Maitland standing beside her chair with a shy smile on his handsome face and she smiled in return, appreciating how good he looked in his black tux. He was one of her favorite students. A sensitive young man whose role as the eldest in a single parent household had matured him beyond his years, he had nonetheless proven to be a gifted author with a special talent for poetry, and she could easily envision a bright future for him as he pursued his own English degree with a goal of becoming a university professor. Gentle and steady, and though he competed on the school's swim team, he was the antithesis of the athletic jock, who nonetheless garnered his own admirers among the female members of the student body. Yet he was seldom known to date. Jana suspected that had much to do with the demands made upon him by family responsibilities.
“Hello, Thomas. Are you having a good time tonight?”
“Yes, ma'am, I am.” He paused for a moment and glanced out onto the dance floor before returning his gaze to hers, “I wish I could ask you to dance.”
Jana shook her head regretfully.
“I know. But rules are rules. Teachers cannot dance with their students, though they might like to.”
He nodded.
“Then, can I get you something to drink? A soda or some punch?”
“Some punch would be lovely, thank you, Thomas.”
With another smile and nod he disappeared among the tables. She knew he wasn't a brown noser like some of her students. He was simply courteous and attentive. A testament to his hardworking mother who still managed to raise her children to be responsible and respectful. Someday, she thought, some young woman was going to be blessed to have him at her side.
Minutes later, he returned with a clear plastic glass of punch and handed it to her along with a paper napkin bearing the school's eagle mascot. In his other hand he carried a glass of Sprite and ice.
“I finished reading your paper on Keats,” she told him as the music continued to play in the background. “Your analysis of 'Ode to a Nightingale' was wonderful.”
He smiled, “Thank you. It's one of my favorites.”
“That's obvious. You have a real feel for Keats and the other Romantics.”
“I enjoy the interplay of nature and emotion in their poetry,” he explained. “I can't help wondering how his work would have grown had he not died so young.”
Jana nodded, “Me, too. He gave us so much in his short lifetime.”
About that time, another teacher interrupted and asked Jana to accompany him to intercede in a disagreement that had broken out between a couple of girls, apparently over the attentions of a member of the football team. With an apologetic smile toward Thomas, she stood and followed the other teacher into the crowd.
The school year came to an end a month later, followed shortly thereafter by graduation. The following Monday, Jana was cleaning out and organizing her office in preparation of the summer break when there was a light knock at her door.
“Miss Copeland?”
Looking up, she was surprised to find Thomas standing expectedly in the doorway.
“Thomas! Come in. What are you doing here?”
He stepped into the office and glanced around before meeting her eyes.
“I've come to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?”
“Uh, yeah.” He paused and looked away before once again meeting her gaze, his own filled with sadness, and strangely, apprehension. “I'm going to have to put college off for a while.”
Jana's eyes widened in confusion.
“But, why? You've worked so hard...”
“You know that Mom isn't doing so well, right?”
“Yes. I had heard that her health wasn't good.”
“She has breast cancer.”
Her heart broke at the news.
“Oh, Thomas. I am so sorry.”
“Yeah, well, because of the chemo and everything she's not being able to work like she was. Things are getting kind of tough for everyone.”
“I can imagine.”
“She needs me to help with my brothers and everything.”
“So what are you going to do?”
He looked away and took a deep breath before once again meeting her eyes.
“I've enlisted.”
“Enlisted?” Jana was horrified.
“Yeah. In the Marines.”
“Oh, Thomas...”
The mere idea of this gentle man going to war was incomprehensible.
“Is there nothing else you can do? Go to a trade school, maybe?”
He shook his head, “No. I needed do something that would start bringing in a good income right away. This seemed to be the best way.” He smiled sadly. “At least I'll be serving my country as well.”
Jana blinked away tears.
“What about college?”
“The recruiter says that I can take courses while I serve through the military. I can at least start that way then when I get out I can go full time to finish.”
She shook her head as the full import of what he was doing began to sink in. She'd had no idea that things at home were so serious for them.
“How long until you leave for boot camp?”
“I leave next week.”
She stared up at him through a veil of tears. He was so handsome. So resolute. So impossibly young.
“Well, I, uh, I,” she took a breath and forced a smile, “I wish you good luck, then, Thomas.”
He nodded, “Thank you.”
They stared at one another for a moment before his endearingly shy smile lightened his serious expression.
“Would it be alright if I wrote to you sometimes?”
She nodded, still battling tears.
“Yes, of course. Here,” shuffling the mounds of papers on her desk she withdrew a pen and a pink sticky note pad and began to write. “Here's my address. Please write and let me know how you are doing.”
He took the note from her, glanced at it, then stuffed it in his jeans pocket.
“Thanks, I will.” He looked around her office as if to commit it to memory. “Well, I guess I'll be letting you get back to work.”
She rose to her feet and stepped around the desk but stopped short of giving him the hug she wanted to give him.
“You take good care of yourself, Thomas.”
He nodded and turned to go. Suddenly he stopped just before walking through the door and paused before turning back to face her. For a moment he simply stared at her before stepping forward, cupping her surprised face between his hands and placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Then he backed away.
“Good-bye, Jana.”
His first letter arrived two weeks later, filled with impressions of his new life in the military. His descriptions of his drill sergeant and fellow recruits were vivid and often humorous while his stories of the intensive physical training painted a stark picture of the hardship he was undergoing. From boot camp he was sent for further training that would eventually lead him to becoming a member of the K9 corps. From there, he was sent to Afghanistan.
They continued to correspond over the next three years. During that time he moved his mother and brothers closer to Camp Pendleton, where he was home based. She managed to hang on until after her youngest son graduated and followed his brothers into the military before she finally lost her battle with cancer. Also during that time, Jana continued to teach new classes of students, introducing them to the world of literature and helping them to find their own muse, all the while encouraging them just as she had Thomas and his classmates. For Christmas one year she sent him a slim volume of works by the most well known of the Romantic poets, a reminder of the beauty to be found in the world beyond war.
Then the letters stopped.
~
Another school year had come and gone. and once again Jana found herself packing things away in her office in preparation for the summer break. In ten years the tiny room had become a repository of books, papers, and awards. A prolific spider plant hung from a macramé holder before the sunny window. On one wall hung a painting of the Irish countryside by a student following a senior trip to County Sligo to pay homage to William Butler Yeats. Another student on the same trip had brought her back an illustrated copy of “A Poet to His Beloved.” Jana's love for Yeats' poetry was almost legendary after all these years.
At thirty-four, Jana was still pretty, still personable. But now the first blush of youth had given way to the quiet introspection of full adulthood. As she sat at her desk sorting through drawers, she hummed along to an old Josh Groban standard playing softly in the background and smiled occasionally as she unearthed mementos from students left over from the previous nine months. Until she found the small framed portrait of a handsome Marine in full dress uniform staring unsmiling back at her with the American flag behind him. Sitting back in her chair she gazed down at the photo, thinking of the shy, sensitive young man she had known and of the changes those first three years after graduation had wrought in him. After a steady correspondence during which they had become good pen pal friends, she had suddenly stopped receiving letters from him and her last few to him had been returned unopened by the military post. Eventually she had learned that the helicopter taking his platoon into battle had been shot down and all but three had perished. Those three had been taken prisoner. One of those had been Thomas Maitland. After that she had not been able to learn what had eventually happened to him. Had he survived his captivity and come home? Had he died there? Or was he still considered missing in action? She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Rather than returning the picture to the drawer, she stood the frame up on the corner of her desk beside a vase of silk flowers then turned back to the job at hand.
“Hello, Jana.”
Startled, she looked up and gave a quiet gasp. There in the doorway stood a scarred, powerfully built man dressed in desert fatigues. At first she didn't recognize him, until she met his eyes.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Thomas?”
A smile broke across his face, the shyness now replaced with the confidence of one who had found his way in the world.
“I hoped I might find you still here.”
Standing, she hurried around the desk until they met in the hug she had denied them ten years before. Happy, relieved tears glistened in her eyes when she pulled far enough away to meet his gaze. Some of the happiness slowly disappeared as she took in the changes that time had carved into his face. Years spent outdoors had given him a permanent tan and lines of experience fanned out from the corners of his eyes. An old scar traced diagonally from his left temple to his ear while another ran from his chin down beneath the collar of his shirt. He was still handsome but there was a harshness about him that had replaced the sensitive air of the boy he had once been.
“Please, come in. What are you doing here?” She asked. “Have you moved back to stay?”
He shook his head as he took a seat in the chair before the desk and watched as she returned to her own.
“No, I'm afraid not. I'm here long enough to settle my grandfather's estate then I'll be returning to duty in California.”
“So you've made a career of the Marine Corps, I take it.”
He nodded, “Yes.”
She shook her head as remembered anxiety darkened her expression.
“I was so worried when word reached me of your capture. Are you okay?”
Again he nodded.
“I am now.”
“How long were you captured?”
“Almost six months.”
She was horrified. “That long?”
“Until we were rescued by a team of SEALS, yes.”
“Remind me to send them a case of Scotch.”
Thomas chuckled then looked down and for the first time she noticed the book in his hands. The binding was worn and the paper soft at the edges for having obviously been read many times. Its simple title, “The Romantics,” still shown faded on the cover.
“I wanted to thank you, in person, for sending me this.”
He handed it to her across the desk and she accepted it with trembling fingers. It represented the special bond that had grown between them that had begun with a mutual love of poetry. Opening it she read the inscription she had left there, a quote from Keats: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” and signed “Never forget. Jana.”
“You still have it!”
“I've kept it close except when I was a prisoner. Even then I would think of it, of what you had written and of the poetry it contained, and be reminded that there was still good in the world.”
She closed the cover and ran her hand over it before handing it back to him.
“I'm glad.”
For a moment they just stared at one another and she became aware of a certain, subtle tension in the air before he briefly looked away and cleared his throat.
“I also wanted to keep a promise to myself.”
Her head tilted to one side, “What's that?”
“Remember when I said I wished I could ask you to dance?”
She smiled softly, remembering that night of the senior prom.
“Yes, I do.”
“I'm not a student any longer and many years have passed.” His was the old gentle smile as he asked, “Would you go out dancing with me?”
Jana's cheeks pinkened and this time it was her face that reflected a bit of shyness.
“I would love to, Thomas.”
His smile broadened with pleasure.
“Good. I'm in town for another five days. Would tonight be okay?”
She nodded as she mentally did a quick inventory of the contents of her closet.
“That would be lovely.”
“Do you still live in the same place?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will pick you up at seven. We'll have dinner first then go to this place I know of that isn't too crowded so we can dance and get reacquainted without having to yell at each other across the table.”
Jana chuckled.
“That would be nice.”
With another smile he rose to his feet and waited for her to meet him on his way to the door. Once there he turned once again to face her and touch her face with gentle, calloused fingers.
“It's good to see you again, Jana.” Dropping his hand he stepped back. “I'll see you at seven.”
She nodded and watched him turn and walk away with purposeful strides. There was still enough of the boy to touch her heart. But it was the man he'd become that now drew her. Turning back to her desk she hurried to finish her tasks. She only had five hours to get ready.
a truly wonderful story Rebecca. being a marine who enlisted and started boot camp four days after high school graduation and then going to Viet Nam for two years, i found much to enjoy in this story and it did bring a warm tear to my eye.
thank you.
Superb storytelling. Pushing all the right buttons and very appropriate for today. I must admit that a tear started at one point when Jana realized who was standing before her after all those years.
I thought of our classmate who lost his father in World War II. Driven, whenever there was anything available for making money, he outworked and outsold all of us competing for the same sales jobs. He dated but had no steady girlfriend. I lost track of him until our tenth reunion when he told me that he had spent a year at the American University in Beirut. Fortunately, he returned before Beirut was nearly destroyed by war and earned a medical degree from Syracuse. At our fiftieth reunion, I learned that he was a surgeon at the University of Wisconsin Hospital. Quite an accomplishment. The only medical doctor from our class.
A few weeks ago I wrote to him and sent him a terrifying video of the ammonium nitrate explosion in Beirut. He wrote back from retirement in Florida that he had been on that pier several times while studying there. All you would have to do is throw in the love of his life and you would have another story. ;-)
Psychic wiccan Deja Hamilton pulls shapeshifter Lincoln McCabe from the lake, and the two form an alliance against the covetous older brother who wants Lincoln dead.
Zara’s Bois:
When the powers-that-be make the decision to return a selfish party-girl to Earth on three missions of redemption, can romance and mayhem be far behind? One hot and trendy gay nightclub, two bickering angels and three unlikely p
Hard Knox, made up of members of the high school marching band, was in its glory as it delivered the driving beat of a current rock anthem to a hotel ballroom filled with soon to be graduated seniors, their dates, and the members of the faculty there to oversee the event. The prom was in full swing and everyone seemed to be having a great time as young women and men belied their formal attire to dance unabashedly, their laughter barely heard over the screams of an electric guitar.
