Home Fires Burning

By Bonnie Gardner

Air Force Lieutenant Casie Jones and Army Captain Marcus Mitchell marry only hours before he is shipped off to war. There is no time for a honeymoon, only vows and then goodbyes. When Marc is wounded, he comes home a different man. How can Casie prove to this angry stranger that she loves him and that he is the only man for her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bonnie Gardner
• Release date: Sep 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310233357

Bonnie Gardner

After spending most of her life as either an army brat or a military wife, the last people that Bonnie Gardner expected to find herself writing about were military men. After all, she'd looked forward to the day she could put that spit and polish and moving around behind her. Then she sold her first book. Her hero was ex-military. Then she sold her second book. Her hero was retired military. You get the picture. When her editor suggested that she use her military knowledge and background, she resisted. She really did. But common sense won out. After all, they say to write about what you know, and that's what she knew. Bonnie grew up on army bases around the world. According to her parents, one of the first homes she lived in was a converted World War II army barracks. She lived in Hawaii before it was a state, and has either visited or lived in almost every state of the Union. During six years in Germany in her formative years, Bonnie developed her love for reading and movies. (In those days, there was no American television to watch overseas, so books and movies were her entertainment.) Even at the tender age of 12, she was a critic. If she didn't like the ending of a book or a movie, she'd spend half the night rewriting it in her mind. Though she didn't actually write any of these ideas down, she honed her skills by writing long letters to friends she'd left behind. Finally, when she was almost 16, her father retired to his home state of Alabama, and there, Bonnie met her husband. Wayne was the cutup sitting next to her in geometry class at Marbury High School, the last of 11 schools she'd attended while growing up. She tried to ignore him, but his clowning won out. They married at 19 and have been together for over 30 years. They have two grown sons, one of whom is now serving in the air force - the third generation in their family. Though Bonnie swore she would never marry a military man, Vietnam intruded and Wayne was drafted. He joined the air force because his father had retired from the air force. It was only supposed to be one enlistment, but...he stayed for 25 years, and Bonnie followed him whenever she could. And Bonnie wouldn't have missed a moment of it. She learned how to do things she never thought she could do - like repair a toilet - when her husband was away for weeks or months at a time. She learned how to be alone. And she learned she could handle anything if she set her mind to it, even Casualty Duty when she and her husband had the unpleasant task of notifying a friend that her husband had died in the line of duty. All those things made Bonnie what she is today, and all of that experience shows in her books. When she writes about her men in uniform, she knows them. She knows the joy and the pain of loving a man in uniform. She knows their wives, their girlfriends, and their mothers. She's been all of them.

Book preview

HOME FIRES BURNING

Bonnie Gardner

Copyright 2000 Bonnie Gardner as The Man For Me

Kensignton Precious Gems

Smashwords Edition

Prologue

She wouldn’t cry. She would not cry. Air Force Lieutenant Katherine Christine Jones bit at her trembling lip to keep from showing her overwhelming emotions.

Casie sat next to her new husband in the front seat of his car in the parking lot of the Base Operations building of Pope Air Force Base and stared woodenly ahead, trying to ignore the waiting C-130 cargo plane that would carry him off to war. She and Army Captain Marcus Mitchell, who was assigned to adjacent Fort Bragg, had been married less than an hour and they were already being torn apart.

The simple ceremony in the base chapel had been nothing like the fairy tale wedding she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl. In fact, it bore little resemblance to the wedding she and Marc had planned themselves before current events had intruded. Because they had already scheduled their wedding, they had been among a handful of couples who’d been permitted to marry in a hastily-arranged ceremony before one or the other shipped out.

They had hoped to have another day. A night together. But, the pager Marc had been forced to wear had signaled before they’d finished signing the papers. The planes were ready. Marc had to report now.

Any other time there would have been all sorts of delays.

Casie looked down at the simple gold band that adorned her third finger, left hand, and drew in a deep breath. Anything to keep from weeping.

I know this isn’t what we’d planned, Casie, Marc said, his voice thick with emotion. He squeezed her hand. I promise I’ll make it up to you. You’ll have the wedding night you deserve.

Before Casie could manage a reply around her overwhelming emotions, Marc reached over the seat back behind her and collected a small dusty-green bag containing personal items. He dropped it into his lap, then leaned over the console and tipped her mouth up to his.

Casie tried to contain her trembling as the moment of departure grew closer. She wanted nothing to indicate how frightened she was that this was the beginning and end of their life together. She closed her eyes and returned his kiss, memorizing every detail of the way Marc’s lips felt on hers.

You don’t have to go with me, Marc said when the kiss ended. I’ll understand if you want to stay in the car.

No. I want to be with you as long as I can, Casie protested. She swallowed a lump and forced an anemic smile.

Marc unfolded his long legs from under the steering column and hauled himself out of the car. Casie clambered after him, not waiting for him to open her door.

I have to check in at Base Ops and turn in the beeper. I’ll be just a minute. He pivoted and hurried toward the Base Operations building, leaving Casie behind.

Panic surged through Casie, and she hurried to catch him, refusing to relinquish a moment of their remaining time together.

Before she reached the building, Marc reappeared. Forgetting where she was, Casie wrapped her arms around him, knocking the floppy hat of his desert camouflage uniform from his head. The light afternoon breeze ruffled his short blond hair, cut high and tight, as he bent to retrieve his hat.

Waiting for the loadmaster now, Marc said as he straightened. Won’t be long.

Casie’s stomach tightened at Marc’s words, and she hid her face against his strong shoulder. He sounded so cavalier. Like he was actually eager to go. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sights and sounds of young men and women going off to war.

She might have been able to shut out the sights, but the sounds intruded. The whine of enormous engines revving up cut through the air. The shuffle of booted feet, a whistle here, a barked order there and, most poignant of all, the murmured goodbyes from one lover to another reminded her of what was to be. Casey squeezed her eyes tight to hold back her tears.

She wanted–no, needed–to say so much, but she was afraid that her voice would betray her. She had to present a brave front. She had to.

She jerked her eyes open at another sound. The call to board. I gotta go, Marc whispered, his voice husky and finally showing the emotion Casie needed to hear.

Marc slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. He closed his large hands over her trembling fingers and brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing it gently, tenderly. Feeling her chin tremble, Casie fought even harder to be brave.

The other women seeing their men off reminded her that she wasn’t alone in this, but Casie didn’t care. This was her honeymoon, damn it. Tonight was her wedding night. If she tried to speak, the tears she’d struggled so hard to contain would burst free.

I have to go, Casie, Marc said gently, unwrapping her fingers from his. He picked up his military, carry-on bag and turned toward the line of men waiting to board the plane. I love you, Mrs. Mitchell.

Mrs. Mitchell? She hadn’t even had time to get used to her new name, and tomorrow she’d go back to being just Lt. Jones. Tomorrow she’d be back at her desk in the Base Procurement office and everything would be the same.

Except she’d be a married virgin whose husband had gone flying off to war.

As tears began to blur Casie’s vision, Marc turned. He reached into his pocket and drew something out. I almost forgot, he said as he drew his arm back to throw. Here, catch.

Casie raised her hand to catch whatever it was he was offering her. She’d take anything. Anything at all to remember him by. As it hurtled toward her, she recognized the bunch of keys that contained Marc’s life.

Keep the home fires burning, Red, Marc yelled over the din. I love you, he added making the hated appellation that referred to her carrot red hair almost bearable.

Casie closed her fist around the tangle of sharp objects, the last tangible part of Marc. I love you, too, she whispered, but he was too far away to hear.

The giant engines roared louder, and Casie blinked back her tears long enough to see the huge, lumbering plane roll down the runway and gather speed. Just as it looked as though it could go no farther without bursting though the perimeter fence, the plane lifted slowly, grudgingly off the ground.

Casie watched, her hands shading her eyes from the afternoon sun as the plane circled the airfield, then headed east. The dot disappeared into the clear, blue afternoon, and Casie stared intently into the deepening sky. Maybe by watching, she could conjure up one last, long look.

A gust of chilly, October wind blew through her blue service dress uniform, and Casie realized she was alone. Finally, she turned away and headed for the car. Today was the first day of her married life. She would move her belongings into Marc’s house, and she would cross the threshold ... alone.

Tonight was their wedding night. But they’d each be spending it alone. Thousands of miles apart.

Chapter 1

Damn it. I’m already late, Casie fretted as she loped to the door of Walter Reed Army Medical Center. She had been delayed by one snafu after another and her patience had long since worn thin.

Marc was somewhere in this building, and she had to get to him. He’d been injured, and though his injuries were said to be light, the fact that he’d been shipped here instead of to the army hospital at Fort Bragg worried her.

There had to be more than the simple smoke burns she’d first believed he’d had.

She shouldered her way into the building, hefting the garment bag that contained the dress uniform Marc would need for the ceremony. She fretted as she stood in the line at the information desk, waiting for someone to tell her where she was supposed to be. The line inched slowly forward as the minutes ticked away.

She didn’t want to miss the ceremony. She couldn’t.

It was bad enough that a series of mishaps had kept her from making it here last night as she had originally planned. Excited and hopeful, she’d boarded the military plane yesterday afternoon for the hop that would take her from Pope Air Force Base to Andrews Air Force Base just outside Washington DC. The plane had developed an unspecified problem and had to divert to Seymour-Johnson Air Force Base after less than an hour in the air. Then she’d sat trapped in the plane on the tarmac until the required part had arrived.

Seymour-Johnson was a fighter base and didn’t have the necessary part on hand for the type of plane she’d arrived in. They’d had to wait until it could be flown in from Pope. Then a persistent fog had kept them on the ground until it lifted in the morning.

If the plane hadn’t left Pope she could have gotten off, taken her car, and arrived in plenty of time. Instead she had been stuck on the ground halfway between home and here.

Finally, she reached the glass window.

Lt. Jones, Pope Air Force Base, she identified herself. I’m looking for Capt. Marcus A. Mitchell.

We don’t anyone on staff by that name, the clerk said.

He’s a patient. Just came in from Weisbaden, she said, referring to the big military hospital in Germany.

The clerk put down the phone and looked at her, a blank expression on his face. I told you he wasn’t on staff.

And I told you he was patient, Casie retorted, her grip on patience weakening. The clerk rolled his eyes insolently and turned to a computer terminal. How do you spell it, he asked grudgingly.

How do you spell your supervisor’s name? Casie countered, all attempts at civility gone.

The clerk straightened. That’s not necessary, Ma’am, he said. Mitchell? He typed in the name. We have several. Whic–

Marcus Anthony, she told him. Captain, United States Army.

Yes, Ma’am. Here it is. He told her the room number.

Thank you. Now, get this one right, and I won’t talk to your supervisor, Casie said very carefully, being sure to enunciate clearly so that there be no misunderstanding of the seriousness. There is supposed to be an award ceremony somewhere in this building that starts– She glanced at the wall clock above the clerk. ... started about ten minutes ago.

Damn. She knew the fool clerk would make her even later. Where is it?

Nobody told me about no ceremony, he mumbled, but he turned so another clerk, working the phones in the back of the office. You know anything about an award ceremony today?

The clerk held up a finger as she finished a call. The second floor meeting room, she said as the phone rang again.

I heard, Casie said. I’ll find it. She swung around and scanned the room for the bank of elevators up. While she waited for a car to return to the ground floor, she glanced at a locator board on the adjacent wall. It shouldn’t be too hard to find the place.

She just hoped they’d waited to start the ceremony until she got there.

She fretted at the unfairness of it all. As a minister’s daughter from Hays, Kansas, she’d longed for a change of scenery. She had been the one to join the service to see the world. The only reason Marc was in uniform was to fill his commitment after receiving an ROTC Scholarship to get through college. He’d been an army brat, following his father from military post to military post. He hadn’t wanted this.

If he’d had his way, he’d be teaching and refining his skills as a painter. He’d enlisted because he had no choice. If he hadn’t been sent overseas, he would have separated from the service by now.

The elevator doors swooshed open, and Casie waited impatiently for it to empty out, then she stepped inside and jabbed the correct button, moving the garment bag out of the way as more people filed in. The doors seemed to close in slow motion and the elevator complained about every inch it climbed.

Finally, it reached the second floor. She took a second to get her bearings, then hurried down the hall. They can’t start without me, she told herself. They can’t. I have Marc’s uniform.

Casie found the room and shoved the door open. She was too late.

The ceremony was already underway. Marc