A Long Road Home

By Patricia L. Myers

Joshua Lang, Capt. USMC, is MIA. Can Jenna win the home-front battle?

After learning that Joshs patrol has been hit by a suicide bomber, Jenna waits for news that never comes. When Joshs status is changed from MIA to Presumed Dead she takes their two children and moves back home to try and rebuild her life. Just as shes breaking free from the pain and establishing herself, she hears a rumor that Josh has been found alive, but weeks pass and she assumes it to be a case of mistaken identity. She is not prepared when he shows up at her door, and an unwelcome thought begins to form in the back of her mind: does she even want him back?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490869810

Patricia L. Myers

Pat grew up in a family with a rich military history. And, growing up in a military family, she says, is both fun and frustrating. Fun because there are always new places and new faces. New schools with new rules. And, frustrating because you are always saying goodbye to some you’re not ready to leave. It’s a challenge with its own rewards. She still loves meeting new people and seeing new places, which she does by doing mission work and being a part of the Disaster Relief Team. She currently lives in North Georgia and is an active member of her church. She is working on a new book.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

T he sun was low in the western sky as Josh returned from his day off spent wandering in Roman ruins. The Bekkaa Valley. El Biqua to the natives. A land of contrasts, lush green gardens surrounded by arid mountains. And ruins.

Every thing around him was old. He pulled into the cobbled drive of the villa his unit had been assigned as a headquarters. Pocketing the packets of film he’d picked up from earlier excursions, Josh made his way indoors.

Hearing voices from the inner courtyard at the back of the villa he crossed the room, opened the glass French doors and stepped outside. The inner courtyard was tiled, a fountain spewing in its center. Soothing sounds of falling water filled the air. Some type of exotic greenery surrounded the pool, soaking up the moisture blown around by the fountain.

Off to his right was a pick up style basketball game in full force. Half a dozen men chasing each other and a basketball around a marked off area in the corner of the courtyard. You guys still at it? He’d left them in that same spot.

Hey Cap, get over here Jon Williams, alias GI Joe, looking like a model for Uncle Sam’s want ads waved him over We need you.

No way, Joe. I had my fill earlier today; besides, you guys keep changing the rules.

Hey this is serious, man. Our honor’s at stake here. Joe held the basketball on his hip with one hand, grabbing the hem of his sweat-soaked tee shirt in the other, he wiped his face.

Josh laughed, turning back towards the villa. My honor’s sitting pretty good Joe. I’ve got some things to do this evening anyway. We have to do the ‘Scenic’ tomorrow, just wanted to remind you.

Several groans joined the slap of the basketball. It was not a popular duty. Josh’s squad of men alternated the duty with two others, but the scenic wasn’t very scenic, as they had recently discovered. No way Cap, we just did that.

How time flies… that was last week, this is this week.

Joe smiled and shrugged, dribbled the ball a few times then turning quickly he made a jump shot at the jury-rigged rim on the wall that ran around the compound. And the game was back on.

Josh stepped back into the cool interior of the building and took the hallway to the left, which led to the rooms they were using. He had a letter to write. He’d been writing it in his head all afternoon. How could he have been so stupid? During the nine months he’d been separated from his family he had done some serious thinking.

Serious thinking was not foreign to Josh; neither was serious thinking on personal issues foreign to Josh. What he couldn’t quite come to terms with now was how he’d allowed himself to drift away as he had. Kevin had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t listened.

And now Jenna was taking the blame on herself. Her last few letters had briefly mentioned her sorrow at the tension between them before he left. She wanted him home. Whatever it was, they would work it out. But it hadn’t been Jenna’s fault. It had been his. What was the matter with him anyway? He was way too young for a mid-life crisis. Maybe it was the seven-year itch he’d heard so much about. That would fit, actually. They’d been married seven years.

He’d been restless. He’d started hanging out with a group of younger guys, right out of college ROTC, trying to give them a kick-start on their military life. Stopping at the Officer’s Club after work, hunting on the weekends. And Jenna had been left at home with a four year old and a toddler just turned two. No wonder she’d been upset with him.

And this assignment. He shook his head at the memory. This remote tour. It had been a joke really. A crazy idea he’d gone along with as he and three of his younger buddies had all volunteered for the duty. Exotic places…

He’d been the only one accepted. And he was the only married man with children. When the orders to report for special duty had come, he’d stood rooted to the ground, felt the breath sucked out of him. What had he done? He drove home in trepidation, knowing Jenna would be upset.

Jenna had been livid. She held his orders in her hand, her deep blue eyes blazing at him. Special Duty Detail, Josh…? You had to volunteer for this. The orders in her hand shook with her fury. What’s the matter, doesn’t the Marine Corps keep you away from home enough?

It wasn’t like that, Jen. He tried weakly to explain. It was a joke.

A joke? She threw his orders into a pile on the kitchen table. So now leaving your family for a year is a joke?

Jen, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t think they’d take me.

You didn’t think at all Josh. She spoke the obvious, piercing him with truth. Tears poured down her cheeks and she just let them flow.

He reached for her arm, wanting to comfort her. How could he make her understand that he was feeling almost the same thing?

She stiffened as his hand touched her arm and drew away. Don’t touch me, Josh.

During the two months before he’d left for Beirut Jenna had remained distant. Withdrawn. Almost listless when he held her, submitting to him automatically.

He wanted to roll back time, sit at home with Jordan, hold Anna on his lap. Hold Jenna in his arms, feel the fire in her he once had. He couldn’t wait to get home. But this letter would be difficult to write. For all his ability for serious personal thinking, asking forgiveness was like chewing nails for him. He hadn’t really done anything wrong, had he? Not really. But he’d hurt Jenna deeply. He’d been a fool. What could be more important than his family? He picked up his pen.

An hour later his trash bin was full of aborted attempts. Why couldn’t he do this?

Leaving the room to find a Coke, he walked the hall for a moment then stepped outside to the inner courtyard and sat before the fountain. The basketball game was over, he was alone. Cool night breezes stirred the trees and blew a mist from the fountain over him. It was a peaceful balmy night. He finished his Coke, tossed the can into a nearby trash bin and went back to his room.

The blank paper stared up at him, mocking him. Jenna watched him from the picture he kept on his desk. Her warm blue eyes encouraging him, that wonderful smile. He wanted to look her in the eye and tell her himself, that was it. This was the kind of thing that was best done in person.

Throwing one more failed attempt into the trash, he wrote a breezy, almost impersonal note telling her not to worry, they’d work it all out when he got home. Three months wasn’t all that far away. He loved her. Sighing, he promised himself he’d try again later, addressed and sealed the envelope then resolutely took it out to the outgoing mail drop and went to bed. He wasn’t any more fond of the ‘scenic’ than his men were. Although, he conceded, the first part really was scenic. It was the last two-thirds of the trip that were so brutal.

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Whoa - Preach, slow this thing down! Josh put a hand on the dash board as the jeep bounced hard and slid on the rough track before coming to a stop. A swirling cloud of dust enveloped the four men in the open jeep.

Sorry, Cap. Lt. Jeffrey Matthews, aka Preacher, turned in his seat wiping his face with his hand, his dark blonde hair damp with sweat, a wide smile on his face. Couldn’t have been doing much more than 20 mph. He peered out through the dust cloud. We must have hit a pot hole, or got in the wagon rut. It’s not exactly the U2!

Josh let his hand drop from the dash and watched as the dust settled around them. He could taste it. They’d been breathing it for miles. The dry gritty particles clung to his skin. They covered the inside of the open jeep. Dust, endless dust. This was the back side of ‘scenic.’

He reached down to the floor and grabbed his water bottle. Thank God we’re on the last leg of this run. Taking a long drink from the water bottle he glanced in his rear view mirror to see the rest of his patrol slowing behind them. What do you think we have left to go? Maybe another hour? I can’t believe they expect us to patrol a border no one can even see. You guys okay back there?

We’re still here, mate, if that’s what you’re asking. Dingo chuckled from the back seat, wiping his face with a towel. That was quite a ride, Preacher. And no admission. A couple feet over and we’da been on the big slide! He looked off to his right at the sloping, rolling rocky mountain side. Outlines of the terraced gardens below were visible, but here, about a third of the way up, the stark terrain was treacherous. At least we don’t have to climb through those mountains on foot. No wonder they have border problems. He looked up at the mountain stretching up beside them. Nothing but rocks and boulders and stunted scrub brush rose on their way to the top.

The track they were on was fairly wide but rough and didn’t appear to be used by anything more than cattle carts or pedestrians moving from one small village to another.

The sun was hot. It had been baking them all afternoon and was just beginning to drop in the western sky. Another hour of blazing heat, Josh thought, probably more. He unbuttoned his shirt and held it away from his body to catch a little breeze. They had maybe ten miles of this roadless track to follow before they connected with the paved road that would take them back to the compound.

Josh capped his water bottle. Well, let’s get moving. Try not to throw too much dust around, Preach. We need to be able to see the terrain, at least.

I’ll try, Sir. Lt. Matthews shook his head. We could probably make better time with a cattle cart. At least it would beat the dust problem. He put the jeep in gear and started forward slowly.

Josh chuckled and reached into his binocular case. Maybe I’ll requisition one. Couldn’t take us any more time. Josh had his binoculars out, scanning the foothills as they moved forward. They hadn’t seen anyone for the last forty-five minutes. Before that only locals on their way to or from the market. When they came upon a group of people they stopped, made a little small talk, asked a few questions. Building trust and rapport. A major reason for their presence.

Josh wasn’t sure anyone would really tell them if they’d seen something, although it only took one brave soul to start an investigation rolling. He sighed - three more months of this.

He tasted dust again and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. He hadn’t minded Beirut too much. The climate was better and it was straightforward duty. Patrolling the indefinite mountainous border, however, was grueling, hot, dirty work. Payback, Jenna might call it, for his hasty thoughtless act.

"Hey, Preach, there’s a group of people on your left. Slow up when we get there. We’ll make one more quick stop."

Lt. Matthews nodded, just now beginning to see them. It was a small group, maybe a dozen people. He couldn’t tell from their dress what part of the country they belonged to. He pulled up so that the jeep was right along side of the group. They were clustered in a small natural alcove bounded by huge rocks. It looked as though they were waiting for the jeep to pass so they could continue.

Josh jumped out, standing beside the jeep while the others made their way towards the cluster of people. His Arabic wasn’t that good anyway. He’d been working at it but that was Wolf’s specialty so he hadn’t worried about it.

When the rest of his patrol pulled along side of him Josh held up his hand. You guys go on back. We’ll spend a few minutes here then follow you in. He waved them on as he walked across the rocky path to the group of people.

They were friendly. Some spoke a little English. They had been to a wedding and they hadn’t seen anything unusual in the area. Josh spent a few minutes with a couple of boys, about twelve he guessed. One was especially outgoing, bright eyed and full of questions. Josh took a liking to him.

Hold on a minute. Josh turned away, smiling at the boys. I’ve think I’ve got something for you. Quickly he walked back to the jeep. He was sure he’d left a Brave’s baseball hat in there, probably coated with dust. It would be a perfect gift for the boy. Pouring out good will one baseball hat at a time. Josh smiled at his own joke as he leaned over the side, reaching down to pick the hat up off the floor.

In his effort to grab the hat his dog tags slipped out from his unbuttoned shirt. With the hat in his hand as he straightened, the chain caught on something inside the jeep and broke. Muttering an oath, Josh picked up the tags and tossed them onto the front seat, then made his way back to the waiting boys, slapping the dusty hat on his legs as he went.

Here, for you. He plopped the hat on the boy’s head. The young man smiled widely, reaching up to pull it off, and turned to his friend.

Josh smiled at the boys, then turned his head. What he saw surprised him. He took a step back. A man on a bicycle was coming straight towards the group. As Josh took another step back, warning bells went off in his head. He turned to see where his men were and just then the mountain, the rocks around him and the man on the bicycle all seemed to come apart. Blast impact took his breath away. He felt himself falling back, felt himself bounding off something hard, whip lashed like a rag doll, rolling back as a river of loose rocks swept him away like a bit of flotsam in a flood. Then nothing.

CHAPTER TWO

E arly the next morning, on the other side of the mountain, just as the sky was turning pink and gold with the coming dawn, a shepherd boy herded his flock toward a nearby grove of trees.

Settling himself on a large bolder Jameel watched his flock spread out to graze. Tending the flock was the task of the oldest son. A very important job. Jameel was the second son with two sisters in-between, but Raj had gone to the city to school so Jameel was given the privilege of caring for the family’s flock even before it was customarily time. It was a great honor. One that he took seriously. After all, what would they do without their flock? No milk or butter, no wool for clothes?

Though it was not a large flock, a few sheep and some goats, it was sufficient for them and gave his father some standing in his village. It had made it possible for Raj to go to school. Perhaps Raj would become a doctor like Dr. Seth. Jameel smiled at the thought. He really liked Dr. Seth.

Jameel looked across the small clearing where the sheep and goats were grazing. It was a dangerous and rugged country. Jameel thought it was beautiful in a stark and lonely way. One had a lot of time for thinking out here alone with the little flock.

Tufts of green shot up through every tiny crack around the rocks and boulders that sometimes rolled down the mountainside. Just looking across the clearing the ground looked covered in green. But Jameel knew the truth. There were many dry bare spots, hard ground that yielded no food for his flock. That was why they moved so often.

The mountains rose up beside him here in a gentle sloping manner. There were portions of these mountains that had no footing in the lower ranges. Just steep treacherous drop-offs. But here there was just a gentle slope.

There was a path of some kind that wound along the rocky cliffs. Jameel knew this because he had seen people on it sometimes. Not many and not often. One day he might try to find it. One day when he did not have to watch the sheep and goats and help his papa with other chores. Jameel thought it would be a very long time before that happened. But he could dream.

On the other side of the mountains was a place called Lebanon. Jameel had never been there. He heard that life was different over the mountains. Perhaps one day he would climb that path and go over to see for himself. Maybe when he got older, like Raj, and went into the city to school to make something of himself as mama said Raj was doing. Jameel was a little confused by the idea. How could a person be anything but what he was? A mystery. But then Jameel liked mysteries. He’d like to know what it was like on the other side. He’d heard that it was a fierce land and he knew that sometimes there was fighting on that mountain. It was hard not to know that! Jameel turned his attention from the rocky mountainside back to his little flock.

He was marking time by where the sun peeped through the little stand of trees ahead. When the light topped the trees in the grove, it would be time to move on. And Jameel could see the golden light blazing through the upper branches now. Time to gather his flock so they could move on. Picking up his walking stick, stamping it few times to alert his sheep, Jameel made his way toward his small herd. It would soon be time to move them to the watering hole.

As a matter of course, Jameel began counting his goats. Coming up one short, he shook his head and started up the side of the mountain. How did that little goat always slip by him? Too much thinking today. Maybe he should put another bell on her. She couldn’t have gone too far, he knew.

Hey, Little One, where are you? Jameel called out as he made his way up the sloping hill. He knew that the baby goat couldn’t understand the words. He could hear her bell ringing now, though. She would recognize his voice. He climbed steadily over and around rocks on the way up the side of the mountain. That little kid loved to run off on its own. That’s why he had put a bell on her. He was getting closer to the sound. He rounded a rock and saw her.

What are you doing Little One? He laughed softly at the little goat as she scraped on the loose pebbles with her hoof. She was nosy, that one. Come on with me, you silly goat. It’s time for us to move on. Jameel reached for the kid just as its front hoof dislodged a rock and a river of pebbles slithered by him.

He stopped, frozen for a moment by shock. At the spot where his little goat had been digging was something that looked like a hand. Jameel stooped down, pulling away rocks and debris with his bare hands. Yes it was a hand. He could see the man’s arm. He heard him groan softly from farther under the rocks. Jameel trembled as he grabbed the little goat and headed down the hill as quickly as he could. He returned the baby goat to its mother. It would be okay for a little while.

He was torn with what to do. To leave the herd was a serious thing, but there was a man buried on the mountainside. His mother was a believer in the Jesus God. She would tell him that life was important. Precious, she always said. His father had also been going to the meetings Dr. Seth had at his clinic. And his Uncle Raul’s best friend Ali Amed was a long time believer in the Jesus God. They would understand. He needed to find help for this man. If he ran like the wind, perhaps he would not be gone long. They would understand. He dropped his staff and started running. He needed to find Dr. Seth.

Seth and Sunny Warner, church-planting missionaries, were packing provisions to take to a nearby family. The door to their modest home was open, with only the screen door shut to keep out the flies. They heard the urgent call for help and moved quickly to the door. Seeing the young shepherd, Seth opened the door.

Jameel had run the whole way. Visions of the man’s blood caked shirt and arm kept the adrenaline pumping into his muscles. Dr. Seth… He was hoarse and winded. You must come quickly.

Jameel, my friend. Slow down a moment.

Jameel was panting, terror in his dark eyes. Dr. Seth, I left my goats to come and find you. You must come quickly. There is a man buried on the mountain and he’s hurt. I heard him make sounds… you must come quickly.

The friendly light in Seth’s blue eyes instantly changed to professional concern. If Jameel had left his goats this was an emergency, indeed. I’ll be right there, Jameel. We’ll take the cart. How far up the mountain?

Not far up for me or the goats, Dr. Seth… .

Seth chuckled and softly squeezed Jameel’s shoulder. Okay, I understand. I’ll bring a stretcher. Seth turned to his wife who was also his nurse assistant. See if you can find William, Sunny. I think he’s in the cart shed doing last minute chores. We’ll take this stuff tomorrow. Be ready for just about anything. We’ll bring him back here. He left to get his emergency bag and a stretcher.

Sunny nodded at Seth and hugged Jameel for encouragement then left to find William. As she did so her mind quickly reviewed what would be needed for such an emergency.

Their bungalow had a dual purpose. One