JAMES
I laid in the infirmary. My leg propped up and bandaged. I was lucky though. Not that I was in the infirmary but that it was only a wound in my leg. There were about twenty other men there. Most with worst wounds. Men were missing limbs, had bandages on their faces, some were like me and just needed surgery and stitches. But some men couldn't move at all because they were in a full body cast.
I laid in my bed, eating my soup when the man in the bed beside me who had lost his left leg to an explosion on the battlefield looked over at me.
"Hey." The man said.
I turned to him after taking a sip of my soup. "Hey."
"Mark Wyatt." He introduced himself.
"James Robertson."
"What happened to you?" He asked, motioning to my leg.
I looked at my leg and then back at him. "I got shot while protecting my friend."
"I was in the path along with a group of other guys when a grenade was tossed. They said I was lucky to be alive. They said that if I was only a foot closer to where it landed I probably would be dead or impaired with serious brain damage. Do you believe in miracles?"
I don't know why but when he asked that question the first thought to come into my mind was my beloved Martha. I smiled and nodded. "Yes, I do."
"I think I was given a second chance."
"A second chance for what?"
"For life." He said it as if he was as sure about this more than anything. "I haven't lead the best life and maybe I was given a second chance so I could turn it all around." He paused for a moment before starting a new conversation. "How long have you been In the army?"
"A little over a year."
"Do you miss your family?"
I nodded. "Yeah." I turned my body towards him. "I have a younger sister. She's eighteen. And my mother and father are the greatest people I know. And I have the most beautiful fiancé."
"Tell me about your fiancé."
"Well, she is the greatest person I've ever come to know. She's from Italy. We met at church. And she is undeniably the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure to know." I reached beside my bed into a drawer that held my belongings. I pulled out the picture of Martha. "This is her," I said and handed him the photo.
He eyed it carefully. "She sure is a looker." He handed me back the photo and I placed it beside my bed.
"She sure is."
"So, you're marrying her?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Once I get out of here."
"When are you planning to be sent back home?"
"Just within the next few days. I told them I wanted to finish up my recovery back home."
Mark nodded. "Where are you from?"
"North Carolina."
"California. My family owns a vineyard."
"That sounds nice." I thought it was nice but because I was weak it came out dull.
"Do me a favor."
I stared at him in confusion. "Depends on the favor."
"Go home. Marry that girl. And make sure to show her as much love as you can for the rest of your life."
I smiled. "You can count on that."
"I know she deserves your undivided attention. She's one lucky woman."
I kept smiling. "She sure is."
"Can you do me that favor?"
I nodded. "I sure as hell can."
***
I was driven back home by a kind nurse. She offered to drive me home after I told her that I had no ride and I told her about Martha. Martha must've gotten to her because the next thing I knew she was grabbing her keys and handing me my cane.
I almost didn't go home right away because the wound in my leg was pretty severe and they wanted me to be in rehab a little longer but I told them I wanted to continue my treatments at home. In North Carolina. I just wanted to go home; start a family, and continue living my life. But most of all I couldn't stand the thought of being away from Martha any longer.
"North Carolina?" The nurse said beside me as she continued down a deserted highway. "That's where y'all are from?" This lady had a very strong Texan accent. I wouldn't be surprised if she grew up on a ranch or something similar.
I nodded, not really in the mood to have a conversation. The injury led me into a depression for a while and at this point I was still recovering from the depression and PTSD. I had nightmares in the hospital about the battlefield and images of when I got shot. I would get panic attacks because of them. I have gotten help at the rehabilitation center and it's helped me a lot but I can sometimes still hear the sounds of screaming in agony and the sound of shots being fired. I could sometimes see red. "Yeah." I simply said and stared out the window.
"My husband's from Beaufort. You ever been to Beaufort?"
I looked at her and nodded before turning back to the window. "Yeah."
Through the corner of my eye, I saw her give me a glance before she focused back on the road. "Are you okay? You seem a bit quiet."
I frowned and leaned my head on the glass. "Well, I've never been much of a talkative person."
"Somethings on your mind."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Is it post-traumatic stress or something? Are you depressed?"
"Is it that noticeable?" I said with almost zero emotion.
She nodded. "It really is." When I didn't speak she continued. "I don't know what you saw out there or what you're dealing with but what I do know is that through all that there is still something important on your mind. And I'm not talking troubles either. Something good."
"Yeah."
"Is it Martha?"
At the name, I turned my head to her. "Yeah."
"I can tell that she's something very special to you."
"How can you tell?"
She chuckled. "I just know. By your expressions, I knew that the one person who could be on your mind is Martha. I realized it after you told me about her earlier."
"Yeah," I said again. "That's it."
We didn't talk much the rest of the drive home. But that was okay. I continued the whole way, looking out the window, thinking about what it will be like when I got home.
***
Home wasn't the same.
As the nurse pulled up in front of my house I took a good long look at it. The exterior was the same but the feeling wasn't the same. The home looked depressed. My Mother knew I was arriving home that day yet she wasn't outside waiting for me like I thought she would. Not even Martha was waiting outside.
"You need help getting in?" The nurse asked me.
I grabbed my cane from beside me and got out of the car. "No, I'll be fine," I said a quick goodbye before she drove off.
Once she was gone that was when Martha stepped out of the house wearing a beautiful blue dress. Looking almost the exact same as when I left her. The only real difference was that she cut her hair so it was a few inches shorter than last time.
"James." She whispered before running into my arms. Right as she got to me I put my free hand around her and held her tightly, myself almost in tears. She pulled away and looked at me. She didn't say anything before coming into me again.
I stroked her hair and could see behind her as my parents came outside to greet me. They smiled but it looked almost forced. As if they were happy to see him but also had a secret.
They walked up and Martha moved out of the way so I could hug them. It wasn't the loud homecoming I was expecting. It was quiet. Barely anyone spoke.
"Where's Clara?" I asked, noticing my sister wasn't there with us.
At my words my mother hugged my Dad, crying into his shoulder as my Dad comforted her.
"She was deathly ill." My father said. At first, I didn't understand what he meant but when it struck me I burst into tears. Martha came into me, hugging me, letting me cry into her hair.
"Oh my god." I stammered.
"It was pneumonia, James." My father said. "She passed away just last month. She was ill for months with no hope of making a recovery."
I squeezed hard onto Martha's shoulder as I hugged her. "I need to sit down." I stuttered. Martha leaned back from me with a nod and lead me up to the porch.
"I'll make us some tea." My mother said and walked into the house. Martha lead both of us to the back porch so we could view the lake and not the streets. My mother came out with a plate of tea right after we sat down.
"Thanks, Mom," I said as she handed me a cup of tea.
She smiled and sat down in a chair beside me and Martha. "How was the ride home?" She asked.
"It was fine," I said. "My nurse offered to give me a ride but I barely spoke the whole way here."
"Are you feeling okay?" Martha asked and put a hand on my arm.
I shrugged. "I've been kind of depressed lately and I keep getting these nightmares." I turned to Martha. "So, when we move in together you may have to help me with my PTSD."
"You still want to get married?"
I nodded. "Of course. I never let go of the hope that we would."
She grinned. "You know you still owe me a welcome home kiss?"
I grinned back. "I think you still owe me a welcome home kiss."
We both smiled as we went in and kissed each other passionately.
"You love birds setting a date yet?" My Dad said as he walked out the back door and headed to the chair beside Mom.
"What?" I asked confused.
"For the wedding." He answered.
I looked at Martha then back at my parents. "No. Not yet."
"You sure about that?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
Martha made me look at her. "I have something to tell you."
"Shoot."
She grinned. "The wedding's all planned and set up. All you need to do is get a suit and if you want you can change as many things if needed. We're getting married real soon."
My eyes grew wide. "You got the church?" She nodded. "The catering?" She nodded again. "The justice? The invites? The dinner reservation?"
She laughed. "Yes. It's all taken care of. We've been doing this for a year. And both of our entire families are going to come."
"You seriously got all of that done while I was gone?" She nodded. "But what if I didn't come home?"
"I never let go of the hope that you'll make it."
"That's amazing, Martha." I kissed her lips softly. "Honeymoon plans?"
"We still need to decide that."
"I knew you missed something."
"I know. I just wanted to talk about it with you."
I smiled and gave her another kiss. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"So, we're getting married?"
She nodded. "We're getting married."
***
I stared down at Clara's grave that was in the cemetery near the church where the wedding would take place that evening. I was in my suit, almost looking like I was attending a funeral. The real reason why I was visiting Clara before the wedding was because I needed to talk to her. I've only been home for a few weeks but within those few weeks, I visited Clara several times. Not to just say "Hi" but to just chat and tell her how I've been. When I first visited her was with Martha. That first day I spoke to her about the war and what I've seen and been through. But I can't imagine what she's been through towards the end of her short-lived life.
"Hey, Clara." I greeted the grave once I stood over it. "Today's the day. You're going to have a sister-in-law." I sucked in my lip as a tear escaped my eye. "I really wish you could be here to watch this miracle happen." My voice started to quiver as I continued. "I really wish I was with you towards the end. No one told me what happened. Mom said it was hard to find me since halfway through the year we got relocated and they had trouble finding us. But if I knew I would've come home no matter what. I wouldn't have cared if they told me no. I would've run the entire way back home for you. It's a hard feeling when you come home and your mother had to announce that my sister died. I didn't know what you were going through but if you think about it, we were both in a war." I felt my eyes get puffy as I continued to speak. "I love you, Clara. And I wish I could tell you in person one final time." I placed a single white rose that I bought from one of the street markets on her grave. There were several white roses lying there on the grave from my previous visits. She always loved white roses.
"You talking to Clara again?" I turned around to see my father walking towards me. He was going to be my best man. He had a suit on like me. Only mine was more of a light gray color as his was charcoal black.
I nodded and turned back to the grave. "Just thought I'd chat with her before we got started."
"Well, people are starting to arrive and you have to be ready to step onto the altar."
I nodded again. "I know." I wiped a stray tear that escaped my eye. "I just needed to talk to her for a bit."
Dad motioned to the grave. "You mind if I say hello?"
I shook my head. "Go ahead."
I watched as my father kneeled down in front of the grave and silently prayed before speaking aloud. "Hey, sweetheart." Dad started. "It's happening. James is getting married today. I wish you were here. I love you, Clara. Talk to you soon." My father kissed his finger tips and put his fingertips onto the headstone for a moment before kneeling back up. "Let's head inside." I nodded and followed my Dad back to the church where him and I stood side by side on the altar, waiting for Martha to walk down the aisle. "I'm proud of you, son." My father whispered to me and patted my shoulder.
My Dad and I stood at attention when the wedding march started playing. Everyone's eyes towards the church doors, watching them slowly open.
The sadness I felt suddenly went away as I watched my fiancé walk through those doors in her beautiful white dress, heading towards me. I almost teared up as she walked down the aisle.
The music stopped once she stood In front of me. Her eyes instantly looking into mine. I slowly put my hand in hers and held it as the justice began to read from the bible:
"Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful or conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offense and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people's sins, but delights in the truth. It is always ready to excuse, to trust, and to endure whatever comes..."
He went on speaking until what would be our final words to each other before we would be married:
"I, James Lewis Robertson take Martha Marie Parilli as my lawfully wedded wife..."
"I, Martha Marie Parilli take James Lewis Robertson as my lawfully wedded husband..."
"...All the days of my life." We finished and we were handed the rings. I lifted up Martha's hand and placed the ring down her ring finger and she then repeated my actions as she placed my ring on my finger.
"I love you," I whispered to her.
"I love you, too." She whispered back.
"You may now kiss the bride." The justice finished.
I smiled, cupping Martha's cheek as I gave her the first kiss of our married lives.
That kiss was a promise. A promise that I will offer her the rest of my life.