The Unexpected Journey-A Prince Harry Fan Fic

Chapter 67

Day 116 of 120

When Harry was deployed, Maddie received masses of unsolicited advice; from all corners of her life. It wasn't just from family, friends, and colleagues—it was from everyone. Her high profile romance with Harry had made her more of a household name. People felt comfortable with her, like they knew her—at least well enough that they could offer her guidance on how best to navigate and survive Harry's 120 days of deployment.

Most of it she found annoying. Yes, it was sweet of people to care about her. Yes, it was thoughtful that they wanted to ease her pain, her worry. But, the vast majority of the advice givers were people who had never sent away somebody they loved to fight in a war. Most of the people had never been called upon to stand tall while their heart, their soul, pulled on that instantly recognizable camouflage uniform and walked away from them. Walked towards the hot zone.

Over the course of her time with Harry, she had watched him handle the public; watched him negotiate those awkward moments when somebody stepped into your private moments; your dinners, your fights, your need to be in solitude. She had watched his grace, his ease, his ability to slip into a space where he could hear what people had to say, offer a smile and a word of thanks and then slip back into the headspace he had occupied before. Though she hadn't had nearly the years he had to perfect that—when these people approached her with advice, she tried her level best to imitate it. She would force a smile to her face—much like the smile she wore at the reception following her father's service—disingenuous but necessary; expected. She would hear their words of wisdom, thank them, and continue on her way.

Occasionally, rarely, she would hear something that stuck with her; something that resonated deep inside of her. Almost always those words were spoken by somebody who had been in her shoes at one point in their lives. Like the twenty-two year old man she spoke to on Day 7. The man who she would see at Saint Joe's every Friday bringing his four year old daughter to a play date with other spouses and children. His wife was serving her third tour in Afghanistan. He had been in her shoes; more than once. When he approached her, he had been reserved, humble; cautious. He didn't want to intrude, didn't want to impose, didn't want to assume that her experience was anything like his experience. But he had seen the news, he had read the stories and he knew. Her heart was in Afghanistan with his.

"They say it gets easier," Maddie smiled tiredly when he offered his sympathies.

"It doesn't," he had shaken his head. "It just gets closer to the end."

Her eyes had welled with tears. He understood what most others did not; Day 1 was no different than day 71 of a deployment. Sure, time was passing, days were fading—but on day 71 Harry was no further away from danger than he was on Day 1. It wasn't easier. It was just closer to the end. The young man shared with Maddie a little ritual he and his daughter had to mark the days of his wife's deployment. In their home, in a space they would see every day, a space they both had access to, they had two large cylindrical vases. On the day his wife left, they had put 120 marbles into one of the vases—one for each day of her deployment. And every morning, he and his daughter would move one of the marbles to the empty vase. It was a visual representation of time passing; the nearing of the end.

Maddie thought that was beautiful; symbolic and sweet. This time her thank you was sincere, heartfelt, her hug was warm and appreciative. And that night, on her way home, she stopped at the store and bought two vases, 120 marbles. One for every day that Harry would be deployed. She had poured all but seven of them into one vase; placing each of the seven carefully into the other and settling them on her mantel—under the painting of Bendal, next to the photo of them at The Lavender Lady. The only thing she did differently was that she would take a marble out of the "Days Left" vase, carry it in her pocket throughout the day and, at the end of the day, she would slip it into the "Days Passed."