before you go • embry call

preface

"Baby,"

Was the word opening the letter.

"I would like to believe I am brave. I am strong. I am doing this for my country.

But baby.

I don't think I'll be home again."

The girl brough the three soldiers a cup of tea each, a teaspoon in each, and a small bowl with sugar cubes. She skipped over to the kitchen and took a plate to cut the cake and place some cookies for each.

Papa is a soldier, she thinks merrily. Papa may be friends with those three men, even though his green beret is nicer than theirs. There was a woman there, too. She looked grim, and she asked for coffee.

"Baby, I love you. But I swore that I am an American fighting in the forces which guard my country and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense. And I think my time is coming.

"Baby I love you. That's all I can think of right now. About you. About my little girl. And our flag. I uprooted you from your home in La Push to move closer to Joint Base Lewis–McChord. I can't tell you a lot, but I can tell you that it looks bad.

"I need you to know that this letter is one I hope I am writing to laugh at later, but I gave it to the commander. I will ask him to tell the Major General how much we all care about out country, since I couldn't do it myself. Tell my baby about her country.

"Tell everyone who cares to hear, that it's worth fighting for.

"We've been together since we were 16, so I think you know how much I truly love you by now.

"I am sorry I won't be home to celebrate our 20 years anniversary.

"I will love you forever, and our daughter is the single good thing I truly believe I've done in my life.

"Yours forever, even when I am no longer,
Major Ezekiel Rollins."

"Ma'am," the older looking man said, as Meredith placed the cookies and cup of coffee. "I... I have been asked to inform you that your husband has been reported dead in Gardez in Afghanistan at seven a.m. on January seventh two thousand and two. The mission was a retaliation for the nine eleven events, and unfortunately, your husband has not been the only not to survive those missions. On the behalf of the Secretary of Defense, I extend to you and your family my deepest sympathy in your great loss."

The woman surveyed Meredith's mother, who still stared at the letter. She didn't react the first time when she heard the news at the door, and neither this time.

The soldier that joined last seemed uncomfortable at the situation, and Meredith supposed he'd rather have stayed in the car.

Meredith's mother was still silent as she raised her eyes to the three soldiers and the medic in front of her.

"Will papa have a purple heart now?" Meredith asked. The four turned to her, while her mother stared at them, still silent.

"Yes, sweetie. I think he'll have a bronze star too." Meredith bobbed her head up and down, and the older man added in an after thought, "maybe even the V device. You know about medals?"

"Papa taught me," she whispered. "He said he's hoping I'll never see some."

"Thank you for the tea," the older man said. The woman- the medic- still looked at Meredith's mom. "It's great."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Baby,"

Was the word opening the letter.