Labor's End

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry," it was another round of feminine hugs and tears that had Mike looking for an escape.

He made his excuses to them and waved to the men. He could at last retreat to the quiet and solitude of the room that had been as close to a home for him as any place since he was seven years old.

Though he knew it would be the last time, this the last night he slept in 'his own bed,' he tried not to think of such things. Instead he would busy himself with packing what little stuff he had. Go through that list of people and places on his phone and decide his next stop.

That was what he was pondering when the quiet knock at the door interrupted. "Come in," he replied, thinking that perhaps it was Brenda Jo or Billy come to say their final farewells. He had not thought it would be Becca Hall-Okadigbo.

Although she looked different, her blues eyes red and swollen, the hurt and pain in them were gone. She looked so much more like that carefree and innocent little girl that he and Billy had once swung from that very tree.

"I don't mean to disturb you, Mike, but there's a couple more things we need to talk about," she said as she came to sit on the foot of the bed next to him.

He noticed the yellowed and folded shift of papers in her trembling hands. This was it. The moment he had been dreading most. Though he knew that Mister Clyde had willed the house and remaining land to them both, even given Mike controlling interest, he had decided long ago that he would not argue, would not fight this woman about selling what little remained of their family dynasty. A dynasty that had died almost a quarter of a century before in his arms.

If the idea of someone demolishing this old house that had been built and re-built over the generations by Hall hands bothered him, well, he would not be around to witness it any more than Mister Clyde or Billy. No, the only thing he wanted was the assurance that the old tree, its swing, and that white picketed fence family burial plot would remain intact. He hoped that Becca would not think that too much to ask.

He steeled himself for that plea as the woman stared at the paper and began to speak, "I hate to ask any more of you, Mike. Honest, I do. But I was only able to get someone to cover my classes for a few days. And honestly, I have had about as much small-town 'hospitality' as I can handle. I want to get my family back home before my daughters start to ask what 'monkey people' are."

Mike inhaled at not just the bitterness that was lurking just beneath the surface of her new smile but at the term itself. He wondered then, would his friend who had served side by side with men of all races have been able to salve some of this woman's troubles with her parents over the man she had fallen in love with?

It was yet another of those unanswerable what-ifs that Mike was sure would plague him in the remaining weeks and months of his existence. But he did not have time to dwell on it then as she continued talking.

"There are not enough assets left after paying for Daddy's care all this time. Honestly, James and I have had to dip into our savings this past couple of months, but I figured it was the least we could do," Mike frowned at this revelation.

That the woman, whom he had judged so harshly, had been paying what he knew was not insubstantial monthly payments out of her own pocket made him feel more than a bit guilty.

He nodded as he reached for the paper, "I'll sign it, of course. I take it you have a buyer in mind? Can recoup some of that money?"

She shook her head and held up a five-dollar bill, "Maybe not the most lucrative business deal I have ever made, but I think it is the best one."

Mike frowned in confusion as she continued, "Turns out that my nephew and his wife have been looking for someplace to put down roots once his enlistment is up. Especially with the way their family is growing."

Tears spilled over as she passed the papers to him, "So, if you can stick around a few more days, file the paperwork for the expedited probate, and then handle the transfer of the deed into Billy's name, I'd really appreciate it."

Mike nodded his head as he tried to speak past that lump in his throat, "It'd be my pleasure, Ma'am."

She wrapped him in an embrace, just as that little girl had every time he had come to visit. He thought then as he always had back then of his baby sister, who had not lived to breathe her first breath. Would she have been like this woman? Would they have been as close as Billy and Becca had once been? His list of those what-ifs seemed to grow by the second.

But one he did not have to add to the long list of his failures was the promise he had made that morning at his friend's tombstone. The family farm, or what remained of it, would see two more generations of Halls fill this house with laughter and love. He hoped with far, far fewer trials, tribulations, and struggles than the last one had endured.

***

It had taken almost a week. Damned government paperwork again. But he had filled that time with more repairs around the old place, this time he had been joined most evenings by Josh and Brenda Jo. Even Isabel and little Josh, when she was feeling up to it, sometimes came by for a bit before she took the boy back to her in-laws for a bath and bed. They had worked together to repair, paint, and clean the old place.

And though there would be plenty of work in the coming months and years for Billy to do once his deployment was over, and he returned to his family, by the time they had all moved Isabel and little Josh into the place, they were satisfied that it would be safe, comfortable, and habitable for her and the children...until this Billy made it home to them. Mike had wasted one of his few impotent prayers upon that very thing.

They had taken great pride in repainting the room that had been closed tightly for almost a quarter of a century for the man's grandson. It seemed right somehow that the child should have the place that had once been the grandfather's. The man he would never know other than as a piece of stone under the tree he would play in.

The only thing that was not freshly painted was the door frame with its yellowing and chipped surface upon which were the penciled growth markings of another little boy. Josh had passed Mike the pencil, and the honor of adding the first of this little boy's to them.

This morning had been a tearful round of hugs and reassurances that he was always welcome. That his room would remain there whenever he made it back this way. His stomach had tightened into knots around that final breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and all the 'fixins' as even he had taken to calling them.

He knew that it was an offer he would never take. That his work here was done. He had done his best by Billy, both of them. There was no reason to return to Honour, Oklahoma before he made that final, fateful trip to Boston.

He thought of that flag in its thick plastic bag and that newest mission he had acquired. He chuckled as he realized that he had not managed to shorten his list at all on this trip, merely check one-off and add another in its place. That was not how this was supposed to work.

He sighed as he approached the fork in the road that would determine his future. Or at least the next few days of it. He had narrowed the list down to two. His buddy, Gary, from Afghanistan was trying to rebuild some of the abandoned homes in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans for veterans and their families. Mike knew that since the man had been in a wheelchair for over five years an extra set of hands would be a big help.

But there was another stop. Though he wanted nothing more than to avoid the fresh painful memories and the impossible longings he knew it would bring, it called to him.

It was just four days until Halloween. How many times had he listened as Tommy told them all about her big Halloween that delighted all the children in that small Texas town? Whenever possible Tommy had tried to plan his leaves to coincide with the holiday, help his mother out with the heavy stuff like the haunted house.

Except this year, there would be no one to help Esther. He caressed the thrumming red metal between his legs as he sat at that intersection — no one except him. His friend's dying words echoed in his mind as the shrapnel scar on his shoulder burned as if to remind him of his promise.

"Take care of her." Those words had been haunting his dreams this past week.

"Damn it," he cursed.

Did he have any choice? He had made a promise. Just as he had to another best friend all those long years ago. Maybe it was right that he kept those promises before seeing to the rest of his list. So, as hard as he knew this trip and his cock was going to be for the next few days, he turned the motorcycle that he had named after the woman in the direction of Sebida, Texas.

If he rode straight through, he might be able to make it by this evening. It was not very long to steel himself for his first face-to-face meeting with the only woman, who had ever captured his imagination and what heart he had left. The truth was that this would be his toughest mission, whether that be now or months from now.

No, best to get it out of the way. Check on the woman, make sure she was doing all right...or as well as she could be given that her son had died in his arms only six months ago. Maybe, just maybe, he could quiet one more of his ghosts as he had with Manny and Billy. Even if he feared that this trip would only cause him more pain...

He smiled as he thought of Luke once more and his fateful words, "I could never get her out of my blood. You ever met a woman like that, buddy? Someone you know you'll never be good enough for, but can't help loving anyway."

But Mike knew that there would be no happily ever afters for him the way there had been for Luke and his Kim Lee. There had never been, not for that little orphan that was too old and too damaged by all he had seen that night ever to be adopted.

Not for the Marine that knew only duty, blood, and gunpowder. So, why should things be any different for the man whose future was measured in days, weeks and months? Still he had a promise to keep...even if this one did kill him or more likely broke what little heart he had left.

***AUTHOR'S NOTES***

One thing I always struggle with is placing a trigger warning upon these books. I am always humbled and awed by the comments and especially the emails that I receive from the men, women, and families that purchase our safety and freedom at such a high personal price to themselves. To hear of how Mike's story affected them, fills me with purpose, and gives meaning to my writing like no other of my stories ever have. These novellas are a labor of love.

So, to all those who know Mike's struggles intimately with PTSD...please never, ever give up. Never take that road that Luke tried, or Mike contemplates. You have no idea how much you would be missed. How much you still have to give this country and those you love. Reach out for help and as someone who has struggled with her own mental health issues, trust me I know how fucking hard that is, especially when you seem to be greeted with nothing but prejudice and roadblocks. BUT keep trying...there are resources and people out there who want to help.

Of course, nothing beats that beer, coffee, or hug. I know that sometimes it seems people just can't be bothered. That is because way too many of them cannot be. But there are those out there, who can be — friends, who will listen to you. Don't give up looking for them...it only takes one true friend like that to make all the difference.

And when you do find them...hold on to them. Don't push them away. Don't listen to those lying voices that say it is too late, no one can love you, or you don't deserve it. You do. You have paid and keep paying an incredibly high price for my freedom...one that some of us recognize and will never forget. Let us repay you some of that debt. Use that same fighting spirit that you did then to battle these demons and ghosts too.

Remember especially as you read this book, the hardest in this series to write and to read, it is always darkest before the dawn. Hang in there. Mike's dawn is coming...and so too do I believe is yours.

Goddess bless, protect, and heal you now and always,

Tara