The Preserver & Protector 2: Destiny Reclaimed

Jack walked up the sidewalk of his parents’ large, two-story home facing the waters of Sturgeon Bay. A light dusting of snow covered the pavement. A set of tire tracks led into the garage. It was Sunday; his parents had probably just returned home from church. They’d be surprised to see him. He hadn’t written to let them know he’d be home.

After he returned to the states, he took a couple of weeks to decompress—soul search—find himself. What he discovered was that he wanted to be home, in the town he’d grown up. Small town Wisconsin, hum drum, was exactly what he needed. More importantly, he needed to see Gwennie, the woman who’d kept him going. Gave him the strength to get through his tours.

The front door to the house flung open. His mother screamed his name and ran toward him, arms wide open. His father trailed her. Jack dropped his duffle bag, nodded to his dad, and squeezed his mom as if his life depended on it. Familiar warmth, comfort, and love seeped into his body, calming him, reminding him everything was going to be okay. Her hold was nothing short of amazing. Tears pooled in his eyes.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you are home,” she exclaimed as she inched back. She placed her tiny, warm hands on his cheeks. “I can’t believe it.”

“Me either,” his father added.

The shake in the normally strong voice tugged at Jack’s heartstrings.

His mom stepped back and his dad stepped in. Right there in front of God and everyone, the man hugged him. He loved his parents, but they’d never been huggers. Not until now.

His mother rubbed her hands together. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”

He re-shouldered the duffle and followed his parents into the house. The scent of bacon wafted into his nostrils and unleashed good memories of a typical Sunday from his childhood. Church, Sunday school, visiting in the parish hall, and then breakfast, just the three of them.

Jack dropped the bag by the foot of the open staircase, then slipped out of his Army issued coat, and draped it over the rail.

“Are you hungry? We just finished eating, but I can make more.” That’s the generous, accommodating woman he remembered.

She touched his shoulder. “We had pancakes and bacon. How would you like that? Or, I can make you some eggs. Whatever you want.” Nervous energy shook her voice.

“For crying out loud, Ruth. Take a breath. Give the man two seconds to think,” his father urged.

His mom ground her hands onto her hips and flashed her husband the death-stare. Even that was a welcomed sight. Nothing had changed in the couple of years he’d been gone. This was exactly what he’d hoped to return to—normalcy.

“I can’t help it. I’m so excited to have our son home.”

His dad chuckled, walked over to his wife, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sorry dear, me, too.”

The way his parents stared with pride filled his heart. They of all people knew what it was like to return from war. They hadn’t been combat soldiers, but they’d seen enough to probably know how he felt.

During World War I, his parents had served as ambulance drivers. At seventeen, his father had lied about his age so the ambulance service would take him. Both, willingly entered danger zones to transport wounded soldiers to surgical units. After returning from WWI his dad enrolled in college and then served as a field medic in WWII, at that time he was in his early forties. In Korea, he served as a surgeon.

Countless lives were saved by his parents. If not for the ambulance service, they probably wouldn't have met. Especially seeing as his mom was born in England and his father in the United States. His dad was the reason his mother immigrated to the states. The rest was history.

His mom spun and walked over to the refrigerator, yanked open the door, and grabbed a carton of eggs and a small white package. God, he hoped that white paper package was full of sage-flavored sausage patties from Larson's Meat Market. He'd dreamed of those for the past two years. Nobody made sausage like old man Larson. His mouth watered the second the aroma wafted into his nostrils.

She fired up the gas stove and popped three patties into a small cast iron pan, then glanced over her shoulder at him. The corners of her mouth lifted. "Still your favorite, I assume," she said with a wink just like she'd done when he was eight years old.

"Yes, ma'am."

She scrambled the eggs with a little milk and sprinkled them with cheddar cheese then buttered the toast that had popped up.

The whole while she worked, he stared at her from where he’d taken a seat at the old wooden table, occasionally shifting his focus to his dad as he got him up to speed in regard to the current happenings in town.

His mom set the plate in front of him along with a cup of aroma-rich black coffee. He almost cried at the gesture and sight. These little things were exactly what he missed so much the past couple of years.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I couldn't be better," Jack replied as he picked up the fork.

He felt a bit self-conscious as he ate, with his parents staring silently at him. Truth be told, he wasn't surprised by the silence, neither of his parents were big talkers. They were quiet, selfless, modest people, and he loved them for it.

His mother leaned forward, took a sip of coffee, and then cleared her throat. "So, does Gwendoline know you are home?"

Jack set the fork down. "I'm sorry. I didn't write her either." Guilt caused him to swing his gaze to the wall, and he took a moment to collect his thoughts before refocusing on her. "I just felt like I needed some time to decompress by myself before coming home. I do want to see her as soon as possible but…"

"She's been waiting for you," his mother blurted. "This whole time there's been no one else."

Relief sifted through him. He'd never received a Dear John letter from his beloved Gwennie, but he'd been gone so long a part of him feared she may have found someone else, or maybe would have realized he wasn't the man for her even though she'd promised him she'd wait.

"Whenever we see her, she asks if we've heard from you."

His mom reached over and placed her tiny, hand on his forearm. Her soft touch eased his worries.

"She's going to be thrilled to see you."

The suppressed, excited feelings he held in regard to reuniting with Gwennie, returned in full force cracking through him like a whip, shaking his extremities. For months, he’d worked so hard to quash those emotions, as the clocked ticked off the minutes indicating he was closer to returning home. War had changed him. He’d learned not to get too enthusiastic about things because he’d been let down more times than not of late. But, hearing his mother’s words about his beloved waiting for him, gave him newfound hope good things could happen.

"And I, her."

"Why don't you call her as soon as you're done eating?"

Jack nodded and leaped from his seat.

"Where you going?" his dad asked.

"I'll be right back. I want to get something out of my bag to show you."

He stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall to retrieve the engagement ring he'd purchased while en route to home. His pulse pounded and fingers shook when they wrapped around the soft, velvet box.

When he returned to the kitchen, he set the tiny container on the table in front of his mom.

Her eyes watered as she picked up the case, popped it open, and studied the solitaire diamond ring.

"Gwendoline is going to love it."

"I hope so. I've missed her so much and I want to see her so badly. But the second I see her I'm going to want to propose, so I can't see her yet."

His dad arched a questioning brow.

"I want to make sure I get the go-ahead from her father first."

"You know, Gwendoline wasn't at church with her parents this morning," his mom said.

He stared at her. What did that matter?

"Meaning, she’s probably working today, and not home," she added as if just realizing he wouldn’t have a clue as to why she mentioned the bit about the church.

Now, he knew what she hinted at but had missed messing with her, so he kept staring at her in silence.

His mom sighed and shook her head. "For crying out loud. Her father is probably home for the asking."

His parents loved Gwennie, and her brother Marvin, his best friend since they met in grade school. Marvin, Jack wondered how his friend fared. He hadn't seen or heard from him since they'd left for war. Though, he did get some tidbits of information about Marvin from Gwennie’s letters, but it had been a couple of months since he’d received a letter from her.

"Why don't you finish your breakfast, clean up, and go over there?"

Sounds like his mother was in a hurry for him to take care of business. He was, too.

His dad caught his mom's gaze and held it as they shared some sort of understanding. Breaking the stare, his father turned toward him. His solemn gaze caused Jack's chest to tighten.

"Before you go you should know…" His dad drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Marvin was killed in action."

A quiver raked through his body, and his heart pounded against his ribcage. He broke out into a sweat. He'd seen a lot of death over the past couple of years, so he should have realized it was a strong possibility he'd never see his best friend again. That one of them would surely die.

"And Gary?" Jack asked of Gwennie's twin brother.

"As far as we know, he's still fighting," his father replied. “I’m sorry, son.”

Jack managed a nod, then exited the kitchen, snatching the duffle bag from the floor in the entryway before he climbed the stairs leading to his old bedroom. As the door creaked open, fond memories of his past resurfaced at the sight of his personal belongings still in place. High school trophies lined the top of the dresser. The Green Bay Packer pennant he purchased from the dime store with his lawn mowing money hung on the wall. Board games and books were stacked neatly on the shelving unit in the corner. It was as if he'd never left. If only that were true, he thought, as his gaze landed back on his football trophies. Solemness washed over him. Without Marvin on the team, they would have probably never won the state championship their senior year. His friend had been a fierce, tackling machine. Jack’s gaze landed on the floor. The rollercoaster of emotions he’d been on for the past couple of months sucked the life out of him. One moment he was happy and high as a kite, then in the next, despair nearly brought him to his knees.

He stepped through the doorway and leaned his tall slim bag against the bed, pulled it open, and dug deep for the service uniform which had worked its way to the bottom during his journey home. He pulled out the drab, olive-green coat, gripped the shoulders, and shook it vigorously hoping to shake out any wrinkles. Then, he shook out the pants, and then the gray undershirt.

A knock sounded on the door drawing his attention.

"Come in."

The door pushed open, and his mother stepped into the room with a hair clipper gripped in her hand. He chuckled at her lack of subtleness. His hair was a bit longer than normal, but it still didn't touch his ears.

"I can cut your hair before you go to Gwendoline's."

Her gaze darted to his uniform. "And, I can press that while you wash."

He followed her back down to the kitchen and took a seat as she fired up the clippers. When she was finished, he padded off to the bathroom for a shower.

By the time he returned to his bedroom, she had his freshly pressed service uniform draped over the footboard of his bed. He slid into the uniform and eyed himself in the mirror on the back of the door as he worked the four gold buttons on the jacket. His skin itched where the polyester touched him, especially his thighs where the fabric gripped around him a bit tighter.

He placed the palm of his hand over his heart, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath. He'd debated wearing his uniform to the Tebon home, and in the end, felt it appropriate in light of what had happened to Marvin.

When Jack descended the staircase, his parents stepped out of the living room.

His mom closed the gap between them and lightly brushed her palms over his shoulders as she flashed him an encouraging smile. "You look so handsome. Gwendoline will be lucky to have you."

"I am the lucky one," he replied.

His dad held a set of keys in the air. "Take the Pontiac."

Jack pulled the vehicle out of the garage and drove the short distance to the Tebon house. With each block, his nervous fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He wasn't sure which made him more anxious, facing Gwennie and her parents knowing Marvin had been killed, or proposing to his love. The timing couldn't be worse, but he loved her and couldn't go another moment without making her his.

He parked in front of the old two-story home his girlfriend and best friend had grown up in. Nothing had changed in the two years he'd been gone. The home was painted standard white with black trim and shutters. A detached, single-stall garage sat to the left of it. The basketball hoop still hung at the center of the garage peak, but without the net, probably disintegrated by now.

With sluggish steps, he walked up the sidewalk to the front door and reached for the gold-colored knocker. All the shine had been erased from years of sun.

The door flung open before his fingers could grip the metal, and Mrs. Tebon flung herself into his arms.

"Oh my God. You're home. You're safe," the compassionate woman said with a shaky voice.

Relief sifted through him. The way she gripped him he was thankful she wasn't upset he'd survived when her son hadn’t.

"It's good to be home."

After a moment, she eased back and swiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. "Gwendoline will be so happy. She's not here right now. She went to help Mrs. Harman this morning after she finished her shift at the hospital. She'll be home soon."

The plump woman rubbed her hands over her arms. "Where are my manners? It's chilly out here. Come in. Come in," she said excitedly as she stepped back into the house.

He followed her into her home and turned to shut the door behind him. By the time he spun back around, Mr. Tebon stood a few feet behind his wife. The burly man stared at him with a blank expression. Mr. Tebon was one of those tough, man-of-few-words men. Truth be told, he scared Jack when he was a kid. Scared him even more when he began dating the guy's only daughter. And, right now, he was scared shitless this guy would be angry with him that he survived the war and his oldest son had not, and then hold it against him and not permit him to marry Gwennie.

The man's gaze pinned him into a frozen state. Tears pooled in the brawny guy's eyes. He swallowed audibly then stepped toward him and took him into a bear-hug. Jack would bet his soul this man never hugged another guy in his life. Not even his sons. It wasn't his style.

Jack returned his gaze to Mrs. Tebon. Her lips shaped into a warm smile, and she swiped away more tears.

Without a word, Jack stayed in place until the man broke off.

"Welcome home, son."

Son. Tears stung the back of his eyes at the touching endearment.

"Thank you, sir."

“No need for the formalities. You can drop the sir.” Mr. Tebon pointed to himself and then his wife. “It’s Walter and Mary Lou, now.”

Jack supposed having been to war and back gave him the rite of passage from boyhood to manhood, allowing him to drop the Mr. and Mrs.

Walter motioned to the living room entrance off the hall. "Come. Sit down."

Jack pulled the hat from his head, unbuttoned his service uniform coat, and sat on the couch. His nerves rattled at the sight of the large family photo hanging on the wall. Marvin looked to be about sixteen, Gwennie and Gary about twelve. The family of five was now four.

"Would you like some coffee?" Mary Lou asked knocking him out of his unwanted dire thoughts.

He nodded.

She scampered off and returned a moment later with three cups of coffee, sugar, and cream on a tray.

Walter snagged a cup off the platter. No cream or sugar for him. Jack did the same.

The couple stared at him as he took a sip, then they exchanged nervous glances. Preparing to tell him about Marvin he presumed.

Jack set the cup down. His pulse beat wildly, and he took a second to gather his thoughts. "My parents told me about Marvin this morning. I'm so sorry."

Mary Lou's eyes watered.

Walter nodded, then cleared his throat. "You were a good friend to him. He thought a lot of you, as we do."

Wow, not words typically spoken by this burly man, but death changes a person. Makes one realize what they have—had.

"I am thankful for the friendship he and I shared and will treasure it forever."

The grieving mother offered a compassionate smile.

Knowing how this couple felt about him encouraged him to proceed with what he'd come to do. He swiped perspiring hands over his pant legs, then straightened in his seat. Shifting his gaze from Mary Lou, he fixed it on Walter. "Sir, I'd like your permission to ask Gwennie to marry me."

Mary Lou's gasp echoed in the room, but he kept focused on Walter who stared at him emotionless. What was the man thinking? Was he too stunned to even show a facial expression?

Jack wanted to kick himself. He should have waited. Was this too much for them to deal with losing their son and all? "I'm sorry, sir. I should have…"

"No. It's fine," the man interrupted as he reached over and took his wife's hand. "We'd love for you to be part of our family." He paused and exchanged a warm smile with his wife. "Gwendoline has been counting the days. And, Marvin would have loved it." He'd barely squeaked out the words before his voice cracked, and he averted his watery gaze.

Jack swallowed hard. Marvin had been like a brother to him, and now, when he could make it real, it couldn't happen.

A car engine roared from down the street. Jack's heart skipped a beat when it silenced in front of the house.

Mary Lou's smile stretched from ear to ear. "Gwendoline is home." The woman stood and rubbed her hands together. "She'll be so excited."

Needing to see her, and see her now, Jack rose from his seat and made a move toward the entryway hall.

Mary Lou's hand wrapped around his arm. He focused on her as she lifted her forefinger to her lips. The woman's light brown eyes beamed. "Wait here. We'll give you the room."

The front door squeaked open. Jack stood statue-still as Walter and Mary Lou exited the living room into the hallway.

He listened as he waited.

"How was Mrs. Harman today," Mary Lou asked.

"Good."

Jack's heart slammed in his chest at the sound of his love's sweet voice when she replied to her mother. The adrenaline rush in his veins shook his extremities.

"I picked up some groceries for her and then read to her for a while. Is that the Cornelis’ vehicle out front?"

"It is," Walter replied.

Jack could see the burly guy from where he stood. The man lifted his hand and jerked his big thumb toward the living room.

The clicking of heels against the hardwood floor caused his pulse to ratchet up even more as the sound grew closer to him.

Gwennie rounded the corner. The caramel gaze he'd longed to see for two years fastened to his as she gasped and threw her hand over her heart. For what felt like an eternity, but was probably only seconds, he stood still, savoring her gaze.

A sob dislodged from her throat as she lunged herself into his wanting arms.

"I can't believe it's you. You’re home—alive."

Jack inhaled. The tantalizing vanilla scent of hers nearly knocked his socks off. "I am, sweetheart. I've missed you so much."

Gwennie pulled her head from the crook of his neck but didn't pull out from his hold. He wouldn't have let her if she tried. She felt too good in his arms.

She aligned her gaze with his and placed her soft hands to either side of his face.

"You're here."

He slid his hands up from her back to her flushed cheeks. Not caring her parents stood there staring at them, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth lightly to those bow-shaped lips he'd dreamed of touching more times than he could count the past couple of years. His heart fluttered and the sensations shooting through him were nothing short of amazing. If not for her parents standing there watching this exchange, he would have deepened their kiss in a heartbeat.

Remembering what he'd set out to do today, make Gwennie his forever. He couldn't let another minute pass by without doing that.

Jack pulled the velvety ring box from his pocket rubbing his fingers against it in a soothing manner. His soon-to-be fiancée's gaze landed on the box in his hand. Her chest rose with a quick intake of breath. The answer he desired would come as soon as he found his voice.

He moved to take a knee when all at once a gust of fiery hot air encircled him in a tornado-like fashion and whisked him up. The contents of his stomach catapulted into his throat. Bile stung his tongue. A heavy, unnerving impression weighed on him, yet he rose higher as if there were no ceiling to contain him.

Below, Gwennie stood, staring at a figure of him on his knee. How could he be down there on the ground, and caught up in this wind funnel watching her, watching him?

Awareness struck him. This reminded him of what he’d witnessed while in the hospital. So, it wasn’t a dream back then when that golden-haired nurse, and the soldier in the next bed over, had been sucked into a cyclone and whirled out of sight.

Holy shit! This is what his dad had begun to prepare him for before he left for war. It was real. He was traveling. He mentally braced himself. Shock and excitement jockeyed for position. Where was he headed? What was he supposed to do? And, when would he return home?

The strong, eerie sensation gripping his spine, coupled with being spun to oblivion, rendered him alarmed, speechless, and blind.