Two Letters

The following story has been kicking around in my heard for quite some time. It is purely a work of fiction. Things don't always happen the way I've portrayed them in real life. But heck, it's my story and I wrote it the way I wanted. It's a love story with a happy ending. Thanks for reading and be gentle with criticism as I do my own editing and spell checking.

I finally managed to get to the hotel shuttle waiting curbside some 100 yards from the airport terminal. It was slow going for me carrying my suitcase in one hand while using the other to hold the cane I used to support myself. I had been discharged from the naval hospital in San Diego that morning after spending three months there recovering from injuries received on my last assignment. My right leg was a mess from the shrapnel that had been removed by the surgeons. I had to have my knee replaced because of the severity of those wounds. My other wounds had somewhat healed, but still bothered me.

After climbing on board and putting my suitcase in the luggage rack I saw there was only one seat left empty in the rear of the shuttle bus. As I moved toward it a young woman slid over to the window freeing the aisle seat next to her for me. I must have winced noticeably as I sat down.

She turned slightly toward and asked. "Hurt badly?"

I nodded my head as my thoughts turn inward. Yeah. I was hurt. Both physically and emotionally. The physical hurt would fade over time but the emotional hurt I wasn't too sure about.

Reflecting back to the time I was six years old and sitting in my first grade classroom when the principal came to the door and spoke with my teacher, Miss Anderson. She walked to my desk, knelt down and with tears in her eyes told me to collect my belongings and go with the principal. As I stood to leave, she gave me a big hug and walked me to the door. Arriving at the principal's office I was surprised to see my grandmother and grandfather waiting for us.

"Ricky." Oma Hauff said holding me tightly on her lap. "You must be very brave. Opa and I have very bad news for you. Mommy and Daddy went to live with Jesus this morning."

That's how I found out that my parents had been killed in an accident by a driver of an eighteen wheeler who was spaced-out on amphetamines. I went to live with Oma Marie and Opa Karl. Opa Karl died ten years later and it was just me and Oma Marie living in that big old house on Maple Street on the St. John's River. Oma was everything to me and I was everything to her. She never missed a single event that I participated in all those years.

When she died two months ago, at the age of eight-nine, I was in the Naval Hospital in still recovering from the injuries incurred in my last 'ops'. It was nasty and I came away from it with a shot up knee and several fragmentation wounds to my lower body. Thank God for my Kevlar vest and helmet or I wouldn't be here.

In my uniform jacket I had a letter from Reynolds, Mitchell, Robinson and Scott, Attorneys-at-Law. The letter notified me that my grandmother's estate had been filed with the court and it should clear probate shortly. It was signed by Jack Reynolds, my grandmother's long time attorney. Attached to the formal letter was a handwritten note signed 'Uncle Jack' in which he expressed his heartfelt sorrow to me of her death.

I had a second letter in my pocket as well. Written on the pale yellow stationary, my fiance, Carol Anderson used. It was short and to the point. She was calling off the wedding and ending the engagement. She said she didn't want to be a Navy wife, moving every few years to a new posting. Besides my salary would not be sufficient to allow her to live in the manner she thought was befitting for her.

Two letters. Both causing immense emotional pain.

"We're here." A voice in my ear snapped me out of my daydream.

"I'm sorry." I replied. "My mind was elsewhere."

Standing up I allowed her to exit the shuttle in front of me. As we stepped off the bus the driver told us he would bring all the luggage into the hotel.

Standing in line in front of the check-in desk I saw the clerk looking up nervously at the number of people waiting for room assignments and then back down to her computer terminal screen. Finally, the young woman in front of me stepped up to the counter and requested a single room.

"I'm sorry, miss. All I have available is a two bedroom suite for five hundred dollars a night." The clerk told her.

Sighing heavily, the young woman said. "I can't afford that. Are you sure there is nothing else available?"

"No, I'm sorry. With this horrible storm every hotel in the city is booked solid." The clerk answered.

"OK. May I stay in the lobby until I figure out what to do?"

"I'll take the suite." I announced. "Look, you don't know me. But I'm really an ok guy. If you like you can have the second bedroom. I promise you will be safe."

"I guess I have no choice but to accept your offer." Holding out her hand she introduced herself. "I'm Susan Olivia Riley. I'm trying to get home to Orange Park just west of Jacksonville, Florida."

"I know where Orange Park is." I said. "My name is Frederick Hauff, but everyone just calls me Rick. I'm going home to Jacksonville as well."

After signing the registration paperwork and giving the clerk my American Express card I received the key card and turned to her and said. "Come on let's get our luggage and head on up to the room. I'm beat and my leg hurts like hell."

Walking over to the suitcases that the driver of the shuttle had deposited in the lobby close to the elevators I grabbed my bag.

Susan went to the only remaining suitcase and looking at the name tag exclaimed. "This isn't my bag. It belongs to someone named S. O'Reilly. Oh damn. I know what must've happened. My bag tag reads S.O. Riley. It happens all the time. They mixed up the two names. What am I going to do now. I've no clothes, no nothing."

Returning to the desk I explained the problem and asked if they could contact the airline and find out where her bag was delivered. The clerk said she would do that for us and that complimentary toiletries were available in both bathrooms of the suite.

I rejoined Susan and a member of the hotel staff who was to escort us up to the suite waiting by the elevators. Placing the key card in a slot on the elevator control panel the staff member explained that this would allow us access to our rooms. When the doors opened I stepped back to allow Susan to exit first. There was no corridor. The elevator doors opened directly into the suite.

CHAPTER TWO

As the elevator doors opened Rick stepped back allowing me to enter the suite first. It was magnificent. A gas fireplace surrounded by stone lined one wall. A soft leather love seat and two leather chairs were placed in front of it. Another wall was made up entirely in insulated glass and overlooked and outdoor terrace.

It was free from snow due to under floor heating the staff person explained.

The view would have been breath taking except for the raging blizzard outside limiting visibility to just a few feet. A hot tub sat next to the window and we were told that water was kept at a cozy one hundred degrees. Other assorted sofas, chairs and tables completed the room. Off to one side was a small kitchen, a fully stocked bar with a wine cooler. A short hallway led to the two bedrooms each with a marble en-suite bath complete with toiletries, towels and terry cloth robes.

Rick allowed me to choose one of the two bedrooms and the staff person placed his suitcase and carry on luggage in the other. After showing Rick how to turn the fireplace on and asking if there would be anything else we required he left.

Rick helped me remove my heavy winter coat and I watched him lean his cane against the arm of a nearby chair and remove his uniform overcoat. The first thing I noticed was the six rows of ribbons attached to left breast of his uniform jacket. Those campaign ribbons were not awarded for pushing paper from one desk to another. One ribbon represented a Purple Heart awarded to those wounded in combat. Another was for the Bronze Star and another representing the Silver Star. My God! The man is a hero.

On his sleeve cuffs were two broad bands of gold separated by a thin one indicating his rank as a Lieutenant Commander. I knew all this because my dad was in the Navy and I grew up living on bases all over the world. When daddy retired he and mom bought a house in Orange Park just down the road from Naval Air Station Jacksonville, which was his last duty station.

Rick walked over to the bar and asked what I wanted to drink. I told him a white wine. He poured himself a bourbon over ice and brought the drinks over to the seats in front of the fireplace. Sitting in front of the fire he asked me why I was going back to Florida.

I began explaining what had happened to me. "My boyfriend, Paul, had moved to LA to try to break into the film industry. He asked me to join him and I agreed. I'm a surgical trauma room nurse so I had no trouble finding work."

"Everything was fine at first." I continued. "Then I began to see some troubling signs in our relationship. Since I was the newest person in staff I got stuck with the 4 to 11 shift. One night about five days ago we had a really bad accident victim arrive around 10:45. As luck would have it the nurse assigned to the 11PM to 7AM shift was late that evening. I found myself assisting in the operating room until well after 2AM."

"The following day she came in to work at eight in the evening and told me to go home early. She would cover the remaining part of my shift since I had stayed so late the night before. I went home hoping to surprise my boyfriend. Long story short. When I walked into the apartment I was the one who was surprised. He was on the floor of the living room pumping away on top of some blonde haired bimbo."

"Stepping around them I went into the bedroom, packed a bag and left. The following day after he left to meet with his agent I went back and removed the rest my belongings and had them shipped home. I went to the hospital, gave my notice and using my accrued vacation days left to go back home. And so here I am." I concluded.

"What about you?" I asked.

He explained to me that while he was in the hospital recovering from the injuries and wounds from his last mission he received word of his grandmother's death. He told me all about his childhood and how much she meant to him. As he told me this I saw his eyes fill with tears. I don't know why, but I went and sat next to him and hugged him. He cried on my shoulder for a few minutes.

Then he continued and told me that it wasn't too long afterward when he got the letter from his fiancee canceling the wedding and breaking the engagement.

"You know I was upset and hurt at first." He said. "Then I realized that she never really loved me. Everything revolved around her and what made her happy."

Then he told me that yesterday was the first day he was well enough to be released from the hospital and permitted to travel. To top it all off the Navy was forcing him to leave the service as being medically unfit for to serve due to his injuries.

"What will you do now?" I asked him.

"Well, I have some money in a trust fund that the trucking company had been forced to pay after being sued, on my behalf, by my grandfather. That, coupled with discharge pay and allowances, it should be enough to get me by until I can find a job." He answered.

Finishing my wine, I stood and said. "I think I want to take a bath and I need to wash out my panties and bra for tomorrow. I wish I had something to sleep in tonight though."

Standing up and walking into his bedroom he returned after some minutes with a long sleeved T-shirt and a pair of thick woolen socks.

"This might help." He said handing them to me. "Just roll the sleeves up. It should be long enough to cover . . . . ah . . . the necessary parts." He stammered.

I had just finished rinsing out my undergarments and stepping into the tub when I heard the phone ring in the other room. Thirty minutes later I was finished bathing. Putting on the T-shirt, socks and wrapping myself in the bathrobe provide by the hotel I returned to the living room.

Rick was no where to be found. I looked into the bedroom he was using saw his opened suitcase still on the bed and glancing toward the bathroom in his room I saw no light on in there.

I was just about to pick up the phone and call the front desk when I heard the chimes ring signaling the arrival of the elevator. Rick emerged pulling a suitcase . . . my suitcase.

The first thing I saw was him shivering uncontrollably. I reached for his hands and they were ice cold. He had to be warmed up quickly or he would suffer irreparable harm. I removed his uniform jacket and tie. His hands were so cold he couldn't even unbutton his shirt so I had to do that also. Walking him over to the hot tub, I removed his shoes, socks and started to remove his pants.

He mumbled something that I couldn't understand but I reminded him that I was a nurse and he didn't have anything I hadn't seen before. Once he got into the hot tub I bumped the temperature up as high as it would go. I hung his uniform up after removing his wallet, key ring and two letters placing them on the night table next to his bed. His cell phone I brought out to the living room and placed it on a table.

After several minutes his body temperature began to rise and he was able to speak.

"What happened?" I asked. I sat on the side of the hot tube with my feet in the warm water as he began to tell me what had transpired over the past forty-five minutes.

"Shortly after you started your bath, the front desk called and told me they had located your bag. I went down to retrieve it. When I asked for it they told me it wasn't there but they knew where it was. It had been delivered to the Sheridan Hotel which was just down the street."

"The owner of the bag had called the airline when he received your bag. His name was Sean O'Reilly . . . Father Sean O'Reilly a Catholic priest. He was here to perform a wedding for his niece. All of his robes and vestments were in that suitcase and he was quite concerned about it."

"So I thought. . what the heck I'll just walk over and exchange the suitcases. The hotel was less than one hundred-fifty yards away. What I didn't count on was how cold it was outside. Anyway, I went and exchanged the bags and met with the Father. He is seventy-four years old and he thanked me profusely for bringing it to him."

"Walking back here was brutal. The temperature had dropped to least minus 20 degrees and, with the snow blowing in my face, it was slow going. I did slip once or twice on the icy sidewalks. Fortunately I didn't fall."

"Why?" I asked. "Why did you go in the first place to retrieve my suitcase?"

With that he launched into a long rambling explanation of his reasons.

I had to stop him from continuing. "Really, why did you go?"

Grinning at me he confessed. "I know women don't want to be seen wearing the same outfit two days in a row . . . so"

Splashing water in his face I got up saying. "Get out of the tub. I took the liberty of ordering dinner from room service and it should be arriving shortly. Hope you like what I chose." I said, throwing him a robe to put on.

Ten minutes later we were sitting across from each other enjoying an excellent meal. Midway through it he sat back in his seat and chuckled.

"What so funny?" I asked.

"Oh." He replied. "I was just thinking that just a few short hours ago we didn't even know each other. Now here we are sitting next to each other, dressed in nothing more than bathrobes, having a late supper just like an old married couple."

I sighed and muttered under my breath. "Don't I wish it were so?"

"What did you say? I couldn't quite hear you."

Before I could reply his cell phone began to ring. I reached over to the end table it was sitting on and handed it to him. He answered and began talking to someone he called Uncle Jack explaining to him all about the flight delay and having to spend the next few days holed up waiting for the storm to pass.

Listening to the other person talk for some minutes he answered. "Yep. I know it will take at least that long to clear up the back log. So go ahead and make the arrangements, but for two. Great! I'll be expecting his call. Have him call me here at the Hilton Airport Hotel. We're in 'Suite A'. Yeah. I did say 'two' and I did say 'we'. Thanks, Uncle Jack. Give Aunt Beth a kiss and a hug for me. See you in a couple of days. Bye."

Ending the call he looked at me and said. "Let me tell you about Uncle Jack."

He's not really my uncle. When my mother and father were killed my grandfather sought out an attorney to find out if there was any legal action he could take against the driver and the trucking company. Uncle Jack, Jack Reynolds, was fresh out of law school and agreed to look into the matter on a contingency basis. He would only be paid if he sued and won the case."

"He impressed my grandfather with his tenacity and thoroughness. He managed to win a substantial amount of money for me. When it came time to settle on his fees he told grand dad he was only charging ten percent of the award and not the customary thirty to forty percent most attorneys did."

"My grand dad and Jack became quite good friends despite the difference in age. When my grand mother found out that Jack wasn't married she introduced him to the daughter of one of her friends. They hit it off really good. So good that eight months later they were married. Now he and his wife, Beth, were included in all of our family activities. They were unable to have any children of their own so I became the child in their lives. Mr. Reynolds became Uncle Jack and Mrs. Reynolds became Aunt Beth."

"Anyway, let me tell you about this call I just had with him," he continued.

"Uncle Jack reminded me that when this storm passes it will be several days, if not longer, before flights resume to anywhere near normal. That means I could be here as long as ten days. So he is arranging alternate transportation for me. You heard me tell him to make the arrangements for the two of us."

"Why would you do that for me, I asked?

With a kind of goofy look on his face he replied, "I didn't want to see you lose your suitcase . . . again."

"Oh, come on be serious with me." I responded slapping him gently on his arm.

With a straight face Rick replied. "Well, I wanted to make sure, ahhh, make sure I got my T-shirt and socks back."

"Really. You're not going to tell me. Are you?"

"OK, ok." I'll tell you." Grasping both her hands he continued. "Because . . . I . . . ahhh . . . I . . ."

Just then the hotel phone rang again. "I better answer that." He said dropping my hands.

The call was from Uncle Jack's contact at the airport. He explained that the storm was expect to blow itself out by late tomorrow afternoon. The plan was for him to arrange for us to be picked up early the day after. He would be sure to have an early departure time with flight operations. If everything went according to plan we should arrive in Jacksonville by late afternoon that day.

After telling all this to me. He just blurted out. "Because I won't abandon you here. I care about you. I'd like to make you a part of my . . . "

He didn't finish his thought when I launched myself at him with such force that he lost his balance and fell back on to the sofa with me on top me of him.

"I am so sorry. I must have tripped on the carpet or something. Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?" I asked. Quickly scampering from his lap to sit next to him.

We spent the rest of the evening talking. Actually, it was mostly me. I told him about growing up in a military family. Always moving from base to base, losing friends and making new ones along the way. He sat and really listened to me. Only interrupting to ask about something I said before encouraging me to continue. Finally, about two in the morning, we went to bed each in our own room.