CHAPTER ONE
"It's a tradition," Esther reminded herself as she pulled the box from the top shelf. For twenty-five years, since her son Tommy was just two, she had decorated their house from top to bottom with ghosts, vampires and ghouls of all shapes and sizes. She, herself, would dress as a gypsy and read the cards for children of all ages in the neighborhood. She spent days before the annual event preparing homemade cookies, rice crispies snacks, caramel apples, the works.
But this year, it all seemed too much. Just another reminder of the fact that her son was gone. An IED they said. In a land thousands of miles from their small Texas hometown. A place she knew little about. Somewhere she would never see. It all seemed so unfair. So senseless.
All she had left of him now was a gravestone that she visited almost daily and the flag folded neatly, sealed in a plastic bag. Occasionally, she would receive an email from his sergeant or one of his friends. Men who had shared his live and passion for defending this country. She would laugh or cry, sometimes both, at their stories of Tommy. But the hard truth was she was alone in this world now.
The loud knocking startled her. She almost lost her balance on the small ladder on which she stood. "Damn," she cursed. "I'm coming," she yelled as she stepped down. "Who the hell can that be?"
She was not expecting anyone this late on a Friday evening. Most of the town would be at the high school. Football was after all the second religion in this part of the world.
Tommy had been the starting quarterback; earning a full scholarship to college for his efforts. It had been a load off her mind. His college fund had been paltry at best. Saving money was hard for a single parent, whose salary as a teacher barely stretched to cover the mortgage, car payments, food and the few extras she could afford to give her only child.
She padded barefoot across the rough wood floors, down the hallway and into the dark living room. She did not bother turning on the table lamp, instead she flipped the switch on the wall that flooded the front porch with light.
Her heart froze in her chest. When it finally restarted, its pace was twice as fast as usual. Its pounding was so loud that she could not hear herself think. Her chest felt as tight as it had that day.
The day when she had opened this same door to find the pastor from the local Methodist church that she occasionally attended over the years and a man adorned in the bright red and blue uniform of the US Marine Corps.
This was not the same Marine. In fact, he was not even wearing a uniform, but his shortly cropped hair and stance would have given him away, even if she did not know him. But she immediately recognized him; she would know this man anywhere.
Staff Sergeant Michael O'Malley. She had seen his face in dozens of photographs that Tommy sent and emailed from Iraq. She could not even begin to count the number of times she read or heard, "Sergeant Mike says this or did that." So much so that she felt that she knew this man.
But she had never expected to meet him personally.
It was his email that had arrived a couple of days after that fateful visit that had brought her the most comfort. His praise of Tommy's character, his bravery in the face of combat and his final thoughts of her had touched her aching and broken heart, brought tears to her eyes and given her courage to face the funeral that was just hours away.
Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the door handle. She squared her shoulders and faced the man that was both friend and stranger. "Sergeant O'Malley, what brings you to Texas?" she asked.
The man looked uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, scuffing his boot against the chipping grey paint. "Well, Ma'am, I'm sort of taking a tour of this great country of ours. I'm visiting a few old," he paused as if uncertain what to say. Esther swore that the pink of his cheeks spread to the very tips of his ears before he finally finished.
"Old friends I guess. Men, I've served with over the years. Or their families, Ma'am. I know that you will be especially busy this time of year," he said spreading his hand towards the pumpkins that sat uncut in the corner of the porch. "Tommy always talked about the big Halloween party you throw for all the kiddies. I thought maybe you could use an extra pair of hands and a strong back."
Esther flipped the hook latch on the screen door, pushing it open wide. "I'm sorry for my bad manners, Sergeant. Please come in." She stepped back as the man passed, motioning for him to take a seat on the coach that sat against the wall. She turned on the lamp that sat next to the couch. Its warm glow filled the room.
"Thank you, Ma'am. I don't mean to be any trouble. And I'm real sorry if I caught you at a bad time," he said as he took a seat.
Esther swallowed back the pain. How could she explain that every day was a bad time? But instead she simply lied, "No, Sergeant, I was just starting to get things ready. I'm afraid I'm a bit behind schedule this year," she said.
He nodded. "Tommy told us all about the hard work that you put into everything. I know he loved your Halloween, Ma'am."
The familiar tightness threatened to stop her heart once more as she choked back tears. "Can I get you something to drink, Sergeant? An iced tea? Some water? I think I might have a soda in the back of the fridge." She sought an escape. A moment to collect herself. Away from this man, this reminder of her son.
"Some of your famous iced tea would be nice, Ma'am," he replied.
Esther beat a hasty retreat to the warmth of the lemon yellow kitchen that stood off of the living room. It seemed suddenly very small; compared to the larger than life man whose presence filled every corner of her living room.
She leaned against the cold porcelain of the sink for a moment. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared out the window at the stars twinkling in the dark Texas sky. She often looked up at those stars and wondered if somewhere out there her son's spirit looked down on her still. She liked to hope so, even though she had long since given up any religious belief in heaven or hell. Life was hard enough to endure.
She gathered her strength and reached for the cupboard knob, pulling a large glass from the shelf. She turned in the tight confines of the kitchen, opening the freezer door and pulling out a tray of ice.
A couple of tears spilled over the rims of her dark eyes as she brook the ice, the large drops freezing instantly as they dropped onto the frozen rectangles. Placing the tray back in the freezer, she opened the fridge and removed the large glass pitcher half filled with the sweet confection. She hoped it was sweet enough to cover the saltiness of the tears that refused to be checked.
She reached across the counter and grabbed a dish cloth, passing it across her face to dry their residue. She hope that the dim light of the living room would be kind and cover the red, puffiness of her eyes.
But it made no difference. If this man could find the courage to come all this way, then she would find the strength to face him. She gathered as much of that strength as she could muster and turned, heading back into the living room.
His broad back was to her when she entered the living room. He was standing near the old fireplace. He held a silver frame in his large hands. She knew that it was the picture of Tommy's college graduation. A friend had taken the photograph of the two of them on the proudest day of her life, just days before Tommy had left for basic training.
Esther took a moment to examine the man. He was even more impressive in person than he had been in the photographs. His hair was short still, but its black and silver strands were longer than regulation, she was certain.
