The Professional Soldier
All characters in the story are 18 years old or older.
In line with the other works, this story is a work of fiction, but it is about my wife and my suspicions of a time long ago. I wrote this one. Cagey and evasive, I've worked on her secrets throughout the years and have written things down, written stories, and generally enjoyed the discovery. This was just a story that sort of streamed out and took on a life of its own as it came together. I hope you enjoy it!
==================================
The Professional Soldier
Looking back after 30 years of marriage, the signs were surely there. Then again, there was plenty going on as well, weeks in the field, a few weeks home, and then back to the field again. Like many Army wives, that lent to a lot of alone time if one didn't have friends and, even if she did, those friends might not be the best influence.
Sometimes, though, she didn't need any help getting into the sort of trouble that contributed to that ridiculously high divorce rate. Of course, if he, I, liked it, well, divorce wasn't the only option. There could always be a trade.
This wouldn't be one of those times, a trade. In fact, I wasn't even in the field. That didn't mean business had to close up, though, did it?
She had taken the bus from our housing area early in the morning for a routine doctor's appointment, girl stuff her code words to keep me from asking questions. She always said it with a smile and I had grown up with enough sisters and a mother in the Deep South that I didn't want to know. As long as it was routine, we were good.
Living remotely, the bus usually came around 0700, seven in the morning, took everyone to post and dropped them off at the bus stop and then returned at noon when it made the next trip. The was the routine, one in the morning, the noon bus, and the last bus coming back at five in the evening. If she didn't catch the noon bus back, and missed the bus at five, she had a twelve kilometer walk ahead of her or a cab. It made for learning to be at the stop early in case the driver was being a dick.
For a doctor's appointment, she had dressed up a little, not that I saw. When I left for PT in the morning about six-fifteen, she got up, got dressed having taken a shower the night before as usual, and then headed out. But the outfit I didn't see and was outside of her norm of blue jeans and a hoodie or long coat, was a midthigh black skirt she wore when we went out sometimes, tight on her ass and legs, a sleeveless tie string top of red, and black flats. That last was normal, she not liking to walk too awful far and certainly not doing it in heels during the day on post. As an afterthought, she stopped in the bathroom and put a little lipstick on, not too red, and some eyeliner and a little mascara. With a hint of makeup on her cheeks, she enhanced herself without being obvious, her dark eyes popping and she mussing her hair just a little before grabbing a simple, black sports coat she had bought at a thrift store and pulling it on. I always liked that coat, a man's large, just a little too big for she, but always making she look like she had been a conquest and had taken the coat as payment.
The ride was uneventful, no one particularly happy to be on the bus at seven in the morning. Sitting quietly with her cup of coffee and a book under the dim, yellow lights of the interior, she kept to herself until the bus stopped and she looked up. She was there. Getting off, she made the long walk to the hospital, checked in a little before eight for her nine o'clock. The hospital was always crowded, soldiers on sick call and everyone bustling about, and she had been prepared to wait past her appointment time. But at eight-forty-five, she was surprised when they called her name. it was a short appointment, a checkup and prescription for birth control, she'd been out a couple of days, and she were out the door. Stopping at the pharmacy, she had a bag in hand and were headed back up to the PX and bookstore by nine-thirty.
Ignoring the PX, she went into the bookstore, browsed for the latest comics that we both read, found the new shipment wasn't in yet and then headed to the snack bar. Getting a biscuit and another coffee, she found a table that seated two, leaving the booths for the crowds, and sat as she pulled her book out to read. After a page or two, she looked up at a voice.
"Mind if I take this chair? Ain't nowhere else to sit."
Looking up, she saw a handsome man, she performed the normal checks all Soldiers and dependents did, face, rank on the collar of the BDU's, nametag. Conner. His face told she he was in his mid to late twenties, an outdoorsman from the tanned slightly burned skin, the sparkling blue eyes popping against the skin under the spiky dirty blonde hair. He wore a crooked grin she'd come to associate with me and other Southern guys she'd met and he had an attitude, a stance about him that she recognized and liked. It was sexy.
"Uh...sure."
This wasn't uncommon in the crowded PX, Baumholder not known for its amenities. It was a big post with few of those, but everyone made do and sometimes that meant sitting at a table with a stranger. Strangers didn't stay that way for long in the Army. Either you clashed or bonded and quickly, your best friend now across from you ten minutes after you met only to part ways and never see each other again. It was something it was hard to explain to those not associated with the military and eventually she quit trying.
SGT Conner was no different with an easy manner and that Southern smile as he ate his late breakfast and chatted her up. Putting her book aside, out of interest instead of just being polite, she engaged him in conversation, but not asking his unit, where he lived, or anything else personal. As for names, she didn't use his and he didn't ask hers, initially anyways. It was just breakfast. But he did have a question.
"You're dressed awful nice. You headed somewhere?"
"Just back to our quarters. I took the bus to Baumholder. I don't live on post."
"Wow, you have like two hours until the bus comes. You want a ride?"
"I'm used to waiting and you probably have to get back to duty." She didn't mean to probe, but it was a probing question, nonetheless. Innocent, but there it was.
"Nah, I'm off for the rest of the day. Thought I'd grab a bite and then find something to do. I've got plenty of time to kill."
"Oh! Um..."
She looked at him again, had seen him standing there, he of a type that she liked, taller than me at a hair under six feet, slender, not so much as me, something in the shoulders and the chest, narrow hips from what she could see in the BDU's, and that damnable smile.
"It's ok. I understand." He grinned crookedly. "I mean, you're married and all." He said looking at her wedding band.
"Oh, it's not that. Sure, I'll take a ride. No hurry." She said and looked at his plate as he lifted the last bite and smiled around it as he politely chewed, impeccable manners she'd grown used to living with me. She called it a Southern thing we were taught in the crib and it wasn't far from the truth.
He finished the bite quickly and took a drink of his Coke and then smiled as he stood up and offered her a hand.
"Shall we?"
She took it without looking around, grabbed her book and bag, and stood up. Long ago, she'd started carrying a wallet since ID was required all the time and digging through a purse was a pain in the ass.
Stopping by the restroom, he was out before her and had picked up another Coke and a Diet Coke for her, she finding him getting straws and then following him out to the back of the parking lot where, not at all a surprise, he led her to a beat-up BMW, he probably the fifth or tenth or twentieth person to own it. It was cheap, passed from one soldier to another with $500 exchanged, give or take, until the Soldier left for another assignment and sold it to the next guy. It made her smile as he opened the door, it protesting the whole way, but he only apologizing by way of a crooked grin and one shoulder shrug.
Getting in, he handed her the Diet Coke after she buckled up and then went around and hopped in. Buckling up as well, he started up the car with relative ease and then shifted the stick shift into gear and was soon driving slowly towards the back gate.
"You're running early. Want to take the scenic route?"
"Sure. I'm in no hurry." She replied. It wasn't an issue. Even on the bus, we'd miss each other for lunch, so what was the hurry.
This part of Germany had mountains, hills, steep slopes and deep inclines and there was sometimes only one road to go down. But after passing the main town, there were more options and he took them, driving them around for about an hour or more before coming down the backside of the hill where the housing was located. Just as he was about to round the last turn, she asked what time it was.
"Eleven-thirty. Why?"
"Pull over there on the gravel."
The gravel was on the right of the road in the ninety-degree turn that had a steep incline that rolled down into the housing units with the senior officers the first building on the left, all the others across the street. Sitting at the top of the hill, trees on the right, they on the gravel, the road after the turn parallel to them on the left, they had a commanding view down the road and to the left over the unit, but couldn't see the housing on the right.
As the car idled, he looked at her, but her eyes were down the hill, only widening slightly to make him turn his head and look. There, a figure walked across the road towards the housing, across the street, and then disappeared from view to the right. Looking back over at her, she seemed to let out a breath she'd been holding and then looked at him.
"Your husband?" a smile played at his lips and he raised both eyebrows as she looked at him, animated over breakfast, but her face expressionless now, maybe a little pale.
"Yeah. He's heading home for lunch."
"Well, I could just drop you off. I mean..."
"He'd wonder how I got home without taking the bus. And..." she took a breath and then added, "And I thought I'd invite you in for a drink, Coke or beer if you want, to say thank you."
"Oh." Was all he said to that. And then he asked, "How long is lunch?"
"He goes back at one...thirteen hundred. Well, a little before so he isn't late. Twelve-thirty or so."
"That's not bad. About an hour. You want to drive or just wait?"