A Marine of Plenty by Heather Long Page A

of introducing her to them.
    Hutch, Phelps, Camden, and Martinez from Robbie’s unit each gave her a hug. They told her stories about her brother that left her sides aching with laughter. The moment she lost her breath occurred when the entire room rose up to applaud her. As one, they gave her a gift. The men had pooled their resources to make a donation to the Toys for Tots fund in Robbie’s name. He had actively supported the charity and raised funds and toys for them whenever he had the opportunity.
    Overwhelmed, she made a point to learn the name of every single Marine involved in the effort. She also got Sergeant Hall to part with information on items—socks, playing cards, cookies, magazines, even a list of DVDs—the others might enjoy receiving in care packages. By the third shift of dinner, her gratitude and cheer turned maudlin. The Marines had devastated the turkeys, stuffing, veggies, bread, and briskets, and she’d put in fresh batches of bread when they threatened to run out. But soon it would be over and she’d pack her duffel to go home.
    She’d have to say good-bye to everyone…and to Charlie.
    They’d met just a little over twenty-four hours before, but she got it. She understood why soldiers, Marines, and veterans came home from these places and—no matter how bad it was—wanted to come back. Their unit was still there, and their people needed them.
    Robbie’s people, these brave heroes, somewhere in the last day, had become her people, too.
    I have to go home. I don’t have a choice .
    If she did, no matter how awful it all seemed, she understood—she would choose to stay.
     
    He couldn’t get her to leave the mess hall until the last Marine had eaten and the last of the dishes had been cleared away. He’d known about the fund in Robbie’s name, and he’d donated to it. The charity was the pride of the Marine Corps Reserves, and he’d been involved for years, in one aspect or another, with the rest of his family. Whoever flagged the idea as a good one to unite the men understood Marines.
    Despite the tension and the grief disturbing the ranks, raising money, the Thanksgiving dinner, and Jana’s presence all helped kick-start the healing process. Thirty-six hours before, she’d been a name on a file, the recipient of one of the hardest letters he’d ever written, and a fledgling pen pal of sorts.
    She’d become a hell a lot more than that.
    After sundown, the temperatures outside plummeted. The last of the recordings the Marines made would begin airing at home as Thanksgiving Day kicked off in the States. He imagined families gathering, food cooking, and arguments over who might win the game.
    Some of the guys headed to the media room to watch a tape-delayed game from the previous weekend, but he’d passed on it. He passed on all of it. In twelve hours, he’d lead the detail to return Jana to the air base, put her on a C-130, and get her the hell out of Afghanistan. But not for twelve more hours. She followed him to her quarters in subdued silence.
    He’d enjoyed his serving, waiting to eat what remained after everyone else—including the mess hall staff—their fill. “Thank you for today. It was a great meal.”
    “I’m glad.” Disquiet veiled her expression, and she perched on the edge of the cot, turning the helmet over and over in her hands.
    Checking the hall, he stepped inside her room and secured the door. “Are you okay?”
    “No.” She shook her head. “I’m not.”
    Guilt chewed him. Stripping out of his gear, he stacked it neatly before crossing over to sit next to her. Twice he opened his mouth to speak and twice he closed it. He didn’t have the right words to offer her.
    “I don’t regret last night.” She put one of his worries to rest. “Or this trip, really. It’s not regret at all, I don’t think.” Laughing humorlessly, she scrubbed a hand against her face. “I came here to feel closer to Robbie. I don’t know that I’ll ever take comfort in