so much about Hunter. He was a good kid.
“Mom, I got it,” Hunter said. “Stop stressing about me.” Still, he lifted his head so she could drop a goodbye kiss on his cheek.
“Have him home before bedtime,” Maxine called out, but nobody in the Lexus seemed to hear her over the Barry Manilow CDs Cessy played constantly at high decibels.
As Maxine stood in the doorway, watching them drive away, a wave of loneliness swept over her. In the early mornings, when it was still dark outside, she loved the solitude as she creamed the butter and sugar in the warm industrial bakery kitchen, no sounds intruding to penetrate her thoughts. But she hated the empty feeling that engulfed her when that same silence enveloped her in the afternoons and evenings, when the outside sounds were a constant buzz of activity and a reminder that families everywhere were coming together to share the ups and downs of their days.
Normally, she would run upstairs to change into her workout clothes. She and her two best friends, Kylie and Mia, had a standing yoga date every Thursday evening. Afterward, they would have a dish session over dinner at their favorite local Italian place. She might not have the family home life she had always hoped for, but she’d sure done a fabulous job of creating a different sort of family—even if it was nontraditional.
However, now that she had met Cooper in person, her girlfriends would have to wait. Or she could call them and have them meet her here for an emergency strategy session.
She checked her watch. She had time to read just a few letters, so she went straight toward Hunter’s room. On the bulletin board above his desk, she recognized the photo she hadn’t given a second thought to when it’d arrived with the initial letter. In his camouflage uniform and helmet, he looked just like any other marine on duty.
But at some point in the past few months, that picture had been affixed right on top of an old copy of the Sugar Falls Advocate article Cessy had given her grandson about high school tight end Bo Walker.
Cessy wouldn’t like that placement too much.
A stack of APO addressed envelopes sat in a loose pile on top of the Harry Potter book that the school library had called about last week. Hunter had assured her he’d returned it on time, but maybe Maxine should’ve been checking his desk more often.
When she was one of seven siblings growing up in the cramped quarters of base housing, she’d promised herself that when she had kids of her own, they’d have privacy. She’d respect their boundaries.
But this was different. Wasn’t it? She had a parental obligation to learn more about who her son wanted to spend time with. Besides, it wasn’t as if Hunter kept to himself about these things. If it were up to him, he’d be shouting from the Victorian rooftops along Snowflake Boulevard about being the fifth grader with the coolest pen pal.
She looked at the postmarks until she found the one dated in September. That must be the first one. There was a picture still inside the envelope. She pulled out the photo and studied the desert camouflage of his uniform and the high and tight haircut of his dark hair. She’d seen enough military uniforms to last her a lifetime. Soldiers usually all looked the same to her. But the guy kneeling next to the dog seemed different. Maybe because she’d already seen that handsome face and strong jaw in person.
He wasn’t smiling in the shot, but his arm was looped around the neck of a shaggy red dog, and his black Ray Bans were propped on his forehead. Something about the sadness in the marine’s eyes called out to her, and she fingered the photo along the hardened chin as if she could force him to smile.
There was a loneliness reflected in his gaze that struck something deep inside her. Gunny Sergeant Matthew Cooper, huh? She pulled out the letter and started reading.
28 Sept.
Dear Hunter,
I’m a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps and I work as an MP, which is military police. I don’t fly jets or drive tanks, but I do have my own patrol Humvee and get to arrest terrorists and other soldiers who break the laws. I enclosed a picture of me with Helix, a stray dog my squadron adopted off the streets of Helmand province. I’m trying to train him to be a K9, but he doesn’t seem to want to do anything but eat MREs and hide under my bunk to sleep.
I’m impressed with your knowledge of assault aircraft and vehicles. Does your mom know you research all this? Also, I doubt your friend Jake’s cousin is a real fighter pilot if he is in the Coast Guard. That branch of the military doesn’t use those kinds of jets. Plus, it takes a long time to become a pilot, and 18 seems a bit young. Sometimes, kids make things seem bigger and better so they can show off to other kids.
Let’s see, some of the other stuff you asked about me... I’m a man, I like baseball, but I played more basketball when I was in school because I grew up in Michigan, and there were more hoops around my neighborhood. Plus, playing basketball was free. When I watch baseball, I like the Detroit Tigers best, but I don’t know much of their stats. I don’t really like the UFC. I’ve seen enough fighting in my life that I don’t want to watch it for fun.
I guess it would be pretty cool to have a mom who makes so many cookies, but I hope you eat lots of healthy foods, too. You said your mom doesn’t let you play sports, but remember that as a growing boy, you still need to get exercise in some way. We marines are required to keep fit every day. It’s called PT—physical training.
Take care,
GySgt Cooper
Maxine read that first letter, then a few of the others, before taking a break to run out to the kitchen to pour a glass of chardonnay. Together, the letters gave her a little more insight to the man who would take the time to train a stray dog and write regularly to a fatherless boy.
She brought the wine back to Hunter’s room and set her glass next to the keyboard. Hunter had asked permission to email Cooper back in November and Maxine had given her blessing, knowing that she could monitor the emails easily with the parental control program she’d installed. Even though she felt like a voyeur spying on their relationship, she had to remind herself that Hunter would’ve been willing to show her the correspondence, had she not wanted to be alone to mull over everything.
After minimizing the screen, she scrolled through all the prior email attachments that had pictures of Cooper. One of the photos showed him holding some type of foil-wrapped food package above his head. A dog—not Helix—was jumping vertically into the air trying to get it. He was laughing at the dog, his mouth open and head thrown back.
From what Maxine had pieced together from the emails, the man had recently lost his dog in some type of bombing incident. Poor guy.
She scrolled through a few more and paused at one of the shots of him not wearing his customary sunglasses. She had to admit that he was good-looking in a tough, military sort of way.
Who was she kidding? The man was good-looking just off his long flight with beard stubble, jet lag and a bum leg. Of course he’d be even more handsome in uniform. She’d never been attracted to those types, though. They represented everything she’d tried to get away from during her childhood.
But somehow Cooper seemed different. He didn’t really look as if he fit the military mold despite the regulation haircut. And mercy, Kylie was right—he really was hot. His running shorts showed off tan, well-muscled legs. She could see the outline of his washboard abs through his beige T-shirt.
It could just be the wine warming her up, but something pulsed in her
