Page 68 of Home Coming

But he’d already gone over his time on the computer. And when he turned to glance behind him Rich was standing in the doorway. He raised dark brows and tapped his watch with one finger.

Quinn breathed in, closed out of his inbox and said, “Sorry,” as he stood.

He had to let his friend and teammate get his time on the computer but the wait for news was going to kill him.

Modern warfare gave troops just enough access to communication with home to make them frustrated that they didn’t have more. He’d have to wait for his answers and for his turn.

Richie Rich took his place in front of the computer but Quinn didn’t leave. Instead, he asked, “You hear any news about when we’re getting out of here?”

Rich glanced over his shoulder. “You got somewhere you need to be?” A smile spread across the man’s face and he flashed white teeth at Quinn. “Or is it asomeonerather than a somewhere?”

“Smart ass,” Quinn mumbled.

“Orders will come when they come.” Rich shrugged and turned back to face the computer and Quinn left to go pout somewhere else.

A calendar hung on the wall near his bunk, nailed there by one of the guys. It had big red Xs on the days they’d been there. But it was hard to have a countdown to when they’d be home when there was no firm date of departure.

Sighing, he looked at the date. He’d missed his mother’s birthday. He really needed to get back on that computer and email her.

Thanksgiving was Thursday. They were going to miss that as well.

Turkey Day wasn’t his favorite holiday—that was Christmas—but it was easily in his top two with Halloween coming in third.

Small town living made Halloween a big deal in the neighboring town to where he’d grown up. His parents would drive him and Josie to Mudville every year and he and his sister would trick-or-treat up and down Main Street. The houses would be all decked out with skeletons and pirates and spooky clowns. The homeowners would dress up too to hand out candy.

He’d forgotten about all that until now. Until this sudden bout of homesickness.

Halloween felt completely different in Coronado.

There was no crisp chill in the air. There were parties at the bars of course where the women would come decked out in costumes worthy ofPlayboy Magazine. It seemed like every chick was looking to dress up as a sexy something. Sexy nurse, sexy pirate, sexy cat, sexy whatever. But it wasn’t the Halloween he remembered.

He glanced at the little letters on the calendar that marked Thanksgiving and envisioned what it would be like at his parents’ house without him there.

There’d be coffee and cinnamon buns in the kitchen in the morning. They’d all gather in their pajamas to wait for the start of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on television while the turkey cooked in the oven, filling the house with the aroma of the meal to come.

They’d eat the big meal early in the afternoon. Then his father would settle in his favorite chair to watch the football games on TV. Or at least try to watch until he fell asleep thanks to having a belly full of turkey.

By nightfall they’d all be hungry again. Then it would be time for hot open-faced turkey sandwiches, smothered in hot gravy. His mouth watered just thinking about it.

But alas, it was not to be. Not this year. Not for him. And not for too many years in the recent past.

He flipped the calendar page to December and there was Christmas. His favorite.

His mother would have the house decorated to the hilt, inside and out. Then she turned her attention to baking every kind of Christmas cookie known to man. The television would play a steady stream of holiday movies both old and new. And if the TV was off, seasonal music would fill the kitchen thanks to the Alexa device he’d sent her as a gift a few years ago when he hadn’t made it home for the holiday, which happened far too often.

But maybe—since his first attempt at a visit had gotten so screwed up—he could make it home for Christmas this year. It was a possibility.

He’d been granted a month’s leave. He’d gotten to take less than half that before being recalled. He could only hope command would be more sympathetic given the holiday season and their recent mission and approve another request.

Two weeks at home in December would be incredible.

He remembered the dates of Bailey’s tour listed online. It ended in December but she’d be back well before Christmas.

Would she be there at his parents’ house? Or did her newfound musical fame and album and tour also mean she’d gotten another apartment in the city?

What if she had? So what? He could drive down—or take the train. Just as a friend. That wouldn’t be weird. His family always used to go to the city to see the Rockefeller Center tree. Watch the ice skaters. Eat a hot pretzel or street cart hot dog. See the window decorations. Visit FAO Schwartz.

It was a good excuse. He just happened to be there seeing the holiday sights and decided to stop and say hi.

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