Page 6 of Destiny Reclaimed
The front door to the house flung open. His mother screamed his name and ran toward him, arms wide open. His father trailed her. Jack dropped his duffle bag, nodded to his dad, and squeezed his mom as if his life depended on it. Familiar warmth, comfort, and love seeped into his body, calming him, reminding him everything was going to be okay. Her hold was nothing short of amazing. Tears pooled in his eyes.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe you are home,” she exclaimed as she inched back. She placed her tiny, warm hands on his cheeks. “I can’t believe it.”
“Me either,” his father added.
The shake in the normally strong voice tugged at Jack’s heartstrings.
His mom stepped back and his dad stepped in. Right there in front of God and everyone, the man hugged him. He loved his parents, but they’d never been huggers. Not until now.
His mother rubbed her hands together. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”
He re-shouldered the duffle and followed his parents into the house. The scent of bacon wafted into his nostrils and unleashed good memories of a typical Sunday from his childhood. Church, Sunday school, visiting in the parish hall, and then breakfast, just the three of them.
Jack dropped the bag by the foot of the open staircase, then slipped out of his Army issued coat, and draped it over the rail.
“Are you hungry? We just finished eating, but I can make more.” That’s the generous, accommodating woman he remembered.
She touched his shoulder. “We had pancakes and bacon. How would you like that? Or, I can make you some eggs. Whatever you want.” Nervous energy shook her voice.
“For crying out loud, Ruth. Take a breath. Give the man two seconds to think,” his father urged.
His mom ground her hands onto her hips and flashed her husband the death-stare. Even that was a welcomed sight. Nothing had changed in the couple of years he’d been gone. This was exactly what he’d hoped to return to—normalcy.
“I can’t help it. I’m so excited to have our son home.”
His dad chuckled, walked over to his wife, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sorry dear, me, too.”
The way his parents stared with pride filled his heart. They of all people knew what it was like to return from war. They hadn’t been combat soldiers, but they’d seen enough to probably know how he felt.
During World War I, his parents had served as ambulance drivers. At seventeen, his father had lied about his age so the ambulance service would take him. Both, willingly entered danger zones to transport wounded soldiers to surgical units. After returning from WWI his dad enrolled in college and then served as a field medic in WWII, at that time he was in his early forties. In Korea, he served as a surgeon.
Countless lives were saved by his parents. If not for the ambulance service, they probably wouldn't have met. Especially seeing as his mom was born in England and his father in the United States. His dad was the reason his mother immigrated to the states. The rest was history.
His mom spun and walked over to the refrigerator, yanked open the door, and grabbed a carton of eggs and a small white package. God, he hoped that white paper package was full of sage-flavored sausage patties from Larson's Meat Market. He'd dreamed of those for the past two years. Nobody made sausage like old man Larson. His mouth watered the second the aroma wafted into his nostrils.
She fired up the gas stove and popped three patties into a small cast iron pan, then glanced over her shoulder at him. The corners of her mouth lifted. "Still your favorite, I assume," she said with a wink just like she'd done when he was eight years old.
"Yes, ma'am."
She scrambled the eggs with a little milk and sprinkled them with cheddar cheese then buttered the toast that had popped up.
The whole while she worked, he stared at her from where he’d taken a seat at the old wooden table, occasionally shifting his focus to his dad as he got him up to speed in regard to the current happenings in town.
His mom set the plate in front of him along with a cup of aroma-rich black coffee. He almost cried at the gesture and sight. These little things were exactly what he missed so much the past couple of years.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I couldn't be better," Jack replied as he picked up the fork.
He felt a bit self-conscious as he ate, with his parents staring silently at him. Truth be told, he wasn't surprised by the silence, neither of his parents were big talkers. They were quiet, selfless, modest people, and he loved them for it.
His mother leaned forward, took a sip of coffee, and then cleared her throat. "So, does Gwendoline know you are home?"
Jack set the fork down. "I'm sorry. I didn't write her either." Guilt caused him to swing his gaze to the wall, and he took a moment to collect his thoughts before refocusing on her. "I just felt like I needed some time to decompress by myself before coming home. I do want to see her as soon as possible but..."
"She's been waiting for you," his mother blurted. "This whole time there's been no one else."
Relief sifted through him. He'd never received aDear Johnletter from his beloved Gwennie, but he'd been gone so long a part of him feared she may have found someone else, or maybe would have realized he wasn't the man for her even though she'd promised him she'd wait.
