An Angel's Wish

He unzipped the front pouch of his pack and reached inside. It was yellowed a bit. There were even a few stains and the edges were slightly frayed, but he had carried it with him. It had been one of the few things he had packed that night after his parents went to bed exhausted from the ordeal of bailing him out of the county jail.

He had felt guilty about the money he knew they would lose, but he was more worried about what might happen if he stayed. Not jail, that did not bother him. This night though had shown him the hard truth, it was not safe to be around him. Those kids were lucky, a couple of stitches were nothing compared to the damage he could have done. But the look in his Mama's eyes as the deputy had handcuffed him and stuffed him in the back of his car had woken him up.

They would all be better off without him. At first he had toyed with the ultimate solution, but he could not do that to his parents or his children. Instead he had written a letter and left it on the kitchen counter near the coffee pot. Then he had taken his old pack and the tiny two-man tent that he had bought to go camping with his son and slipped from their East Texas home.

That letter had travelled all over the country with him as he walked and sometimes hitchhiked around it. He fingered the neatly written lettering on the front, maybe it was even what had drawn him back to this place. He did not know. All he knew was that he finally had the chance to do what he had promised that young man over a decade before.

For once, he had the chance to keep a promise. To make something right. He looked up as the young woman began to push her daughter's wheelchair down the ramp...well, as right as he could anyway.

****

Keisha was a bit surprised when the man stepped from the shadows of the church to assist with putting the chair in the back of the car once more. She nodded gratefully as she buckled a half sleeping little girl into her specially designed booster seat that helped to hold her weak back erect. "Thank you," she whispered as she finished strapping Bree in.

When she turned back the man had finished, he had even been so thoughtful as to not slam the door closed when done. But now with the night coming to a climax and her blessed angel drifting off to heaven, she was intensely uncomfortable, especially after his strange behavior in the church.

She too had been a bit emotionally raw from the powerful words sung in such an angelic voice. The whole damned place had been. Until the loud thump of this man literally falling into the pew behind him. To the point that it had rocked backwards and Keisha had been afraid for a moment it would topple over. She had reached out to grab it.

He had stared up at her...something truly frightening in those sad, but kind eyes. Then before she could say anything he was gone, running almost from the building. The pastor had frozen staring at the large wooden double doors as they slammed shut loudly. After a moment he had cleared his throat and thanked Bree for the song as he said, "Join me in prayer, please."

And for the first time since that day, Keisha had done just that...though not to her father's vengeful and cruel god. Or even the benevolent and accepting one that her neighbor tried to occasionally speak to her about. She had not even called on Bryan this time. No, she had merely asked...whatever or whoever was out there to be with him...with them all.

She sighed and forced a smile, "Thank you for tonight. For granting her wish. I know it may have seemed..." She searched for the right word but all she could come up with was... "Crazy. But it meant so much to her."

She shifted nervously, uncertain what else to say or do, "Can I give you a lift somewhere? Take you back downtown? Or wherever you..." The word 'live' froze in her throat. Could homeless people really 'live' anywhere?

Maybe a part of it was also a reminder of just how precarious their own existence was. Even with her job and Bree's disability, they barely had enough money after paying the bills each month to buy gas and food. She patted the purse beneath her arm subconsciously.

Three hundred dollars...over three hundred precious dollars those people had pressed into hers or Bree's hand at the end of the night. It might not seem like much to some people, but it was a small fortune to them. A nest egg. The first she had ever had. A tiny cushion if something broke on the car or Bree was sick for a day or two and she could not work. It seemed so little, but was such a miracle to her.

What happened next though eclipsed even that as the man held out an envelope. She recognized the writing immediately from the few letters that Bryan had sent her over those years...before and after they...

"How? I don't understand..." she stammered as she collapsed against the car. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the envelope like some ancient piece of art or fragile text that might crumble and its beauty be lost to mankind forever.

"Merry Christmas, Keisha," the man said as he placed it in the palm of her hand, squeezing her fingers about it so that she did not drop it. Then he turned and walked away into the night.

****

Travis walked. He just marched. It was like that naïve, gung-ho kid on Parris Island. He was simply following some unspoken command. Marching not through smelly swamps or mosquito infested beaches with the waves sucking at and pulling at his boots, trying to draw him beneath the waves.

That was what it felt like. Life had drawn him beneath its waves for too long. Suddenly, he had broken free of the rip tides and made it to the surface. He was sucking in air to oxygen starved lungs and it burned like hell. Coming back to life hurt. It hurt more than just dying. It fucking hurt so much.

So fucking much that a part of him was tempted to give up, to just slip back into the safe, malaise of those strong tides that had held him down for so long.

But he could not. He had been given what so few people got...a second chance. It was some of kind of miracle. This chance to give the woman that letter...to complete a mission...to keep one promise he made to one of his own.

It felt good. He felt better than he had in years. Better than he had even before that day. Yes, the man's life still rested on his conscious...his and all the others. So many others.

He was amazed that something so simple could make such a difference though. It just did not make sense. Did not seem possible.

But it was. He was still homeless. He was still estranged from everyone that had ever meant anything to him. But he had done something worthwhile for the first time in forever it seemed. More importantly this time he had not failed.

Tears flowed. Tears for Corporal Bryan Moultrie. Tears for the man's precious little angel. Tears for the woman, Keisha Jackson, who had been nothing more than a neatly written name on an envelope before today. Tears for all the men he had lost that day. Each name rolled instantly off his tongue as their faces too flashed through his mind. Tears for others that he had lost before and since then.

Finally, just when he thought he could cry no more, Second Lieutenant Darren Highsmith. The kid had lost it that day. Sure, he might have survived the battle of Fallujah, but his mind had not. He had spent the next decade with a bottle in one hand and a needle in the other arm.

Until that morning when he was coming down from a bad trip, when Travis had been just a microsecond too slow to keep the man from jumping in front of the train. And he had failed...and lost another of his men.

Travis cried more tears for the kid that had been his commanding officer that day. Barely out of college and full of himself. It had been too much. Hell, it was too much for him and he had been older, wiser, seen other battles for those nasty, bloody, sweat-filled days and nights. Days that stretched into weeks and then into an eternity of living hell for some of them.

Exhausted, it was the middle of the night. That time, which poets called the darkest before the dawn. Travis sat down. A bench at a bus stop. He was not even sure where he was. He just sat and cried. Without shame. He cried for all of them. For all that had happened and all that never would.

It poured like pus from a putrid wound.

****

Keisha leaned forward on the steering wheel as her SUV crawled along the deserted streets. She dared not go any faster the way her vision blurred with tears that had not stopped in hours.

Thankfully Bree had slept through all of it. Even her brief stop to fill her tank with gasoline and grab a cup of coffee. She was just not sure what she would say to her child. Why it was so important that she find the man. But she knew she had to, even if she had no idea what to say to him when she did.

That letter. It had changed nothing...and everything for her. Bryan was still dead. She was still a single mother, raising their challenged but perfect daughter all on her own without the help of either of their families.

His words though had reached across time and lifted her up. To know that once had meant as much to him as it had her. Of course, she had always believed that, but to see it, written in his own words, his writing, had been more than she had ever dreamt possible.

And he had given her that. His sergeant, the man that Bryan simply called Gunny.The man had carried that letter for a decade. Why? And how had Fate brought him of all people to them?

She had no idea what time it was or even what part of town she was in, but that did not matter. All that mattered was one more Christmas miracle...finding the man that had given her such a special gift.

She might have missed him crouched on the bench had it not been for Bree moving and crying out in her sleep. It had caused Keisha to stop the SUV abruptly and look in the rear view mirror to check on her child. She had gone right past him through her tears, but once more her angel saved the day as she caught sight of him. She sighed as she turned and confirmed for herself that it was him.

Then she began to slowly back up the car until she was next to his still form. When she did, she saw that his head was down, almost touching his chest. For a moment, she was worried that something was wrong, then she saw the rapid rise and fall as he breathed. She opened the passenger side window, "Get in, Gunny."

Keisha knew her visions was blurred when she thought she saw tears running down his cheeks too. He opened his mouth as if to argue but then shrugged his broad shoulders and picked up the pack. He opened the door and climbed in, looking out the window the whole time.

"Where to?" she asked.

"Home, I guess," he mumbled.

****

Home? What a strange word, Travis thought. Growing up, he had never questioned what it meant or where he belonged.

Then for fifteen years the Corps had been his home and family. Even more than Kathy and the kids. Maybe that had not been fair to her, maybe that was why they had grown apart and ultimately divorced. Just that he had been deployed more than he was with them it seemed.

When he was discharged...well, it was already too late it seemed. They had grown up or away. And he had changed. He was lost it seemed without a GPS, compass or even the stars to lead him home.

And now?

How could so much change so quickly? Especially inside of him.

Oh, he was not deluding himself, he was not the man they had once loved. He probably never would be again, but for the first time in so long he could not even remember, he felt like a man again. A human. And he longed to just hear their voice.

"I really hate to ask. You have done so much for me already. But is there any chance I can use your phone? I'll keep it brief. You have my word."

He forced himself to look over at the young woman for the first time since he had gotten in the car, "Please, ma'am."

She shook her head and smiled as tears slid down her cheeks, "Talk as long as you want. I owe you more than I can ever repay," she said as she reached into the console and passed her cell phone to him.

He stared at it for a long moment. Who did he call? Chances were slim that Kathy even had the same number. Even if she did, she would not want to talk to him. His teenage daughters, either. And the little man? Did he even have a right to call the boy his son? He had just walked away. Left him with nothing more than a note that the kid could not yet read.

His chest tightened at the enormity and repercussions of his choices and actions. Any other time he might have given up. Said fuck it. And just returned to the streets. Not now.

He had been given a second chance. Something that Corporal Bryan Moultrie and Second Lieutenant Darren Highsmith and all those other names in his head that he could never forget never would be given.

So even if the odds were against him, even if this was an uphill battle, it would not be the first one he had fought. He was a U S Marine, after all. And surrender did not come natural to them. Ooh-rah! Get'em Devil Dogs, he thought as he instead pressed in the one number that unless something desperate had happened, he knew would still be working. The same one that his mother had taught him before sending him off to kindergarten.

He waited as it rang...and rang...and rang some more. He was just about to hang up when the chirpy voice of his mother came on. He smiled and felt his heart leap in his chest at the familiar sound of her Texas Twang.

Then his brows knit together as he realized that it was just a recording. He debated what to do. Maybe this just was not meant to be. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he should get into one of those programs that the police, who hassled them were always trying to refer them to. Get his life a bit more on track before he brought his family into this. Just look how it had ended the last time they tried to help him.

He was about to push the button to disconnect as the tone rang, "Hey, Mom. Dad. It's me, Trav. You are probably at church or something. I don't even know why I'm bothering you. I guess I just wanted to say...Merry Christ..."

His throat was tight and he knew he was babbling like a kid. He should hang up. Save the woman some money, but somehow the sound of his Mama's voice just stuck with him. "Merry Christmas and I love you," he had pulled the phone away from his ear and was about to push that button when he heard...

"Travis? Trav, is that really you, boy?"

His father sounded tired, older than he remembered. An old man even. Travis certainly felt like one as he brought the phone back to his ear. "Yeah, Dad, it's me..."

****

Keisha tried not to listen in, but that was hard to do in the confines of the vehicle. She only caught one side of the conversation, of course, but what she heard did not sound good.

"Yeah, Dad, I understand. No, it isn't that. It is just..."

"No, please, that will be expensive. I don't want you spending your money like that. Just give me a few days, I will see what I can do. I can get the money for a bus maybe. I'll figure something out..."

His shoulders slumped then and he turned back towards the window. She heard the thickness in his voice when he spoke again, "All right, Dad. If you're sure. I'll get there somehow. Don't you worry. I will make the airport by noon if I have to walk there..."

There was another long pause before the man spoke again, "Yeah, Dad. It'll be good to see you again too. I just wish..." Keisha watched as his broad back shuddered, "I'm sorry, Daddy. Sorry, I haven't been able to be there to help you with Mama. I'll do whatever I can...and you have my word I will get there. Just tell Mama to hang on...please."

The final bit was clearly said through tears and Keisha wanted nothing more than to sink into her seat. Disappear and give the man some privacy, his dignity back. After all, he had given her so much more this night. He had given her the best gift of all...closure.

"I love you both and I'll see you soon," he said as he pushed the button. He kept his back to her for a long moment. She knew he was trying to compose himself and she would give him as much time as he needed.

At last he turned and held out the phone, she motioned for him to put it back on the console. "I'm sorry, but it was hard not to overhear. Do you need a lift to the airport?"

The man shook his head, "No, ma'am. I can't ask that of you. You and that little angel have already done so much for me already today. If you can just let me out somewhere downtown, I can try and catch a bus or train there."

She shook her head as tears welled back up in her eyes, "Done so much for you? A few dollars' worth of old clothes, a shower and hot meal. What is that?" She fought to keep the tears from becoming the flood of body shaking sobs that they had been when she first read Bryan's letter.

That was how she had lost the man to begin with. She had been so paralyzed with tears that she had not been able to move off the cold concrete next to her car for over half an hour.

Until at last the pastor had found her as he was closing up the church. He had been genuinely concerned for her and for Bree, but she had insisted that she would be fine. Had he seen the direction her guest had headed though.

But he had not been any help. So she had spent hours driving around with a sleeping child in the back of the car looking for a stranger...a homeless Marine.

She stemmed the tide long enough to continue, "No, Gunny." She paused and forced a smile, "I am sorry."

The man smiled, perhaps the first one in years from the tightness around his mouth, "I don't know why I didn't see it sooner. Her eyes and smile. She looks like him. I did not know the man that well. He had just been promoted to Corporal and under my direct command when we got the orders..."

He paused and looked down, "None of that matters much. But from what I did know of the man he was a good one. And I know he was a damned fine Marine. A couple of his men went home to their families because of him. I'm just sorry..."

He turned back away and looked out the window as he inhaled deeply before speaking again, "I'm sorry that he never got to see his own. To meet the little angel."

She knew this man was a stranger. A homeless man. But that did not matter. They shared a pain as she reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, "Me too, Gunny. Me too."

He turned back to face her and there was no denying the tears that clouded his eyes as he placed his hand over hers, "Thank you, ma'am."

"No, thank you. Thank you for keeping that promise. Thank you for holding onto that letter all these years. Thank you for the best Christmas present of all...hope." She pulled her hand away reluctantly and used the back of it to brush the tears away casually, "But if you think I'm dropping you off and just hoping you make it to that airport in time, then you have another think coming." She laughed to try and lighten the mood a bit.

The man looked at the time on the clock on her dashboard and in the back seat at her sleeping daughter, "I hate asking you for anything else, ma'am. And if it were for me, I wouldn't, but we have loads of time before I have to catch that plane to Dallas. Would you mind if we made just one more stop on the way there?"

****

Trav frowned. What had he been thinking, bringing them here? The freeway underpass where the homeless lived was no place for a lady and little girl. He thought about leaving them in the car while he ran the sleeping bag to G. I. Joe and said his good-byes to the old man. He felt guilty as hell leaving him and Steve on their own out here. He had been protecting and feeding them for close to three months now.

But he really had no choice. His mother was dying. The breast cancer that had been in remission when he left three years ago had come back. This time there was no hope. In fact, she had been in hospice care for weeks now. The nurses said it would be a miracle if she lived to see the New Year. He had let them down too...but he would not this time. He would make it home and spend what time she had left together.