Free Dark Creations: The Hunted (Part 4) by Jennifer Martucci, Christopher Martucci Page A

seemed to seep from him.  He felt tears build behind his eyes at first, then sting and overflow with abandon.  Years of intermittent visits with the woman he loved had not been enough.  He allowed himself the luxury of missing home, of missing her, rarely.  Compartmentalization had been essential, a necessary evil really, when confronted with the realities of self-preservation.  As a soldier, allowing himself to ruminate about his life at home when engaged in battle would have been as futile as it would have been dangerous.  Both remained as an active reason to live, as a rally cry, but that had been where it ended.  Now, however, with his wife in his arms and a child on the way, the floodgates had been broken.  Everything came rushing back.  He did not want to let go of Dawn.  He kissed her harder, held her tighter, until he realized his lips had been crushing hers, and that with his tears, came an inherent need to be as close to her as humanly possible.  She hadn’t protested, but he felt he needed to give her a chance to breathe.
    “Wow,” she said when their kiss ended. “I did miss my soldier.”
    “And I missed you.”
    She began walking slowly toward the kitchen.  He was reluctant to let go of her hand, but did.  He leaned against the molding of the entryway and watched as she opened cabinets.
    “How about some breakfast?  You must be starved,” she said as she searched cupboard shelves.  “I’ll make your favorite, French toast, if you’d like.”
    “I don’t want to inconvenience you.  Just make me whatever you were going to eat.”
    In truth, he had no idea what she ate for breakfast each morning.  He did not know of her everyday routines.  Her life was completely foreign to him.  But he looked forward to learning them, to becoming a part of them again.
    “Inconvenience me?  You’re joking right?  Babe, anything you want that I can give you is yours.  You want bacon, I’ll kill a pig myself if I have to, okay?  After everything you’ve sacrificed for your country, for me ,” she said and rubbed her hand across her swollen belly then added, “trust me, nothing is an inconvenience.”
    Her gratitude embarrassed him and he did not know why.  He had joined the military voluntarily and with full knowledge of what it entailed.  He did not expect thanks or praise, especially from his wife.  Dawn had suffered in his absence, had struggled financially.  She had given up proximity to family, friends and jobs to move from base to base, to be a soldier’s wife.  He did not feel that she owed him a thing.  In fact, he believed she was the one owed reparation.
    “Please,” he said as he closed the distance between them and grabbed a box of cold cereal from atop the refrigerator.  “This is fine, as long as you’re eating with me.”
    “You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said and took the box from his hand. 
    As she gathered bowls, spoons and the carton of milk from the refrigerator, a knock at the door startled both of them.
    “What the hell?” he said and stood up.  “Who would be here this early?”
    “Beats me,” Dawn replied, uncertainty lacing her words.
    “Stay here,” he warned her.  “I’ll get it.”
    “Jack, you don’t have to worry.  I’m safe here,” she said soothingly and smiled.
    “Be that as it may, I’m still going to answer the door, okay?  Will you stay in here please?”
    “Yes sir, Sergeant Downing,” she said jokingly.
    “I’ve only been home a few minutes and already with the wisecracks,” he joked back.  “Let me get rid of whoever this is and I’ll give you a wisecrack.”
    He wanted to engage her in some sort of flirtatious banter, but far too much time in the company of mostly men had left him without a decent repertoire of come-ons. 
    “Huh?” she asked and knit her brow in confusion.
    “I have no idea what that was supposed to mean,” he admitted.  “I was trying to flirt with my pregnant wife,” he said