Free His Road Home by Anna Richland Page A

people together , and one bad day getting blown up. After the personal challenge of relearning basic life skills , my goal is to help others conquer obstacles. He recognized the cliché . Please consider me for admission as a transfer student in Medical Anthropology and Global Health. I have sixty-five credits of distance learning and more real-world experience in global health than I am allowed to describe.
    His odds of finishing the Marine Corps Marathon were better than his chance of being admitted with that submission, but the jaunty “Eh-Sexy-Lady” refrain of a Korean pop song interrupted his pity party with his nightly reminder. Eleven fifty-eight in his time zone. In two minutes he could call Grace.
    He’d framed the photo of her with her eyes closed and her hair spread on the pillow. Her mouth curved in what was probably a self-conscious smile, but he pretended it was the look of a satisfied woman about to drift to sleep. Sometimes he propped the picture on his stomach while they texted, like face-to-face conversation, but tonight he placed her image on top of the university application.
    Hi , he typed.
    The seconds before she replied worried him with random thoughts that she’d tell him she was busy or on a date or one of the hundred things women did at night rather than text a guy on the other side of the country.
    Hi back , she answered, making the end of his day the part worth waiting for.
    Busy day?
    Tons of data to crunch after our cruise , so I was stuck at the computer.
    Me too , he thought, but didn’t share his hopes about the UW. He’d be embarrassed if he didn’t get in, or if she thought he was a creepy stalker. Did you run?
    Just got back.
    He imagined her in shorts and a sports bra, showing slick muscles as she ran. His memories of kissing her all focused on her mouth, and the surprise that she’d kissed him back, so he couldn’t recall where he’d put his hands or even the shape of her waist, but he’d bet she was firm. Exciting weekend plans?
    Thinking about Pateros , but there’s a 5K @ Alki Beach some of my running club is doing.
    That reminded him of the day’s highlight. The Marquis acquired six racing chairs. Set up Grunts v. Jarheads over 2 miles.
    Who won?
    Clue: didn’t brag already.
    My bad! Sorry!
    Grudge match next week. It was harder than he’d expected to ignore the stack of paperwork. She’d probably done a few applications in her day. Maybe he should ask her advice. Ever do a triathlon?
    Sprint. I’m a slow swimmer , my bike’s a snail , but I finished. Sucked. Why? U doing one?
    Her question made him smile. Leaving the medical installation on supervised field trips—sometimes Walter Reed resembled elementary school—he’d discovered there were three types of people: those who ignored you, those who held doors and rushed to help whether you needed it or not, as if you were a Muppet, and those who treated you like a regular man sitting in a chair or walking differently. He lived Anthropology of Disability .
    Heard a motivational speaker today. Double amp Ironman finisher , he sent.
    Army’s going to buy superhero suits for all of you? Cool!
    I wish. Maybe they’ll fork out for swim or bike legs to go w / my running set. See.
    He linked to a parts catalog. Instead of car magazines for the Oldsmobile 442 in his garage at Fort Campbell, his body was his new repair hobby.
    I don’t have that many shoes!
    No question, he’d earned the bucks Uncle Sam spent on his legs, but how much someone should have to trade for that privilege was a question that frequently bugged him. His sister was an American too. Drove a school bus from 0630, worked in the cafeteria and drove all afternoon, but it didn’t total forty hours a week enough weeks of the year, so she scrounged to get her kids’ cavities filled. Medicine in America: Conflicts and Contradictions , Anthropology 477 , jumped off the course list. Upper level work, but he assumed a man who’d managed emergency ordnance