Free A Marine of Plenty by Heather Long Page A

it. From Congressman Sparks’ first phone call, to the moment she boarded the Air Force C-130, she’d expected the offer to be retracted. She wasn’t a civilian contractor, just a sister on a quest for understanding. After her escort checked her flak jacket and helmet before allowing her to walk down the steps, she descended into a world away from the University of North Texas campus where she studied psychology.
    The whole experience seemed surreal—she was both happy to be there and terribly sad in the same breath. The pilot reported temperatures in the sixties, odd enough considering the late November timing, but the warmth didn’t ease the apprehension in her gut. She’d wanted the trip, planned for it, and had some very specific goals.
    She needed to be there, but every fiber of her being urged her to get right the hell back on the plane.
    “Ma’am?” Sergeant Zalinski touched her arm, his expression wary. He’d flown the entire route with her, as a part of Operation Proper Exit. He and another half-dozen Marines left Afghanistan on stretchers or deeply wounded. The program offered them a second chance to return, face their injuries and pasts, and leave with their heads held high. Her advocacy of the program contributed to her need to spend Thanksgiving with the men and women of her brother’s unit.
    “I’m fine.” She summoned a watery smile. “I don’t know what I expected when I got off the plane but this…?” It was still green, with cool breezes and warm sunshine. It felt like any other place she might have visited. The air didn’t taste foreign or bitter.
    She’d thought it would be so different.
    “Like hell?” Zalinski nodded, a bittersweet grin twisting his mouth. “Hell doesn’t look like hell, ma’am. It’s not the appearance, but what happens to you there that makes it hell. You can do this, Miss Grimaldi. We can do it together.”
    He held out his hand and she took it, grateful for the support. The other Marines arriving with Zalinski waited a few feet away. Her legs trembled, but didn’t collapse, and every step strengthened her. Robbie had walked this land, spent the last year of his life here, fighting for, and alongside, his fellow Marines.
    He’d done that. So could she.
    An hour later, she watched Zalinski and the other members of his Operation Proper Exit team leaving in a convoy to begin their journey. She sat in the base office, waiting for her escort—they’d radioed ahead with news of the delay. With tan walls, the office had little in the way of decoration or personalization. A transition point, few people put their stamp on it.
    Her cases and crates, including cold storage holding the turkeys and other foodstuffs for the Thanksgiving dinner she planned, waited on an overloaded pallet. Fortunately, packing it base-side under the watchful eye of base security, and having it loaded and monitored by security, meant she hadn’t had to unpack every single crate for clearance into the country.
    The fruits and vegetables would have to be obtained in country, but she’d managed to bring enough different meats to satisfy any palate from roasts to turkeys. She wanted to bring hams, but they were on the restricted list. Religious reasons, she supposed. With Congressman Sparks’ help, she put together a veritable cornucopia of food, decorations, refreshments, and presents from the families at home. She even got approval for soda.
    Life remained the most fragile, unpredictable of things. A week ago, a month before, she wouldn’t have imagined pulling together something so huge. Her father crawled into a bottle, her mother invested in her volunteer work, while Jana had been left with a lot of unanswered questions. Not knowing if she would ever find the answers—here or anywhere else—she still had to try. Thankfully, years of working in her father’s restaurant provided her with contacts and suppliers more than willing to donate to her effort.
    “Miss Grimaldi?” A deep,