Free A Soldier for Poppy by Lorraine Nelson

and back. She was at a loss as to what to do.
    Then he was standing at the top of the stairs, his lips curved upward in a smile of delight and his arms outstretched. She ran to him wanting nothing more than to hold him, be held by him, and yet wanting everything he had to offer.
    “What’s happening to us, Carl?”
    He held her a little away from him and searched her eyes, her expression. He seemed to see through to her very soul.
    “I can only speak for myself and I’m not sure they are words you’re ready to hear.”
    She rested her head against his chest, only now aware of his wet body. Using every ounce of willpower she possessed, she stepped back. “You should dry off before you catch a chill.”
    The moment she left his arms, she felt a chill clear through to her bones and almost reached for him again. “If you don’t mind listening for the children, I think I’ll go for a swim. Coffee’s on.”
    “Yes, of course. But Poppy? Are you all right?”
    “I will be. See you shortly.”
    She fairly flew down the stairs and slowed only when she reached the water’s edge. The sand was warm already and it was still early. She waded in until the water was up to her waist and then ducked under and swam. All thoughts slipped from her mind as she concentrated on swimming, stroke after energizing stroke. When she started to tire, she turned onto her back and allowed the waves to propel her toward the beach. As she floated back to shore, one thought remained uppermost in her mind…this would definitely be a vacation to remember.

Chapter Eight
     
    The opening of the screen door interrupted both his view of the woman swimming and his thoughts concerning their most recent embrace.
    “Uncle Carl, I’m hungry. Where’s Mommy?”
    “Good morning, Nathan. Your mom went for a swim. How about you and I fix breakfast before she gets back?”
    “Bacon and eggs?” Nathan asked.
    “If that’s want you want.”
    “Toast and juice, too?”
    “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s get cookin’.” Carl took one last longing look at the ocean, now unable to spot Poppy, and then ushered Nathan inside.
    He took the bacon out of the fridge, passed it to Nathan, and then carried the carton of eggs over to the counter. Once the bacon was frying, he took the bread out of the cupboard.
    “Can I make the toast?” Nathan asked.       
    Carl passed him the bread and watched as he pulled out two slices. He couldn’t quite reach the toaster, so Carl went to the pantry closet and came back with a stool.
    “Here, buddy. Stand on this, but be careful.”
    Nathan stepped up onto the stool, put the bread in the toaster, and pushed the lever down. Then he turned and jumped down, a huge grin lighting up his face.
    “I did it, Uncle Carl. I reached-ed it!”
    “Great! We need eight slices. You’ll need the butter and a butter knife for when the toast pops.” He laid them out for him and went back to the stove to flip the bacon. He watched as Nathan carefully removed the slices from the toaster and put in two more. Buttering them was kind of hit and miss, but he did quite well for a five-year-old.
    Carl had just broken the first egg into the pan when he heard the patio door in the living room open. He cracked open the second one as Poppy appeared in his peripheral vision and almost let it drop on the floor as he turned to smile at her. What a mess that would’ve been.
    “Do I have time for a quick shower?” she asked.
    “If you make it real quick. Breakfast is almost ready.”
    “We wanted to surprise you, Mommy. I makin’ toast,” said Nathan.
    “Good job. Where’s Becky?”
    “Still sleeping,” replied Carl. “I think. Maybe I should have checked on her.”
    Poppy shook her head as she glanced at the kitchen clock. “It’s early yet. She’ll wake soon. After the busy day we had yesterday, I’m not surprised at her sleeping in.”
    “All right, then go grab that shower.”
    She saluted him. “Yes, Sir. Right away,