Free Letters from War by Mark Schultz Page B

night—so we could open them with your mom and sister in the morning.”
    â€œI know. This is just something you’ll like.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œOh, don’t give me that look,” he said. “It’s just a letter.”
    â€œI like letters,” she told him.
    But the glow on her face lessened a bit.
    â€œYou said it yourself—I say things better in letter form. Maybe I get that from my dad, I don’t know. So I wrote you this.”
    â€œAre you still going to write to me when you’re in Iraq?”
    â€œMom already made me promise to write to her.”
    â€œYou can’t write both?”
    He laughed and nudged her. “Go on, read it.”
    Her face was lit up in a way no camera or spotlightcould ever effect. She smiled and looked so innocent and cute and adorable and charming and sexy all at the same time.
    He would never tell her all of that, at least not yet, but he couldn’t help thinking it as he turned on a lamp next to them and she began reading his letter.
    Dear Britt:
    Hopefully it’s Christmas Eve and we’re alone and I finally have a chance to tell you some of the things that have been on my mind and heart recently. I’m writing them because that’s what I do best. It’s better than rambling on or forgetting to finish the sentence. It’s better because I don’t have to be watched as I open up and bare my soul.
    I want to thank you for coming into my life and for chasing after me. Sometimes guys are too dumb to see what’s right in front of them. Sometimes guys are too focused on the future and the almighty “plan.” Well—I was too dumb and too focused to notice the beautiful and tender girl who seemed to keep coming across my path.
    Thanks for not giving up on me. Thank you for wanting to be with me even though you knew what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go.
    I want to tell you something that I’ve hinted at but never really told you before.
    I haven’t said it because—well, once I say it, you will know.
    So I won’t say it. I will write it.
    It didn’t take me a summer, Britt. It didn’t take basic training and writing back and forth, nor did it take a holiday together.
    I knew on that first date we went on.
    I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.
    What I didn’t know was what I was supposed to do with that information. I held it close. I tried not to reveal it because I wasn’t sure how you felt.
    I remember leaving your house that night and thinking to myself, I want to marry that girl. She’s the one.
    There are many ways a man can ask the woman he loves to marry him. But to me, the thing that matters is not the how. It’s the why.
    Britt stopped reading and hugged him, the tears glistening on her face.
    â€œDid you finish it?” James asked.
    â€œNo, not yet, but I just wanted to—”
    He kissed her for what felt like a second and an eternity, then he whispered for her to keep reading.
    And this is the why.
    I believe you are strong. Deep down, you are solid and are that rock I’ll be able to lean on.
    You’re not outspoken or tough or abrasive. Yours is a quiet strength.
    I believe that is what I need—what we need—in order to make this work.
    I have told you what I think of you and why I lovebeing with you—why I love you. You make me feel alive. You are everything that is soft and tender and good about this world. Your faith makes me want to strengthen mine. Your love makes me want to never leave your side.
    So I ask you a question and will follow it with a promise.
    Will you marry me, Britt Alexander?
    Will you complete a dream come true and give all of yourself to me, even if I’m not there?
    Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you?
    I promise you that regardless of what happens and where I am, I will never stop loving you. Never.
    I’ll be by your side, even when