A Soldier Comes Home. Cindi Myers

seeing. She thought of Jeremy the last time she’d seen him, at a dinner at his parents’ house right before he shipped out. Paul had been home, too, and thirtyfive of the young men’s relatives had crowded into their parents’ trailer home. The men had teased him about his short hair and the women had urged him to “Eat, eat.” No one wanted to see him leave, but everyone was proud of him following in the footsteps of his ancestors, who had fought in every conflict since World War I.

      There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said automatically.

      Chrissie and Allison came into the room. “Is everything all right?” Chrissie asked.

      Rita nodded, then shook her head. “Paul’s brother—Jeremy—he’s dead. Killed in a firefight near Kirkut.” The name was familiar from news reports, but she had no idea where that really was. It was just another foreign-sounding name in a list of foreign-sounding names in the papers and on television.

      Chrissie hugged her and Allison squeezed her hand.

      “I’ll need time off to go to the funeral,” Rita said, beginning to come out of the shock a little. “They gave Paul leave to come home for it.”

      “Of course,” Chrissie said. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”

      “Thanks, but it will all be taken care of. There are groups on the reservation that will organize the funeral. It’s a big ceremony. It goes on for days.” She was thinking out loud now, hardly aware of their presence.

      “Does Paul have other brothers and sisters?” Allison asked.

      “No. Only Jeremy.” She bit her lip, thinking of his mother, Donna. Jeremy was her baby. The spoiled one. She would be beside herself with grief. “I—I’d better go finish Mr. Freeman’s teeth,” she said.

      Chrissie stopped her. “No. We’ll explain what happened and ask him to reschedule. He’ll understand.” She patted Rita’s shoulder. “You go home. Do what you need to do to get ready.”

      “I’ll pray for you and your family,” Allison said.

      Rita nodded. More of the numbness was receding, replaced by the knowledge that in a few days she’d see Paul. She felt almost guilty but not for long. She would see Paul. She would touch him, hold him, kiss him, make love to him. Yes, they would grieve. But they would also comfort each other. In the midst of such sadness was that joy.