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Wow. Okay. Where had that come from? She’d never asked anyone for a bedtime story before. Or a bedtime song, come to think of it.
Rip paused a moment to think. “Not much good at telling stories. Don’t know many songs either. Unless you count the United States Marine Corps Hymn. Could sing that to you in my sleep. Probablydosing it in my sleep sometimes.”
Mabel giggled. “I’ll take the Marines Hymn.”
“You may live to regret this,” said Rip. “I’m as tone-deaf as they come.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Mabel.
Rip laid out his sleeping bag inside the tent for Mabel to sleep in, then climbed in beside her. It was a two-man tent, but even so, Rip was so big that it felt very intimate with both of them in there. So close their knees were touching. So close she could hear him breathing.
“From theHalls of Montezuma,
To theshores of Tripoli;
We fight our country's battles
In the air, on land, and sea;
First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
Of United States Marine…”
The song went on. Mabel didn’t know why, but she found herself growing quite emotional. Rip was wrong about being tone-deaf. He sounded pretty on key to Mabel, though she was no expert. He sang the words softly and tenderly, almost whispering them at times, but with a real sincerity. It was a privilege to hear a real ex-Marine singing to her like this. Both because of his past and because of what was happening now, in the present.
“That was beautiful,” Mabel said when Rip was finished.
“I doubt it,” said Rip, “but thanks.”
“You know, you shouldn’t put yourself down,” said Mabel. “It’s a bad habit. I should spank you for it.” Immediately, her cheeks went red. In order to save herself any more embarrassment, she changed the subject. “Have you really fought in some of those places in the song? In the snow of far-off northern lands and in sunny tropic scenes.”
Rip looked at her, as though deciding whether to follow-up on the subject of spanking. “Yup,” he said eventually, clearly deciding to avoid any indelicate conversation. “Been all over the place.”
“Well, could you tell me some stories about your travels?”
“Hmmm,” said Rip, “it’s getting late, and you need sleep, young lady.”
A thrill ran through her to hear him call her by that name.
“I think it would help me sleep,” she said with a yawn.
“Fine,” he said. “In that case, I’ll oblige. But I’m leaving out the gory bits.”
“No fair,” whined Mabel playfully, although she was happy really. She was a strong woman, but she had never been in the military, and she got the feeling that some of the stories would shock her. She was a survivalist, yes, and she could eat bugs or kill snakes quite happily if the situation demanded it, but she wasn’t great with anythingtoogory. Especially while sleeping in a tent in the middle of nowhere.
Luckily for her, Rip was a man of his word, and he told her a few brief but colorful tales of strange foods he’d eaten, people he’d met, and landscapes he’d witnessed. His stories felt like fairytales — otherworldly and magical. She felt as though she could have listened to them forever, but sadly, after ten minutes or so, he stopped.
“Time to sleep now, madam,” he said, helping her into her sleeping bag. It’s not like she needed help getting into it, but she appreciated the gesture. She was exhausted.
“I wish you could sleep in here next to me,” she said.
“No chance,” he told her. “I snore like the devil. And you need your beauty sleep.”
Mabel snorted.
