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“Never,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Why don’t you grab us a table and I’ll bring it out in a second?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, looking past her. “One just opened up in the distance.”
“On it…” she agreed, moving quickly as she watched him in amazement at how things had managed to work out unexpectedly.
She was sitting here at a wooden picnic table, in Ember Creek, at a local ice cream shop on the edge of town… in her satin bridesmaid dress and Michael in all white – his dress pants, his t-shirt, everything but his shiny polished shoes.
He sat down opposite of her, handing her a spoon, and smiled.
“To Ben and Rose,” he began easily.
“Agreed – to Ben and Rose.”
Both of them dug in and took a bite – and she watched as Michael closed his eyes in happiness, drawing in a deep breath, and letting it out.
“Soooo good,” he muttered openly, digging for another bite. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anything other than vanilla, and there is nothing better than warm marshmallow or hot caramel sundaes.”
“Right?” she agreed, taking another bite. “It’s just sinfully decadent.”
“You got that right…”
“What’s it like at West Point?” she asked suddenly, needing to talk about anything to keep from gawking at the handsome man before her. “Tell me about your day, classes, what you do.”
Michael shrugged.
“It’s like college but different, I guess. I go to classes, attend meetings, do a lot of athletic drills or run track. It’s a military facility, but with a college feel to it, and they are prepping you for a life in the Army.”
“You don’t sound excited about it.”
“I’ve always been told that I would serve,” he admitted. “My dad did, my uncles did, and it’s been hammered into me since I was a boy – so I never thought about anything else. I want to experience everything and give back, because I know how fortunate I am… but I hate it at the same time,” he admitted quietly, looking away.
His words shocked her.
“Why?”
“Oh gosh,” he whispered, glancing at her. “You can’t tell a soul that I said that… please. My dad would flip if he knew I wasn’t happy about getting in or serving, but I feel like nothing is my choice. Nothing is my decision anymore. I’m told where to go, what to do, what to wear, and constantly ordered around… and I understand why,” he paused for a moment, taking another bite and chewing as if he was trying to put his thoughts in order.
“But what if I graduate and get sent somewhere I hate? I have no choice. I have to go. I mean, what if I get sent to Iraq or Bosnia? My dad spent years in Afghanistan and loved it – but I’m not him.”
“You really don’t have any choices?”
“No.”
“Oh,” she said softly, realizing that she would balk under those confines too, and maybe they were a lot more alike than she ever realized, but he hid it much better. Putting down her spoon, she reached for his hand and held it as he looked up at her. “I know how you must feel, but maybe whenever you get assigned somewhere, you’ll find your footing. You know? I mean, we’ll still be talking, and I’d be honored to come see you.”
“If it’s safe,” he cautioned.
“It would be an adventure,” she countered, trying to make things upbeat.
“Not with your life,” he said grimly. “I would never risk you.”
“Michael…”
“Never, Ruby…” he reiterated firmly, his hand moving to hold hers. “If I was stationed somewhere in the continental US – I would have you come see me, spend time with me, or more… but with the chance that I could end up in some disaster area? I feel stuck.”
“Why ‘stuck’?”
