Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,95
then you go to college on the GI Bill. Everything is paid for.”
“I don’t think MIT would let me defer for five years.”
Malone stopped walking and looked over at her.
“What?” Martha asked.
“You got into MIT. That’s really impressive. What are you planning on studying?”
“Mechanical engineering. At least I think so.”
Malone smiled in a kind way. “Good for you. And good for the army. Those are skills we need. I have no doubt that after five years doing engineering in the army, MIT would happily readmit you. But that doesn’t seem like what you want.”
Martha shook her head. “I want to go to college. I want that experience.”
“Then let’s talk about an ROTC program. We pay your tuition and you owe us four years after you graduate. A little more if you also want us to pay for graduate school or flight school.”
Martha stopped walking. Flight school. She felt goose bumps dot her arms. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“What’s it like to fly a helicopter?”
A wistful look spread across Malone’s face. “I won’t be able to explain it. There are some things you can’t possibly understand until you try them. Is that what you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do.” The uncertainty scared her almost as much as anything else. Not in a bad way, though.
As they walked more and talked more, Martha thought about all the profiles of military women she’d read in the last few days as she worked up the courage to walk through that recruitment office door. She’d wanted all her preconceived notions about the military to be proven true. Instead, she’d found women marching in Pride parades and using their high ranks to make changes. She’d found women who came from money and women who came from nothing. She thought she’d find one type of woman and instead she’d found everything. Everything except an excuse not to at least have a conversation with Major Malone.
Martha hadn’t had a lot of choices in her life, and now that this one was in front of her, she was scared. This made her think about the person she was named for. When people thought of Martha Washington, they always pictured the white-haired wife of the first American president. But before she was Martha Washington, she was Martha Custis. Before she was Martha Custis, she was Martha Dandridge. And before that, she was Patsy. Just a little girl from a large family who learned how to read and write at a time when women didn’t usually do that. She was a girl who wanted more out of life than what was being offered. That’s what Martha had in common with her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother.
She was brave enough to want more and she was brave enough to go after it.
CJ was so used to getting bad news that she almost didn’t know how to process it when she got the mail that afternoon. She stood in her front yard reading and rereading the letter until she was finally convinced that it was real. Then she went straight to her car.
Wyatt was the first person she wanted to tell. She drove to his house, knocked on his door, and a minute later, his mom answered. “CJ. It’s so good to see you.”
“You too. Is Wyatt here?”
Katherine shook her head. “He’s on campus with his dad.”
“Campus?”
“OSU.” She was smiling now. “He decided to go back in the fall. They’re taking care of some paperwork today and meeting with someone from the Office of Disability Services. The school has been great so far. Fingers crossed.”
CJ knew it wasn’t her place to be proud of him, but she couldn’t help it. She was. “Is it okay if I leave something for him?”
“Of course. I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Give me one second.”
CJ took the letter out of the envelope and wrote a note at the bottom of it. She felt weird writing the words that she was writing while standing so close to Wyatt’s mom, but Katherine did a good job of not staring. CJ finished and stuffed the letter back in the envelope before she could second-guess herself.
“By the way,” CJ said, “I love the vase you gave me. I love it so much. This is going to sound hokey, but it reminds me that life can change in an instant, and it’s up to us how we deal with it when it does.”
“I appreciate that. I know my pottery is far from perfect.”