you to keep that in mind.”
“I don’t doubt you, nor will I ever,” Abby says. It may not be doubt she’s feeling, but whatever it is, I can’t fix it with words. She has gone on week-long training sessions, and I’ve taken care of Parker, so I know she’s comfortable leaving her with me, but heading to a battle zone is different than training. I know what goes through my head when I leave for a tour. I have to tell myself I might not come back, and that it’s okay because I’m doing my duty, serving and protecting my country. If I don’t come back, it will be because I have fought defending those who cannot defend themselves, and there is dignity in dying for a cause. It’s a hard kind of truth to convince myself of but it’s the only way to handle the fear. Abby won’t be on the front lines, but it doesn’t lessen the risk or danger. When a unit deploys, it’s a gamble for everyone involved.
I pull up along the line of other cars, families saying goodbye to their loved ones as the departing Marines board the bus. Abby doesn’t move even after the ignition goes silent.
“You’ve done this before,” I remind her.
“It’s different this time,” she says without taking a minute to think. It is different this time. The stakes are higher. She has a daughter waiting for her to return.
“I know.” I open the door and tend to the trunk where her pack is, letting Abby gather her thoughts and pull herself together. By the time I’m closing the trunk, she’s taking Parker out of her car seat and hoisting her up on her hip.
Parker’s dark-blonde, curled pigtails are flying in the wind, and she’s staring at Abby as if she is an unexplored galaxy appearing before her for the first time.
“I’ll only be gone a few months,” Abby tells Parker. “I’ll be calling you and writing you letters that Brett will read to you, and you know I will think about this little face every single second I’m not here because you are my world.” Abby pinches Parker’s chin and kisses her nose. “I just have to leave you here where it’s safe.”
“Don’t go,” Parker mumbles softly while running her fingers over the staff sergeant patch on Abby’s arm.
“It’s my job, sweetie, and I know it makes no sense to you right now, but I don’t want you to think I am leaving by choice. I have to go. It’s my job.”
Parker rests her head on Abby’s shoulder. I doubt she grasps the concept of time or how long her mom will be gone because it’s too much for a child to understand. It’s hard to know exactly how much Parker comprehends, but I hope more than anything, it isn’t too much.
Abby presses her hand against the back of Parker’s head and kisses her again. “I love you so much … more than you’ll ever know.”
I rest Abby’s pack down next to her legs and run my hand over Parker’s back. Abby looks up at me with tears in her eyes, which makes my heart ache. Abby doesn’t cry; she hardly shows emotion at all. I know she’s crashing inside, so I wrap my arms around her and Parker, hugging them both tightly. “Everything will be okay.”
Abby bites down on her bottom lip and clenches her eyes for a short second. “If things don’t end up okay …” Abby squeezes Parker into her chest as another tear falls from her face. “Will you—”
“Parker will never leave my side. I will care for her the same way you do, always.” The knot in my throat makes breathing and speaking hard, but these are words Abby already knows. It’s just a reminder.
“I updated my will,” Abby says.
“I know.” We talked about it many times over the last couple of years.
“Brett, I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough for being the person you are in our lives, one without strings attached or a label—one without merit. I didn’t know someone like you existed, so selfless and heroic, and I’m not sure what I did to deserve you in my life, but I thank God for you every night—always have, always will.”
“A bond between friends is a relationship we choose, Abbs and I don’t see my role as heroic or without merit. I love you two as if you are my family, and even though we’re not related by blood, I wouldn’t