Semper Mine (Sons of War #1)(59)
I can’t think of a better way to spend the holidays than doing something that will make Mikael, Petr and my father so proud.
Even if I can’t stop hurting inside.
Or maybe it’s because most of Mikael’s team will be present that I don’t mind missing out on the annual event.
My therapist says I’m doing well. I know it helps having a positive outlet, channeling the pain I still experience about Mikael’s death into helping those who need it. I’ve finally accepted that my brothers chose to serve their country, and I have to respect that decision. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to blindly support the military or the idea of war, but I can help those like my brothers who join up to make a difference. The people behind the war, I guess. People like Captain Mathis, who lead others into battle and then have to deal with the consequences alone.
I never responded to his letter and heard no more from or about him, aside from Petr’s confirmation he wasn’t returning for the party while the other guys are.
It bothers me. Thinking of him makes me hollow inside. I read his letter every morning for the week following its arrival and then put it away.
Your letter destroyed me.
That pain, the one stemming from knowing I hurt him, isn’t relenting. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I burnt that bridge; that much is clear.
Shaking my head, I look from the first light snow of the winter that coats the lawn and forest visible through the window of my bedroom to the open the desk drawer where I placed the letter from Captain Mathis. I’m tempted to toss it into the fire burning in the hearth.
I won’t. I already know I’ll take it with me wherever I end up someday, a reminder of someone I wish I’d had met under difference circumstances and of how my fiery emotions burn up those around me sometimes.
It’s also a reminder that my biggest regret is not sitting down to get to know him. I had to learn who he was through a letter.
Tucked in the envelope is a customs slip. I finally sent him the Ruptured Duck a few weeks ago. I bought it for someone I cared about, and I sent it, even if whatever disaster of a relationship we had is over. It only seemed right for the duck to go to someone who would appreciate it.
Letting go of it was hard and took me weeks of hyping myself up. It’s not possible to get over the impact Sawyer Mathis has had on my life, no matter how much time passes. I want to. I’m trying. But it’s like trying to forget Mikael. It’ll never happen. Sending off the duck was like accepting that I’d never see either of them again. It hurt so much, I cried when I returned from the post office.
I sent it with a phony address and no note. I’m counting on him thinking it’s from the Marine friend who inspired him to enlist. If he’s staying there for Christmas, he might as well not be alone. The duck can keep him company.
The idea makes me smile, and I close the drawer and grab a sweater.
“Ready, sis?” Petr calls, knocking on my door.
I join him in the hall. He’s dressed in a warm sweater that stretches across his broad chest and dark slacks.
“You need a scarf,” I tell him automatically.
“Trained killer. No scarf.”
“You look tired. Were you drinking all night?”
He rolls his eyes. “Come on.”
We leave the house through the servants’ stairwell to the car awaiting us out front. Our house is full of guests, the way it is every year this time. The second floor is packed with relatives, family friends and Petr’s military friends, and the overflow is being housed in the guest cottages and mother-in-law wing of the mansion.
This evening is my last walk through of the event site for the charity event tomorrow.
“Hope this is worth leaving the guys and the booze,” Petr says.
“You’ll have plenty of time to get drunk,” I snap. “How often do you get to see a charity event I put together?”
It’s my first. He knows better than to answer.
He’s smiling faintly, gaze on the snow brushing the window.
We travel the half hour to the exclusive country club Baba rented out at my insistence. The main areas are a flurry of activity with workers finishing up the exterior walkways, laying fake snow inside, and setting up the dining room. There’s a bazaar in one area with vendors setting up, a silent auction section featuring items donated by local families and others, a children’s room with a throne for Santa and live petting zoo on the porch extension, and a light display covering three acres out back, complete with lantern-lit walkway.
The activity, plentiful Christmas decorations and bright lights everywhere pull a smile from me, despite my apprehension about something being out of place or going wrong.
“You did all this?” Petr is standing in the middle of a miniature train track running around the interior of the building.
“Why do you sound surprised?” I raise an eyebrow at him and plant my hands on my hips.
“Not surprised, Kitty-Khav. Impressed.” He smiles. “Totally over the top and incredible, as usual.”
I look around, a little lost with how much is going on. I’m not as detail oriented as some and rely on Zach, my father’s chief assistant, to tell me when something is off. I’m so nervous about tomorrow that I’ve been here no less than ten times today, walking around to see the progress.
“Is that a donkey?” Petr asks, starting at the four-legged animal being led into the children’s room.