The Wish(103)
“What happened?”
“We both did what I’d recommended and became young adults. He worked at his job and I worked at mine. Photography was my whole world early on, not just because I was passionate about it but also because I wanted to be someone worthy of Bryce, not just someone he loved. Meanwhile, Bryce was making adult decisions about his life, too. Do you know that old army commercial? Where the song goes, ‘Be all that you can be…in the army’?”
“Vaguely.”
“Bryce had never given up on the idea of becoming a Green Beret, so he applied to SFAS. Aunt Linda wrote and told me about it. I guess Bryce’s parents had mentioned it to her and she knew I’d want to know.”
“What’s SFAS?”
“Special Forces Assessment and Selection. It’s at Fort Bragg, back in North Carolina. Long story short, Bryce was assessed with flying colors, eventually went through the training, and ended up being selected. All of that happened by the spring of 2002. Of course, by then, the military had made special forces a priority and wanted the highest-quality people they could find, so I’m not surprised Bryce made it.”
“Why was it a priority?”
“Nine Eleven. You’re probably too young to remember what a cataclysmic event that was, a turning point in America’s history. In Bryce’s Christmas card in 2002, he said that he couldn’t tell me where he was—which even to me was a tip-off that he was someplace dangerous—but that he was doing okay. He also said that he might not be able to make it to Ocracoke the following October, when I was to turn twenty-four. He said that if he wasn’t there, not to read anything into it—he’d find a way to let me know if he was still deployed and would arrange for an alternate time and place for us to finally meet.”
She fell silent, remembering. Then: “Strangely, I wasn’t all that disappointed. More than anything, I was amazed that after all those years, both of us still wanted to be together. Even now, it still seems implausible that our plan worked. I was proud of him and proud of myself, too. And of course, I was incredibly excited to see him again, no matter when that would be. But once again, it wasn’t in the cards. Fate had something else in store for us.”
Mark said nothing, waiting. Instead of speaking, Maggie faced the Christmas tree again, forcing herself not to dwell on what had happened next, a skill she’d mastered over the years. Instead, she stared at the lights, noting the shadows and tracking the movement of traffic outside the gallery door. When she was finally confident the memory had been fully locked away, she reached for her handbag to retrieve the envelope she’d stashed inside earlier, right before she’d left her apartment. Without a word, she handed it to Mark.
She didn’t watch as he no doubt studied the return address and realized he was holding a letter from her aunt Linda; nor did she watch as he lifted the seal on the envelope. Though she’d read the letter only once, she knew with utter clarity what Mark would see on the page.
Dear Maggie,
It’s late at night, rain is falling, and though I should have been asleep hours ago, I find myself at the table wondering whether I have the strength to tell you what I must. Part of me believes that I should talk to you in person, that maybe I should fly to Seattle and sit down with you at your parents’ house, but I’m afraid you’ll find out from other sources before I’ve had the chance to let you know what happened. Some of the information is already on the news, and that’s why I overnighted this letter. I want you to know that I’ve been praying for hours, both for you and for me.
There is, after all, no easy way to tell you. There is nothing easy about any of this, nor is there any way to diminish the overwhelming grief I feel at the news that I received today. Please know that even now, I ache for you even more deeply, and as I write, I can barely see the page through the tears in my eyes. Know that I wish I could be there to hold you, and that I will forever pray for you.
Bryce was killed in Afghanistan last week.
I don’t know the specifics. His father didn’t know much, either, but he believes that Bryce was caught in a firefight that somehow went wrong. They don’t know when or where or how it happened, because information is scant. Perhaps in time, they’ll know more, but for me, the details don’t matter. For you, I doubt they matter, either. In times like this, it’s hard even for me to understand the plan that God has for all of us, and it is a struggle to hold on to my faith. Right now, I am shattered.
I’m so sorry for you, Maggie. I know how much you loved him. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I know how much you wanted to see him again. You have my deepest and sincerest condolences. I am hopeful that God will grant you the strength you’ll need to somehow get through this. I will regularly pray that you eventually find peace, no matter how long that takes. You are always in my heart.
I’m so very sorry for your loss. I love you.
Aunt Linda
*
Mark sat in stunned silence. As for Maggie, she kept her unseeing eyes fixed on the tree, trying to steer her memories down other paths—any path besides the one that led to her memories of what had happened to Bryce. She’d faced it once, had fully experienced the horror, and had vowed not to relive it. Despite her rigid self-control, she felt a tear slip down her cheek and swiped at it, knowing that another would likely follow.