The Marine's Kiss. Shirley Jump

when he talked. And that grin. That damned grin that even now, ten years later, could still cause an odd quiver in her heart.

      “What happened to you?” She gestured to the cane.

      He shook his head. “Just a little knee surgery. Nothing big.”

      Once again, she got the feeling he was holding something back, as if he had a bunch of secrets tucked in his back pocket. The Nate she’d known years ago had been as open as a pool of water. But the Nate she saw today had become a darker lake, filled with depths she couldn’t see.

      “Does it hurt?”

      “Only when I let it.”

      Asking more would mean getting close to Nate. Treading in the personal zone. She didn’t want to go there, not again. It had taken her two years to get over their breakup. She didn’t have the heart to go down that path a second time.

      “As an aide, all you really have to do is help any kids who are struggling.” Jenny turned to the board and began writing because it was too hard to watch him wrangle his way through the rows of desks. She knew Nate—help was a four-letter word in his vocabulary. She cleared her throat and got to work chalking the list of words from the books the class had been reading. “Anyway, our theme this week is heroes. You being here is perfect timing.”

      “Why?”

      She turned, the chalk still between her fingers. “Because you’re the definition of a hero.”

      Nate shook his head. “Not in my Webster’s.” He jerked away, the cane rapping against the tile.

      “Nate, what do you mean by—”

      “Hi, Miss Wright,” Jimmy Brooks said. “My mom dropped me off early. Again.” The wiry blond boy disappeared behind the coatroom wall, then poked his head out. “Hey, who are you?” He pointed at Nate.

      “Jimmy, this is Master Sergeant Dole. He’s going to be with our class this week.”

      Jimmy dropped his backpack to the floor. His eyes widened. “You’re in the army? Like a GI Joe?”

      “I’m not—” Nate began.

      “Mr. Dole is a marine,” Jenny explained before turning to Nate. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

      “That’s, ah, exactly what I was going to say anyway.” Something flickered in his eyes—a shadow passing through—but then it was gone.

      “How many people have you shot? Can I see your gun?” Jimmy circled around Nate, rat-a-tatting the questions.

      “Later.” Jenny said, bending down to the boy’s level to get his attention. “Right now, you need to put your book bag away and start your morning work. Sergeant Dole will be here all week. You can talk to him later.”

      “But—”

      Jenny put up a finger. “I said later. And no questions about shooting people.”

      “Aw, Miss Wright. You’re no fun.” Jimmy trudged off, muttering about how the class finally had someone cool and the teacher had made it all uncool.

      She glanced at Nate and caught him watching her, a bemused expression on his face. Unbidden, the corners of her lips turned up into a smile. His brown gaze linked with hers, and something fluttered deep inside her. Something she’d thought she’d left in the past, like the photo album tucked under her bed.

      Before Jenny could consider what that something could be, the bell rang and in gaggles like baby geese, the other children entered the room, talking and laughing, poking and prodding, complaining and shouting. Each stopped and stared when they noticed Nate, then started up a sea of whispers in the coatroom.

      “As soon as you all take your seats and get your morning work done, I’ll tell you about our visitor,” Jenny called over the clamor. Focus on the class, not Nate. And maybe that quivering in her gut would stop.

      The children nearly knocked each other over trying to get to their desks. Pencils flew across papers faster than cars zipping around the Indy 500 raceway. Like dominoes in reverse, one hand after the other shot up into the air, signaling they were done.

      “If I’d known a visitor would get you all to work this hard, I would have brought one in a lot sooner,” she said, laughing as she collected their papers. She waved Nate up to the front of the room. “Class, this is Master Sergeant Nathaniel Dole. He grew up in Mercy and even went to this school. He’s a marine and he’s visiting our class this week, as part of our reading project on heroes.”

      There were several exclamations of “Cool!” from the back of the room, a couple of yawns and several whispers between the children.

      “Now, I’m sure you all have questions for Sergeant Dole. We’ll do a brief question-and-answer period today and maybe another one tomorrow. Now, who has a question?”

      A dozen hands reached upward, fingers wiggling. Jenny laughed and gave Nate’s shoulder a pat. “You’re on,” she whispered.

      Nate got to his feet and eyed the crowd. “What do I do?” he whispered to her.

      “Just be honest. If there’s one thing a kid can spot from fifty paces, it’s an adult telling a lie. No gory stories, of course, but you can tell them the truth. The goal here is to get them more interested in heroes so they’ll want to read about them, too.”

      Nate shook his head. She had him confused with the man he used to be. “I’m not the right man for that.”

      “You’re perfect.” Jenny gave Nate a long, slow smile that ricocheted through him with the force of a hurricane wind. “The one thing you always did well was be a marine.”

      If she only knew, he thought, how right she was.

      He wasn’t a marine anymore, not the kind he’d dreamed of being. And thanks to the bullet that had torn through his knee, he never would be again.

      Jenny walked over to her desk, leaving Nate to face the class alone. He pointed first to a little girl with blond hair who seemed to have a continual sniffle. “What’s your question?”

      She dabbed at her nose with a crumpled tissue. “What’s a marine do?”

      He drew himself up and gave her a nod. “Good question. The grunts are the first ones into the hot spots. For instance, we’d take a beachhead with an amphibious assault and cordon off an LZ, then…” His voice trailed off as he noticed the furrowed brows surrounding him. “Uh, we go in first when there’s a war and make a safe place for planes to land the other troops.” He pointed next to a small boy with glasses.

      “What happened to your leg? How come you got to have a cane?”

      “I, ah, had some knee surgery.” Not exactly a lie. Not quite the truth, either, but there were some things he wasn’t ready to talk about, Jenny’s advice about being honest be damned.

      “Where’s your gun?” Jimmy interrupted, before he could be called on.

      “I don’t carry it when I’m not on duty.” He pointed to a girl in the back row who had her hair in twin pigtails. His mother, he remembered, had always done his sister’s hair like that.

      For a second, he felt a pang at not having seen Katie since he came home. He missed her and his brothers—Jack, Luke, Mark. All were married now, settled down with families—nieces and nephews he barely knew because he’d been gone from Mercy more often than not.

      He shook his head and, with skills honed over years of being apart from his family, Nate brushed the thought away. His mother had been calling and asking him over, but he’d made one excuse after another. He’d see his sister and brothers when he was ready. When he could somehow explain the man he’d become.

      He was far from being able to do that right now.

      “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your question,” he said to the little girl.