CHAPTER 4

I PROMISE YOU

JAKE

The recall of my best years ends with the sound of incoming CF-18 Hornets. I plug my ears as missiles swoosh down nearby, creating massive explosions and shaking the ground.

A few minutes later, I notice there's no more sound of gunfire. No voices, no yelling in the distance, just the roaring and crackling of scorching flames.

Even though we got ambushed, the enemy was wiped off the face of the earth.

I was the only one left from my crew... but my thoughts of Kayla, my wife, keep me alive.

The distant thump of rotor blades grows louder, and I see a CH-146 Griffon helicopter descending into the smoke.

The medic team's radio crackles to life: "Medical team inbound!"

WEEKS LATER

Sitting up in my hospital bed, wishing I could leave, I glance over at the morning light filtering through the curtains. The paper remains on my lap. I play with the pen in my hand, looking down at the letter and the words I'd managed to come up with.

To my beloved wife, Mrs. Kayla Spryfield,

I've tried to write this more times than I can count. Maybe it's the meds, maybe it's the pain, or maybe it's just that some things are too big to say the right way. But I need to try, because you deserve to hear it.

We've known each other since we were kids. Back when you used to tape my busted fingers after some stupid dare and tell me I was tougher than I looked. Even then, you had this way of making me feel like I wasn't alone. Like I never had to be.

Now here we are, so many years later, and you're still the one patching me up with the same concentrating eyes that don't flinch. After the ambush, when everything blurred, I'd see you walk into the room and it was like I could breathe again. I didn't have to ask. You were just there. You always are.

I look at you now and I don't just see a medic. I see the girl who gave me courage when I had none, the woman who stands over my broken body and sees through the damage and still believes in what's left. I don't know how you do it. But I hold on to it. I hold on to you.

Every time you care for me, every time you help me through another day, it's not just the nurse in you. It's your heart, that unconditional love you give to me so freely. I've leaned on you more than I ever thought I would, and you've carried me through, not because it's your job, but because it's who you are.

I don't know how to tell you what that means to me, except to say, should that day ever come when you need me, when you're the one who needs holding, I'll be there. I'll be your strength, the way you've always been mine.

I promise you, Kayla. Just as deeply as I love you, I'll take care of you with everything I have, just as you've done for me. You are my heart, my home, and my future. I can only hope to give you the same love you've given me.

With everything I am,
Yours forever,
Jake

This letter doesn't do it justice. She's the woman who's been my rock through unimaginable hardship, healing wounds deeper than flesh. How could I ever measure up to her love? She's my hero. My war hero.

My room is quiet this morning. The only sound from the patient next to me is the machines keeping him alive. I don't know him, but I think about him a lot, hoping he'll recover, like me.

For now, I imagine Kayla smiling when she reads this letter. This chicken scratch on a scrap of paper isn't much, but it's all I've got right now. Even if she already knows, I have to give something back.

Pressing down the creases with my thumb, I fold my written promise, a promise I'll do anything to keep. Every time I try to get a one-up on her, she beats me to it.

The door creaks open. I look up and see Kayla peer in before entering. The moment our eyes meet, a rush of joy fills me. She grins back at me, and I can see the happiness flicker in her eyes, mirroring mine.

"Hey, handsome man," she says as she leans over the bedside for a kiss. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Not at the moment."

Kayla grabs the bottom of the blanket, but before lifting it, she looks me in the eye with a smile.

I chuckle.

She lifts the blanket. "I need to check your bandages." Her eyes scan the wounds, and a hint of a smile plays on her lips. "You know, I think you're healing faster than I expected. The swelling has gone down, and the stitches are holding nicely."

She gently probes the area.

"Ah. Careful."

"Sorry," she says, chuckling. "Still pretty tender, eh?"

I reach beneath my pillow, pulling out the letter I wrote last night.

"I have something for you," I say, a little nervous, extending the folded paper toward her.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but she takes the letter, unfolding it as she sinks into the chair beside the bed. As she reads, her eyes begin to glisten. She looks at the letter, then back at me, head tilted, a soft smile forming.

For a moment, it's as if she's struggling to find her voice.

She exhales.

"Jake, I don't have a letter to give back to you right now. But if I did, it would say that I made a conscious decision to love you unconditionally for the rest of my life. And I made that decision when I was just a kid. Nothing's changed. Being here, taking care of you, is what I want to do. It's where I'm supposed to be."

She puts her hand on mine.

"And I'd do it a thousand lifetimes over if I could."

I swallow, letting her words settle in. She looks at me with a love so intense, it makes me struggle to look back without feeling giddy and childish.

"Jake, listen. You've given me more than you realize," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "You've shown me what it means to love and to be truly loved. Every day I wake up grateful that I have you. Maybe you don't feel like you've done enough. Honestly, neither do I. We just do what we can, right?"

"True."

She pulls a small paper bag from her purse, holding it up with a grin.

"Here's a little more to love," she says, chuckling. "Your favorite: French toast with extra maple syrup, just how you like it. And I brought some Naproxen to go with it. Drink two glasses of water, eat first, and limit yourself to two a day. Figured you'd like the combo."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "French toast and painkillers. Breakfast of champions."

We laugh. She pulls her chair closer, setting the food on my lap and handing me the pills.

"Oh, and I spoke to Dr. Stevens this morning. She said you should make a full recovery in four to six months. And if you don't want to return overseas, you could look into training others, maybe even something local. You have options, Jake. A lot of them."

The idea fills me with relief, like a second chance.

"Yeah? That's awesome. I'll definitely go for something low-key. I'm all washed up."

She squeezes my hand, her eyes full of assurance.

"Better days ahead, Jake," she says with a half-smile. "You keep your chin up, soldier. We'll get there, one step at a time."