Stolen September: A Military Romance

nbsp; “I’m sorry if this all seems strange,” I add when she winks at me like I’m dessert.

The door opens and the blue-haired one—Doris, I think—ushers me inside. “What’s strange is that you waited so long. I had my sister put on a fresh pot of coffee, we waited so long for you to git your ass in here.” She chuffs, looping her arm in mine and pulling me along into the kitchen.

I’m greeted by Bea’s entire family: the aunts, her mother (who keeps scrubbing the countertop), and her father, who seems the least keen on meeting me like this.

“Mr. Brennan.” I reach for his hand.

He tentatively shakes it, eyeing me up like I expect him to. “When my daughter came home this morning with the first smile on her face in weeks, I was suspicious. Now I’m downright curious what the Sam hill is going on. Especially when it’s not quite happening under my roof.” Mr. Brennan’s glare penetrates deep. He’s angry—but in that protective way because he can’t figure out what, if anything, I’ve actually done wrong. He’s partially right. I never meant to hurt Bea, but I did. This is me taking accountability, but also promising her family that I’ll never do it again by loving her forever. Heavy things to weigh before 9 a.m.

My face burns with a blush I haven’t experienced since grade school. Mr. Brennan isn’t pulling any punches with me, and backed up by all the females in the family I know this is it. Forget about convincing Beatrice. If I don’t convince her family I’m done for, a broken heart or not.

I steel myself, standing straight and addressing them in the eye. “When I met your daughter at the beginning of the summer, I knew she was special. When I left at the end of the summer, I was so focused on my career goals that sadly I didn’t understand where Beatrice fell in that hierarchy.”

The aunts push a coffee mug in my direction—prepped with cream and sugar, from the sweet smell.

“Keep groveling, boy. My brother-in-law may kill you yet. Military man or not, he’s got thirty years of hard labor under his belt,” one of the aunts comments, snickering.

I hope the coffee isn’t poisoned and take a sip of the offered brew. I prepare to get my ass beat by a two-by-four and three ornery women.

“Being away these thirteen weeks solidified any doubts I had for my feelings. Beatrice and I have come to an understanding, but I want to do this the right way.”

“Oh, he’s hankering for a beating, Hank.” The aunt with glasses nudges Mr. Brennan.

“Shush, Elise.” Mrs. Brennan shoos at her sister. “Let him talk. I want to know what his intentions are toward my daughter. My very heartbroken daughter,” she emphasizes.

Her reminder isn’t necessary. I know what I did was shitty, and this is clearly my one chance to make it up.

“I know we haven’t had a chance to meet, or get to know each other the proper way we should. I’d like to marry your daughter and make a life with her. I have a good career lined up, and housing that’s coming my way, but I have to marry her first before she can live with me on base.”

“You love her?” Mr. Brennan says.

I hang my head down, hoping to convey the need to be with Beatrice. “I want to marry her more than anything in this world.”

“Son, that doesn’t answer a father’s question about his only daughter,” Mr. Brennan presses and I’m not afraid to tell him how I feel. There’s a strength in loving Beatrice that makes me feel like I can do anything with her by my side, because she makes it worth it. I want to be worth it.

“I love your daughter the way the sun needs the moon. She’s the reason I want to get up in the mornings, and the reason I want to be a better person. Forgive me, but she’s the only person I want beside me.” I don’t know if I’ve answered his question sufficiently. Putting into words how much she’s come to mean to me goes beyond a simple verbal response. My actions will have to speak louder than promises anyone could give.

“Phoebe, can you give us a minute, my love? I need to speak to Henry here.”

My eyes dart up. I hadn’t been sure if her father actually knew my name. The women leave and it’s just us, man to man. I’m not sure which is worse.

“Sir, I—”

He stops me with a hand up. “Save it, Henry. I looked you up on the computer—or what little I could find. I know your family in town, but I don’t know much about you. You’re here proposing to marry my only daughter, and all I know for sure is that you left her three months ago, crying her eyes out until she made herself sick. She doesn’t know I know that, but it’s hard to hide much in this house with the walls paper-thin and her anguish killing me each day.” Hank Brennan is speaking the truth, and I’m floored by how little Bea told me. Sure, she said she was hurt, but not the level of pain I couldn’t comprehend. I did this to her and I’m ashamed.

To hurt someone like that breaks through all the tough-guy training they give us in the military, and I feel myself choking up. I can’t compartmentalize what I feel for her, nor should I.

“I find it hard to forgive myself for what I did, and for the rest of my life I’ll live with that mistake.” I thought my hands had shaken knocking on the door; now they shake because I’m so angry with myself.

“See that you do. Beatrice went to work this morning humming to herself, but I guess you already know that. I hadn’t heard that sweet sound in a long time. Just know that as quickly as you brought it back, you can take it away again. If my daughter has so much as cause to feel heartbroken again, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

“Mr. Brennan, sir, I can’t ask for forgiveness. I don’t deserve that and I deserve what I’m about to ask for even less, but I’m compelled. I’d like to humbly ask for your blessing to marry your daughter.” I don’t know what I would do without her.

Her father’s face breaks into an unexpected smile. “Ain’t me you gotta ask, son—it’s her mother.”

Mr. Brennan calls his wife back in. The aunts back her up, half glaring and half smirking at me. Mr. Brennan clears his throat and nods at his wife. She doesn’t look pleased one bit, and clearly spent the time eavesdropping.

“Well, how much time do we have to plan? I’ve been on the phone with your mother this whole time.”