Friday, 9 March
On another U.S. Army post, about 170 kilometers from Strickland’s vacated barracks room, military life continued.
CID Special Agent Ashley DeMarco didn’t know it yet, but the rising sun marked the day she would become entangled in Strickland’s deal to get out of the army honorably.
Wrapped up in her favorite goose-down blanket, Ashley once again dreamt of being chased by an armed criminal through an abandoned theater.
She was standing extremely still behind a red house curtain on stage left, close to the wings, holding her breath as she strained to listen for any sound that would give away his location.
Then, from the opposite wing, Ashley heard the faint sound of hard rubber soles pushing off against the brick wall. With a rope wrapped around the criminal's bulky forearm, he came at her fast, able to swing with one hand and point his knife at her with the other. She quickly aimed her .38 caliber pistol at the human target and pulled the trigger, but a high-pitched beeping sound replaced the sound of a powerful gun blast, and it persisted and persisted.
Ashley punched the alarm clock’s off button.
“Honey, honey,” she whispered as she nudged her snoozing boyfriend.
“I had another horrible dream. God, it was so real.”
Ashley waited to be comforted after another nightmare, but Jason remained in a deep slumber. When it was apparent he wouldn’t budge, she rolled over and stared out of the window, not wanting to return to the terror of the chase.
It had been over a year since she was sliced in the face by a suspect during a drug deal gone bad, inducing nightmares that continues to haunt her.
In one of her recurring dreams, the criminal chases her through dark alleys and abandoned buildings. Trapped in a corner and unable to get away, he stalks her. Unarmed and defenseless, she tries to shield herself from his knife as it bears down on her, but she always wakes up before it actually does harm. Always saved. Not once has he actually stabbed her.
But every once in a while she's armed with a weapon. This dream doesn’t bother her too much because she can defend herself. In this dream she gets the shot off before he gets near her, though she always wakes before she could witness the bullet strike him.
She respects the nightmares for one good reason - they keep her on her toes. The terror they evoke help prevent her from acting heroic during dangerous situations. They instill in her the wisdom to be more cautious with suspects prone to violence.
Thin streaks of light stream through the window blinds, helping her thoughts turn from fear to spring. Inspired by the rare glimpse of sun, Ashley slips out of bed and opens the curtains.
“It’s finally going to be a decent day. You should get up with me and have a cup of coffee,” she remarked as she stared out of the window.
Jason responded to the harsh light with a grunt.
“Fine,” she frowned. She turned from the window and went to the bathroom.
She turned on the bath water and let it run as she rushed to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. The tub was nearly full when she returned. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as she placed a long, smooth leg into the steaming bath water.
On frigid cold mornings like this she didn’t mind not having a shower in the bathroom. Many German homes don’t have them. She often missed the sting of hot water massaging her shoulders and cascading down her body. But now and then this bathtub was appreciated.
As she began to relax, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever witness the death of a suspect in her nightmares. She honestly hoped not. Despite the anger she harbored since the stabbing, she could honestly say she didn't want to kill anyone, not even in her dreams.
Ashley finally glanced at the clock on the wall and realized she was going to be late to work again. She had lingered in the tub too long, as usual. She could barely smell the aroma of coffee by the time she had applied the finishing touches of her specialized face makeup, which did a good job hiding the tiny scar on her left cheek made by the knife. She didn't have time to sit at the kitchen table and leisurely drink a cup of her strong, black coffee, so she poured it into a thermos.
The drive to work took 35 minutes, which sometimes made her wish she lived on post. But being a CID agent required privacy, anonymity. Living on the German economy provided that. But more importantly, her apartment provided a great escape from the excessive control of the military.
“You’d better get up. It’s getting late,” she told Jason when she rushed into the bedroom to kiss him goodbye.
“I hate mornings,” he grumbled, lifting his head to reach Ashley’s kiss. His long blond hair stuck to the side of his face, and the sight of it made her giggle.
“Get up, Jason,” she repeated, nudging his shoulder. “You only have 15 minutes to get ready.”
She stole a last glance at the motionless figure. She always marveled at how he could get ready in about 10 minutes. It both fascinated and infuriated her.
“Bye, sweetheart,” he mumbled, as his six-foot, two-inch frame stretched and took up the whole bed. He opened one eye to watch her leave the room, almost regretting not joining her in the tub. Her out-of-character good mood this morning nearly prompted him to abandon the warmth of the blankets, but the frigid room temperature held him captive under the sheets. After she gently closed the bedroom door, he shut his eyes again and fell back to sleep.
Ashley grabbed her thermos and black military-issued purse and stepped into the bright sunlight. She took a deep breath of fresh country air and was glad spring was approaching.
Winter was definitely getting the best of her this year. Short, dreary days and long cold nights, though she loved Heidelberg in the winter. It was beautiful when fresh white snow fell peacefully on its rolling hills. The city was particularly festive around the holidays, when horse-drawn buggies jingled along narrow, cobble-stoned downtown streets, and shops lit up the alleys with their colorful holiday decorations.
But after several years away from the States, Ashley was anxious to leave Germany’s cow-smelling countryside to return to the vast land of cable television, all-night convenience stores and the English language. She often marveled at her good fortune for being stationed in Europe, for being able to live on the German economy, for learning first-hand about another culture. But more and more these days she was missing the simple American things in life, like thick pan pizza and ice cubes.
This morning, as she drove through one of the many small villages along her daily route to the army post, Ashley found herself in a state of nostalgia, recalling the day she first arrived here.
Her initial trip from the airport to Heidelberg had totally fascinated her. She was amused that every small village claimed a name, even if it consisted of just one old stone home connected to a barn. Brick streets and narrow stone arches were trademarks of many of the small villages. Quaint was the word that always came to mind.
What really impressed her about this country was that it was connected to the rest of Europe like arteries in the human body. The rail system was the most efficient and dependable transportation system in the world. She could go practically anywhere without a car or plane. She was going to miss living here, but not enough to make her want to stay.
She waved to an elderly woman on a bicycle as she zoomed past her, and slowed down for a supervised herd of sheep strolling alongside a brick road. These were just a few of the common sights she will fondly remember.
As she steered her old GI hand-me-down BMW through her usual route along the Neckar River, she marvaled at the breath-taking beauty she was soon to leave behind. The numerous church steeples reaching up to the sky; the partially-ruined Heidelberg Castle resting peacefully on the slope overlooking the University of Heidelberg, Germany’s oldest university; and the huge stone bridge that spanned over the river.
These were a few of her favorite sights that she had taken countless pictures of for her parents. She even created a special scrapbook for her future children, if she ever had any.
But most of her thoughts these days were focused on starting a new life far away from here. She was leaving without Jason, a civilian helicopter mechanic working for the military, and that little fact was beginning to cause a major rift in their relationship.
One recent night when they were having dinner with friends at a local Gasthaus, Ashley mentioned she was looking forward to experiencing New Orleans, which was near Ft. Polk. She knew she had made a stupid mistake as soon as those words escaped her mouth. Jason’s feelings were easily hurt these days, causing her to feel like she was always walking on egg shells.
He had simply shrugged his shoulders, feigning indifference.
“I thought you said Ft. Polk was like a punishment from hell,” he said, trying to stay cool in front of their friends.
“I still do, honey. I’m just trying to psyche myself up. That’s all,” she lied.
At first that was true. But as time crawled passed, Ashley became fond of the Mardi Gras hangover tales passed on to her by those who had suffered through them. Fort Polk certainly wasn’t on her wish list of assignments, but, she figured, anywhere, even the Big Easy, was better than staying here for another year, or going back to her very small hometown in the vast farmland of Northwest Ohio.
Ashley’s mother had begged her to return home, but Ashley knew there was nothing for her there but cornfields, antique shops and farmers. None of those choices interested her in the slightest.
“I like seeing the world, mom. I’m not ready to come home yet,” she told her.
“Worldly! Ha!” Frances DeMarco retorted. “So you’ve lived in one measly country. You should come home to be with your family, where a woman belongs.”
Ashley wanted to hang up on her old-fashioned mother. Instead, she said, “I know, mom. Someday.”
She was used to her Italian parents degrading her career choice. When she was only nine, she had announced to her father at dinner that she wanted to be a sheriff when she grew up, just like him. “Police work is for boys, not my little Ashley Pashly,” David DeMarco had laughed as he reached over and gently stroked his little girl’s cheek.
Ashley wanted to cry, but she figured sheriff’s didn't cry, so she stifled her tears and picked at her food until her father, tired of her nasty looks at him, finally excused her.
Ashley also knew her mother hated that she had reenlisted. She forever regretted admitting to her mother long ago that her job was sometimes a little dangerous. “I can't believe a daughter could say such a thing to a mother,” her mother retorted.
Ashley was going to visit her parents in just four weeks. Both anxiety and excitement mounted as her mother recounted the plans for them to visit relatives, shop and make homemade pies together. It would be good to see them, she often told herself. She wondered if they would ever believe that she was happy, and that she wasn’t wasting her life. She couldn’t imagine living her life any other way.
Ashley joined the army as a military police officer just three weeks after high school graduation. It was a bittersweet decision to go into law enforcement. Though it had always been her calling, she never intended to attend the academy alone.
Jill Turner was Ashley’s best friend when they were little girls. They were not your typical kids, for the fact they both had unusual plans to be cops together when they grew up. When Ashley first confided to Jill her dream of being a sheriff, just like her dad, Jill had promised she would go to cop school with her.
They vowed to stick together through thick or thin, but a tragic accident ended those plans. They were 11 years old. Ashley was in bed when the phone rang on an early September morning. Frances DeMarco stood over her sleeping young daughter for a long time that morning, contemplating how she was going to tell her baby such a horrible thing.
“Ashley, dear,” she finally whispered as she gently nudged her little girl.
Ashley opened her eyes and smiled. But her mother's sadness was obvious. “What’s wrong, mom? Did something happen to dad?”
Frances DeMarco shook her head no, then sat at the edge of the bed. She reached over and moved a stray dark hair out of her Ashley's face. She struggled to say the right words.
“Everything happens for a reason,” she started out. “God has a plan for every one on this earth.”
Ashley immediately didn’t like where her mother was going with her God talk. Whenever something bad happened, her mother always explained it was God’s way. She braced herself for terrible news.
“I know that, mom,” Ashley frowned. She sat up, gripping the covers with both hands. “What’s wrong? What happened? Is dad all right?”
Frances DeMarco looked away, wishing she didn’t have to tell her that Jill was killed the night before in a car crash.
“Dad's fine. Honey, it’s Jill.”
“Jill? What about Jill? She’s okay, right? Is she sick or something?”
Her mother took a deep breath. “Well, last night, when Jill and her parents were coming home from having dinner in town, another car hit their car. I’m sorry, honey. Jill and her father were killed, and her mother is in the hospital. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
Ashley was quiet for a few moments. Stunned. Shocked. It couldn’t be true. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“You’re lying,” she suddenly screamed. She threw off the covers and ran out of the house in her pajamas. She ran and ran until she collapsed in the cornfield behind their house. Thirty minutes later her father found her in a fetal position, still crying, and carried her back to her bed.
A few weeks later she overheard her father discussing the drunken driver’s court case. “One year in jail! Only one God-damned year!” she heard her father bellow.
He was yelling, which immediately captured her attention because her father was usually a quiet man who rarely raised his tone. But this time his voice charged all the way up the stairs, slipped under her bedroom door, and slammed right into her ears.
“That bastard killed two people and he gets one year? What’s going on in this God-damned world? The legal system is going to hell!”
Ashley shivered in her bed, frightened and confused. If it could happened to Jill, it could happen to me, her young mind reasoned. It took months of family therapy to get Ashley to ride in a car again.
She memorized the killer’s face from the local newspaper, and swore that if she ever saw him, she would get even. But, of course, she never saw him.
Ashley had a hard time making friends after that. She became a loner who poured herself into school, excelling in all her studies. When she entered high school, a social studies teacher convinced her to join the debate team. She learned to take a side and argue for it, thoroughly researching every topic and rarely losing a match. It was during a debate on a military court-martial ruling that made her realize what she wanted to do after graduation.
She had burst into the house after the debate that night and announced she was going to be a military police officer. Her parents looked at each other with concern. David DeMarco always hoped his daughter would forget about joining the police force. Now he had to worry about her fighting in a war. But he knew there was no stopping her when her mind was set on something. “Just like your father,” her mother had angrily retorted as she glared at him.
Ashley spent her first three years in the army manning guard gates and writing speeding tickets at Ft. Gordon, Georgia. She devoted her free time to working on an associates degree in law enforcement at the community college off post.
Ashley had met all the requirements to be a CID agent soon after receiving her degree. She applied and was accepted into the 16-week Apprentice Special Agent course when she was only 21 years old. She flew into Frankfurt as a probationary agent, anxious to begin her new job.
She was now a special agent assigned to investigate felony cases. She had lived in Germany for more than four years, longer than most overseas stints. Ashley had crossed most of the European borders, understood its many cultures and customs, and spoke fluent German. She also lost her virginity here, with Jason.
It was the right time to move on, but her two biggest concerns were leaving him, and hoping that Ft. Polk wasn’t as destitute as it sounded.
She suddenly felt a tinge of sadness as she flashed her green military identification card to the U.S. Army guard patrolling the front gate. There was no doubt she would miss this place, but the moments of sadness were fleeting, and not frequent enough for her to change her mind and extend for another year, like Jason had begged her to.
It was 0735 hours when she walked toward the old stone building that housed the CID office. She felt good this morning. Even the peeling gray paint on the office building sparkled as she walked up the cracked concrete sidewalk. The sun sifted through naked branches.
“Well, well. You’re only five minutes late this morning,” teased Special Agent Kirt Hancock. He leaned against the building smoking a cigarette.
“Aren’t you the observant one,” she smiled. “I feel a spring fever coming on. I might be sick tomorrow.”
“Well, considering tomorrow’s Saturday, you can take it off and I won’t even ask for a medical excuse,” her boss laughed as he flicked down his cigarette and stomped on it.
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t have to work this weekend. I’ve got something for you. I regret to inform you that you have one last case to solve before you leave this land of dark beer and bratwurst. Follow me, bitte.”
Hancock led her down a set of worn cement stairs to their basement office.
“Have you forgotten how short I am?” she asked.
“I haven’t forgotten. This is a directive from above. Something new to add to your resume.”
Directive? Ashley was curious now. Her primary mission the past few years had been mainly covert drug operations. Usually she posed as a free-spirited soldier who loved to drink and have fun.
She knew the routine well. Take on a new identity, blend in at the local hangouts, and party with the unsuspecting suspects. Few soldiers were suspicious because she was a woman. She wore a wedding ring to help fend off the sexual advances, though that didn’t stop many of them from hounding her anyway.
In less than a week of being undercover, Ashley was usually able to provide names of hash dealers who trusted her enough to sell her hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars of bricks of hash, the smoking drug of choice in Germany.
Though a few dealers were sly enough to get away with it, Ashley had a good record of making sure most of her drug suspects burned from it, though in the beginning she felt extremely guilty for turning in those who had trusted her. A speeding ticket was one thing, but sending a fellow soldier to prison was something else.
“Think of it as house-cleaning. Weeding out the bad from the good.” That was how fellow agent Wade Smith had put it after one of her first drug busts.
But it was her father who had put her new job into perspective. When she called home to ask how he did his job every day, she also confessed to her father how bad she felt about ruining people’s military careers. He told her to remember Jill.
“I hate to bring this up, but remember what happened to Jill and her father?” he asked. “The guy had a few drinks and got away with murder. Imagine what a drug addict can do with a loaded M16."
It was a convincing statement, and it the first time he had mentioned Jill's accident since it happened. The guilt was gone after that.
“So, what’s up now?” she asked as she plopped down on Hancock's tattered armchair. “This is sounding kind of intriguing.”
Hancock unlocked the drawer of a large metal cabinet and pulled out a thick file. “You’d better stay seated for this one.”
He handed her the file.
“No drugs or thievery this time, Ash. I know you only have a month left, but this shouldn’t take more than a week or so. After that you can spend the rest of your time here out-processing. Take some leave, maybe go on a little excursion with Jason to London or Paris. You two deserve a little get-a-way.
“Anyway, I think it’s time to introduce you to another kind of investigation. Please hear me out before you make any rash comments, okay hot shot?” He raised his eyebrows as a civil warning for her to shut up and listen.
“This is coming from the top, Ash. We’ve been ordered by regional headquarters to continue an investigation on a specific soldier, and possibly others connected to her case. You have a week to get in and out. Basically, you’ll be going undercover again. Same old stuff, really.
“We’ve chosen you, well, because you’re the only woman in the shop. And being a very attractive one doesn't hurt, I might add,” he said, a slight hint of amusement in his eyes.
Ashley looked at him as if he was crazy. She wondered why in the world he would mention her looks? He had been her boss for more than a year, and not once had he mentioned that before. Why was it suddenly an issue? He was one of the few agents who didn’t see a pair of breasts as a detriment to her job or an invitation for harassment.
She curiously glanced at the file. “Well, you've now got my attention. Get on with it,” she said.
“Ashley, you’ve been an agent long enough. I’m certain you’ll be professional, even though you haven’t done this kind of case before,” he said.
“Damn, Hancock!” she exclaimed. “Why are you acting so weird? What's going on? I have a funny feeling I'm not going to like where this is going. I can only hope it's a murder investigation. That's about the only thing that'll get my interest at this point.”
“Sorry, but it's not murder. I want you to read those agent activity summaries prepared by other agents. It should give you a pretty good idea of how to approach this case. Read it thoroughly over the weekend. You’ll be continuing their progress.”
Ashley opened the file and scanned over the first page. It profiled a female specialist recently investigated for suspected homosexual activity. The photo clipped to the inside of the file showed two women holding hands.
“You’ve got to be shitting me! They’re dykes! Please don't tell me…”
“Like it or not,” Hancock quickly interrupted, “investigating homosexuals is part of our job.
“You’re the only available female agent in the region, so you have no choice. Hey, I’d do it myself, but I have the wrong equipment,” he said, trying not to smile at his attempt at being witty.
Ashley didn’t find him funny.
“Anyway, you'll be gathering information on a suspected lesbian in First Armored Division. Her name is Sgt. Mindy Sterling. She's a journalist on the division newspaper and a softball player on the division team. Read these files on the cases leading up to her case and we’ll arrange the travel and housing details on Monday,” he said.
"Is she one of the chicks holding hands?” Ashley asked as she studied the photo.
“No. The brunette is Specialist Cindi Strickland. She's the one who had a fling with your suspect, Sterling. The other woman is an officer, but we've got someone else on that case. We don't have a photo of Sterling. Anyway, it's all there in the file. You have the weekend to read it.
“I'm sure you'll do fine," he assured her.
Hancock excused himself and walked out of his office, leaving her alone in her own disgust.
“I don’t like this, Kirt. I’m telling you right now,” she yelled after him, her words trailing him down the hall.
Sunday, March 11
Scattered papers surrounded Ashley as she read the voluminous reports in the bulky file.
She couldn’t believe these women were forced to divulge so much sexual stuff about themselves. Much of the information focused on sex, which made her extremely uncomfortable.
Excuses tip-toed around her mind on why she couldn’t take this case, but she knew they were all lame. She could feign illness, or a family emergency, or she could just say no. But she knew there was no way Hancock was going to let her back out of this one.
She couldn’t figure out why this case shook her to the core, because, after all, this was just another covert operation, she tried to tell herself. But it wasn't like any of her other assignments. She was tasked with seducing another woman. It’s not like I have to fuck her, she thought as she tried to calm herself down.
Jason handed her a glass of wine and sat down next to her on the floor. It was Sunday afternoon and their only day off together. He tried to glance over her shoulder and read what he could. He couldn’t help himself; the files were working like a aphrodisiac on him. He purred in her ear like a feline in an attempt to distract her.
“C’mon, Jason, stop it,” she complained, gently pushing him away.
But he was persistent, and horny as hell. He leaned even closer and tried to kiss her neck, but Ashley, disgusted by his behavior, angrily shoved him off.
“Are you kidding me?” she angrily asked.
“I'm trying to work here! I have to leave in a few days and I’m not even close to being ready. I have no idea what I’m doing here and you're acting like a complete neanderthal!”
Jason abruptly moved away from her.
“Listen, every time you go away, I’m cool with it, ain’t I? You go away for weeks at a time, and I never give you shit about it.
“Do you realize you’re leaving here for good as soon as you get back from your fucking spy thing? Don’t you give a shit?” he demanded to know, knowing full well he caused this argument.
“Do you know how that makes me feel?” she countered. “I thought I’d be on easy street my last month. I’d be happy doing desk work right about now. I’m tired, you know? Instead, I have to figure out how to break into some dyke’s sick circle of friends without really being a part of it.”
Jason sighed, then reached over and squeezed her shoulder. He didn’t know whether to support this mission, or not. He was used to her absence, that was for sure. It was her way of life he had learned to accept. Ttheir first year together was tough, but once he grew to trust her, it became routine.
He sat back and tried to keep quiet as he watched her study the files.
“Hey, hon. Do you remember the first time we met?” he asked.
Ashley took a deep breath to calm herself. Okay, Ash, just talk to him for a little while. Appease him.
“Of course I do, sweetheart.” She smiled at him, trying to remain patient.
“You looked so, how should I put it? Dazed and confused. There you were, this beautiful vision, amid and all those coins."
“And there you were, like a dog in heat, taking advantage of me,” she kindly retorted. Ashley finally scooted closer to him, knowing she had to give him a little attention if she wanted to finish her studying by night’s end.
“You know I love you, don’t you?” she asked.
“Most times,” he admitted.
“All times,” she proclaimed. She gently kissed him. “You know I’ll miss you.”
“You’d better,” he said, not sounding too convinced. “Now get back to work.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Jason finally scooted away from her. She felt guilty for having to devote herself to another case. She had to admit he was a very patient man to have put up with her mood swings and frequent absenteeism during their relationship.
Jason quietly watched her become absorbed in her paperwork. Since the beginning, he understood she was different from all the other women he had dated. She was a hard shell to crack, but as he watched her silently study, he knew the effort was worth it.
He loved her since the first time he saw her, when he had walked into the Army post bank to cash his paycheck. He was anxious to go Christmas shopping for his family in Denver. In four days he was going home on vacation.
When he walked into the bank he had noticed a female soldier frantically picking up quarters.
Her eyes darted around the room as she struggled to collect a roll of quarters that had fallen off the counter and crashed to the floor, scattering everywhere. He watched with amusement. She must be new, he thought, because he would have certainly remembered seeing her around the post.
“Shit, I can’t believe this,” she muttered when she noticed him staring.
“Need any help?” Jason asked.
“No, I can gather them myself. Don’t bother,” she snapped.
Jason was still smiling as he knelt down and helped pick up coins from under people’s boots, under the water fountain, under the counter.
“I think you owe me lunch after this,” he joked.
“I recall I said I didn’t need any help. You gambled, and you lost.”
Jason liked her spunk. “Okay, I’ll take you to lunch. I’m not a sore loser.” He smiled as he handed her a fist-full of change.
Ashley, her face red with embarrassment, finally laughed.
They walked to the snack bar and talked all through lunch. Then they met for dinner and talked even more. After four months of dating, they found an apartment and moved in together.
The time she spent away from him on assignments always bothered him. But he didn’t want to admit that something was missing, had always been missing, even when she was around. He hated how she dipped into a minor depression if she was home for more than three weeks at a stretch. Normally, he would have considered her discontentment a slap in the face, but he figured much of her restlessness was caused by the demands of her job, which he sometimes didn’t quite understand.
“It’s time for you to go catch a thief,” he’d say after days of feeling invisible.
“Are you kicking me out?”
Jason just shook his head, thinking you can’t kick someone out who’s willing to leave.
He didn’t understand how she could bear surrounding herself with scum bags all the time. She was suspicious enough as it was without throwing in dealers, thieves and who knows what else into the pot. But she made him promise in the very beginning that he would respect her profession. Her job always came first, and that’s the way it’s always been.
Sometimes he regretted moving in with her. She wasn’t anything like the other women he used to date. Maybe that was the attraction. For once he wasn't the one in control. Maybe that was the reason he fell in love with her, wanted to marry her, maybe even have kids someday. But deep down he knew Ashley wouldn't marry him. He was too proud to be rejected twice.
He asked for her hand in marriage more than a year ago, while they were on leave skiing at the Austrian Alps. He got down on his hands and knees in front of the fireplace in their gasthaus room and asked her to marry him. Tears welled up in her eyes, and he thought for a glorious second she was going to accept his proposal. But she gracefully declined, saying she wasn’t ready for marriage. Not yet.
“You know the situation," she sympathetically told him. “You have a great job here. I would never ask you to give that up. And you know I can’t stay here forever. Please. Let’s just enjoy what time we have together, okay?”
He hid the engagement ring in the back of his underwear drawer, in hopes she would change her mind someday.
As much as he wanted to deny the truth, he knew their relationship was going to die a typical military death. He’d seen it happen to his co-workers too many times. Most of his friends were American civilians married to German nationals. That was the safe way to go. Marry local, stay local.
Jason was well aware of the bad odds on military couples staying together. Even married couples weren't immune to separation. A married couple can only hope job slots are available for both of them at the same place at the same time. Some couples are lucky and get stationed together, but many others are not. The void is often filled by others.
Jason knew the score. Being a civilian at the Army Airfield in Heidelberg for the last five years, he was accustomed to the military way of life. He actually preferred dating military women because they always left, just like Ashley was going to leave.
“I’m going to bed,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “Wake me up when you’re done, if you want.”
Ashley watched him retreat to the bedroom, and it almost broke her heart.
“Goodnight, hon. I'm sorry,” she called after him.
A sudden feeling of genuine affection swept through her, and she knew Jason would make a wonderful husband someday.
