A Candle for a Marine (Always a Marine)

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Candle for a Marine

Copyright © 2013 by Heather Long

ISBN: 978-1-61333-612-0

Cover art by Mina Carter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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www.decadentpublishing.com

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Also by Heather Long

Always a Marine Books

Once Her Man, Always her Man

Retreat Hell! She Just Got Here

Tell it to the Marine

Proud to Serve Her

Her Marine

No Regrets, No Surrender

The Marine Cowboy

The Two and the Proud

A Marine and A Gentleman

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

Combat Barbie

What Part of Marine Don’t You Understand

A Marine Affair

Marine Ever After

Marine in the Wind

Marine with Benefits

A Marine of Plenty

I never planned to write “military romance.” I didn’t wake up one morning and think, huh, I should write military heroes and the men and women who love them. In fact, it was the last thing on my mind until I wrote about Luke Dexter, a retired Marine, in Once Her Man, Always Her Man. He left the woman he loved when he enlisted because at eighteen he didn’t figure on surviving. He was a young man going to war to defend his country—and he grew up to become a man, a Marine, and an officer.

The level of honor I discovered in this one hero, drove me to explore others. We’re a country that has been at war for over a decade. We’ve an entire generation who has known nothing but this activity and who have seen their fathers, brothers, sons, sisters, daughters, and wives serve overseas in hot zones.

Keeping It Real

As romantic as military heroes are, I like to keep it real. Most of the heroes I wrote at first were retired or no longer on active duty. But for those still on active duty—they don’t have control over everything they do because they have to be on call 24/7 even when they’re on leave.

They can’t always commit to a lifetime because their lives aren’t their own. At the end of
Her Marine
, Brody had to go because his leave was only for a couple of weeks. He enjoyed his time with Shannon and you know that he and Shannon are in touch, but he can’t just “quit” and stay with her for a happily ever after.

They Don’t Get To Pick

Applying for jobs or assignments in the military can take time and dedication and clearance. So when you get an assignment you’ve wanted, you can’t just change things overnight because you met someone. The same is true for the potential military spouse—they have to be ready to pick up and move when their spouse gets orders.

The best part of this series is putting a human face on these people who are dedicated to our country and give up what so many of us expect as essential freedoms. I respect and admire those who love them for the sacrifices they have to make as well. At the end of the day, our military and their families are heroes because they go to the places no one wants to be and they do it, knowing they might not return.

The friendships forged, the class walls that collapse, the fact that in the military you aren’t a race, or an economic status or a region—you’re Marines—battle buddies, comrades, companions, and their relationships are forged through your shared experiences.

They are the few and the proud…

Every hero or heroine I write inspires me. The Always a Marine series fills me with an inexplicable hope—because it’s these men and women who protect my way of life.

Semper Fi

Heather

The mission of the U. S. Marine Corps Reserve Toys for Tots Program is to collect new, unwrapped toys during October, November, and December each year and distribute those toys as Christmas gifts to less fortunate children in the community in which the campaign is conducted. The primary goal of Toys for Tots is to deliver, through a new toy at Christmas, a message of hope to these youngsters that will assist them in becoming responsible, productive, patriotic citizens.

This holiday collection of the
Always a Marine
series is dedicated to Toys for Tots and the men and women of the United States Marine Corps Reserve who dedicate their time, their efforts, and their funds to delivering this message of hope. A portion of the proceeds from each of these books will be donated to Toys for Tots to continue that mission. Semper Fi.

http://www.toysfortots.org

For Leah, who invited me to my first Seder, first Hanukkah, and always made me feel welcome at her table. Latkes and laughter were the best medicine. I’ll always miss you.

A Candle for a Marine

Always a Marine - Book 18

By

Heather Long

Isaac paid the cabdriver and slung his bag over his shoulder. He’d hoped to arrive earlier than
Erev Shabbat
, but in his neighborhood, he knew where everyone would be. Loping up the steps to the temple, he entered the lobby and slowed his pace to swap his cover for a plain black
kippah
. Tucking his hat into the duffle and securing it, he eased the door to the service open and he paused just inside. He recognized the strains of
Hashkiveinu
, as he let the door close silently behind him.

The strains of the cantor’s brilliant song soared through the air and wrapped the Marine in the warmth of family and community. For the first time in years, he was home. Unwilling to break the spell, he remained rooted to the spot and let the prayer wash away the sandy grit of service and the sweat of too long an absence. Searching the pews filled with so many familiar faces, he spotted the silver-blue hair of his grandmother halfway down. Nona never missed a service, and he’d kept his leave quiet until certain he’d be able to make it home.

For the first time in eight years, he would spend Hanukkah with his family, and he couldn’t wait to surprise her. The cantor’s voice held the last note for several seconds and drifted away. Rabbi Glassman smiled and traded places to begin the storytelling portion of the service. For as long as Isaac could remember, she’d used
Erev Shabbat
—the evening before the Sabbath—as a time to entertain and educate the children. That night was no exception.

“With Hanukkah on the horizon, millions of Jews will gather together, pass out
gelt
, sing our songs, and ask our questions. We will forgive those who trespass against us, show compassion to those who need our mercy, and forgive ourselves for our humanity. We will remember with the lighting of each candle that we keep our faith….”

On stealthy feet, Isaac took a seat in the empty last pew and slid his bag beneath the bench. He’d never considered himself a deeply religious man, but the rabbi’s sermon resonated. He’d been in the trenches; he’d seen the absolute worst and brilliant best of humanity, pushed to the edge and teetered on it himself.

While soaking in the words, he glanced around at his friends, family, and neighbors who populated the service. Each one reminded him of how long he’d been gone. A baby on the shoulder of a man he’d played football with in high school, purple streaks in the hair of a young lady who’d been a spritely seven-year-old at the family picnic—gray hair decorated his father’s temples. So much had changed and yet stayed the same. One dark head turned, and his heart froze.

Zehava
.

He’d recognize her anywhere, from the rich tumble of midnight curls to the slightest of curves in her nose. She’d always hated her nose, called it her granny genetics. He adored it. Every time she threatened to have plastic surgery to correct her defect, he’d found a way to distract her.

Confusion slammed through him and he turned away. He’d known she would be there. How could he not? His mother mentioned her so often in phone calls and letters, he didn’t doubt for an instant she wanted him to explain the whys and wherefores, yet he kept his own counsel.

Unwillingly, he studied those seated around Zehava. The man to her left leaned in to murmur to another woman. An air of intimacy clung to them. A friend, perhaps, or just someone to share a pew with. A woman sat to her right, a similar tumble of black hair, streaked with gray.
Sofia Elbaz
. The shopkeeper had never cared for Isaac’s choices and had admonished him when he’d made his announcement of enlistment. Zehava’s mother wanted a banker or a teacher for her daughter, not a Marine.

He couldn’t help wondering if she’d finally gotten her wish. His mother never mentioned a romantic entanglement, but that didn’t mean one didn’t exist. The peace of coming home leaked away from him. Gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, he tried to recapture the simple joy of arrival, no matter how elusive. When the service ended, he was half-tempted to grab his bag and slip out before anyone noticed him.

He couldn’t do that to Nona.

Suck it up, Marine
. As he rose, the ripple of conversation spread through the room. He’d been noticed. The echo of a cane thudded under the growing buzz and the crowd parted. His grandmother marched up the aisle, a diminutive woman who barely reached five feet in height. Her delicate bone structure disguised the iron will beneath the surface.

Stepping out, he waited for her milky eyes to light with recognition. She almost reached him before she smiled, and he held out a hand to steady her when she swayed.

“
Shabbat shalom
,” he murmured.

“
Shabbat shalom
.” Her greeting came out far weepier than his, and he hugged her to him. It didn’t matter how old he was or how far he’d gone, Nona represented safety, security, welcome, and home.

Over her head, he met Zehava’s eyes and steadfastly held them for a full five seconds before looking away and down at his grandmother. “I’m home, Nona.”

“And about time, too.” She thumped his chest, which cued the rest of his family to converge. He exited the temple surrounded by the swell of cousins, aunts, uncles, and his parents. His heart pinged for the one he left behind, but he refused to glance at her again.

She’d made her choice—one they both had to live with.

***