Homecoming


She was too old to believe in Santa Claus.

At least that is what she kept telling herself. Ever feel like
you wish you could just step off the merry go around? The view
is always the same, some horse's ass in front of you. Nothing
changes.

But then she found out she wasn't on the Merry-go-round at all.
It was the rollercoaster; and at the moment, she was staring
down the track of a 300 foot drop.

He didn't leave her much, not that it mattered since it all fit
in the 2 bedroom apartment. Some furniture and Michael. She
smiled. He was precocious for a 6 year old.  It was probably the
last year he would believe in Santa, and she found that it made
her sad, sadder in fact than his father leaving them.

She looked at him, sleeping in Sean's old recliner, curled up
in his Bob the Builder pajamas. He had an old baby blanket
wrapped around his legs, his mischievous eyes hidden behind
drooping eyelids.

"Will Santa bring Daddy's presents?" he murmured sleepily.

She mentally sighed, cursing the circumstances that made him
need to ask.

"Of course, sweetheart. Santa knows Daddy is far away."

The milk and cookies were placed  strategically next to the
stocking hung on the fake mantel.  

She turned off all the lights but the Christmas tree, and sat
on the couch.  She missed him. Sean would have loved to help him
put out the reindeer food, as he had done since Michael was two,
when he promised to help him feed the reindeer. Sean always kept
his promises.

She pulled up the afghan around her legs and felt the tension
sing through her system.
I'm doing the best I can without you, Sean.  She sniffled, and
finally gave in to a bout of self pity.
**************
She felt warm. Safe. Secure. She didn't want to wake up, she
knew it had to be a dream. The last months had punctured any
feeling of security she had had. She felt the hand brush the
hair off her cheek, slide down her shoulder, her arm, her hip
and back up.  A warm touch slipped inside the gap of her flannel
nightgown. Rough fingers caressed her breast and she turned into
touch, not wanting it to end. The hand moved, from one breast to
the other, as she felt the second hand tracing lines up her
thighs to her quickly moistening center.

"Sean," she cried quietly when the fingers stoked her core. 
Her body trembled with need, and a desire so strong, she thought
she was going insane imagining her husband was there.

It was then she awoke and opened her eyes.  The hand on her
breast left and clasped over her mouth.

"Shhhh. You don't want to wake Michael." He smiled down at her.
Her eyes widened and she nodded.  He removed his hand, only to
replace it with his lips.

He kissed her hungrily, desperately and she returned the
feelings. Her hands peeled off his tan camouflage shirt quickly.

"I hope you brought his Christmas gift. He thinks Santa is
going to drop it off for you." She whispered cheekily, before
attacking the belt of his pants. "I don't care how you are here.
I don't even care if you're a figment of my imagination anymore.
Just touch me." She murmured low, cautious of waking her son. He
wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, then lifted
her up in his arms.  Swiftly he carried her to the bedroom, and
laid her out on their bed.

"You have no idea how many times I pictured you like this." He
said.

He leaned over her, kissing her passionately again, her arms
wrapping themselves around his neck then down the tight muscles
of his back.

It was then she felt it, the hard ridge of a scar over his left
shoulder blade.  She broke off the kiss suddenly and asked him
quietly. "Is this why you're home?" in a small, scared voice. 
She watched him nod in the half light.  She clung to him harder,
realizing how close she was to losing him.

"I promised I'd come home." He whispered.  His eyes looked
suspiciously bright, but it was only a moment before his head
dipped to her breast again, nuzzling their warm curves before
taking it into his mouth. His fingers danced across her skin,
remembering each curve, each dimple. His tongue followed suit
and her hands reached for his shorn scalp.  She wiggled beneath
him, until he found her core. She whimpered. It felt so good,
but it had been so long. She pulled on his shoulders, pulling
him up against her length.

"Please just make love to me. I've missed you so much..." She
breathed.

He pressed gently but insistently at her center, his arms
supporting his weight over her. He slid smoothly into her.
Slowly he built her up, then stop when he felt her getting to
close. She pulled the pillow over her face, alternating muffled
screams with deep moans.  Finally in frustration with his
teasing, she pressed him back, riding him hard, fast until she
screamed unmuffled in climax then fell forward onto his chest. 
Sean pulled her into his arms, and pulled the comforter over
them.


"Mommy, are you okay?" Michael came in dragging his blanket. "I
thought I heard you yell." His eyes opened wide when he saw his
father in bed. He dropped his blanket and launched himself at
Sean.

"DADDY!! I knew you'd be here! I knew you'd be here!"  Sean
hugged the little boy close to his chest.

"And how did you know that, Kiddo?"

"Well, you promised that you'd get me a gift from over there. 
And well, Santa isn't here yet, and we haven't fed the
reindeer..."

"Well, then, I guess we better hurry and put out those oats! We
don't want Santa to forget whose house this is!" He smiled at
her over his head. "Let me get some clothes on, Mikey, and go
get your coat on." Michael scampered out of the room.

"I'll just be a few minutes." He leaned over and kissed her,
then pulled on his pants and grabbed a coat from the closet.  In
the light, she could see the large scar, and she shivered in
fear.  How he survived from such a large hit was beyond her, but
she thanked God that he was back with her. Cursed the Army for
not letting her know he was wounded, but knowing Sean, he'd
asked them not to tell her, to spare her worry. 

After they came back up, and a potty break, Sean tucked Michael
into bed, reminding him that Santa couldn't come if he wasn't
asleep. 

"I love you daddy." He murmured quietly.

"I love you too." He whispered over him and he kissed Michael's
cheek.

Once he was out, Sean went into their bedroom, and pulled the
Christmas presents out of the closet.

"Let me help you put them under the tree." He carried the stack
into the other room, placing them around under the already
crowded tree.  He went to the door, and reached into his duffel.

"Put this under there too. Its small, but I think he'll like it."

"What is it?" She asked, curious.

He chuckled. "It's sort of a gag. It's a snow globe.  A Middle
Eastern snow globe. Filled with sand, a few lumps of coal and
some sticks for the arms."

She smiled. "That is a gag. Which of course means, he'll love
it."

"And this is for you. I hope you like it." he handed her a box.
Looking at him for permission to open it, he nodded.

She ripped off the paper, letting it fall to the floor. In her
hand was a jewelry box, intricately and carefully carved.

"I bought this when I was in Saudi. Out in one of the small
towns, and older man was selling these.  They were made of olive
wood. Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she said as she turned it in her hand, "A
work of art. Thank you sweetheart!"  She placed it under the
tree then turned to him.

They curled up on the couch together, looking at the tree.  He
told her about some of the things he'd seen, what he missed. She
curled up against him, just happy he was home, feeling the
warmth of his body against hers, until she too, dropped off.
****


Surrounded by tissue and Christmas paper at dawn, after
watching Michael open all his gifts, Sean stood up. "Sweetheart,
I need to go. I have another promise I need to keep." She looked
up at him, seeing the determination in his face. 

"You and your promises. It's Christmas morning. Can't it wait?"
she smiled at him, already aware of the answer.

"You know I wouldn't leave if it could." She stood up and
wrapped her arms around him once more.

"I love you." She whispered into his ear before giving him a
kiss.

"I love you too, sweetheart." And he stepped out the door. It
was bright morning, the snow glittered in the sunshine when she
heard a knock on the door.

"Maybe it's one of  Daddy's friends." She said, then called
out, "Just a minute." 

She opened the door and saw some sort of ranking officer
standing there, looking abashed.

"Sorry, ma'am to bother you on Christmas like this.  May I come
in?"

"Certainly." She stepped aside allowing him in.

"Is Sean in some sort of trouble? He shouldn't've been here
last night, should've he?"

The man looked startled.

"Ma'am, is your husband Sean McConnell? Social Security number
554-67-9891?"

"Yeeeessss. What is this about...?"

"I'm sorry, I'm lieutenant Prentice. I'm sorry to do this, but
Sean was hit during a cleanup mission."

She twittered in relief. "Oh, is that all?!" she laughed. "I
know. I saw the scar on his shoulder last night."

The lieutenant grew pale.

"Mrs. McConnell, This was yesterday-- in Iraq.  He was shot by
a sniper in the left shoulder, in the back. They did everything
they could for him. I'm sorry."

She looked at him in shock. This couldn't be happening. Sean
was here!

Then she realized, he hadn't said he'd be back this morning. In
her ecstasy in seeing him, she hadn't noticed.

He wouldn't be back.

"But, but...Lieutenant. Sean brought us gifts back. They're
here. He was here." She looked over her shoulder at the gifts
still sitting beneath the Christmas tree. "He promised to come
back!" she cried out, then stopped short.  She fell to the
lieutenant's shoulder, crying.

"He always kept his promises."