Leave: Karli's Story

Pink Awardicon given for winning "A Valentine's Romance"  [E] for 2006.

Red Awardicon given by Redbird on brief hiatus for Outstanding Futuristic/Romance Short Story.

Just so readers are aware, this story is going to be edited soon, so any editing comments would be greatly appreciated.


I lay next to him, watching him sleep, but not touching him. I knew better than to touch him when he first got back from Patrol. When he first came back to me he was wired, tense, and the slightest thing could set him off. It would be safe in a few days after he unwound. For now though I was content just to watch him sleep. In a month he would be gone again and our bed would be empty but he was mine right now, not theirs. It must not have been that bad this time, his lovemaking had been slow and gentle, not desperate like it was when it was a really bad Patrol.

I must have been watching him for close to an hour when the phone rang. He was the only person I knew who had an old ringer phone not a vidphone. He claimed he had enough vidphones on Patrol to drive a man crazy and he didn't want people staring at him when he was home. I stretched, careful not to disturb him, and called softly, "Brad." That would be enough to wake him. We had turned the ringer off on the phone, I knew it was ringing because I saw the light attached to it glow.

He jerked awake, instantly alert, but relaxed when he saw me. "What?"

"The phone."

He rolled over and looked at it, then picked it up. "Spencer," he answered. I slid my arm around his waist and leaned against him. It was okay to touch him when he was awake. He remembered where he was and who he was with then, no matter how long he had been home. He listened to the voice on the other end for a few minutes, then said, "Fine. We'll be there," and hung up.

"Be where?" I asked.

He slid out of bed and reached for his pants. "At a dinner party hosted by my mother."

"We?" I looked up at him. "I never go to those things with you."

He found a shirt and pulled it on. "She's requiring your presence. Get dressed."

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

He leaned over and kissed me. "No. Not at you. Get dressed."

I pulled on the dress I had been wearing when he got home and hunted around for my shoes. I finally found one under the bed and Brad tossed me the other. "Where are we going?"

"To my mother's dress shop. You need something to wear."

"I have plenty of clothes." I was not a kept woman but was supported by my own work and Brad's hazard pay so was well off even without a Contract.

He gathered me to him and held me tightly for a moment. "Yes you do, but not something truly appropriate for this party. Trust me, okay?"

"Don't I always?" I held onto him, running my fingers over the spots I knew his Service tattoos to be. "I trust you to come back to me. To not take another. To love me as you are able."

He, impossibly enough, squeezed me even tighter but only for a moment. "I needed that. Thank you. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Another thing Brad hated was taking cabs when he was home. Apparently the dress shop was close enough to walk because he put his arm around me and turned me away from the cab stand when we reached street level. He kept his arm around me as we walked. I was happy just to have his arm about me and his hand in my hair. Eleven months of the year I didn't see him, only the twelfth month was ours. That was how Service was. Eleven months of tenseness and activity then one month of freedom, of being with loved ones, of not being on call twenty-four hours a day.

The manager of the dress shop came toward us as we entered the shop. "Mr. Brad," he greeted my lover, "how are you today? Home on Leave?"

Brad shook the man's hand but didn't return his smile. Brad's smile was private, reserved for me and his family. "Fine, Remy," he answered. "Yes, I am. This is my friend, Karli. We need a dress for her for one of my mother's parties."

The man looked me over, studying my body and my form, and I edged closer to Brad in response. "What time is the party? Formal or semi-formal? Dinner or not?" he asked.

"2000. Formal. Dinner," Brad answered, then looked down at me. "She has to look smashing."

The man nodded. "Understood. Leave it in my hands." He turned and spoke to a near-by woman, "Get me two chairs and drinks for our guests."

I knew Brad had had other girlfriends before me so it was with trepidation that I faced him after we had been seated and asked, "Have you brought other women here before?"

"Yes." He grinned at me. "My mother. Never before has Mother invited a woman of mine to dinner." He kissed me, a kiss of promise of what would happen when we were alone again. "You are indeed special."

"Is your mother up to something?"

"We'll see." He smiled again, mysteriously this time.

Four women came out of another room--each wearing a different dress. Brad looked at them and made a sign rejecting all four. This went on for some time until he finally found one he liked.

The dress itself was rather simple. It was a summer style, light and airy material; baby blue in color. There were no sleeves; instead there were just two straps, which meant a strapless bra underneath. Not a problem. The bodice was form fitting, flowing into a three-quarter length skirt. I knew Brad had good taste and his choice confirmed it. It was formal enough to satisfy custom but informal enough to satisfy me. I nodded my head in acceptance of his choice and smiled up at him. "You need to try it on," he informed me.

One of the women led me to a small room and gave me three different dresses, all the same style and color but different sizes. "Just place the one that fits outside this door." She indicated another door to the rear of the room. "It will be wrapped for you."

"I'd like Brad to see it."

"That's fine. Just go out and see him when you pick one." She left the room, shutting the door behind her.

I tried on the three dresses, choosing the middle size, and left the other two in the room. Brad was chatting with the manager when I came out. I walked up to him, caught his eye and spun around. "What do you think?"

His eyes lit up as they roamed appreciatively over me. "It's perfect. Go change and have it wrapped."

"All right." When I came back out again, Brad had the package under his arm. He must have paid already because the manager was gone and he put his arm around me and steered me out of the shop. "I like your choice," I told him as we strolled back to the apartment.

"And I like you in it so I think we're both satisfied. We have a while before we have to be at the party."

I snuggled against him. "Good."

Brad was in the shower later when the phone rang. I opened the bathroom door and called, "Should I get the phone?"

"Yes!"

I padded back across the bedroom and picked it up, saying, "Hello?"

"Bradley?" A strident female voice asked.

"No, ma'am," I replied, minding my manners because I wasn't sure who I was talking to.

"Where is my son?" the voice demanded.

"In the shower, ma'am," I answered truthfully.

"Get him," she ordered.

I set the phone down, without putting it on hold, and went into the bathroom. Brad was drying his hair and couldn't see me. I paused for a minute to admire him. I knew how strong he was, having been held by him so many times, but now I watched the play of his muscles as he moved. I studied his Service tattoos. His recruitment one was on his left upper arm, facing outward but the others were on his back. He had three. One was his current rank and service number. A second had his home planet--both a picture and the name. The third denoted his branch of Service, the Space Naval Service (SNS). I knew each tattoo. I could trace and draw them from memory; but I still studied them whenever I had the chance. My position with Brad was precarious without a Contract. Just because I lived with him a month out of the year didn't necessarily mean that I was eligible for any support if something happened to him. I memorized his tattoos so if something did happen, I was more protected. "Brad, your mother's on the phone," I said after a few minutes.

"Thank you." He walked out of the bathroom, still naked. I tossed a pair of sweat pants at him. "Put some pants on."

He smiled at me, picked up the phone and pulled his pants on. "Hello, Mama." He listened for a few minutes then said, "I am asking her, Mama, have the papers ready...I don't care what you, I am...We'll see you later." He hung up, angrily.

"Ask who what?" I asked from where I had seated myself on the bed.

"Nothing. Finish getting dressed," he snapped.

I finished the French twist I had been working on for my hair and slid the dress over my head. Brad came up behind me and zipped up the dress, then placed a kiss on the curve of my neck. "You look perfect."

I sat on the edge of the bed again to watch him dress. "Brad?" I asked after a few minutes.

"What?"

"I love you."

He came over and sat next to me, taking me into his arms. "I wouldn't come home to you every Leave if I didn't love you."

"But you never say it," I protested.

He kissed me hungrily, ruining my make-up but I didn't care. I didn't know what would happen tonight and I wanted his reassurance that I was still desirable and needed by him. He stopped short of undressing me though. "That's how I say I love you," he told me, then got up and began dressing again.

I threw a pillow at him. "You ruined my make-up for that?"

Brad laughed; a rare thing but even rarer the first few days home. "At least I didn't ruin your dress."

I followed him into the bathroom and scooted in front of him to use the mirror so he had to reach around me for anything he needed. We jostled for mirror space for a few minutes but he finally put his arms around me and watched me reapply my make-up. I caught the wistful look in his blue eyes. "What?"

"I wish it could be like this always. I miss you when I'm gone."

I caught his hands, pressing them to my stomach. "I miss you too. I wake up sometimes and reach for you."

He squeezed me. "I may not re-up again."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm considering it."

"Good."

"Are you done?"

"Yes."

"Let's go then."

A car was waiting at street level for us. The driver held the door for us and I preceded Brad into the car.

The house we were taken to was large and ornate. Brad smiled at the look on my face. "Mother had some money of her own and Dad invested most of his hazard pay," he explained. I didn't care about that; I was just realizing that maybe I didn't know Brad as well as I thought I did. The he leaned down and nuzzled me and said, "Everything will be all right. They'll love you" and I instantly felt better.

He placed his hand at the small of my back and guided me up the steps and into the house. A woman swept down the hall to meet us. "Bradley," she gushed.

He dutifully leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Hello, Mama. I'd like you to meet Karli Jamerson. Karli, this is my mother, Carole Spencer."

She looked me over and I was glad I had let Brad choose a dress for me. I apparently passed because she said, in an almost absentminded voice, "Hello, dear. It's nice to meet you."

"Where's Dad?" Brad asked, laying a casual arm around my shoulders.

The woman made a face that seemed more appropriate on my nine-year-old sister. "In his den with his Service friends."

"I want Karli to meet him. We'll be right back."

"Bradley, really," she protested.

"We'll be right back, Mama," he said firmly and pulled me away.

I followed him through a maze of halls and doors until he stopped in front of one near the rear of the house and knocked loudly. It took a few minutes but a man not much older than Brad finally opened the door. "Hello, Michael," Brad greeted him and the man nodded in reply. He moved aside. Brad took my hand and dragged me into the room. "Dad?" he called, then getting no response he changed it to, "Colonel?"

"Over here, Brad," another man replied.

I was able to get a good look at him from behind Brad. He looked a lot like Brad, or I should say Brad looked like him, but his hair was darker and thinner. They had the same warm blue eyes though. He, like Brad, was dressed in civilian clothes; a well cut blue suit. Both men wore somber colors, which served to emphasis their serious natures. "Dad, I'd like you to meet Karli," Brad spoke formally and bowed slightly as he presented me.

The man smiled at me and clasped my hand warmly. "My son seems to think I require him to be formal in presenting you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard much from my son."

"Thank you, sir," I replied.

"I gather my wife didn't make you feel entirely welcome. No, don't answer that. I know Carole well enough after all these years. Brad, why didn't you find a girl who talks more?" He abruptly switched subjects mid-conversation.

"I did, Dad. Give her a chance."

"I suppose your mother wants you back out front?"

"Yes, sir."

"And I suppose she wants me out there too?"

"It would probably make her happy."

"Only if you will allow me to escort this lovely lady out," he replied.

"That's up to Karli," Brad answered. He looked at me.

I glanced at him, judging his mood, and then looked at his father. "I'd be honored to have you as my escort, sir." I took his arm.

Brad kissed the side of my head, and then left the room with the man he had greeted as we first entered. "I'll let you rejoin my son in a bit, I wanted to talk to you first," the Colonel told me in a low tone. The other men filed out of the room, touching their brows in farewell. He motioned me into a chair after the room was clear. "Do you love my son?" he asked.

"Is that any of your business?" I asked, dropping the sir in my shock.

"It's a simple question, my dear. I'm only asking because I care about my son."

"Sir, if I didn't love your son, I would have kicked him out long ago."

He laughed. "You sound like the type of woman that would attract Brad." He stood back up and offered me his arm. "I'm glad he found you."

I smiled and accepted his arm. "I'm glad I found him, too, sir. I do love him."

I searched the large room we entered for Brad as soon as I could, trying to not be obvious that I was looking for him so as not to alert the colonel. I soon located Brad across the room from me, speaking with two men that I didn't recognize. I caught his eye and he smiled at me, but didn't come towards me. "Miss Karli," his father's voice drew me away from looking at Brad.

I ended up sitting with the Colonel and a cousin of Brad's during dinner. Brad was sitting across the room with his mother and his Service friend. I had a hard time concentrating on dinner because I felt out of my depth. I didn't want to be at this dinner party with a bunch of people I didn't know; I wanted to be home curled up with Brad and eating take-out.

After dinner Brad finally rescued me from the strangers and pulled me onto the dance floor. "Having fun?" he asked softly.

"No. Can we go soon?"

"I don't know."

"Brad, I really don't like it here. I don't know anyone and I feel awkward."

He spun me around, obviously thinking. "I'm supposed to ask you something in front of all these people, but I think..." he trailed off, then spun me again and pushed me into an alcove.

"Brad, what are you doing?" I hissed.

He put a hand over my mouth. "Shh. Keep quiet." He moved the curtains aside, revealing a glass door and an expanse of grass. He opened the door. "Through here." Once outside he took my hand and led me across the lawn to a stone wall. He sat next to me on the wall, keeping my hand in his and playing gently with my fingers. "My mother will probably never be loving to you but she will treat you politely, she never did want to be replaced, but you sure have charmed Dad. He really likes you."

I pulled my hand away from his and drew my knees up to my chest, shutting him out physically. "Brad, what are you talking about?"

He reached out, but didn't touch me. "Will you marry me? Dad has the Contract and I've got a ring." He searched his pockets. "It's here somewhere." He looked up realizing I hadn't answered him. "Karli?"

I launched myself into his arms. "Did you even have to ask?" I demanded through my tears.

"Kar, hey, Karli. Stop. Don't cry. You know I can't handle that," he protested as I soaked his shirt.

"I'm happy, you idiot," I blubbered.

He laughed and gathered me on to his lap. "Then stop crying. I can't kiss you when you're crying."

I tilted my face towards him and he swiftly kissed my tears away, smiling the whole time. We were still sitting that way, grinning at each other like idiots when Michael found us. "The Colonel's looking for you," he informed Brad, tossing him a small box, "and you left this with me."

Brad opened the box and triumphantly handed me the ring inside. "I knew it was around somewhere, just didn't realize I had left it with Michael."

Michael joined us on the wall, nodding to me. "I gather you asked her and the reply was affirmative."

"Hey, you never actually said yes," Brad realized.

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't. So say it." I shoved him, pushing him off the low wall, but he had a tight hold on me and I tumbled down on top of him. "Say it."

Michael looked down at us. "You had better say yes, Karli."

"How did you know my name?" I demanded. Then I forgot about it as Brad's hand found a particularly sensitive part of my anatomy. I could hear Michael's soft laughter as he slipped away, but was more interested in Brad who was working on the zipper to my dress. "Of course, yes," I murmured to him as he rolled our bodies over.

"Aren't your parents going to wonder what happened to us?" I asked as I straightened out my dress.

Brad paused in buttoning his shirt and zipped me up. "Who cares?"

"I do. I want your parents to like me."

He kissed the tip of my nose. "Dad does. Mama's a shrew, so ignore her." He helped me to my feet and put his jacket around my shoulders. "Let's go give them the good news."

I followed him back across the grass to the house and in a different door. Taking my hand, he led me through more of the house until we once again reached the main ballroom, where we had been dancing earlier.

Michael was the first one who saw us. He smiled when he noticed that the hand Brad clutched so tightly in his, bore the diamond ring he had delivered to us. Then Brad's mother saw us and even though I couldn't hear her heels above the music, I imagined them ticking off the last moments of my life as he marched towards us. "Where have you been?" she demanded.

"We went for a walk," he answered easily. "Where's Dad?"

"In his den again," she answered.

"Michael," Brad hardly raised his voice at all but the man was instantly at his side, "go get the Colonel for me." Michael nodded and sped away. Brad drew me up to the front of the room and ascended the bandstand, dragging me behind him. I could see his father in the back as Brad called for attention. "I'd like all of you to meet someone very special to me," he announced as the crowd turned to face us. "This is Karli Jamerson." He looked down at me so lovingly that I almost burst as he said, "And she has just consented to be my wife."