My Heart’s Home by Kris Michaels

Chapter 1

Aloud, relieved cheer lifted as the plane touched down. Cameron Freeland didn’t cheer. Instead, he popped his seatbelt and lurched forward, grabbing a case as it fell from the overhead compartment. The woman it almost hit ducked and then looked back, thanking him profusely. He gave her a quick smile and shoved the case back in the overhead compartment before he slammed the plastic door shut. He’d just buckled up when one of the harried flight attendants made an announcement for all passengers to remain seated.

Cameron’s aisle mate pointed toward the bin. “Heads up move there.”

He nodded and dropped his head back to look out the windows. Rain obliterated any attempt to see the taxiways or terminals at the Atlanta airport. When the flight attendant announced that electronics were authorized, he flipped his phone off airplane mode and checked his connecting flight. Canceled. Great.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain once again. Thank you so much for your cooperation during the extreme turbulence we encountered. Hurricane Helen is moving faster than expected, and the tower has informed all aircraft currently holding for landing that further attempts will not be authorized. They are rerouting the aircraft to alternate locations. There will be gate attendants at the end of the gangway to help you with rescheduling connecting flights. If Atlanta is your final destination, we hope you have raincoats; it’s a wet one out there today. It has been our pleasure to serve you, and we’re sorry about the bumps along the way. The flight attendants will remain seated until we reach the gate. Thank you.”

“Crap. Ten bucks says all the hotels close to the airport are booked, too.” His aisle mate—Maury, as the man had introduced himself—griped. The paunchy middle-aged man twisted to look at him. “If you get a room, let me know. I’ll bunk with you and pay half. You can do the same if I find a room.” The man’s fat thumbs were flying over his cell's keyboard.

Yeah, that's a big negative. Since they’d boarded in Frankfurt, Germany, the man had not stopped complaining, even when Cam had put in his earbuds to watch the in-flight movie. “I’ll stay at the USO and wait it out.”

Maury glanced over at him as the aircraft rumbled along the taxiway. “Yeah, that’s right, you’re an E-9. They’ll toss out the lower-ranking to make room for you.”

Ten hours next to this guy, and he’d kept his cool. But that… No, that bullshit was too far. He tapped the guy on the arm and made sure he looked at him as he leveled his best pissed-off stare and spoke in a growl he usually reserved for utter morons or Second Lieutenants that confused their rank with his authority. “I’m a Chief Master Sergeant. E-9 is a pay grade, and any Chief who would kick out a lower-ranking member of the armed forces to sit his ass in a comfortable chair isn’t worth his salt.” The United Service Organizations provided a resting place for military members of every rank in most airports.

Maury blinked and leaned back in his chair, creating distance. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

The woman he saved from being brained with the case looked back at him. “Thank you for your service, Chief.”

He nodded and tried to smile at her. He was tired, hungry, and now not going on to Hope City. The flurry of activity when the plane stopped at the gate was the usual drill. Normally, he was in coach, but he'd upgraded to business class for his last trip across the pond. A retirement gift to himself. He filed off the plane and stood at the gate, listening to the harried gate attendants as they repeated the same apology.

He handed the man his ticket. “I need to reschedule this.”

The man typed furiously into the computer. “I can get you out at two tomorrow afternoon if you want business class, or if you’ll take coach, I can get you out at nine in the morning.” The attendant threw him a guarded look, no doubt expecting to be blasted for the overnight inconvenience.

“Coach is fine. Thank you. Could you tell me where the USO is located?”

The man smiled at him. “Yes, sir, it is in the Domestic Terminal, outside of security, Airport Atrium, level three. The entrance is on the left. You’ll need to claim your bags from the international baggage carousel and then recheck them tomorrow before your flight. I believe the USO has a place to store them for you. And sir, thank you for your service.”

“Thank you for the information and the new ticket.” He took his freshly minted boarding pass for tomorrow’s flight and placed it in his bag. Hefting it to his shoulder, he heard Maury’s obnoxious voice lamenting the lack of hotel rooms. Whatever. He was heading to a place where the people knew his language.

With his bags in hand, he made his way to the underground train and hopped on. The crowds were thinner than usual, which with all the canceled flights was reasonable. He tooled out of security and made his way to the third floor of the Atrium.

The USO was a sight for tired eyes. His tired eyes. As he entered the glass doors, he cringed. The sign hanging on the door indicated the place was only open until 9 pm.

He dropped his bags and looked up. About five foot, ten inches tall, a woman with dark brown hair cut to fall to her shoulders and a smile as wide as Texas greeted him. “Hi, welcome to the Atlanta USO. My name is Blessing.”

“Blessing?” He extended his hand, and she took it in hers.

“Blessing Collier. The name was a gift from my mother. Can I get you settled? We have a full house, but I was told the last plane had landed.”

He glanced at his watch. “The sign says you’re closing in a half-hour?”

She shook her head. “I’m here all night, so I’ll keep it open. Why don’t you come with me?” They walked down a red, white, and blue-painted hallway, and he glanced at the massive shadow boxes filled with coins. Any other time, he’d check them out. Right now, he wanted a bottle of water and a chair that didn’t have Maury bitching next to him.

When they turned the corner, she pointed at a shelving unit that was crammed with A3 bags, duffels, and civilian suitcases. Then, she lowered her voice. “Just set yours beside the rest; it keeps the clutter out.”

He glanced around and noticed several pallets on the floor with children sleeping on them. Exhausted parents sat beside them or against the wall on orange cushioned-back seating. Just past them was a line of chairs for the tall tables, a makeshift fence. At least ten men and women in uniform rucked out on the floor using backpacks as pillows.

“Quite the setup.” He nodded to the room.

“I have become adept at… well, adapting. So, where are you heading to when flights resume?”

He placed his bag down at the far side of the conglomeration of luggage. “Hope City.”

“Are you on leave?”

“No, retiring. Heading back to stay.”

“Congratulations.” She halted while he moved his other bag to the end of the line. “My late husband was so stressed when he got out, not having a job lined up. But I kept telling him he just needed faith. It worked out. Do you have a job, or are you going to take some time off?"

He straightened and rolled his shoulders. “No, nothing lined up yet and no prospects that I’d care to pursue, either.”

“What was your… let me guess, AFSC?”

He smiled. “How did you know I was Air Force?”

She winked at him and pointed to his luggage. The Aim High sticker on the bag was a dead giveaway. He chuckled, “Sorry, I’m tired.”

“I can imagine.” She looked down again. “All the way from Frankfurt and probably a bumpy flight, too.”

In more ways than one. He nodded. “That’s an understatement, but to answer your question, I’m a 7S091, OSI.”

She cocked her head, and a sly smile crossed her face. “Office of Special Investigations? How wonderful, you’re an investigator. Going to Hope City, did you say?”

He tried to suppress the yawn that was building, but he lost and covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry, yes. That’s home, or it was, and I’d like it to be again if I can find a job.

“No family? Come this way.” She motioned for him to follow.

He whispered as they walked together. “Parents have passed on. No siblings.”

“Ah. We’re going here, what we affectionately call the library.” Four other men occupied various seats on two brown plush leather couches that reclined; an empty recliner between the two against the wall beckoned him. “Gentlemen, this is Air Force Chief Master Sergeant Cameron Freeland. May I introduce you to John Roster, Army.”

A young man with black hair and grey eyes nodded up at him and started to stand. “Sir.”

Cam snorted and held a hand out. “Save that sir stuff for the officers. Keep your seat, please, and it will soon be ‘mister.’ I’ve punched my retirement ticket.”

Blessing turned and introduced the next man. “This is Jaxson Adams, also Army.”

“Prior now also.” The man had a scowl that could warn rattlesnakes away, but he reached out a hand with a smile.

“End of tour leave?” Cam asked.

Jaxson waved to his leg. “Medical.”

“Sorry to hear that.” The guy seemed exhausted in ways that Cam had seen when he visited the injured soldiers at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center outside of Ramstein AB. Cam held the guy’s hand until he looked up at him. “Doesn’t have to define you.”

The guy’s brow drew deeper, but he also relaxed, and some of the tenseness seemed to disappear. Jaxson nodded. “Thanks.”

“It’s the truth.” Cam let his hand go and turned to the next man.

Blessing continued with the introductions. “This is Sebastian Durand, heading home to Louisiana for vacation. He’s coming in from the Navy base in Virginia.”

The man smiled and stood, and with a slight Cajun accent replied, “Chief. Don’t know how much of a vacation I’ll have. Plenty of clean-up with this storm.”

“Just getting away will be good. That’s from a person who lost more leave than he took during his career.”

Blessing touched his arm, and he turned. “This is Kyle Jones, also Navy. You’re heading to Albany, right?”

“Whoa, stay seated, my man. That boot looks rather cumbersome.” Cam nodded down to the black walking boot the man was wearing.

“Thanks. Heading home to rehab this mess.” Kyle nodded toward the crutches leaned against the far wall. “Getting around in an airport on those ranks up there with a tour in the sandbox."

“I can imagine.” Cam stopped suddenly and turned to Blessing. “I didn’t tell you my name or rank.”

She laughed and lifted an eyebrow. “I saw it on your luggage tags. Now, you gentlemen rest. I’ll be back when we get our food delivery. One of the vendors here had to close, and they are bringing up what they had cooked. Cam, out in the bunk yard is a refrigerator with water, sports drinks, and soda. Can I get anyone anything before I check on my other guests?”

The men declined, and Cam waited until she left before he sat down.

“Not many more places to put people. Cool that she’s keeping it open so we have a place to hang.” Kyle shifted his position, rolling his boot to the right so it tipped a bit.

“It is. Mind if I ask you what happened?” Cam leaned back, and the leather cushion enveloped him.

“Happened on deployment. Plates and pins.” He shrugged. “Not good for my specialty.”

Cam cocked his head. “Which is?”

“Sniper, Seal Team One.” The lack of emotion in the man’s tone spoke volumes.

“Are they going to discharge you medically?”

Kyle shrugged. “I could do something else, I guess, but I don’t want to be a paper pusher.”

“What did you do in the Air Force, Chief?” Sebastian asked him.

“I was the Chief for USAFE OSI.” He’d loved the job, too. “And that, my friend, is as much of a paper pusher as you can become.” He winked at Kyle.

“Didn’t it suck the life out of you?” Kyle’s question wasn’t a joke. The man wanted an honest answer.

Cam drew a deep breath and thought about his answer. “I’ll admit it took some adjustment. I loved being an investigator. The field is where everything happens, but I trained people to take my place as I moved up. Training your successors, knowing that they have everything they need to accomplish the mission when you’re not there… well, that has its own feeling of completion.”

Jaxson leaned forward and adjusted his leg. “Unfortunately, there isn't a run on desk jobs for a heavy equipment mechanic.”

Cam nodded. “Then find something you can do. Turn your limitations into assets.”

Jaxson stared at him for a long moment. A puzzled look crossed his face. "Teaching?"

"That and other things. With your VA benefits, you could qualify for loans to open your own shop or go to school for free and learn something else. There is so much out there waiting for you, man."

A smile brushed across Jaxson's face. "Yeah, sometimes I forget that. Thanks, man."

“You're like a walking transition assistance class." Kyle laughed, and so did Jaxson, Sebastian, and John. Kyle leaned forward. "I agree with Jaxson, sometimes the problem gets in our face, and it's hard to see around it.

Cam shrugged. “You are only limited by your belief in yourself. Think about what it is you want. Where do you want to be when you’re forty-four years old, like me? Do you want a family? Are you looking for more rank? Do you want to mentor those behind you? Are you willing to walk away from what you have now and start fresh? Some companies would hire you in a nanosecond. SEALs are in high demand.”

Sebastian grunted. “Get unsolicited offers all the time. Bet you do too, Kyle.”

“Knew I joined the wrong branch,” John grumped, and all four of the other men laughed.

He glanced at John. "Medical, right?"

John nodded. "Eighteen C. Special Forces. I lost my peripheral vision with flying debris on our last mission. Surgery saved my sight, but not enough. I have four more years until retirement." The man grimaced and reached into his backpack, pulling out a large envelope stuffed full. “I got these letters from a bunch of kids in a school near home. They got my name from someone my grandfather knew when they wanted someone to write to.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad. Kind of made some of the shit days better.”

Jaxson held his gaze, lifting his eyebrow. “Hell, go by and see them. They’d get a kick out of it.”

John shrugged, and Cam didn't think he was much into the idea, but who knew, maybe the guy would take the suggestion. He couldn't think of a better idea to get to know the place you're going to live for the rest of your life.

Jaxson kicked back in his chair and adjusted his leg. “I don't know about you, but I'm beat.” He closed his eyes a second later.

Damn it, didn't that seem like a good idea?Cam kicked his chair back, as did the others. He was asleep before another minute passed.

* * *

Wide awake due to jet lag and time zone changes, Cam found the refrigerator and grabbed a water bottle. He turned and nearly shouted. Blessing was beside him. He sighed hard and whispered, “Whoa, I didn’t hear you.”

She crooked a finger, beckoning him to follow her. When they made it to the front reception area, she reached under the counter and lifted out a white box. “You were dead to the world when the food came in. Everyone else ate. I saved you something.”

His stomach growled just as he was about to refuse. They both chuckled, and she waved to a chair behind the counter with her. Cam opened the box and smiled. “I could kiss you now.”

Blessing laughed. “I’m too old for you. Besides, your destiny isn’t waiting for you here; it’s in Hope City.”

Cam unwrapped his sub sandwich and glanced at her. “Not if I can’t find a job.” He took a bite and moaned. “Delicious.” The roast beef was tender, the bread toasted, and the sauce was just this side of orgasmic.

“I’m glad you like it. I think I might have some help on the job front.”

Cam stopped chewing and swallowed hard. “‘Scuse me?” He wiped his face with one of the flimsy paper napkins and put the sandwich down.

“I have a friend in Hope City. He’s an Assistant District Attorney. The last time I talked to him, he said the DA’s office was hiring investigators.” She handed him a slip of paper. “Call this number tomorrow morning, and my friend Cliff Sands will put you in contact with the hiring authorities. You’ll have to hurry; the board meets next week, and all applications are supposed to be in already, but Cliff can help you there.”

He reached out and pulled the woman in for a quick hug. “Thank you so much. That’s exactly what I wanted to do, but the city’s website had closed for applications over a month-and-a-half ago.”

Blessing laughed and readjusted herself on the stool beside him. “It’s all about who you know. Speaking of which, it was nice of you to take those four under your wing tonight.”

He nodded and grabbed another bite of the sandwich. “Two are injured and not sure of the future, one is lost, and the other is searching for something.” He chuckled. “Sorry, in my profession, you learn to read people pretty darn quick.”

She reached for her bottle of water. “Strange, in my line of work, that happens too. I think your conversations may have planted seeds tonight.”

Cam chewed his sandwich and sighed. “Sometimes, people only need a nudge to make the right turn.”

Blessing smiled at him. “Exactly.”