Brides and Brothers by Anneka R. Walker

Chapter 15

Camille

Camille stuck her chin over the top of her laundry basket to hold the overflowing clothes inside without littering them down the apartment stairs on her way to her car. Moving out of her apartment seemed like a bigger chore than moving in. With each step she brainstormed ways to rid her new house of its occupants without creating hard feelings. They were adults, after all, and living together at home wasn’t going to motivate them to start families of their own. The challenge to change her circumstance had consumed her every other thought since they’d returned from the cabin two days ago. Burning down the place would be a good option if she didn’t like it so much. A few steps later, she paused to readjust her grip on the basket before continuing.

There was always pretending the house was haunted. That worked in the movies. She laughed off the absurdity of strong Peterson men being scared of a few weird noises and flashing lights. Then she laughed again at the potential fun it could be to at least try. No, she needed a foolproof idea—like a bedbug infestation. Hmm, that idea had potential. She almost pulled out her phone to see if she could purchase bedbugs but decided to wait until she could put her clothes down.

“Camille? Is that you?”

Camille recognized Amy’s voice. “Yep, it’s me.”

“No one else is with you?”

“It’s just me.” Camille turned to the side so she could see Amy standing a few steps below her with her backpack on and holding an envelope in her hands. She’d probably just come from class.

“But you were laughing to yourself.”

Camille cringed. “Nope, not laughing.” She changed the subject before her sister could contradict her. “Follow me so you can open my car door for me.”

Amy turned around, and they plunked down the cement steps to the parking lot. A few shoves later and Camille managed to shut the car door on the back seat, piled high with her things. She turned to find Amy grinning over the envelope she’d been carrying.

“Let me guess: Prince Charming wrote again today.”

“Yes, it’s from Grant. He’s not quite as eloquent as Shakespeare, but swooning is definitely a possibility. Do you mind if I hurry and read it?”

Camille didn’t get to answer before Amy ripped the envelope open with the same enthusiasm of a child at Christmas. She seemed to drink in Grant’s words, her cheeks lifting higher as her eyes swept across the page. At the end of it, she sighed through a wide smile.

Camille bit back her amusement, a little more understanding of Amy’s enthusiasm about her boyfriend now that her own heart was claimed. “How often does he write?”

“I hear from him almost daily between snail mail and email.”

“Daily? Isn’t that a bit much?” They walked side by side back up the staircase. Camille had at least one more load to carry down, but her arms were aching.

“Not at all.” Amy put the letter to her chest, her tone more than a little defensive. “Okay, so it’s a tad excessive, but he’s still adjusting. I’m happy I can be there for him. He likes to tell me about all the cool and crazy things he’s experiencing.”

“He’s lucky to have you, then,” Camille said, wondering how much their relationship was affecting Grant’s adjustment.

“Dating through letters is challenging, but I’m learning about a whole new side of Grant.”

Camille’s head bounced up and down like she agreed with Amy’s reasoning, but a couple of warning bells were going off in her mind. This was her little sister, and now her brother-in-law, and she wanted to help them.

Emma opened the apartment door as Camille and Amy hit the third-floor landing. “Hey! I saw you two through the window.” She stepped aside so they could come in, and Camille followed Amy inside, not really ready to take down that last load. “How is everything, Camille?”

Amy slung her backpack from her shoulders and dropped it onto the couch, and Camille took a seat next to it. “I’m great, but my arms are sore. I’d better have some big muscles pop up tomorrow after the work I put in to packing my car.”

Emma’s soft laugh was almost lost in the shutting of the door.

“We were just talking about Grant’s latest letter,” Camille said, not ready to drop the subject. She turned to her sister. “I didn’t realize soldiers could write so often. I thought they were usually deployed to areas without internet access and that letters would take three months to get to you.”

Amy shook her head as she entered the kitchen that joined the family room. “Most base camps set up their own internet station, and letter posting is equally important.” She pulled out a glass and filled it with water. “Snail mail is my favorite.”

A keychain that held the U.S. Army insignia dangled from Amy’s backpack. Camille reached up and ran her finger around its raised letters. “Do you think it’s harder for Grant to immerse himself in his work when he’s putting so much time into your letters?”

Amy’s face fell as she looked down at her water. Emma perched on the arm of the couch next to Camille, and by the look on her face, Camille knew she agreed.

“I joined a social media group for significant others of deployed soldiers,” Amy finally said. “There was a post recently warning against constantly talking about what they were missing out on. Distracting the soldiers with home even encourages depression. If a soldier isn’t focused, it’s a potential threat to their safety.”

Guilt seemed to magnify in Amy’s face, as if she’d already known there was a problem. Her glass made a small thud as she set it down. “I just remembered an assignment I need to turn in. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Camille watched her go to her room, feeling a little guilty herself. Her intention hadn’t been to make Amy unhappy, just to caution her. “I hope I pushed her in the right direction,” she said, blowing out her breath.

“She knows you care about her.”

Emma’s sincerity comforted Camille, and she nodded. “Thankfully, she has you and her other roommates too.”

Camille wished she could do more for these women. Her married life was a whole lot more complicated than she’d predicted, but that didn’t lessen her desire to be a good friend. For example, no one as sweet as Emma should be left behind every night while the other roommates dated.

“I’ll be praying for Amy and Grant tonight. I really don’t want to mess anything up between them.” Camille silently committed to praying for Emma and the others too.

“Amy will be all right,” Emma said, staring off toward the bedrooms. “She loves him enough to figure this out.”

Emma hadn’t been talking about Camille’s issues, but the words hit her in the chest. She loved Aiden enough to figure out their problems too, but their problems were a lot bigger than Amy and Grant’s. Think six feet tall, multiplied by six. Yes, her problems were very big. She only hoped love would be enough.