Field of Blackbirds - Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (me reader txt) 📗

with him in Bosnia. My name is Lazar. I only knew Radenko for three months, but he became my best comrade very quickly. Let me tell you how.
It started when he carried my unconscious body over his shoulder through more than 500 meters of machine gun and tank fire, until I was safe. That was the first time he saved my life. I watched him rescue a woman, a child and an old man from certain death. And for that, I will think of him every time I look into my wife’s, and daughter’s eyes. Then, when everything went dark, so horribly dark, Radenko stood in front of me, wielding a light, bright enough to blind the sun. And then he took a bullet that should have hit me. It’s a debt that I can’t ever repay.
I’m sorry you lost your son, Sir. I’m sorry I lost my friend. I know there’s nothing I can say to make him more of a man in your eyes. He’s done well enough for himself. I just wanted you to know what he meant to me, and that there are others who are grieving his absence.
He admired you Sir, and referred to you often as the ‘Last Real General’. He said you’re the only one who can stop the rising swell of corruption in the ranks. The Vojsko Srbije is honorable, but some therein are trampling her for power and personal gain. Judgment will fall on us all because of a select few. Someday, if I could, Sir, I would like to meet with the Last General to serve in Tito’s cabinet. There are things I think your son would want you to know.
Until then, God speed, and God save our country.

p.s. I think Radenko would have wanted this picture to find its way back to you.


Corporal Lazar Katich


“Are you alright, Petro?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, Marshal.”
The General slowly tugged against his line. “Will Anjia be coming over tonight?”
“She’ll be over for dinner, yes.”
“If it’s not too much to ask, do you think she can press my best uniform?” Petrovich cast a curious eye at the General.
“I’ve got to go back to work.” he said. “I don’t know where I’ll begin, but I know what needs to be done.”
The General began reeling in the fish, his pole a crescent. “He’s a stubborn fish.” He said.
Petrovich got the net ready again. “Like Radi.”
The General laughed, for the first time in a long time. “Like Radi.” he agreed.


Chapter 44 - Meet Him in Mons


Airport, Mons Belgium early 1993

Lindsey glared anxiously at the runway every time a plane touched down, wondering, hoping it was Reed’s, even though logic told her it wasn’t. Reed’s plane wouldn’t arrive for another hour. But still, just knowing he was coming made it exciting to watch.
Lindsey looked over at Mr. Love, who winked and bore a look of pure adoration for his daughter. And another look of; See, I told you everything would be okay. But there was no way he’d actually known that and like Lindsey, he was just happy it had been a successful trip.
“Thanks for bringing me here, Dad. First New York and now, Belgium” Lindsey was amused when the intercoms chirped in French.
“It was Reed’s request. And in my line of work these things are easy to oblige.”
“Who was that man you were speaking with earlier, Dad?” asked Lindsey.
“He’s a buddy of mine.”
“Come on, what’s his name?” Lindsey insisted.
“Sam.” he answered, with a look saying; your efforts are futile.
“So, you’ll never tell me what this was all about huh?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say never. You can ask again in five years or so.”
Lindsey rolled her eyes.

Lindsey took out a small compact mirror for the second time in fifteen minutes. She looked herself over, ran her fingers through her hair and reapplied her lipstick.
“Lindsey, you look gorgeous.” Mr. Love assured. “Reed hasn’t forgotten. Relax.”

Lindsey noticed the girl sitting directly across from them. She sat alone and looked as nervous as Lindsey felt. She had dark brown, wavy hair that was styled a little old fashioned, Lindsey thought, with most of it pulled to one side with a beret. She wore a beautiful red dress. Lindsey thought she looked elegantly attractive. She sat on a bench next to the restrooms, and had gotten up frequently to use the facility. It must have something to do with the fact that she looked twelve months pregnant, she guessed.

“This is it, Baby.” Mr. Love pointed toward a 737 screeching onto the runway.
Lindsey turned just in time to see the smoke curling around the tires. She felt her heart drop and her skin flush. Her stomach contracted and began to upset.

Lindsey waited twenty gut wrenching minutes at the gate; sure that anxiety would call her home when the gate opened. But it did finally open, and she was still conscious. Lindsey ignored the pain in her calves as she stood on her tipi-toes, monitoring the crowd as it filtered out of the tunnel. She quickly began discarding face after face, trying to find the one that matched the portrait on the wall.
After some time, Lindsey looked back over her shoulder at Mr. Love, who was still sitting by the window. She shrugged her shoulders. And Mr. Love just smiled, clearly entertained by her anticipation.

************

Marcielli tried to keep a normal pace as feisty businessmen pushed around him to get to their meetings and appointments. He found it funny that he deliberated how he should hold himself as he came out of the gate. Should he carry his bag at his side, or should he carry it over his shoulder with his free hand in his pocket? Marcielli couldn’t believe the moment had come. He was grateful to Sam that he arranged for Marianna to meet him in Mons.
When he came out of the gate, as much as he tried to play the cool tempered war hero, he all but lost it when he saw her, spectacular in red, waving; her other hand nervously covering her lips, and her eyes, big and brown, holding nothing back.
He ran for her. She waddled for him. He stretched out his arms. She used hers to support her bouncing belly. He nearly stopped in front of her to take it all in; her beauty, their baby, the three of them, finally together, a monumental moment. He was convinced he could endure a thousand deaths if it would lead to another moment, like this.
He pulled her and all her awkwardness in tight. She put her hands on his face and kissed him. He kissed her back.
“Mi amore, Belleze de Milano.”
Marcielli looked down at the noticeable distraction between them. It was something he could only imagine doing, over and over. He slowed his movements as his elation simmered to tenderness.
Marcielli rested his hands atop her stomach. He cried softly. He let both of his hands fall slowly around to the bottom, and then back up again. He caressed the very life that would make him a father, the very life that would change him forever.
“What do you see Marcielli?”
“The rest of my life.” he said.
Marianna’s tears followed Marcielli down as he dropped to one knee. He pressed his ear against the firmness of her belly. She cupped his cheek and prayed the baby would move.
“He kicked me! The little bambino kicked me.” Marianna felt the grin in his cheeks.
“Are you sure it’s not a Bambina?” she asked.
“Oh Marianna, thank you.” He pulled away enough to look up at her. “Thank you for this.”
And then Marcielli spoke to her tummy. “Papa’s home. Thanks for waiting for me bambino.” He planted a kiss and then rose to his feet.
Like the weight of an airplane crashing down on her, so arrived the very reasons why Marianna fought so hard for Marcielli and his baby.
“I love you Marcielli.”
“I know Marianna. I know.”

************

There she stood, only feet from him, waiting, like an air traffic controller, safely guiding him in. Reed walked calmly to her, never deviating the course. He stopped within arms reach of her.
“You kept your promise.” he said.
She smiled at him, “Sempra Fi.”
Reed too was smiling now. “Sempra Fidelis,” he said softly, “Always faithful.”
“Always faithful.” she