The Soldier's Return

Chapter 2

Maggie O'Leary had known since the age of nine that she was going to be a Navy pilot when she grew up. By the time she started high school she had her career all mapped out. Already a straight-A student, she would take all the math and science classes she could. She had to work hard for her grades, studying twice as much as her friends, but she knew she could do it, especially with extra classes over the summer. She planned to attend the State university, and join the Navy ROTC. After college she would become an officer, and she would make sure she had the background and experience to qualify for flight school.

Physical fitness was key, and she had a plan for that too. She had taken dance and gymnastics in elementary school, run track in middle school, and was on the swim team. Maggie reviewed these plans over and over during her long run every morning and while swimming laps and working out in the school gym. Between study, exercise, some carefully-selected extracurriculars, and her naturally serious attitude, there wasn't much time or energy left over for dating. She had a fair number of  offers, but she preferred to spend the little free time she had with her friends from the swim team. She had no intention of getting seriously involved with aunt until she had finished flight school and had her wings.

Maggie was never entirely sure what motivated her to work so hard. She loved and respected her mother, but she had never wanted to live her life as a housewife who worked part-time to supplement the family income. Her father was a good man, a plumber, who worked hard and took care of his family. She could not help noticing, however, that her parents still had the same friends they'd made in high school, and neither had moved more than ten miles from their own childhood homes. Maggie had always wanted more.

By the autumn of her senior year, Maggie's plan was solidly on track. She had completed her ROTC application in time for the August boards, and was expecting to hear back any day. She had a job at the community center as a lifeguard and assistant swim coach, which allowed her to get in extra workout time as well as earning money. She enjoyed the work; to her own surprise she really liked teaching the younger students. Sometimes she thought that after the Navy she might even become a teacher.

For the first few weeks, she was so busy learning her job and trying not to make any mistakes that she barely noticed anyone outside of her students. By October, though, she was starting to feel comfortable, and could spare the energy to look about her more, and another employee soon captured her attention. He was tall and blonde, wearing the uniform of a martial arts instructor. The first time she spotted him he was ushering a group of rowdy ten-year-olds into the gym, and she was impressed that he was able to be firm but friendly at the same time, a combination she herself was struggling with. She didn't know who he was, but she found herself looking around for him whenever she chanced to be in the snack bar or walking through the lobby.

Finally, just before Halloween, her curiosity got the better of her. "Sarah, do you know the blonde guy who teaches martial arts?" she asked the senior swim instructor in the locker room that evening.

"Uh oh, Maggie, don't tell me you're going to be a new member of his fan club", Sarah teased. "Every girl around here has her eye on him, I'll tell you that."

"No, it's not that. I was just impressed by how he handled the kids, that's all." Maggie could not understand why she was so flustered by the teasing, since she knew that her interest was not romantic – was it?

Sarah relented. "Actually he's a really nice guy. His name is Matt, Matt Walker. He's a senior over at Central High. I guess he's going to go into the Army as soon as he graduates." The older girl grinned. "But I hear he's a real good catch anyway."

Several days later, Maggie left work late, tired and hungry, eager to get home. She had a long bicycle ride ahead of her, and the night was cold. When she pulled her bike from the rack, she was dismayed to discover that her front tire was dangerously low. As a serious rider – the bicycle was her main form of transportation around town – she carried a spare tube and a pump, but she groaned at the thought of how long it was going to take to make the necessary repairs.