Shattered Dreams by Brenda Kennedy Page A

for help on the
radio while the other troops administer first aid to those injured.
I run into the building that Max entered and stop only when I see
his lifeless body. “No!” I scream.  
    That is how I remember his
death.  
    Not we are one week post Greyson’s death and
the Army has arranged each of the platoon members to call home.
Mahoney was sent to an Army hospital due to the severity of his
injuries. They also arranged for us to get some counseling for
P.T.S.D.: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. We were all present when
Greyson ordered us to stand down so he could enter a condemned
building to check for its safety. I will never forget that dreadful
day and I will never be able to thank or repay Max Greyson for his
selfless actions. If we all had entered that building, none of us
would have survived that bomb. 
    “ Hello, Brice?” Brooke asks
on skype. 
    “ I’m here,
Sweetie.” 
    “ Oh, thank God. Brice, are
you all right? Are you coming home? God, I miss you,” she
cries. 
    “ Brooke, I’m ok. I love you,
and I miss you and the boys so much.” 
    “ Are you coming
home?” 
    “ No, Sweetie, we won’t be
home. When is Max’s funeral?” I ask, trying to hold in the
sobs. 
    “ Oh, Brice, Max is gone.
Emma is a wreck. James won’t even know his dad.” She
sniffles. 
    “ I know, Sweetie. We were
there. Do you know when the funeral is for him?” 
    “ In two days, they are
having a memorial for him in two days. It’s so sad. Emma just
stares out into space; she doesn’t eat or drink. I want to be there
for her, but I don’t know how to be. Are you safe? I just want you
to come home.”  
    “ Sweetie, just being there
with her is good enough. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Brooke, my
time for skype is up. I love you, and I miss you and the boys so
much.” 
    “ I love you, too. Be safe
and hurry home.”  

Chapter Three: Four Years Later
    Emma
    “ Emma, this is the last
box,” my dad yells from the empty foyer. 
    I walk up to him and smile. “That box goes in
the kitchen.” 
    I follow him through the maze of boxes
leading into the kitchen. “That’s everything,” Danny says,
following behind us. 
    I laugh and say, “I forgot how much stuff we
had.” I look around the small three-bedroom, two-bathroom house I
just bought.  
    After Max’s death, James and
I returned to Florida. I have been staying with my parents and have
recently graduated college from the University of South Florida College
with a degree in business. I decided it was time for me and James
to move out and to be on our own. Danny, Cheryl, mom, and dad have
been wonderful in helping me with James and for offering
emotional support. Without them, I’m not
sure I could have done it, or held myself
together.  
    Max’s death has taken its toll on everyone.
He died a hero and we are so proud of that. We later learned that
Max volunteered to enter a building to check for its safety before
his troops went in. That was when the bomb went off, killing Max
instantly. The first year, after his death, is a blur. We had him
cremated as he wished and had a memorial for him at Fort Drum, New
York, and another memorial for him in his hometown of Sarasota,
Florida. 
    After Max’s death, I got
some insurance money for me and James got money from another
insurance policy Max had set up. James will have access to his
money on his 21 st . birthday. I also got some
military benefits because of Max. I banked the money until I knew
what I wanted to do with it. Cheryl and mom found this house, and
once I saw it, I knew it was perfect for me and
James.  
    James comes running up to me with excitement
on his face. “Momma, did you see my room?” 
    “ I did.” 
    “ Did you see the train in my
room?” 
    “ What?” I ask, looking at
Danny and then at my dad. 
    “ Momma, there’s a big train
in my room. It’s on the wall and goes all the way around the room,”
James says, pointing to the ceiling and turning