Lightning flashes as Kitt Raynes sits on her beat-up porch swing, listening to the rain pelt down on the tin awning. “You were born in the middle of a thunderstorm, you know?” She glanced down at the sleeping baby in her arms and gently readjusted the pink blanket to fit more snugly. “I still can’t believe your here with me. Charlie, I miss you so much.” Tears she held in for so long, now flowed freely.
On the seat next to her sits her husband’s best friend and a member of the Casualty Assistance Calls department. Mark and a Navy Chaplain arrived on her doorstep a little over a week ago with the news of Charlie’s death. The loss of her soul-mate had sent Kitt into labor, before she could even process the idea of being a single-mother.
Charlie Little Raynes was born as thunder clapped at 2345, one exact day from her father’s death. Named after the father she will never meet, and will attend her first funeral before she is even a month old. “Kitt, are you sure you can do this? I think everyone would understand your absence and it really isn’t the best place for Charlie Little.”
“Mark, I love you for being with me through all of this but Charlie’s unit is going to be there…and his parents who don’t even know about Charlie Little. I have to go, for them and myself. We need to support each other and I have to have this closure.” Kitt said as she wiped the river of tears away. “I just have one request, seven gunmen. My great-grandfather only had three. Every shot was another stab to my heart. Three shots are better than seven.”
“Yes ma’am, I have all seven boys ready to go.” He pulled Kitt closer to him as they watched the storm in silence for the rest of the evening.