Last Salute

by Tracey Richardson

“Like what?” Trish asked.

  “Had a one-night stand.”

  “Once. After Laura and I broke up for good. I was angry, so hurt. I don’t really remember what I thought it would accomplish.”

  “Did it help?”

  “Hell no.”

  “That’s what I thought. Believe it or not, Connie is the first time I’ve ever done that. I’m not proud of it.”

  “You don’t have to explain, honey. I know who you are.”

  Honey? Okay, you’re going to have to stop calling me “sweetie” and “honey” unless you really mean it. Because I am not a little kid anymore that needs her hand patted.

  Pam could not figure Trish out sometimes. There were moments when she seemed clearly nothing more to Trish than Laura’s little sister. A child. A cute little nuisance to be tolerated. But there were other moments where it almost felt like they were intimate friends, perhaps even on the brink of more. It was damned confusing.

  Back at her townhouse, she showed Trish to the guest room, choosing to wait in the living room with the Nora Roberts novel she was too embarrassed to let anyone else see.

  When Trish called out that she was ready to say goodnight, Pam stashed the book under the sofa and went to Trish’s open door and hovered. Her eyes immediately dropped to the low-cut cotton V-necked T-shirt and baggy boxers Trish wore. She couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from her breasts, the way they jutted out from the shirt like firm hills that needed climbing, her nipples like mountain peaks.

  She spoke before she allowed herself any more time to think. Or any more time to stare. “Trish? Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.” Trish took a step toward her, smiling innocently, her head tilted invitingly.

  Damn, that soft skin needs caressing, kissing. “Do you think you would ever…” Pam’s courage deserted her suddenly. Shit.

  “Yes?” Another step closer.

  “That you could ever…”

  Trish was only a half step away now. She smelled faintly of lime and mint. “Ever what?”

  “Ever…” Pam’s heart was in her throat. “Ever think of me as someone other than Laura’s little sister?”

  Confusion bloomed on Trish’s face. “But you are Laura’s little sister.”

  “I know. I mean… Jeez.” She hadn’t felt this flustered since the first day of med school.

  Trish reached out and gently took her hands. “Take a deep breath and tell me what you mean, okay?” Like her touch, her voice was warm, comforting, bolstering. “Whatever it is, it’s okay, I promise.”

  Yes. It would be okay if Trish said it would be. She trusted her implicitly, knew she could never make a fool of herself with her, because Trish truly cared about her.

  “Do you think…” Pam said slowly, starting over. She wanted to be clear. “Someday. That you could ever love me?”

  “Oh, Pam.” Trish stepped closer, dropping Pam’s hands and pulling her into a hug. “I do love you, don’t you know that? I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”

  “No.” Pam pulled back enough to look into Trish’s eyes. They were dark, unreadable. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, really love me.” Her hands slid down to Trish’s hips, saying what her words could not.

  At the intimate gesture, Trish’s eyes widened in recognition. Yes, now she was getting it, Pam thought with satisfaction. She knows exactly what I mean.

  “Oh, Pam,” she rasped, her eyes rapidly blinking.

  “Shhh. Don’t say anything.”

  Gently, Pam tugged Trish’s hips toward her, then bent her head to kiss Trish’s neck. Her skin was so soft, so smooth against her lips. Exactly as she had imagined. She closed her eyes, planted small kisses just beneath Trish’s jaw. There was no resistance. She ached to place her hands on Trish’s thick glossy hair. Then do it, she commanded herself. And she did. Soft, silky waves filled her hands, spilled through her fingers like a waterfall. Trish moaned a little. Pam’s hand reached down to her chin, lifted it toward her. She’d wanted to kiss those full, shapely lips since…God, how long? Since she was eleven, twelve? And now it was going to happen.

  Her stomach tightened at the first brush of her lips against Trish’s. So soft. So sexy. So perfect. God, how she wanted her. Had always wanted her. Had dreamed of this moment for as long as she could remember. It was a stupid, childish crush, way back then. A fantasy. But not now. Never again would this moment be a fantasy, because it was really happening. It was real. They were grown women, attracted to one another, expressing that attraction for one another. And no matter what else happened or didn’t happen, she would always have this moment. They would always have this moment.

  The kiss intensified, their lips moving together so perfectly—too perfect for a first kiss, Pam thought with wonderment. We fit so beautifully. Not only our mouths, but our bodies too. And then all thought evaporated from her mind as she held Trish and kissed her long and sensuously, with all the years of pent-up attraction and lust. Trish kissed her back just as ferociously, as much full of need, until Pam’s knees nearly buckled. Never had she experienced a first kiss with someone that was as full of magic as this.

  It could have been minutes, maybe even an hour, when Trish finally halted the kiss to look deeply into her eyes. Oh no, Pam thought. What have I done? There was fear there, confusion, maybe regret too. Perhaps a hundred different things battling it out behind Trish’s eyes, and Pam could see that she’d shaken her to her core. But there was unmistakable desire too. Desire and thrill, and Pam wanted to do a little dance.

  “Pam,” Trish said hoarsely, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t think…”

  “I know, I know. I’m really sorry.”

  “No, it wasn’t you. I mean, it was me too. I just think…”

  “I know.” God, please let’s not dissect this right now, Pam thought. She wanted to enjoy the moment, the memory, a little longer. “Look, let’s just go to bed…”

  “W-What?” Trish’s eyes widened dramatically. It was almost comical.

  Pam laughed. “That’s not what I meant.” Well, she did mean it. Sort of. Didn’t she? As much as she desired Trish, found her sexy and alluring—hell, she’d been in love with her for years—she didn’t want to risk going to bed with her now and ruining everything.

  With her thumb, she caressed Trish’s cheek one last time. “Goodnight, Trish. Sleep well.”

  * * *

  Trish slept fitfully, at one point dreaming that it was Laura she’d been kissing. She woke to the thought, sad and a little shocked, that it was Pam she’d kissed. Little towheaded Pamela, the gangly kid with the toothy smile who’d trailed after them for years, wanting their approval, their attention, wanting to be just like them. All that time wanting, it seemed, her. She smiled at the thought of Pam in class doodling her name in her notebooks, of Pam always searching for her in the stands whenever she and Laura would watch her at school track or her basketball games. Pam wanting to join them on their dates.

  Yes, she’d known then that young Pam had had the hots for her. But this, this was something entirely different. This was no schoolgirl crush. This was a mature woman, a strong, independent, beautiful and smart woman who’d kissed her last night. Kissed her like she was the first and last woman she ever wanted to kiss. Trish sucked in her breath, felt a shot of electricity zap her stomach. And her crotch. She’d kissed Pam right back, desired her right back. Her body had responded in all the right places, and if things were different—if her brain hadn’t clicked in and thrown up all sorts of stop signs—she’d have gone to bed with Pam in a flash. Because Pam was everything she could ever want in a woman, if she were to make a list. Sexy, smart, adorable, loving, fun.

  Oh God, she thought. When had all this started? When had she started thinking of Pam that way? When had she started being attracted to her? Christ, she’d not seen her in years up until three weeks ago. Until Laura’s death. Oh God, oh God. Panic rose and began to consume her like flames in a haystack. How could she possibly kis
s Laura’s little sister, have even considered going to bed with her, at a time like this? What the hell was wrong with her? It was Laura she’d loved, still loved. What kind of respect were they showing to Laura’s memory, fooling around like this? Playing with something so dangerous, so wrong. Damned wrong.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was still early, not quite seven, but she’d get some coffee going. Think this through some more. She’d tell Pam what they’d done was wrong, that they needed to shake off whatever spell had come over them both. They needed to be sensible, responsible. They needed to get a grip.

  She found ground coffee in a canister, dumped some into the basket, then filled the water receptacle. The gurgling must have awakened Pam or maybe the aroma. She stumbled in, rubbing her eyes, wearing an adorable scrub shirt with teddy bears on it and purple silk boxers.

  “Good morning,” Trish said, trying to rid her head of the vision of snuggling in bed with Pam, of touching those silk boxers. Jesus!

  “Morning. Oh good, you found the coffee.” Pam yawned, opened the cupboard, retrieved two Le Creuset mugs, filled them both with coffee. “Sugar? Cream?”

  “Just a bit of cream please.”

  Pam took hers black, the way Laura did, Trish noticed. She carried both mugs to the small eat-in kitchen table, pushed one toward Trish. “I make a killer French toast. You hungry?”

  She was starving, actually. “Sounds great. But can we talk first?”

  “Okay.”

  Pam looked apprehensive suddenly, and Trish was secretly glad she wasn’t the only one sweating about last night.

  “I think maybe I’ve been giving you some signals you’ve misinterpreted. And I’m sorry for that.”

  “Meaning what?”

  Okay, so Pam was direct. Not that it surprised her. “I’ve led you to believe that I’m attracted to you, that…”

  “So you’re saying you’re not?”

  Trish couldn’t lie to her. She did feel attracted to her, even if it felt somehow wrong or misplaced. “That’s not the point.”

  Pam’s eyes darkened, narrowed. “It sure as hell felt like the point when we were kissing last night.”

  Trish took a sip of her coffee, closed her eyes for a moment. Images of their kiss intruded behind her eyelids. A kiss that was both sweet and needy, comforting and demanding. A kiss that—there was no denying it—had rocked her to her toes. Damn, this wasn’t going to be easy. “Look, I don’t want to get into why we kissed, what we…”

  “But I do want to get into it.”

  “No. The point is, we can’t go around kissing each other, acting like we’re dating. Because we’re not. And we can’t. We’re not ourselves right now.”

  Trish watched Pam take a long, contemplative sip of her coffee. She was so much like Laura. The eyes, the smile, those killer dimples, the direct way about her. But she was more laid-back than Laura, more quietly self-assured, more grounded perhaps. Certainly much less of a daredevil. Yes, she was a version of Laura but with both feet on the ground. Dammit. If Pam had been the older one…if Pam had been Laura, how differently things might have turned out for them both. For all three of them.

  “Look,” Pam said on a sigh. “I get it, okay? You’re still stuck on my sister. And because of that, you can’t give me a chance. It’d be, I don’t know, immoral or something. Incestuous.”

  Pam was both right and wrong. Yes, she still loved Laura. Had continued to love her over the years, to her own detriment. But it wasn’t only Pam she wouldn’t take a chance on, it was any woman. Rosa had found that out the hard way.

  “Pam, I just don’t want us to get sidetracked here. I don’t want to confuse the issues. We’re here because of Laura. To help each other through that.”

  Pam rose, her shoulders stiffening. “I know. You’re right. I’ll start on breakfast, and then we should start on that big box in the living room.”

  Trish cradled her mug in both hands. She’d not handled this little talk very well. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d made things worse, more confusing. And she’d hurt Pam. But how could they have a reasonable discussion about their feelings when she didn’t even know what it was she felt? And if she were honest with herself, she was afraid. Afraid to question if she really was feeling something sexual, something deep, for Pam. And if she was, if they both were, what the hell were they supposed to do about it?

  Chapter Ten

  Pam used a knife from the kitchen to slice away the packaging tape from the huge box, so plain and unobtrusive-looking in contrast to its very personal contents. She both dreaded and anticipated what was inside. Trish stood behind her, peering over her shoulder before kneeling down beside her as Pam peeled the lid off the box.

  If nothing else, Pam thought as she plunged into the task, it would take her mind off last night’s kiss and this morning’s awkward conversation. Clearly Trish wanted to brush the whole thing off, pretend it never happened. She’d made her point that nothing more would ever happen romantically between them. Surprisingly, Pam found herself accepting the situation. Or maybe it was more like giving up. Whatever. It was time to grow up and put her childhood crush on Trish where it belonged—in the past. Trish was never going to be the fantasy that came true. And besides, they were both in too much pain to see clearly through their emotions. They hadn’t even begun to complete their grieving over Laura.

  Neatly folded inside were two sets of camo battle dress uniforms. Carefully, Pam unfolded the blouse, thumbed the name patch on the chest that said L. Wright, the insignia of a major in the center of the chest. She fingered the material, slightly scratchy yet also soft. The clothing momentarily brought Laura close again, and she clutched it briefly to her chest like an empty hug. Laura’s medals hadn’t been included in the box. The army had notified Pam that they would come separately—an Iraq campaign medal, an Afghanistan campaign medal, a commendation medal and, of course, a Purple Heart.

  Near the bottom of the box were a couple of scrub shirts, still with Laura’s scent on them. Pam would cycle them into her own scrub shirts she used for work. She pulled out Laura’s personalized stethoscope, the one Pam and their mom had jointly given her upon graduation from medical school, inscribed with her name. Pam had her own inscribed stethoscope, but she would keep Laura’s forever. Her hand shook as she held on to it.

  “You were so proud of her, weren’t you,” Trish said quietly.

  “She was a good role model. The best.”

  “Did you ever consider doing anything other than becoming a doctor yourself?”

  Pam shook her head. For about two minutes she’d entertained the idea of becoming an engineer, but once Laura graduated from medical school and promised to help her with her medical school bills, Pam jumped at the chance. “I never would have been able to do it if she hadn’t helped pay my way.”

  “I guess, in a way, the army got two doctors for the price of one.”

  “You mean paid for two doctors. They were never going to have me.”

  “No, of course not. Did Laura ever give you any grief for not joining the army or try to pressure you?”

  “Not at all. She understood we were different that way. She told me she was glad I didn’t, so she wouldn’t have to worry about me outranking her one day.” Laura had a habit of joking about serious topics, a defense mechanism.

  In a small jewelry box was a white gold necklace, along with Laura’s University of Michigan medical school ring. Pam had an identical ring. She held Laura’s and the necklace out to Trish. “You should have these.”

  “Oh, Pam, I couldn’t possibly.”

  “Yes, you can. You need something of Laura’s. I want you to have them. Laura would have wanted you to.”

  Trish took the jewelry, threaded the necklace through the ring, then clasped it around her neck. She immediately caressed the ring against her chest like a worry stone. “Thank you so much. I’ll wear it always.”

  “I’m glad you loved her so much.” Pam’s voice wavered a
little. “Everyone deserves to be loved as much as you loved her.” She meant it, even though she was a little jealous of the love Trish and Laura had shared. No one had ever loved her like that, and it wasn’t fair that Laura had taken Trish’s love and thrown it away so easily. Had Laura truly understood what she’d given up? Pam knew with certainty that she would never have discarded Trish’s love that way.

  There were a few more things inside the box, but Pam needed a break. Going through Laura’s things was every bit as difficult as she imagined it was going to be.

  “Why don’t I put some tea on,” Trish suggested, rising from her place on the floor.

  When she returned with two mugs, Pam was fingering Laura’s worn, leather-bound journal, which had also been stuffed with snapshots. Camille was in one of them. The others in the photos with Laura were all strangers, all wearing uniforms, their arms slung loosely around one another in smiling companionship. The images brought home the fact that she hadn’t known any of the people in Laura’s life the last few years. She hadn’t really known the grown-up Laura.

  “Shall we start?” Pam said to Trish, who sat beside her on the sofa.

  “How about we take turns reading?”

  “Okay. I’ll start.”

  Pam opened it to the first page.

  “I’ve never kept a journal during a mission before. Actually, I’ve never kept any kind of journal. I always thought they were sort of juvenile. Or kind of a romantic thing to do. But then it occurred to me that when I’m old and I can’t remember stuff, or if I start talking about the War on Terror one day and people look at me like what’s the big deal, it couldn’t have been too bad—I can read to them from this journal. Through my words, I can show people exactly what it was like. And so it’s going to be the best damned war journal anyone’s ever written.”

  Pam smiled at that, looked at Trish. “Laura always liked to be the best, didn’t she?”

  Trish laughed, her eyes bright with memories. “Do you remember in high school, when she played on that girls hockey team?”