She grew more despondent with each step. Camille deposited them at a wooden hut and told them their luggage would be delivered from the plane soon.
“It’s not much, but at least it’s private. And yes.” She winked at Trish. “There’s an air conditioner.”
“Thanks,” Trish said. “It’ll almost feel like home.”
“I doubt it, but enjoy and get some rest. I’ll come back for you two in a couple of hours.”
Camille was right, it sure wasn’t like home. Spartan came to mind. The hut was only about eight by ten feet, with two very narrow single beds shoved against the walls and separated by about three feet of space. At the end of each bed was a wooden trunk for their luggage. There was a fine coat of dust on the floor, even though it had probably been swept this morning. There was dust everywhere in this place, its grittiness even finding its way to her tongue and teeth.
Trish sat down on the one of the beds. She patted the space beside her for Pam to join her.
“I know this isn’t easy. Want to talk about it?”
Pam sat down. God, she thought, the mattress is awful thin. This is going to be like camping. “It’s not easy for you either.”
“No.” Trish shook her head, smiling. “They teach you that in medical school? That when someone asks you a personal question, you turn it around on them?”
“That obvious, huh?”
“Let’s just talk, okay? I miss not talking with you.”
Oh, God, I miss it too, Pam thought with despair. There was a catch in her throat. When had she become so afraid to talk to Trish? Stupid pride or fear was keeping her from the very thing she wanted. “I got cold feet, didn’t I?”
“Sorry?”
“About us. I got cold feet as soon as true intimacy became a reality. My dream was coming true before my eyes, and I chickened out.”
Trish’s forehead wrinkled adorably as she concentrated on Pam’s words. Pam wanted to kiss the lines smooth.
“Yes,” she said softly. “You did. And it hurt.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” Pam closed her hand over Trish’s. “I got scared of so many things. Of you, of me, of Laura’s ghost.”
“I know, Pam. And you’re not Laura. Nor do I want you to be Laura. Do you believe me when I say that?”
“I think so, yes.”
Trish reached into her shoulder bag on the other side of her and pulled out Laura’s journal.
“I think it’s time you realized how different the two of you really were.”
Chapter Eighteen
As an only child, Trish couldn’t relate to the way Pam had looked up to her big sister. Pam did almost everything Laura had done before her, from playing the same high school sports, to going to medical school, to crushing on her girl.
“You know,” Trish said. “When you were a kid, I used to wonder sometimes why you didn’t do more things on your own. Things Laura never did. But she was a big presence, wasn’t she? And she was so damned good at everything she did. Who wouldn’t want to be like her?”
“I guess I was young enough and stupid enough to try to compete. Or at least to try to be as good as her. I mean, what wasn’t there to want that she had? All those trophies stacked up in her room, the glowing report cards, seeing how much everyone adored her. And she had the most beautiful girl in the whole school.”
“Okay, I was agreeing with everything you said until you got to that last part.” There were plenty of girls who were better looking, but not in the Wright sisters’ eyes, it seemed to Trish.
Pam laughed, and when she stopped, her eyes glistened with something beyond mere happiness. It struck Trish that there was love there. Genuine, full-fledged love, and not the puppy dog I-have-a-crush-on-my-sister’s-girlfriend kind of love.
“Pam.” Trish couldn’t keep the quiver from her voice. “When did you really, truly start to love me?”
Pam swallowed visibly, never taking her eyes off Trish’s. “When you came to be with me for the funeral. That’s when I knew you weren’t a fantasy. Because you were there for me, not for Laura.”
It was true. She’d been miserable at the sight of Laura’s flag-draped casket, distraught at knowing she’d never see her again. But it’d been Pam she wanted to comfort, Pam whose friendship she had quickly and desperately come to need. As she looked into Pam’s eyes now, she realized that all she wanted was to be in Pam’s arms. To be in her future. And it had absolutely nothing to do with Laura.
“I love you, Pam, and I’m sorry if you’re not ready to hear it or if you don’t believe it. But nothing has ever been more true.” Tears suddenly sprang to the surface. “And not because you look a lot like Laura, and not because you’re her sister, and not because you adored me all those years ago.” Oh, God, I am so in love with you, Trish thought. Please, please don’t let me lose you too. I couldn’t survive it.
Pam pulled the journal from her hand and tossed it to the other bed, then took Trish into her arms and kissed her. The heat from her lips, from her body, ignited Trish’s desire like a match set to a fuse. God, how she wanted Pam. But not yet. It was too soon.
Pam’s lips moved to her jaw, her neck, back up to her lips. So sweet, so soft. The hunger was there, like a low background hum, but the kissing…
Oh, yes, the kissing was what fluttered Trish’s heart, made her moan deep in her throat. The kissing was enough for now, and she never wanted it to stop.
It could have been hours but had probably been only minutes when Pam gently pulled away. “If we don’t stop now,” she said, every bit as breathless as Trish, “we won’t be able to.”
“Dammit, I know. But there’s more of this later. Right?”
Pam grinned, and Trish was pleased to see that the gray-green hue of her eyes had darkened to the deep colors of a turgid sea. Yes, Trish thought with satisfaction, you’re as aroused as I am.
Pam moved closer, her mouth so close that Trish could feel her warm breath against her ear. She shivered pleasurably. “I plan to kiss you so much that you’re going to have bruised lips.”
In a voice husky with lust, Trish said, “You mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ll let my actions speak for themselves.”
Pam began suckling Trish’s earlobe, her tongue capturing the delicate flesh. It was a dance that was erotic, demanding, but patient too. Trish’s thoughts headed straight south. Oh, God, that tongue, that mouth. The things it could do to me! A steady, rapid pulse began to beat in her groin, like a second heart.
Pam pulled away again. “Sorry, I’m torturing you.”
Trish fell back on the bed, pretending faintness. “Oh, but it’s such a sweet torture.”
“Don’t worry, I’m torturing myself every bit as much. Now…you were going to read to me?” Pam retrieved the journal from where she had tossed it earlier.
Trish opened her eyes. God, she wanted to kiss Pam again. Was it bad not to care much about Laura’s journal right now? Shit. Laura. What would Laura think of the two of them kissing? Would she be appalled? Indifferent? No, Trish decided, taking the journal from Pam. With what she had discovered in the journal, Laura would probably give them her blessing. If nothing else, it turned out Laura had been clear-eyed about her own shortcomings, what she called her failings as a sister, a daughter, a lover. And there was comfort in that.
* * *
Pam noticed the slight trembling in Trish’s hands as she opened the journal and began to read out loud.
“Feb. 23:
“Today is a day for thinking of Mom, the sixth anniversary of her death. I miss her as much or more than ever. But worse than her absence is the guilt I have never shared with anyone. Everyone felt sorry for me because I was on tour in Iraq when she died and that I had to rush home for the funeral. The truth was, I avoided Mom those last months when she was so sick. I took refuge, comfort, in staying in Iraq, because somehow war seemed so much easier to handle than my dying mother…”
Pam felt her chest constrict. Her hand flew
to her mouth at the shock of Laura’s words.
“Pam, I’m sorry. We don’t have to…”
“No. Go on.” She needed to hear the rest of what Laura had never shared with her.
“The truth is, I’m a coward in the face of death. Oh, I can stare down an RPG or a rifle, can operate on somebody with a steady hand while splinters of wood and dust are raining down on me from an explosion. But I could not and cannot deal with watching someone I love die. Completely selfish and childish and weak of me, yes. But better to hide my weakness by looking selfless, by appearing committed to serving my country at any cost, including the cost of not being there for Mom when she died. And that is the truth. I can’t speak of it to anyone, even after all this time, but maybe writing it out like this will help me not feel like such a shit.”
Laura had never before discussed her fears and weaknesses like this. It was unsettling, like the earth had shifted off its axis a little. Laura had always been the bravest person Pam knew, her moral guide, her role model. But this was a side of Laura she had no idea existed. This was a fallible Laura.
“Are you okay?” Trish asked. “You’ve gone all pale on me.”
Pam nodded, unable to speak.
“Shall I go on?”
Another nod.
“The real rock has always been my little sister Pam. I couldn’t admit that before, but I can now. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that my much younger sister has more balls and more heart than I will ever have. She’s a better woman than me. There. I’ve said it. And it’s the truth.”
Pam felt her eyes widen the tiniest bit, then moisten. Thankfully, Trish was too engrossed in the journal to notice that she was on the verge of tears.
“Pam was the one who put her life on hold for months to look after Mom. She was there for Mom, physically and emotionally, and there to pick up all the pieces of the estate, of Mom’s things, after the funeral, while I had to rush back to Iraq. It was all Pam, and it’s not the first time my baby sister has bested me. The truth is, Pam is the kind of person I only wish I could be, but never will be. She’s kind, loving, selfless, and most of all, she’s not a coward about anything. Well, okay, she probably wouldn’t like getting shot at, but she’s not a coward about matters of the heart, that’s for sure. And you know…”
“Wait,” Pam interrupted.
“What’s wrong?” Trish reached over, squeezed her thigh reassuringly.
“She’s wrong. I am a coward. I’m every bit as scared of things as she apparently was.”
“Like what?”
“Scared to figure out what to do with my career, for one thing.”
Trish made a face of disbelief. “That’s not fear. That’s being brave. You feel there’s something more you should be doing, and you’ve got the guts to try and figure out what that is. That’s why you’re here in part, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but not in the way you might think. It’s not to see if I have what Laura had to make it as an army doctor.”
Trish visibly relaxed. She smiled for the first time since their hot kissing session. “I was a little worried about that, since we’re being honest.”
“Don’t be. I want to understand what she was doing here and why it was so important to her. I thought—hope—it might give me some clarity. But not because I want to follow in her footsteps. I want to make my own path, but through her drive and commitment and sacrifice, I hoped to find some answers.”
“I understand. I’m here looking for answers too.”
Pam’s jaw tightened. “You’re still trying to figure out how much she loved you, aren’t you?”
Trish turned away, retreating into herself. Damn, Pam thought. She hadn’t meant to redirect the conversation and certainly not to make some veiled accusation. Christ, am I always going to be jealous of her and Laura?
“I’m sorry,” Pam said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. The truth is, I’m a terrible coward when it comes to you, Trish.”
“No.” Trish turned steely eyes on her. “Your sister was the coward with me, not you.”
Deep down, Pam was incapable of labeling Laura a coward, even though Laura had labeled herself a coward in her journal. As long as she lived, she’d never be able to think of her big sister as a coward. She and Laura simply had different strengths, that’s all.
“There’s a big difference,” Trish continued. “You’ve been cautious with us, and I completely get that. I’m cautious too. Laura was a huge presence in both our lives, and we need some time to put that in the right place.”
“I’ve been scared that I’ll never measure up.” Pam shook her head, angry with herself for having so little self-confidence. But she knew how much Trish had loved Laura. How could she not feel inferior in the face of that? How could she ever hope Trish might love her as much one day? Whether Laura had deserved that kind of love from Trish and whether she had ever been capable of returning it was moot in Pam’s mind. The salient point was that Trish had loved her sister so much that she’d mostly put her life on hold all these years.
Trish cleared her throat to get her attention. “Listen to this:
“And you know what else? She’ll make somebody very happy some day. She’ll be a far better partner than I’ve ever been or ever could be. Those same qualities that make her such a good doctor—her empathy, her patience, her selflessness—are the same qualities that will make her a great partner. If she ever finds the right woman, she’d better not hesitate and make the mistakes I made. Ah, who am I kidding? She won’t make my mistakes; she’s too smart for that. What I really think is that Mom and Dad got it right when they made Pam. She’s the true gem in this family. I’m only sorry she had to spend so much of the early part of her life in my overbearing, attention-seeking shadow.”
Trish closed the journal in her lap, and for a moment neither woman spoke.
“You okay?” Trish finally asked.
Numbed, Pam could only shrug. How could she possibly realign the dynamics of three decades of being the little sister who’d blindly looked up to her big sister, three decades of ignoring or excusing Laura’s faults and shortcomings? Three decades of convincing herself she’d never hold a candle to Laura no matter how hard she tried? All these years, she’d been trying to live up to a mythic figure that had never existed.
Pam dropped her face into her hands and cried. Instantaneously, Trish’s arms were around her.
“I know,” Trish whispered soothingly. “I too thought she was perfect, and when she wasn’t I tried to remake her image into something she could never be. I’m not sure I can forgive myself for that.”
Pam wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, tried to gather herself. “Maybe that’s exactly it. Maybe we need to forgive ourselves for not being perfect either.”
Chapter Nineteen
The colonel, a seasoned veteran with a craggy face and a battle-hardened gaze, seemed surprised by Pam’s question. She thought she saw a crack in his stiff composure, but it was gone in a flash.
He quickly deflected the question back at her. “Do the things you see in the ER make you angry?”
“Yes.” Drunks and drug addicts with their self-inflicted damage didn’t cause her nearly the frustration, sadness, and, yes, sometimes anger as an innocent victim brought in from a drive-by gang shooting or a child killed or severely injured by a hit-and-run driver or the abusers who were violent with their spouses or children. “On a regular basis, as a matter of fact.”
The colonel, Mike Davidson, leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. He wore camo pants and a scrub shirt. It was the end of a long day. “And does that anger prevent you from doing your job?”
“No, of course not.”
“Same here. Our work trumps our emotions, whether you’re an army doc or a civilian doc such as yourself.”
“And at the end of the day, after the work’s done?”
There was a bit of ego in his smile. “Our work here is never done. Your shift never truly ends
until you catch a transport plane out of here. So the bottom line is, there’s little time to think about what you’re doing or why because the next damned thing you see is probably going to make you even angrier, if you let it.” This time his smile was purely cocky. “So you don’t.”
Pam had seen doctors wear this same badge of honor many times, usually crusty older docs who’d paid their dues and were proud of it. “What about when you do get that transport plane out of here. What happens then?”
He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes unblinking. In spite of his tough demeanor, Pam liked him.
“Sounds like this question is meant more for yourself than for me,” he finally said.
Okay, so she’d underestimated him, Pam realized. “You’re not a colonel for nothing, are you?”
He laughed, and she could see he liked her too. “I can see some of your sister in you.”
“Nah. She was much tougher than me.”
“Probably. But I’m reading between the lines that you think maybe that toughness is not such a good thing?”
Pam hadn’t intended on being so honest with Laura’s commanding officer, and yet he was easy to be around. Callous and stern, yet honest and transparent. Mike—although everyone called him Colonel Davidson or just plain Colonel—had spent a couple of hours yesterday showing her around the base hospital and introducing her to everyone. He’d called her in for a chat this afternoon after saying he wanted to help her any way he could. “Anything for a family member of Major Wright’s,” he’d said with a curtain of sadness in his eyes. “She was one of my best. Ever.”
“I used to think,” Pam told him now, “that being a good doctor and doing right by your patients meant owning your emotions. Not being afraid of them. But I got to a point where my work was beating me down. Like it wasn’t worth it. Like no matter how pissed off or sad I got or how much I cared, nothing ever really changed. People went on with their lives. Or they didn’t. And little I did was making a difference. I don’t want to wind up bitter.”
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