“What’s that little girl’s story?”
“Leg blown off while she and her older brother were playing with what they thought was an empty pop bottle.”
Pam shook her head. How sick was that, blowing up little kids. “Did the brother make it?”
Meg shook her head grimly. “Peter, hey.” She nodded at a youthful-looking doctor coming their way. He looked barely old enough to be a med school freshman, let alone a full-fledged doctor. “This is Pamela Wright. She’s an ER doc from Chicago.”
The young doctor shook Pam’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Peter Milson. You going to sign on with us for a civilian tour? That’s what I’m doing. Got three more months here.”
“He’s our pediatrician,” Meg interjected.
“Wow, pediatrics too. You guys do everything here.” Pam turned to Peter. She didn’t try to hide her relief. “And no, I’m not planning to do a tour here. Sorry, not my cup of tea.”
Meg succinctly told the young doctor about Laura.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I’m sure she was a fine doctor and a fine soldier. We’ll miss her for sure.”
“Thanks.” Pam smiled, surprised by the effect the stranger’s words were having on her. Her eyes began welling with tears.
“Why don’t we go to the staff room and grab a cup of coffee,” Meg said helpfully, reading the situation. “Care to join us Peter?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, smiling at Pam in a way that made her a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t creepy, far from it, but his signals were telling her his interest might be somewhat romantic. “I’ll go on ahead and start brewing a fresh pot.”
“He’s cute, don’t you think?” Meg said after he was gone.
Pam hesitated. She wasn’t sure how the Canadian military—or Canadians in general—felt about homosexuality, although she remembered gay marriage had been legal in Canada for about ten years now. “I, ah…wouldn’t really know. About the cute part, I mean.”
Meg looked at her quizzically, although there was a hint of a knowing smirk twitching the corners of her mouth. “Not interested?”
Pam took a deep breath. “I’m gay.”
Meg laughed as though it was the funniest thing she’d heard in at least a week.
Shit, is she laughing at me?
“Sorry,” Meg finally said. Her eyes roamed appreciatively, inappropriately, over Pam, but it was flattering. “I think it’s spectacular that you’re gay. Perhaps it’s my lucky day after all.”
It was Pam’s turn to laugh. “If that’s a come-on line, sorry, but I’m happily taken.”
“Damn. How unlucky for me.” She pretended to swoon. “Oh well. Someday my princess will come.”
“Are all the staff as funny as you?”
“Hell, no, but they’re not half bad. They put up with me, after all. Come on, let’s go check out our CT scanner before we get that cup of coffee.”
* * *
Meg and Peter joked around only as close colleagues could. Meg was laughing at the teddy bears on his scrub shirt, Peter countering that she was jealous. They were easy to be around. Pam didn’t hesitate to answer when they asked her why she’d come to Afghanistan. She told them more about Laura, about her own dissatisfaction lately with being an ER doctor, about how her disenchantment with work had multiplied after Laura’s death.
“Life’s too short to be in a job that doesn’t leave you fulfilled,” Meg said.
“So you both love what you do?” Pam asked.
Meg grinned widely. “Love it. Maybe I like living a little on the edge, but the military, the war, it’s in my blood now. I don’t know what I’ll do when it’s over. Probably go a little crazy.”
Peter took his time answering. He had a thoughtful, methodical way about him that contrasted with his boyishness. “I love working with kids. Of course, what else would you expect from a pediatrician, right? But here…they need help so badly, you know? And they’re so incredibly grateful. That’s what keeps me doing this. You help them, even if it’s in a small way, and they look at you like you’ve just given them a million dollars. Medical help is gold to them.”
“Yes,” Pam said. “That’s what I want too. I don’t need thank-you cards and flowers, but I want to feel useful, appreciated, like I’m truly making a difference. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“So,” Peter said quietly. “What are you going to do?”
Pam concentrated on her coffee cup. It was chipped ceramic with a Vancouver Canucks logo on it. She thought about the colonel in Bagram, how he’d told her that her dissatisfaction stemmed from not being able to let go. “I think,” she finally said, “that I need to get out of emergency medicine. I need to work with people I’m helping for a longer period of time.”
“What about another specialty?” Peter asked. “Cardiology, oncology, obstetrics, psychiatry.” He flashed her a winning smile. “Or pediatrics.”
Pam shook her head. “No. I don’t want another two to four years of training right now. I want to get started right away. I just don’t know the direction.”
“Would you consider,” Meg said, “working for Doctors Without Borders? Or spending a year or two in a developing country? They certainly need help from people like you.” She rolled her eyes. “Like us. If they ever boot me out of this joint, that’s what I’m going to do.”
Her love for Trish swelled her heart, and she smiled at Meg. “Nope, not me. I have someone special I want to settle down with.”
“Oh, right,” Meg said. “Lucky girl.”
“Am I missing something here?” Peter looked from one to the other.
“Yes,” Meg replied smugly. “Our lovely Dr. Wright is happily—what, betrothed?” Meg waggled her eyebrows teasingly.
“Something like that,” Pam answered, a little embarrassed.
“Damn,” Peter said with a frown. “Just my luck.”
Pam and Meg shared a secret smile.
“Okay,” Meg said pointedly. “Back to your career. You’re in Chicago, but you’re from Ann Arbor, right? Are you going to stay in Chicago?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t discussed it yet with my, um, betrothed.” The idea of marrying Trish made her nearly hiccup with a joy so sweet, it was almost painful. Should she ask Trish to marry her? Was it too soon? Would Trish even say yes?
“Earth to Pam,” Meg was saying.
“Sorry, daydreaming. What were you saying?”
“There’s a great VA hospital in Ann Arbor. Chicago too. Have you considered working with veterans and their families? If you don’t like emergency medicine anymore, they provide tons of other medical services. You could do family medicine, take shifts at outlying clinics. There’s even programs for veterans who are homeless and have substance abuse problems.”
Peter nodded his agreement. “So many of our veterans suffer from PTSD and mental health issues, and a lot of them end up homeless or abusing drugs and alcohol. They need help, and so do their families. I’ve heard some of the VA hospitals have outreach programs that try to get shelter and medical help for the ones on the streets.”
Wow, thought Pam. She hadn’t known. Laura had never said anything about VA programs and hospitals, and now Pam found herself wishing they had discussed it. “Yes, I’d be interested in that.” It also might be a great way to honor Laura, she realized, and to pay tribute to Meg, Peter, Colonel Davidson and Camille and everyone else doing their part in this war. “How can I find out more?”
“Well,” Meg said with a satisfied smile. “I just happen to know a great gal who served here with me a few years ago. Dr. Logan Sharp. Lives across the border in Canada, splits her time between a hospital there and the VA hospital in Detroit. Why don’t I email her and hook you guys up when you get home?”
“All right, thanks.”
Meg winked. “Logan is one of the best people I know. You’ll love her. She’s about the best friend I ever made in this outfit. She was a major once, just like your sister.”
“Well,” Pam said,
pushing her empty coffee cup aside. For the first time in weeks, she felt a new sense of peace and purpose. “Looks like this little therapy session with you two might have done the trick. I feel much better, thank you.”
Peter grinned at her. “Wait until you see my bill.”
* * *
Camille bounced on the balls of her feet, looking as though she could barely contain a happy secret. She clutched Trish’s arm companionably as they strolled across the tarmac to where the short ceremony would be held in an empty hangar. It was nearly dusk, and while it was still hot as hell, evening had cooled things a couple of degrees.
“So when are you going to let me in on it?”
Camille grinned enigmatically. “Let you in on what?”
“Fine. I’ll play along. But it better be good.”
“Oh, it is, I promise.”
Whatever it was, she longed for Pam. She missed her. She’d gone years without Pam in her life, and now a day away from her felt like forever. God, how were they going to handle going back home and living two hundred miles apart? They would need to talk about it, settle some things, like where they were going to live. Perhaps on the long flight back.
There were at least three hundred soldiers gathered in the hangar, quietly at ease. The colonel who ran the hospital was present. A few others Trish recognized as well.
A soldier with a Bible stepped on to a small wooden box that served as a podium. He recited a brief prayer for all of their lost brothers and sisters, singling out the most recent—a soldier killed a few days ago in a suicide bombing near Kabul. He talked about sacrifice, what it meant, and how freedom wasn’t truly free. “Amen,” some of the soldiers mumbled.
Colonel Davidson stepped up next.
“Many of us had the pleasure and honor of working with Major Laura Wright before she was KIA in April. And for those of you who didn’t know about her attributes, I’m going to share a few.”
He flashed a quick look at Trish. She nodded in acknowledgment.
“Major Wright was not only a good doctor, she was a great doctor. There was no one finer at this hospital in skill and competence. I watched her save the lives of many soldiers on many occasions. She never complained, never slacked off. No, wait. I take that back about not complaining.”
There were a few muffled chuckles in the crowd.
“She complained if she didn’t have anything to do. She complained when she wasn’t able to spend time at a forward operating base or when she wasn’t able to go into the nearby towns and villages to administer help to women and girls. In fact, it was her goal to set up a mobile clinic that would go out to some of these places weekly or monthly and offer help to the female indigenous population. Major Wright had one other complaint. She complained bitterly about the enemy, especially when she saw firsthand what they did to our troops and to their own people.
“Because of her passion for her work, for her fellow soldiers, and for the Afghan people, and because of her talents, her kindness, and her tireless efforts for the United States Army and for freedom in this country and elsewhere, I have a special announcement to make.”
Trish held her breath and squeezed Camille’s arm in anticipation. Camille beamed back at her.
“Starting next week, our hospital unit is fulfilling Major Wright’s dream with the new Wright Mobile Medical Unit. Henceforth to be known as the WMMU.”
Trish exhaled in relief. Her heart thumped with pride. She was so proud of Laura and incredibly proud to witness this moment. The crowd was clapping and whistling and stomping enthusiastically. Camille hugged her. “Damn, I wish Pam were here,” Trish said. “I should be recording this for her with my phone.”
“I was the first to volunteer for the new unit,” Camille said proudly. “I’d have done anything for her. We go out next week.”
“She was so lucky to have had you as a friend,” Trish said.
Camille looked at her with moist eyes. “Laura was blessed with some wonderful women in her life, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she was.” Trish looked around the room at the men and women in uniform and at how they were embracing the news of the new medical unit. It was clear they wanted to help change this country, that they wanted to be much more than witnesses to the violence. They wanted to leave their mark on Afghanistan. And though Laura was gone, she was still leaving her mark. Finally, I understand why you were here, Laura.
This, Trish thought, is how I will end my book about Laura, because it’s also a beginning. She was convinced now that writing a book about Laura was the right thing to do.
“What?” Camille said, eyeing her.
“Nothing, just thinking. Pam’s going to be so excited about this. I need to text her about it right away.”
She did want to text Pam, but she also wanted to be alone for a minute. She wanted to cry but tried not to. As magnificently as Laura was being remembered and honored now and as much as her dream would live on in the new medical unit, Trish was struck by the permanency of Laura’s absence. She was gone from all of their lives, forever, and there was a hollowness in Trish’s soul that she knew would never heal. Somehow, life had been easier knowing Laura still walked this earth, still breathed and looked up at the night sky as Trish did, even though they’d been apart so long.
She thought back to their senior high school prom. It was 1993. They’d gone as a couple, not caring what anybody said. Laura was popular enough that no one ever said anything negative to their faces anyway. They danced to the last song of the night, Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.” Trish had melted into Laura’s body as they danced, had felt so loved and so safe in her arms. So hopeful for the future, too, and so completely blind to anything bad ever happening to either of them. The future was an open road before them, the last time in their lives before the world, before life’s problems, closed in on them. It was a sweet moment in their lives, but it was gone now. Trish could not go backward in her life. Nor did she want to.
As she quietly exited the hangar, she let herself briefly miss the innocent girls she and Laura had once been. I will always love you, Laura Wright. Rest in peace, my love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pam sat with the little girl in the pink housecoat, helping her assemble a puzzle. They didn’t speak the same language, but Pam found it surprisingly easy to communicate anyway. She smiled a lot, made exaggerated facial expressions, touched the girl affectionately, and she lapped up the attention. Pam read a children’s book to her, pointing to the pictures to try to explain the meaning, then tucked her in for the night.
“What’s going to happen to her?” she asked Meg a few minutes later.
“I hear she has an aunt and uncle she can live with.”
“What about school? Was she going to school?”
“She had been, but it was hit with rocket fire a few months ago. Our troops are repairing it, and I understand it’s going to open again soon. But it’s damn hard to keep those schools going. The Taliban make it their mission to keep people here back in the Stone Ages.”
An alarm went off over the loudspeaker. A code red, it was announced.
“What’s going on?” Pam asked as she rushed to follow Meg down the hallway.
“Incoming casualties,” Meg yelled over her shoulder. “I’ll go find out the details.”
Pam didn’t know what to expect, but the place sprang to life like a busy anthill. Medical personnel rushed around, quickly gowning up, speaking in rapid tones. It reminded her of a multi-victim car crash coming into her emergency room in Chicago. It was tense but eerily calm at the same time, every action having a purpose. People looked at the wall clocks, glanced anxiously toward the hospital’s doors. They were ready.
Meg returned and thrust a pair of rubber gloves and a gown at Pam. “Here. Just in case we need to press you into action.”
“Sure. What’s happened?”
“A platoon ambushed on foot patrol about thirty miles from here. Five casualties, two extremely serious. They�
��re all being medevaced in. ETA is about three minutes now.”
* * *
At first Pam tried to stay out of the way, but out of habit, she followed the second gurney down the hall. Like the first, it too left a stream of blood, like some kind of grisly trail marker. The doctors, nurses and medics spoke in a verbal shorthand which Pam couldn’t entirely decipher.
From the first trauma room she could hear the mechanical beep of the soldier’s heartbeat flatlining, followed by the defibrillator machine trying to shock him back to life. She remained in the second trauma room, where the situation was slightly more optimistic.
A medic stood to the side, his job done for now. With both of them on the edge of the fray, Pam asked him what had happened. An insurgent had detonated a bomb planted beneath a bridge just as troops had begun to cross it, he told her. The injured soldier’s name was Ross, though Pam didn’t know if it was his first name or his last name. She glanced at him on the table, his uniform torn and bloody, his head soaked in sweat. His legs had taken the brunt; they were shredded. His right hand too. His legs resembled raw, bloody ground beef. It was a shocking sight in spite of Pam’s experience treating car crash victims and gunshot trauma. He was semiconscious, moaning, his eyelids fluttering. The team worked efficiently on him, getting a tube down his airway, inserting an IV through the vein near his elbow. Tourniquets applied in the field were still attached to his upper thighs.
“His abdomen’s been compromised,” one of the doctors said. “Let’s get X-ray in here.”
Pam stepped a little closer.
“We’re going to have to get him out of here as soon as we can stabilize him,” Meg said, joining her along the wall.
“Where?”
“Bagram, then they’ll transfer him to Landstuhl, Germany.”
Pam stepped back, heard more commotion outside. She stuck her head out to see what was happening. More stretchers were being whisked by. More blood, someone loudly groaning that he didn’t want to die. Shit, Pam thought, was it never going to stop? It was like a massive pileup on the expressway, except that this was the only hospital that could treat the victims. There was no diverting patients elsewhere. This was it.
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