Last Salute

by Tracey Richardson

  God, she thought with a shiver, I do not want to be like that. Nor did she want other soldiers like Laura to feel that they didn’t belong back home. She wanted to do something to help them. And not just because she appreciated the sacrifices they’d made, but because they deserved to be happy, to be productive members of their community. She might be woefully inadequate in her skills to make a real contribution, but she had to try. She’d get in touch with this Logan Sharp when she got home, see if there was a way she could help.

  When the convoy pulled into the base, the vehicles drove quickly into an empty hangar. The doors all clanged shut behind them. It was for a debriefing, she was told. They were all asked privately to describe exactly what had happened, in chronological order, of course. Pam, as a civilian, didn’t technically have to cooperate, but she did. She told the major asking her questions that she didn’t want anyone to get in trouble for the fact that she was on that helicopter. Nobody did anything wrong, she said, and she’d willingly taken the ride. In fact, the soldiers on the helicopter with her had remained very calm and professional. She owed them her life.

  Trish was waiting outside for her, alone and looking small, standing stock-still as though she were afraid to move. Pam hesitated for a moment, drinking her lover in. It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen—the woman she loved waiting for her. She gave a silent thanks to Laura and whichever higher powers had brought her and Trish together and had kept her safe tonight. Then she ran to Trish, threw her arms around her and lifted her off the ground as they clung to each other. Pam let her tears spill on to Trish’s cheek and shoulder as she twirled her through the air.

  “Oh God, I’m so glad you’re safe,” Trish muttered. She was crying too. “Please. Please don’t ever leave me again.”

  “I won’t, I promise you.”

  Trish’s shoulders shook, and Pam held on tighter.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” Trish choked out.

  “I know, I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” Pam kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Can we leave this place now? Go home and start our lives together?”

  “Yes. Definitely.” Pam cupped Trish’s cheeks with her hands, gazed into her tear-filled eyes. “I’m ready to say goodbye to this place. To Laura. Are you?”

  Trish nodded before taking a step backward. She reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace with Laura’s ring on it, settled it in her palm and closed her hand around it. She shoved it in her pocket. “We’ll find a special place for it later, but that place isn’t around my neck anymore.”

  Pam smiled, stepped toward Trish and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes.” Trish gave a final swipe to brush the tears from her cheek. She looked at Pam with love in her eyes, but also a resoluteness Pam had never seen before. “I loved your sister. But it was a long time ago, and it was during a time in my life I’ll never have back again. And I don’t want that time back again. This is my life now. You are my life now, and this is exactly how I want it to be. It was how it was meant to be. I believe that now.”

  Pam looked up at the sky and the bright stars that looked much closer here than they did back home. They were closer to heaven somehow in this awful place. “It feels like we have her blessing.”

  Trish nodded silently.

  Pam knew Trish was thinking the same thing, that Laura had been her angel an hour ago. That she’d kept her safe so she could live the rest of her life with Trish. “It feels like she’s given us a gift,” she whispered.

  “Yes. I believe that too. And I feel like I know her so much better now, after coming here.”

  Pam looked around one last time, then took Trish’s hand. “I think I know what I want to do now.”

  Trish took in the gravity of her statement, and smiled at her. “Good. I want you to tell me all about it while we pack.”

  “I’d love to.”

  * * *

  Their lovemaking was gentle, loving, patient. Every touch, every kiss, was as soft as a caressing breeze. Their climaxes dissolved in tears—tears of joy, relief, reward. They held each other for a long time. After a while, Pam told her all about her visit to the Kandahar base—the hospital and its dedicated staff, the little girl in the pink housecoat, meeting the indomitable Meg Atwood, the pediatrician, the soldier Ross (she still didn’t know his full name) with his shredded legs and his hope for the future, anchored by his unborn child. She hoped he’d be all right.

  “Sweetheart.” Nestled tightly in Trish’s arms, Pam moved back enough to look into her eyes. “I’ve figured out what I want to do.”

  “Whatever it is, you know you have my full support.”

  “I know that, thank you.”

  “Well? You’re killing me here.”

  Pam smiled in the dark, her heart light. She knew she was making the right decision. “I want to work with veterans. Veterans trying to adjust to life back home. I don’t know how exactly yet. I mean, it’ll encompass my training as a physician, but it’s all very much in the embryonic stage. Meg has a friend, a doctor who works in Detroit with veterans, and she suggested I get in touch with her.”

  Trish kissed the tip of her nose. “Honey, that sounds wonderful, and I know you’ll do a terrific job. I’m so proud of you.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes, and Laura would be too.”

  Pam rolled on to her back, stared up at the dark ceiling. She hoped Laura would be proud of her decision, but of course she’d never know. And that was okay. It was her life, and the only people she had to please now were herself and the woman she loved. This was where her life was taking her now, and she was fully ready to move forward with it. And maybe that was always the way it was meant to be—to go where life takes you, to embrace it fully, to give it all you have and be prepared for the next bend in the river, she realized.

  “What about you?” Pam asked, turning back to Trish. She began stroking her dark, wavy hair. Silk on her fingers.

  “I want to write that book. About Laura’s life here, using her journal entries. But I want it to be more than that. I want it to be about other soldiers too. Maybe some of those veterans you want to work with. What their life is like now, because working in a war zone is such a small part of who they are, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. And there’s so much more to their lives than a place like this, even though it seems to define them for such a long time afterward, maybe forever. I’ll help you with the book any way I can.”

  Trish kissed her again, yawned. “Thank you, my love. That means so much to me. But I figure I’ll work on it during summer holidays for however many years it takes. I don’t want to give up teaching.”

  “Good, I’m so glad to hear you don’t want to stop teaching. You’re too good at what you do.”

  Trish chuckled. “How do you know I’m a good teacher?”

  “Well, you see, in my fantasies, you’re absolutely incredible.” Pam lowered her voice, growled playfully. “Especially the part where you keep me after school for detention. And you’re wearing this tight white blouse with the buttons nearly popping. I’m sitting at a desk, you see, and you lean over me…”

  “Okay, wait,” Trish protested, then burst into laughter. “You’re incorrigible, do you know that?”

  “Yes, now kiss me!”

  Trish pressed her lips to Pam’s. They were tender, pliable, and in direct contrast to her tongue, which grew persistent and playfully demanding. She parted Pam’s lips, pushed inside, where her tongue danced wildly, instantly teasing a moan of pleasure from Pam.

  With all the willpower she could summon, Pam wrenched herself away. Breathless from her burgeoning desire, she said, “There is one more thing I want to talk to you about.”

  “Hmm, let’s see. How about we talk about how I’m going to ravage your body again? And then again just for the fun of it!”

  Pam laughed. “I would love to talk about tha
t. But first things first. Seriously.”

  Trish groaned. On her side, she leaned on an elbow, her other hand resting on Pam’s naked hip. “Okay, sweetheart. What would you like to talk about?”

  “Us.”

  She could see Trish’s eyebrows dart up. “But I thought…”

  “Yes, you thought right. Everything is wonderful, and I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  Trish’s voice dipped ominously low. “But?”

  “But nothing. There is no ‘but.’”

  Trish exhaled, relaxed her body. “God, you had me worried.”

  “Sorry. It’s just…”

  Trish’s hand slid up Pam’s body and began stroking her face. “You can talk to me about anything, you know that.”

  Pam did know that. There wasn’t anything she was afraid to talk about with Trish. But she was worried about her reaction to what she was about to say. After a deep breath, she plunged ahead. “My entire family is gone now. And you’re an only child, and…”

  “Yes, my love, we’re each other’s family now. We’re all we’ve got, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. But I want more. I want to us to grow our family someday.”

  For a long moment, Trish said nothing. “Do you mean…?”

  “Yes.” Pam swallowed. Oh, God, what have I done? I’ve scared the crap out of her.

  “Okay, but shouldn’t we talk about living together first?”

  Pam searched Trish’s face in the dark for clues about whether she was kidding or not. Trish didn’t make her wait long. She burst out laughing, and soon Pam was laughing too.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Pam was nervous, though she had no reason to be. She had every expectation that Dr. Logan Sharp would be a nice woman and helpful too. But Pam couldn’t help feeling like a kid on her first day of school—excited but completely out of her realm. She really had no idea what she was getting into, but her desire to do something to help veterans propelled her forward. It was something she knew she had to do.

  Trish, of course, had offered to go with her to Detroit to meet Logan Sharp, but Pam had tactfully declined. It was the first day of classes for Trish, and they’d just finished moving Pam into Trish’s house the week before. No, she had told Trish, she could handle this herself, and she’d give a full report to Trish over dinner tonight.

  A tall, willowy waitress directed Pam toward a table for two in the corner of the restaurant. Pam hesitated for only a moment, watched the fit-looking woman with the perfectly erect posture glancing over a menu. She definitely looked ex-military.

  “Hi,” Pam said, trying to sound breezy, as though she met strangers in restaurants all the time.

  The woman looked up with pleasant, hazel eyes. She rose quickly and gracefully to her feet, offered her hand.

  “Pamela Wright.” Pam smiled and shook her hand warmly.

  “Logan Sharp. Very nice to meet you, Pam.”

  “The pleasure is all mine. Thanks so much for agreeing to meet me.”

  “Have a seat.” Logan gestured to the empty chair across from her, and Pam sat down. “I’m just thrilled you want to help. I won’t lie to you. I plan to twist your arm, bribe you, do whatever it takes to convince you to work at one of our VA hospitals, either here in Detroit or the one in Ann Arbor.”

  “Well, since we’re being honest, you probably won’t have to work too hard to convince me.”

  Logan smiled, and Pam couldn’t help but smile back, immediately drawn to the woman’s warmth and genuineness. “Good to know. My wife will be relieved to hear it too. She figured I’d have to ply you with the most expensive dish they have here.”

  The word “wife” made Pam smile again. Meg hadn’t mentioned that Logan was married to a woman. “She sounds like a sensible woman.”

  “She is. You should meet Jillian sometime. She wanted to come today, but she figured she’d be intruding.”

  “Funny. My partner Trish wanted to come too. Guess we should make it a foursome next time?”

  Logan’s instant laughter was deep and warm, like liquid honey. “Deal. So I understand you met Meg in Kandahar a month or so ago?”

  “Yes. She was a great help. I wish I’d had more time to get to know her.”

  “Is she doing well? We email occasionally, but I only see her once every year or two.”

  “Yes, she seems happy. She told me she loves the military.”

  Logan shook her head lightly. “God bless Meg. They don’t make many like her.”

  The waitress came by again, took their order—grilled salmon for Logan, a portobello quesadilla for Pam.

  “Meg said you live across the border in Windsor?”

  “Yes, I’m Canadian. Served two tours in Afghanistan and didn’t re-enlist when my commitment was up.” A faint frown settled between her eyes.

  It wasn’t a stretch to imagine Logan in a war zone. She had the look of a capable, brave woman who’d seen everything there was to see, but had come to a peaceful acceptance of it. Well, mostly peaceful, anyway.

  “May I ask why?”

  Logan glanced away. For a moment, she was somewhere far away. “It’s a tough life, and not for everyone. I realized after I came home that I was having some PTSD symptoms. I got some help. Having a stable, loving relationship helped a lot too. I took a few months off work, and when I came back, I decided to split my time between ER work at a hospital in Windsor and working a couple of days a week at the VA hospital here.”

  “Well, I’m glad you made it back okay. And more than just physically made it back.”

  Logan nodded. “I’m sorry your sister had to pay the ultimate price. Her sacrifice will not have been made in vain. I know the kind of work she was doing, and I know the kind of difference it makes in peoples’ lives over there, both soldiers’ and civilians’.”

  “I’m starting to see that now, but I admit, when she died, my attitude wasn’t quite that enlightened.”

  “I understand. I’ve been through all the doubts and second-guessing myself.”

  Pam told Logan about her and Trish’s trip to Afghanistan to find some closure.

  “And did you find it?”

  “Yes.” Pam was mildly surprised at how easy Logan was to confide in. “Afterward I felt like I knew Laura better, or at least understood her, and understood what she was trying to do there. By seeing other medical professionals in action there, it made me appreciate Laura’s sacrifice all the more. And it convinced me that I could do something to help too.”

  “Well, I’m glad you came to that conclusion. We can use all the help we can get. Working with veterans may not seem as glamorous by comparison, and it doesn’t pay as well as private practice, but it’s incredibly awarding.”

  “Then it sounds perfect.”

  Their food arrived, and Pam, her nervousness long ago evaporated, took a ravenous bite of her quesadilla.

  They talked more about their backgrounds, Pam explaining why she’d begun to drift away from emergency medicine even before her trip to Afghanistan.

  “You might find yourself more inspired about medicine once you do this kind of work,” Logan suggested.

  “That’s what I’m hoping for. I’m just not sure where or how to get started.”

  Logan talked about her VA work, about the programs and the veterans. She recited a few statistics about substance abuse and depression that many veterans, especially the younger ones, often experienced. Veterans had high rates of homelessness and suicide too, she said, as well as divorce. “A lot of them suffer silently from PTSD. What areas do you think you’d be interested in working in?”

  “I don’t really know, to be honest. I’m open to suggestions.”

  Logan signaled the waitress for the check. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you leave your car here for an hour or two and come with me?”

  * * *

  The John D. Dingell VAMC was one of the newest VA centers in the country, Logan explained during the drive. It served more than 330,000 veterans from four c
ounties, or about forty per cent of all veterans in the state’s lower peninsula. She’d worked at the hospital part time for three years now, she said.

  Pam asked her about support at the VA hospitals from the state and federal governments.

  “Yes, it’s there,” Logan replied. “More than even just a few years ago. Our programs are expanding every year. Of course, there’s still so much more we need to do, but we don’t have to resort to the same degree of begging for funding that we once had to.”

  “What about when the war is over?”

  Logan sighed loudly. “I do worry that once the last of the troops come home—if they ever do—that veterans will sort of fade from the picture. That it won’t be sexy for politicians or the media to pay attention to them and their needs anymore.”

  Pam told Logan about Trish’s plan to write a book—how the first half would be about Laura’s life at war, the other half about veterans who’ve returned home.

  “Tell her I’ll help connect her with people and do anything I can to help,” Logan said. “Sounds like exactly the kind of project that will help people understand veterans better. And,” she added triumphantly, “she needs to meet my wife Jillian. She’s a photographer. Maybe they could collaborate.”

  “That sounds perfect.” As they pulled into a parking area reserved for hospital staff, Pam asked the question she’d been dying to ask. “This work you do here.” Pam gestured through the windshield at the large, sprawling complex. “How do you feel about it? At the end of the day, the week, the month? Do you feel like you’ve made a difference?”

  Logan smiled, her eyes bright with joy. “Oh, yes. I feel I’m doing as much good here as I was in Afghanistan. Except that I don’t have to worry about getting shot at or a rocket landing in my lap. And the best part?” She parked and shut the engine off. “I get to come home every night to my wife and daughter.”

  An idyllic vision flashed in Pam’s mind. She and Trish cooking dinner together. A baby in a high chair, laughing, watching them, squirming with excitement. The three of them in the kitchen. A family.