“Captain Story?”
Britt stopped her move to step around the woman and met her gaze. “I’m Captain Britt Story.” She didn’t recognize the woman, yet something seemed familiar about her. Maybe she was a civilian VA employee and had some information for her. “Can I help you with something?”
The woman looked relieved yet anxious at the same time. “I hope so. I’m Julie Prescott, and I’m here on behalf of Senator Amanda Elsbeth. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
The request surprised Britt, but her curiosity overruled her caution. A lot of people in Washington seemed interested in her. “I saw a family-counseling room that looked empty just down the hall.” She gestured to the hallway she’d emerged from, then began retracing her steps. She stopped at the doorway and let Julie enter first, then altered the sign on the door to indicate the small room was in use before entering and closing the door.
“Can we sit?” Julie asked.
“I’ve only got a few minutes before my therapist will come looking for me. Will this take long?” Britt sat in a chair opposite the couch Julie chose.
“Not long, I hope.” Julie twisted a tissue in her hands, her dark brow furrowed as she seemed to search for words.
Britt jump-started the conversation. “I’m not personally familiar with Senator Elsbeth, so I’m not sure how I can help you.”
“I guess I should back up a bit. Prescott is my married name. My maiden name is Avery. Jessica Avery is…was my sister.”
Britt stiffened at the admission, her mind instantly back in the camp with Cpl. Jessica Avery choking back sobs as she named the soldier in her unit who had sexually assaulted her. Britt closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again, she found it hard to meet Julie’s stare. “I’m sorry, very sorry for your loss. I tried—”
Julie waved away Britt’s condolences and sat forward on the edge of the couch. “I know you tried to help Jess, Captain. I Skyped with my sister on a regular basis and know she was sexually assaulted in camp.” She paused. “I also talked to her hours before her last patrol. The army’s report simply lists her as a combat casualty, but I believe she was a walking casualty before she went on that patrol.”
Britt dropped her chin and stared at her hands. She wanted, needed to tell someone. Didn’t Corporal Avery’s sister deserve to know? But she’d been explicitly ordered not to talk about the whole situation. “I can’t tell you more than the army already has, Julie.”
Julie’s eyes flashed with anger, leaving no doubt that she’d met the same wall of silence from others. “Can’t or won’t, Captain?” She spat the words like an armor-piercing bullet.
Her sudden anger took Britt aback. This soccer-mom type had a bite. She was glad to answer this question honestly. “Can’t.”
Julie stood and stared down at Britt. “Senator Elsbeth is leading a Congressional inquiry into the surprising number of sexual assaults and constant harassment female soldiers suffer at the hands of their own troops. She was hoping…I was hoping I could convince you to testify about my sister’s case.”
Britt stared at the floor and said nothing.
“But I guess I can’t.” She gathered her purse to leave but stopped when she reached the door. “I still want to thank you for trying to help Jess. She felt like you were her only ally in that God-forsaken place.”
Flashes of Jessica Avery tore through Britt’s mind—eager to prove her toughness, always on time for duty, laughing and joking with other troops, then sullen and always scared when the soldier she accused wasn’t relieved of duty.
She stopped Julie as she opened the door to leave. “I’ve requested a medical discharge, but it hasn’t been approved. Only a subpoena could compel me to testify while I’m still an active member of the armed forces.”
Julie stared at her.
“I believe in honor and duty, Ms. Prescott. Tell Senator Elsbeth to get a subpoena.”
Julie nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”
* * *
Teddy caught up with Britt halfway down the long hallway to exit the hospital. “Britt, wait.”
Britt faltered, but then resumed her long strides. Captain Story could be a difficult person to deal with. But Teddy wanted to connect with her new friend, Britt, not the military officer. She caught up with Britt and grabbed her right hand to tug her forcefully around and to the left when they reached a cross hallway. “Come with me.”
Britt nearly lost her balance and took several steps in the direction Teddy was tugging her, then stopped. Teddy knew she was exceptionally strong for her size because of her boxing workouts. But Britt, who was taller, was an immovable object when she dug her heels in. “Please. The new harness I ordered is in my office. If it doesn’t fit or you don’t like it, I’ll need to send it back today.”
Britt glanced back over her shoulder.
“The parking lot is the first place your father will look if he tries to catch up with you.”
Britt’s rigid stance softened, and she gave a quick nod. Teddy released her grip on Britt’s hand, surprised to see Britt’s lips curl in a quirk of a smile.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Britt’s smile grew. “You’re a natural horsewoman. That little spin you executed to stop my charge down the hall is exactly what you should do to redirect a horse trying to drag you.”
Teddy huffed. “Well, it’s not like you had a left hand for me to grab to drag you down this hall.”
Britt stopped again, her expression incredulous. Then she laughed. A surprised but genuine laugh. “I can’t believe you said that. It’s got to be some kind of therapist violation.”
Teddy shook her head and chuckled, too. “It’s not my usual protocol.” She searched Britt’s blue eyes. “But you’re more than my usual patient.”
“Because of your project?” Britt’s question was soft, not accusing.
“No. Not because of the project.” Teddy started to say more, but several noisy medical personnel were headed past on their way to lunch. “Come on. Let’s do this quickly and go grab some lunch. I’m starving.”
Britt followed obediently to Teddy’s office, sat in the chair Teddy indicated, and began unbuttoning her camo shirt. Teddy pulled the lightweight, soft shoulder harness from the box and held it up.
“No chest strap?” Britt stared at the harness while she laid her shirt over the back of the chair.
Teddy offered a quick smile. “No straps. This is a relatively new style that I find more adjustable and comfortable for female clients.” It was time to stop referring to Britt as a patient. “It’s easy to slip on with one hand and doesn’t have a strap across the chest that interferes with the plunging neckline of your favorite cocktail dress.”
Britt smirked as she took the harness and fingered the material. “It’s soft inside.”
“Less rub,” Teddy said. “But the gray mesh on the outside is strong enough to hold the prosthesis in place. Because it is softer than woven straps, it’s not as durable, and you’ll want to replace it with a new one about once a year, depending on how much you stress it. Once you put it on, though, I think you’ll find it’s worth the trade-off. Go ahead. Right shoulder first.”
Britt slipped her right arm into the harness, and Teddy guided her in how to maneuver her residual limb into the other side, then adjusted a few Velcro tabs so it fit comfortably across Britt’s shoulders.
“I like it,” Britt said, shifting her shoulders. She looked around Teddy’s office. “Crap. I think I left my arm in that exam room.”
Time for a baby step. “How about I find you one with something better than a dummy hand.”
“Like Rachel’s?”
Teddy shook her head. “Not that advanced. You’ve still got too much swelling. But something a bit more functional. I’ll be right back and see what you think.”
Britt stood after Teddy left and shifted her shoulders several times in the new harness. It really was much more comfortable. She walked in a small circle, continuing
to test its flexibility, and noticed the framed credentials and photos hanging on the wall. Wow. She had been a serious student—a bachelor’s degree in psychology, double certified in physical and occupational therapy. But she focused on the photo of Teddy kneeling in the Afghanistan desert, a helmet shadowing her face and her medic pack by her knee while she held an M4 carbine against her chest. The days were long gone when medics wore an identifying red cross on their helmet and carried only a sidearm weapon. “Kabul 2013” was written in the corner of the photo.
She saw other photos of Teddy with her unit, but only one picture sat on a corner of Teddy’s desk. The tall blonde in the photo had laughing blue eyes and wore desert camos with a military-police patch on the sleeve. Britt picked up the photo to study it. The nametag on the front of her uniform read S ALEXANDER. A sister? Other than the blond hair, the soldier didn’t resemble Teddy. A cousin, maybe?
“I had to go to the storeroom….” Teddy stood in the doorway when Britt turned toward the voice, placing the photo back on the desk.
“Sorry. I was just looking around when you didn’t come right back.” Britt deflected by returning to the photos hanging on the wall. She pointed to the photo of Teddy in Afghanistan. “How’d you rate a M4?”
Teddy appeared relieved at Britt’s redirect. “They were becoming more plentiful in 2013, but most of the guys preferred to keep their M16s. You know, the size of my truck, hands, feet, gun reflects the size of my…you fill in the blank. It was fine with me because I love the smaller, lighter M4. And it had the same firepower as an M16.”
Britt nodded and glanced back to the photo on the desk. Teddy ignored the question that hung in the air, holding up a different prosthetic arm that was jointed at the elbow and had a hook on the end.
“I know this appears to be an ancient design, but it’s actually still around because it’s simple, reliable, and capable of performing dozens of tasks. It’s a step toward a more high-tech arm.”
Britt frowned. Wasn’t that hook-looking thing the stereotype of an armless person?
“It’s better than lugging around a non-functioning prosthesis.” Teddy pinned her with an impatient look. “Just try it. For me?” Teddy pointed to a chair for Britt to sit.
Doing things to please Teddy was becoming a habit Britt was sure she didn’t want to develop. She had too much going on in her life to worry about someone else, even if she was just a friend…she’d almost kissed over pilfered cupcakes. Damn it, though. Teddy was hard to resist. And Teddy’s uncharacteristic impatience told Britt that she’d pushed too far, and the photo was something very personal. “Okay.”
Teddy pulled a foam socket from one of her pockets. “I picked up a smaller-size socket. Your swelling has reduced significantly enough that the one on the other prosthesis was becoming too loose.”
“I thought sockets were custom fitted. You know, you go in a lab, and some guy makes a cast of your stump and uses it to make a socket that fits your stump perfectly.”
“Residual limb. We don’t say stump.”
“You said stump the other night in the pantry.” Britt grinned at the exasperated glare Teddy shot her way.
“When you heal enough that your limb stabilizes, then you’ll get a custom-fitted socket.”
“Arizona got one before she got her first prosthetic.”
“Who is…oh, you watch Gray’s Anatomy,” Teddy said as she fitted the soft socket into the prosthetic arm, adjusted Britt’s shoulder harness, and attached the new arm.
“Well, yeah. Doesn’t every lesbian? Both Arizona and Callie are hot.” Oh my God, she hadn’t actually said that out loud, had she? Britt had become so involved in watching what Teddy was doing, the filter between her mind and her mouth had gone missing. Teddy stopped, and they stared at each other. Then Teddy burst out laughing. The undercurrent of tension between them drained away. Britt grinned again. Yeah. She did smile a lot when Teddy was around.
“Well, I’m glad you’re getting your medical advice from an authoritative source,” Teddy said as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
They shared another look. They’d leave their demons buried for the moment.
“Let me show you a few things, and then we can get out of here,” Teddy said. “How about we grab some takeout, eat at my apartment while I pack a few more clothes, then head back to the farm. If you’re up for it, I’d like another riding lesson.”
A late-afternoon ride would be the perfect end to the day.
“Sounds like a good plan,” Britt said.
Chapter Nine
“Reel, reel, reel…that’s it. Keep the line taut. Every time he swims closer, take up the slack.”
“It’s huge. I swear it’s going to drag me into the water.”
Britt’s laugh echoed against the mountains that flanked the wide stream. “We’re fishing for trout, not whales.”
“But I think I’ve hooked a whale,” Teddy said, reeling again. “Or maybe a hundred-pound turtle.” She stopped when a sleek rainbow trout broke the water about thirty feet downstream. “Wow. Did you see that?” Teddy knew she was yelling, but she was so excited. She’d caught a fish. She was pulling in her first fish ever.
“Don’t stop. He’s headed for the rocks. Don’t let him get to the rocks.” Britt’s voice rose to match Teddy’s. “He’s going to…” The line went suddenly slack, and Britt’s tone returned to normal. “…going to cut your line on the rocks.”
Teddy threw her fishing pole down on the stream’s bank and stomped around in a circle. “My first fish. I almost caught my first fish. Gosh dang it.”
Britt’s laughter rang out again at Teddy’s child-like show of temper. She bent over and clamped the hook of her new prosthesis on Teddy’s pole, then braced the pole against her hip and reeled in the severed line. “Lieutenant, I had no idea you had such a temper. I’m going to have to cover my ears if you keep up that foul language.”
Teddy put her hands on her hips and tried to glare at Britt, but she couldn’t pull it off. She smiled instead. “My language was so foul the first time I came back from deployment, my sister refused to let me near her kids until I managed to clean it up. It took me a while, but I learned to substitute softer words. The habit unconsciously kicks in when I experience real pain, like a hammered finger or frustration.” She waved her arm at the stream and raised her voice. “Like losing my first-ever trout from a danged mountain stream.”
“Don’t be so disappointed. You almost caught it. That fish has probably been hooked before. It headed straight for the rocks.”
Teddy didn’t mind that Britt’s tone was placating. Her real mission hadn’t been to catch fish, but to put Britt in an environment where she began to unconsciously use her prosthetic arm to perform daily tasks. And this had worked. She watched Britt reel in the line, then hold the rod with her hook while she used her right hand to tie off the line and dismantle the rod to fit in the tube that was part of a canvas fishing-equipment ensemble. Teddy was amazed at how fast Britt was adapting after one short week.
“We’re leaving?” After a morning of sitting in their therapy room while Britt practiced opening and closing the metal hook on the prosthesis, picking up things and holding them without dropping them, the afternoon outdoors was a wonderful reward. Teddy had suggested a ride because being around the horses seemed to both rejuvenate and relax Britt. Heck. It relaxed her, too. She could easily understand why horse-therapy programs were so successful.
“We’ll come again. But unless you want to gallop all the way back, we’d better leave now, or we’ll be late to dinner.” Britt lifted the strap of the fishing bag over her head so that it crossed her chest and held the kit securely along her back and hip.
Loath to leave, Teddy stood a moment longer to take in the stream and the mountains surrounding them. The warm sun was dipping lower toward the mountain peaks, and the cold of the stream wafting up felt like an early hint of autumn. She felt Britt come up behind her. “I feel like I’m in that movie The R
iver Runs Through It. Have you seen it?”
“At least three times. Pop has a DVD of it.”
Britt’s voice grew closer, and, for a moment, Teddy wished for Shannon’s arms to come around her. She imagined leaning back against Shannon’s chest, and Britt’s lips—No. Not Britt. Shannon. Teddy shook herself. “Let’s get going. Lynn said she was cooking beef stew, one of my favorites.”
Britt shook her head as she cupped her hand to give Teddy a leg up into the saddle. “Everything she cooks is a favorite of yours.”
Teddy settled into her saddle and forced herself to smile. “I won’t deny it.”
* * *
The evening followed what was becoming their daily ritual. Lynn left the beef stew ready to serve, while she took her own pot of stew home to her little family. E.B. and Britt discussed farm business over their dinner, which gave Teddy the chance to ask questions and learn more about the Thoroughbred-racing business. E.B. also wasn’t shy in asking what he wanted to know about Britt’s rehabilitation.
After dinner, E.B. retreated to the living room to watch his television shows, while Teddy and Britt cleaned up the dinner dishes. Britt’s dish-drying was going a little slow tonight because she was carefully picking up the plates with her hook and holding them while she wiped with her good hand. So, Teddy grabbed a dish towel and helped dry after she’d washed everything.
“Ready to shed that arm?” she asked when they were done. “I’m impressed that you wore it all day, but you don’t want to overdo it.”
Britt shrugged off the denim shirt she wore over a T-shirt and the harness. “This harness is a lot more comfortable, and this prosthesis is at least semi-functional.”
Teddy resisted the urge to help as Britt loosened the harness, detached the prosthesis from her residual limb, then removed the harness from her shoulders. The minute Britt set the prosthesis and harness on the table, Teddy was rolling up Britt’s sleeve and checking her limb for redness and new swelling. It looked good, but she gently probed the pressure points. “Any soreness or pain?”
Blades of Bluegrass Page 10
