“I’m okay with that. Console is a huge word, a healing word. Lean against what we have, Grace. It will help. You haven’t lost everything.”
She twisted the phone cord around her fingers. “Are you coming home?”
“I’m sorry, Grace. Five more weeks, maybe seven.”
Her disappointment was acute. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“I’m going to hug you for a very long time.”
“Promise?”
He choked back emotion. “I promise,” he whispered.
She dashed away tears, knowing this wasn’t fair to him. “I’ll be okay, Bruce. Really.”
“Take it a day at a time, honey. A day at a time.”
She struggled to change the subject. “Are you sleeping, eating, taking care of yourself?”
He chuckled. “I’ve got Wolf acting like a mother hen. What did you say to him?”
“I asked him to make sure you got home safely.”
“He doesn’t believe in doing something in moderation.”
She smiled. “No. He doesn’t.”
“Don’t worry about me, Grace. I’m coming home just so I can enjoy your company in person, for a long time to come.”
“I’ll meet your flight if I can.”
“Deal. Spoil Emily for me.”
“Not a problem. She’s been a real joy already.”
“I’ve got to go.” He sounded disappointed; she felt disappointed.
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She hung up the phone and watched it, already wishing it would ring again. Emily nuzzled her hand. Grace hugged her. “If you want to get up, I’ll fix us a late night snack and we can watch a stupid movie.”
The dog jumped down from the bed. Grace got up. She didn’t want to go to sleep sad. Jesus, help lift my spirits. I don’t like this sadness.
She curled up on the couch with a bowl of ice cream and flipped channels. “What about John Wayne? It’s that movie Bruce mentioned ages ago.” She settled down to watch the movie, wishing Bruce were here to share it. Being alone was the pits.
The phone rang as the movie was concluding at 2 a.m.
INCIRLIK AIR BASE, TURKEY
Bruce tossed small rocks at the big rocks, watching them bounce off. Wolf found him down at the flight line shortly after midnight. “You okay?”
“What’s that supposed to mean—okay? No, I’m not okay.” Bruce got to his feet to pace, still stewing hours after the call to Grace because he couldn’t figure out a letter to send her that would help the problem rather than make it worse. “She’s hurting, she’s at home, and I’m not there to encourage her.”
It was 0700 in Virginia; Grace was probably just getting breakfast. He hoped she had gone downstairs to the bakery where they would fuss over her. She needed someone to fuss over her, and having his sister and his dog stand in for him was a lousy set of alternatives. Grace would get through it without him. That was the problem. She shouldn’t have to get through this without him.
Wolf stopped in front of him, crowding his space. “Jill walked in on a burglary last night.”
Bruce felt like Wolf had just punched him. “What! Is she hurt?”
“She twisted her knee when she got pushed down the porch steps.”
Jill. The blood left his face. “Where’s the nearest phone?” A burglar. And he’d let her get away with dismissing the problem last year after the burglaries stopped.
Wolf stopped him. “Grace is at the hospital with her. I told her we’d call at the top of the hour.”
Bruce clamped his hand down on Wolf’s shoulder. “What exactly did she say?”
Wolf loosed his bruising grip. “It was Grace on the phone, calling from the hospital; Scott was with her. It’s not too bad. Jill was on the way to have a scan done of her knee. If nothing is torn, she may get off with crutches and ice to deal with the swelling.”
“Did they catch the guy? Tell me Scott caught the guy.”
“Not yet. He stole Jill’s car—she’d parked it out front so she could unload sacks. Grace says Jill’s fighting mad about that fact, but Scott is confident they will be able to catch the guy because of it.”
Bruce couldn’t believe it. “Her car.”
Wolf looked at him, and his attempt to be calm and steady about it gave way to the emotion he was feeling too. “They are both hurt,” Wolf said, fury in his voice. “What are we doing over here?”
“I know.” Bruce shoved his hands through his hair. “We can’t get home.”
“I can swim the Atlantic if you can.”
“Tonight I’m tempted to try.”
Thirty-Seven
* * *
MAY 8
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
She couldn’t just leave her here. Grace watched Jill struggle to balance on crutches and open the refrigerator. Her friend needed a helping hand.
“No, you can’t stay on the couch.”
“Did I ask?”
“I know that expression.” Jill balanced the carton of orange juice on top of the open refrigerator door as she looked back at her. “I wrenched my knee. I’m home now. I don’t need a nurse. You’ve been up all night and you look worse than I do.”
“Jilly—”
“Just let me enjoy being mad and in a snarly mood for a while, okay? The man stole and wrecked my car.”
“We can buy you a new one.”
“I hope they throw the book at him.”
“Nine burglaries—it was probably his last joyride for a very long time.”
“I wish I’d had my pepper spray out and had a chance to give him a face full of it.”
“I’m staying. Bad moods are no fun if there’s no one around to agree with you,” Grace replied. She’d been having a pity party watching a movie and eating ice cream while her friend was lying hurt. That reality made her miserable.
“Please—this isn’t your fault. I should have listened to Scott and learned my lesson about visiting clients’ homes after dark.” Jill awkwardly maneuvered into the other room. “Besides needing a nap, you’ve got therapy at one. You’re not missing it because of me.”
“I can skip a day without it killing me.”
“Grace, no. You’re not giving up. Skip one day and you’ll let yourself mentally decide it was no big deal. It is.”
“Maybe it would be best.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Grace finally shook her head.
“Then go to therapy and swim your heart out. As a therapist told me this morning, pain is good.” The phone rang. “Get that for me?”
Grace stepped back in the kitchen. “Hello?”
“I found someone who might have a lead on a used car,” Peter said.
Grace pulled free a notepad piece of paper. She had known her boss would come through. Jill would give her fits if she knew she was doing this, but her friend needed a car and it was one hassle Grace could handle for her. Bruce had asked for her help. He was worse than miserable at hearing what had happened, and this was the least she could do. “Okay, shoot.”
“Tom Dantello, retired Navy. The car belongs to his sister or his cousin, something like that. It’s a six-year-old Honda Civic, seventy-two thousand miles. He’s handling the sale for her, and she needs to sell the car before she moves, so it’s got a reasonable price. He lives out on Terrace Drive.”
“I know the area.” And she knew the name.
“How’s Jill doing?”
Grace smiled. “Throwing me out. I’m not a very good nurse. I appreciate the lead on the car.”
“Glad I could help.”
Jill had settled on the couch and turned on the television. “You’re on the news.”
Grace glanced over and winced. “Shut it off.”
“You look cute. All wet and irritated with the reporter’s microphone in your face. What did he ask you?”
“What reporters always ask. Inane questions. He caught me just outside phy
sical therapy Friday and wanted to know how I was doing.”
“You have to admit, you’re news.”
“When I fly again, it will be news. You’ve got the pain pills and the muscle relaxants?”
“And the ice pack, the phone, and a bag of M&Ms.”
“I’m heading out, but I’m coming back at six with a stack of movies.”
“Deal. And thanks for letting me borrow Emily for the day.”
Grace looked at the dog stretched out on the rug and smiled. “Watching her sleep is a fascinating way to spend your time. She snores. And when she hiccups she scares herself.”
* * *
That had to be the car. It was still dripping from a recent washing, and the way the water beaded it had a good wax job. The For Sale sign in the back window was sagging. The license plates would expire in another two months. There was a slight touch of rust on the back left fender. Grace knew Jill would like the dark blue color. She probably wouldn’t like the fact the car was up on blocks and somebody was under it, tinkering, a toolbox open on the driveway.
It presented an interesting dilemma. Grace scanned the car as she leisurely strolled up the drive to see what was going on. An extension cord had been run out for the tape deck. She touched a rocking tennis shoe with her shoe and the whistling stopped. The shoes were size eleven Reeboks, long ago white. A thick, gnarly hand appeared on the car bumper. The board rolled out from under the car. He was wearing a black T-shirt to go with the jeans, near white hair tucked under a blue bandanna, and his tan looked baked in.
“I’m here about the car?”
An interesting play of emotions crossed his face. “Life got a rewind?”
“Sure. Want me to come back up the drive?”
“Only if you whistle louder than me this time.” He rolled the rest of the way out from under the car and got to his feet. He wiped off his hands. “It’s not what you think. I thought the car was going into storage for the next few months. I was changing the oil.”
“Change your mind about selling it?”
“You still interested?”
“Depends on whether you’re as good a mechanic as you were a pilot,” she replied, now confident she had indeed placed the name. “It’s a pleasure to meet the legend of the green board. No one is ever going to eclipse your third wire landing streak.” She offered her hand. “Lieutenant Yates, VFA-83.”
He took it. “Now that brings back memories. You’d be the Grace I’ve seen on TV.”
“Guilty.” She nodded toward the car. “What are you asking for it?”
“Twelve hundred.”
“Throw in the Sweetwater Trio tape and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“You don’t want to at least drive it?”
“I fly better than I drive, or at least I used to.”
“Smacking into the ground?” He winked at her. “That wasn’t so much of a crash. I put one into the sea, one into enemy headquarters, and let’s not forget the one into the side of the airport tower.”
She chuckled. “They show the tapes to every nugget in the squadron.”
“I heard I had been immortalized. That’s what I get for growing up to be a test pilot.”
“Could I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did they ever tell you you wouldn’t fly again?”
“More times than I could count. Want some lemonade? For the purchase of the car, I’ll even throw in a few war stories.”
“I’d love it.”
NAVAL AIR STATION, OCEANA
The fighter planes were taking off in pairs from the runway at Naval Air Station, Oceana. Grace followed the flight with her hand lifted to block the sun.
Peter joined her at the fence. “I thought I would find you here.”
She glanced at him. “You sent me to see Tom Dantello intentionally.”
Her boss smiled. “Now what gave you that idea?”
“You’re arranging an attempt for me to try and fly again,” she said slowly.
He simply nodded. She would have hugged him, but she was too incredibly scared that breathing would hurt her chances. “When?”
“There’s a class coming in from Nevada at the end of next month. They’ve got a two-week window to do carrier qualifications with the USS Harry Truman. I can get your name on the list if you want it.”
She bit her lip. “Six weeks. I don’t know if I can get medically cleared by then.”
“Try.”
Such a simple word. The Navy didn’t want the black eye of a female pilot getting killed, and sending her back in the air would be a hard call, one that Peter could help push through the system.
Jesus, do I have it in me to do this? She wanted to try. And yet if she reached too soon and wasn’t ready, if she reached and failed, it would be over. She slowly nodded. She’d never know if she didn’t risk it. “Thank you, Peter.”
“Grace, I’ve been flying with you a long time. You’ll catch the third wire.”
Thirty-Eight
* * *
MAY 28
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
“What do you think about this wedding dress?”
Grace leaned over to see the magazine Jill held out. “Really nice.” And perfect for Jill. It would make her look tiny beside Wolf.
“I think so. Think Tom will like it?”
“Oh, I know so.”
“I wish they’d get home sooner, versus later.”
“Tell me about it.” This was the kind of Saturday Grace loved. Lazy. Peaceful. Talking about guys. Jill got up to change the music. “You sure you should have ditched the crutches?”
“They made my armpits sore.”
“That’s because you are not supposed to lean on them.”
“My knee is better.”
“Which is why you are limping.”
“Obviously. What are we doing for dinner?”
Jill did not want to talk about the burglary. Grace understood that. Jill was impatiently waiting for him to be caught, but other than that, she was trying to get on with her life. “I vote for ordering in.”
“Absolutely.”
The phone rang. Grace waved her friend back to the couch. “I’ll get it.” She picked up her empty glass and headed to the kitchen. It was Scott.
“They caught him.”
Grace whooped for joy and leaned around the doorway to beam at her friend. “Jill, they caught him.” She pressed the phone tight wanting the details. “Where?”
“North Carolina. He tried to rob a house and got caught by an angry dog.”
“About time.”
“Does this mean I’m out of the doghouse?”
Scott had been hanging around Jill lately, helping her when he was off duty. The man was miserable that it had happened. “Bring us over dinner tonight and maybe. It depends on what stories you have to tell on Bruce.”
The cop laughed. “I see Jill has been talking. Ever hear about the tackle box?”
“No, I haven’t. It sounds interesting.”
“It is. I’ll bring over pizza in an hour.”
Bruce ~
Jill loves the car. She’s even named it her blue bomb. She was able to put away the crutches this weekend, and other than having to take stairs slowly she’s doing okay. The guy was arrested in North Carolina last night. You could see Scott’s relief. He brought over pizza last night when he got off work. I heard a fascinating story about a tackle box. . . . You’ve got a good friend in him.
Tell Wolf that Jill found her wedding dress. It’s gorgeous. We’ve been debating various wedding cakes. Come home; I can’t wait to see Jill and Wolf married. You’ll have a fun time giving her away while also being Wolf’s best man. We’re talking about music now.
I’m almost afraid to write this as I don’t want to jinx it. The doctors cleared me to fly again. Mobility is not great; it’s only back 80 percent, but I passed the strength tests and that was the mandatory part. If I survive four days of flying in the simulator, they’ll cut the
flight orders for the USS Harry Truman.
I get one shot at carrier quals along with a class of nuggets. If I miss the grade, I’m out. I’m at peace with that reality. I’m as ready as I’m going to be. Tom Dantello was right: flying is more mental than physical. I wish you were here to watch. I’m nervous, incredibly nervous.
Grace
Grace ~
I’m so glad you have been there to help out Jill. I’ve been feeling a bit helpless as a big brother lately; there is so little I can do from here. CONGRATULATIONS on getting the medical release. I’ve been praying fervently that it would happen. A dream has kept you moving forward all your life. Fly the meatball, the glide path, and watch the wind. You can do it, honey. I’m so proud of you just for being willing to try. I do wish I could be there. Know you are in my thoughts.
I love you.
Bruce
Thirty-Nine
* * *
JUNE 14
AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS HARRY TRUMAN
ATLANTIC OCEAN OFF THE COAST OF VIRGINIA
She would love to catch the third wire, but she’d settle for the first or even the fourth if she could just find the ship. Grace descended through the clouds. Five miles ahead, somewhere, was the USS Harry Truman. The Atlantic Ocean was an incredibly big place at night.
Grace fought the sensation of being task saturated as she kept up the scan of sky and instruments. Flying that had been instinctive months before, she was now consciously doing. It wasn’t a good sign, and the more she tried to change it, the more she got herself further behind in the mental game. One poor landing and her flying career was over. She came out of the clouds. Where was the ship?
She spotted a yellow line of lights far ahead. She half smiled to herself as she saw it and felt the fear that was always there in a night landing to cause her hands to sweat. She really was going to land on that strip of lights.
Entrance into carrier landing pattern was at a point in the sky three miles behind the carrier at eight hundred feet.
True Valor Page 24
