“I need some milk,” she told them, her voice slurring. “And a baby bottle?”
Bertram beamed as he stood just outside the flap. “Hey, ma’am! There’s a lady over on Beechwood Street that just had a baby a few weeks ago. I’ll run over there and get you a bottle. She’s got several, and I know she’ll loan us one.”
Frowning, Wes studied Callie and the baby as she stood in the center of the tent, rocking her in her arms.
“What about a milk source? Could we use the dry milk packets that come with the MREs? Would that be okay for the baby, Callie?”
She smiled tiredly. “Sure, it’s a great idea.”
Turning, Wes ordered Bertram to hotfoot it over to that woman on Beechwood Street. Instantly, the marine saluted, turned on his heel and took off at a fast run down the avenue.
Dizziness swept over Callie. She sat down on the cot and continued to gently rock the baby. “Use that boiled water to mix up the milk,” she told Wes. “And use about half the amount of water so that the milk is strong. If you have any sugar around, you can put a teaspoon in it.”
Nodding, Wes turned and called out through the tent flap. “Lance Corporal Stevens?”
“Yes, sir?” The marine halted and looked into the tent. He grinned widely when he saw Callie holding the infant. Resuming a more serious look, he came to attention in front of Wes.
“Grab the dehydrated milk packets from three MREs in the supply tent. Mix them two to one with boiled water, and then cool it enough so the baby can drink it once Bertram comes back with a bottle.”
Steven’s face lit up with pleasure. “You bet, sir.” He hurried off toward the supply tent.
Wes entered the tent. They were alone, if only for a few precious minutes. Hungrily he absorbed Callie’s soft look as she held the baby in her arms. Kneeling down on one knee, he reached out and caressed her cheek. Her flesh was cool and he was concerned for her.
“You’ll make a beautiful mother someday,” he told her in a low, gritty tone.
Shaken by the intimacy he effortlessly established with her, Callie closed her eyes and absorbed his fleeting touch. She was starved for Wes—in so many ways. Moments of privacy were like gold to her. “This baby wouldn’t be here with us now if not for you,” she choked out softly, opening her eyes. Drowning in his dark, burning gaze, Callie added, “I don’t know what’s happening between us, Wes…. I need you, and yet we just met. It’s all so crazy. I find myself out there hunting for survivors and you pop into my mind and heart out of nowhere.” Her brows knitted. “What’s going on? Has this ever happened to you?”
Reaching out, Wes helped to cradle the baby in her arms. “No…not ever. I can’t explain it, either, Callie.” Tiredness lapped at him. Wes struggled to find the words for how he felt, but it was impossible. “It’s the same for me, Angel. There’s so much ongoing trauma around us, so many people who are needy and desperate…and even in the middle of this crisis, I’m seeing your beautiful face and those incredible blue eyes of yours haunting me.” Wes gave her a lopsided smile drawn with exhaustion. “Just know this, Callie—we’ll both have the time to explore our desire for one another. I know we’re in a helluva crisis right now….”
As he grazed her wet cheek, Callie sighed. “Too much is happening too fast. I’m too tired to sort it all out and so are you….”
An ache settled in his heart, one he tried to ignore. He smiled slightly. “I’ve got some good news for you and the rest of our team.”
Sighing, she pressed her cheek into his cupped hand. “I could use it. What’s the surprise?”
Wes removed his hand from the infant and looked at the watch on his left wrist. “In another hour, a Huey is bringing in a replacement team for us. Lucy will stay here with her dog and continue rescue efforts. We’re going to be flown back to Camp Reed for twenty-four hours of R and R. How’s that sound for a nice surprise, Callie?”
Gasping, she whispered, “Really? In just an hour?” Wes had mentioned it before, but Callie hadn’t known when it would occur.
Wes suddenly felt silly, like a teenage kid once again. He wanted to laugh but clamped down on the desire. Knowing that his emotional state was shredded by the quake and the long, grueling days of work, he met and held her wide eyes instead. “Yeah, it’s for real, Callie. They are finally giving us a break.” He reluctantly removed his hand from her soft cheek. What he wanted to do was kiss her senseless. The maternal look on her face as she rocked the baby gently in her arms nearly overwhelmed him. Callie might be a woman marine, but that took nothing away from her femininity, or the fact that she was all woman.
Because he knew Bertram or Stevens would be coming back soon, and he wanted no one to eavesdrop on what he had to say to Callie, he whispered carefully, “What I want—and this has to be mutual, Callie—” He drew in a deep breath and held her glistening blue eyes. “When we land back at Camp Reed, I want you to share my room at the B.O.Q. I want to take a hot shower with you…I want you in my bed and in my arms. I need to hold you…and I need to be held.”
His words touched her like warming rays of sunshine. Callie bowed her head and closed her eyes. Wes was honest in a way that she’d never experienced with a man.
The baby moved and she opened her jacket to allow her tiny black-haired head to appear. With trembling fingers, she caressed the little girl’s curly strands.
“Talk with me, Callie. What do you think about this? How are you feeling about it?” Wes asked unsteadily. He got to his feet and stood across the aisle from her, knowing his men would arrive shortly. It was important for appearance’s sake that the others didn’t know what existed between him and Callie. Anxiously, he perused her features. Just the way she caressed the baby’s soft, damp hair made him long for her touch. The quake had ripped his armor from him. Wes was finding himself even more vulnerable to the worsening conditions at the camp, the incredible human suffering around them. And somehow, his heart knew that Callie could soothe him, heal him, and give him some of that quiet, unending strength that he saw burning in her glimmering eyes.
“I—I’m afraid, Wes,” Callie managed to stammer in a low, strangled tone. Forcing her gaze upward, she met his shadowed eyes, which burned with desire—for her. “I—it’s me, you know? I’ve just never had a guy want me like you do. It’s nice in one way, but scary as all get out in another. I’m not pretty…. I just don’t understand your attraction to me, I guess….”
“Callie, you’re beautiful to me. Shouldn’t that count?”
Managing a grudging smile, she gazed down at the little girl, who was sleeping now. “Yes, it does. I’m just afraid, Wes, that’s all.” Afraid that her heart longed for him and he would reject that because of his past. Wes offered only a fleeting relationship, nothing substantial to build over time. At first Callie had thought she could do that—just respond to Wes on a level of mutual desire. But something else was taking root in her heart and she was even more confused and unsure.
“That’s okay. I don’t want to pressure you, Callie. That’s not what my honesty is all about. This is a two-way street, and like I said, we have time.”
Her heart burst with ripe pain and need. “I owe you an explanation, Wes. I’m afraid I haven’t had much experience in relationships. In high school, I was shunned. They called me a lot of names and made fun of me.”
“Why?” His voice went off-key with anger—an emotion he wasn’t concealing as well as he would like. The hurt in Callie’s tone, and the anguish in her eyes, tore at him.
“My parents were very poor, and I couldn’t afford the ‘in’ clothes. My mother made our clothes. My dad was a farmer in Minnesota until he broke his back. He’s now stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. We had to go on welfare and we lost the farm. We lost everything…and my dad, well, it broke him in another way, because he was an outdoors man. He loved nature. He loved working outside.” Tucking her lower lip between her teeth, she hesitated. Wes deserved the whole truth, so she pushed on in a hushed tone.
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“I worked after school to bring in enough money to feed the family. I was the oldest. That was my responsibility. My mother had to stay home to raise the little ones. I tried to make things better for everyone, Wes. I had two jobs after school, but we couldn’t afford clothes or shoes for everyone. We ended up buying things at the secondhand clothing store. But even though we had some hard luck, we were always clean and our clothes pressed and spotless.”
Grimly, Wes settled his hands on his hips. “But the kids at school, being kids, they knew. And they made fun of you.”
“Yes…kids aren’t exactly nice to those who have hit some hard luck,” she agreed wryly. Callie saw the anger banked in his eyes and in the harsh line of his mouth. “Kids that came from the wrong side of the tracks, like we did, were outcasts, too.” She smiled slightly. “You don’t strike me as coming from a dirt-poor farm family.”
His hands slipped from her narrow hips. “No, I’ve never had to scramble or scrape by like you or your family had to, Callie. My father is a very well-known architect back in Hartford, Connecticut.” He sat down on the plyboard floor and wrapped his arms around his upraised knees. Just getting to talk to Callie, to find out about her as a person, was an unexpected gift to him.
“And he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I guess that’s where the trouble began.” Wes offered her a sour smile. When he saw the corners of her soft mouth move upward, he felt almost dizzy with need for her. The lights outside dimly illuminated the tent interior, accentuating the planes of her square face and emphasizing those wide, intelligent eyes.
“You went into the Marine Corps instead?” Callie guessed.
“Yeah…” Wes gave a bark of laughter. “I wanted to help build a better world. I guess I inherited my dad’s engineering skills, but I wanted to help others. I came from a privileged background, Callie. I’ve never known what it’s like to starve or have to scramble to make a buck to buy food to put on the table. I went to Harvard, just like my dad. I didn’t have to worry about scholarships or anything having to do with money, because my father paid for it all. From there, I went through officer’s candidate school, and after graduation, I joined the Corps.”
“He wasn’t too happy about that?”
Shaking his head, Wes said, “No, but I’ve been in the Corps awhile and he’s getting used to the idea.”
Rocking the baby, Callie gazed down at her as she slept soundly in her arms. “Brothers and sisters?”
“No, I’m a spoiled only child.” He grinned.
Laughing quietly, Callie said, “There’s six in our family. Three boys and three girls. I send half my paycheck home to my parents every month. It’s helped them out a lot. They’re not on welfare anymore, and that’s helped my dad’s pride. He’s a proud man and he never in his life wanted to ask for a handout.”
“They still in Minnesota?” Wes cherished this talk between them. He wished that the world would stop turning for just a moment so they could continue their exploration of one another. He was starved to know more about what made Callie the incredible and heroic woman she was.
“Yes,” Callie said softly. “They live in a nice little house up in International Falls. That’s close to the Canadian border. We kids are trying to save enough money in a special bank account to buy them a small farm where they can live out their days. I think my dad would be better off if we could get him out of town and back on the land. He’s so depressed because he lives in the city.”
Wes nodded. “I understand that. Even though I was raised in the ’burbs, I ran for the woods every chance I got. I liked being out in the rain, wind and elements.”
“As a civil engineer you’re outdoors most of the time?”
“Yes.” Wes gazed at her. “And your job in the Corps keeps you outdoors, too.”
Callie grinned tiredly. “Maybe we’re gluttons for punishment. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing to death. I’m really looking forward to getting a hot shower.”
As Wes gave her a heated look, he heard the clump of boots nearing the tent. It was probably Bertram coming back with the baby bottle. “Just remember, there’s an open invitation to take it with me, should you change your mind.”
Just the way he said it made Callie feel good about herself. Wes wasn’t pressuring her. His invitation was a compliment to her. A wonderful one.
“Thanks…” she whispered, suddenly emotional. His face blurred momentarily and Callie gulped back her tears. “You have no idea what you’ve done for my self-confidence. You’re such a gift to me, Wes….”
Chapter Eight
January 4: 0900
“Hey, Callie!”
A hand gripped her shoulder and gave her a good shake.
“It’s 0900. Get up.”
The voice of Captain Susannah Wilson sliced abruptly into her deep sleep. Groaning, Callie forced open her eyes. She heard the rescue dogs barking out in the kennel. There was a flurry of people rushing around outside the small ready room. Forcing her eyelids open, she saw Susannah’s dark-brown eyes narrowed on her as she leaned over her.
“Uhhh…yeah, okay…I’m up.”
Grinning a little, Susannah released her shoulder and stood by the bunk as Callie stirred beneath the blankets. “What’s with you, Evans? You get twenty-four hours of R and R I’d die for, and you curl up in your wet clothes here at H.Q. instead of getting a nice, hot shower and a warm, dry bed over at the B.O.Q.”
Rubbing her face tiredly, Callie threw off the covers. She was still damp, but at least she was slightly warm. Her eyes felt puffy and she scrubbed them with her fists for a moment, trying to wake up. The activity outside the ready room was evident.
“I dropped Dusty off here,” she muttered thickly, “and I couldn’t move another step.”
“So you crashed and burned here,” Susannah said, placing her hands on her hips. “Don’t blame you. Well, get your butt outta here, Lieutenant. Go to your B.O.Q. room and get cleaned up. You smell awful.”
Giving her a slight smile, Callie combed her hair back into place with her dirty fingers. “You’re right—I smell like hell.”
“More like a garbage dump. Get outta here. I don’t want to see you back here until 1600. Private Snelling is takin’ care of the dogs and feeding ’em. You do a disappearing act. Hear me?”
“Yeah…I hear you….”
Callie watched her tall, shapely C.O., who was dressed in desert cammos, walk briskly out of the room. After Wes had taken her and the baby to the hospital, Callie had come over to the unit to drop Dusty off and care for him. It was then that she’d run out of gas, physically speaking, and she’d crashed on the ready room bunk. It was the last thing she remembered.
As she slowly pulled her dirty, muddy black boots toward her, Callie’s awakening brain swung between Wes and the baby. They called her Baby Jane Fielding because no one knew her first name. Callie was sorry she hadn’t asked the mother. At least they had a last name, and when the Red Cross got a chance, they’d try and track down the father, or the parents or other relatives of Tracy Fielding.
As Callie laced her boots with slow-moving, fumbling fingers, she thought of Wes. Instantly, her heart expanded with such a euphoria that it wiped out her sleepy state.
Had he waited for her to come to his room? She didn’t know. She’d wanted to, but had been simply too exhausted. Somehow, Callie knew he’d understand. After she rose and tried to straighten her damp, rumpled cammos into some semblance of order, Callie took her crumpled cap and put it on her head. First she’d check on Dusty and then she’d head over to the B.O.Q. for a delicious hot shower.
January 4: 1000
After putting on a set of clean, pressed cammos after her hot shower, Callie began to feel human again. The B.O.Q. room was small, but it was clean. Outside the window of the four-story brick building, she saw an incredible sight. The B.O.Q. was less than a mile from the airport. The amount of air traffic was mind-boggling. She saw at least ten Lockheed C-130 Hercules, a midrange cargo pl
ane with four turbo-prop engines, trundling into the revetment areas, no doubt filled with supplies. The huge C-141 Starlifters were the work horses of the relief effort, however. There were three of them on the runways right now. The air vibrated with the mighty engines at full throttle as one took off, probably with a load of medical emergencies, Callie guessed. The facility was a beehive of activity, with people, Humvees and planes moving in a constant procession to a line of awaiting, dark-green cargo trucks that she was sure would be taking life-giving supplies off base to the surrounding civilian areas.
Brushing her recently washed hair, Callie grabbed her cap and settled it on her head. Her stomach growled. According to the instructions on the dresser in her room, a chow hall had been set up in a tent the east side of the B.O.Q. Should she try to locate Wes? She’d seen his name listed on the roster down in the foyer of the building and knew he was in room 210. She was in room 320. Seesawing over whether she should find him or not, Callie decided she was ultimately a coward. No, she needed time to gather herself emotionally; the stress was wearing on her normally good, sound judgment. Hurrying out the door and into the carpeted hall, she saw a number of other marine officers in desert cammos coming and going. They ranged from second lieutenants all the way up to colonel. The B.O.Q. was becoming the only place officers could stay, because no one was able to get off base to their homes with all the roads outside Camp Reed destroyed.
The day was dawning clear and cool. Callie appreciated the blue sky and knew it probably wouldn’t rain for a week or so. That would make her job easier. Hurrying to the tent, she saw the olive-green flaps were up and at least fifty long tables were set up. A number of officers Callie recognized from the dog rescue unit called to her as she got in line and picked up an aluminum tray. The cooks behind the line had huge tubs of pancakes, real scrambled eggs, fragrant bacon, and an urn of hot black coffee. Callie’s mouth watered. She was starving.
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