by Jillian Hart
The air punched out of her lungs. Shock crept icily through her veins. Her knees buckled and she sank onto the bed. Helicopter down? It was unlikely Pierce would have been on it, right, although he was in that part of the country. She struggled for air, but there was nothing. Just the airlessness and the reporter’s words echoing inside her head. “…Embassy is under attack. My sources tell me one of those choppers was carrying key American civilians on board. Heavy gunfire is reported from the area…”
“Th-that’s where Pierce is. I’m sure of it.” Giselle rasped, her whisper harsh with terror. “He’s right in the middle of that. He’s got to be.”
“We can’t know that for sure,” Lexie found herself saying, not because she believed it, but because she wanted it to be true. She wanted nothing more in her entire life.
Lord, please let him be safe at his forward base, she prayed, with the sinking feeling it was an impossible request. She watched as the camera panned in the direction of a dusty brown and concrete city, framed by jungle-type vegetation. Orange flames shot up between buildings, and the pop-pop-pop of machine guns sounded like fireworks. The scene reminded her of a movie she saw where a Blackhawk was shot down, trapping soldiers in a hostile city.
Please keep him safe, Lord, she prayed with all of her might. She believed that prayer made all the difference, if there was one to be made. The image on the TV screen remained in the background, while the news anchor interviewed a former four-star general. She focused as hard as she could, but their conversation was a mumbling jumble she couldn’t sort out. Her attention was on that image of flames rolling upward in the sky. That’s where Pierce would be, right in the thick of things, defending the civilians he had probably helped rescue.
“I hate that he’s there. I hate it.” Giselle swiped at her tears.
“I do, too.” Her hands trembled as she took Giselle’s in her own. “But I’m proud of him, too.”
“Will you stay with me?” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I can’t wait through this alone.”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” If she could do this small thing by offering comfort to Pierce’s sister, then she would do it. Her teeth chattered with fear for him, but she did her best to wrestle it down. “Do you want to pray for him? Will that help you?”
“I’d like that.” Giselle sniffled, glancing once more at the screen. The TV had cut to another military expert, who was giving his opinion on the logistical difficulty of getting the wounded evacuated from the fighting.
Pierce was there, in harm’s way. She knew it in her gut. A few moments ago she had been disappointed he hadn’t had time to answer her. At the precise moment he’d been under attack. She could see why this was so hard for Giselle and her family, and for many of the military families at the nearby air base who had kindly completed her research questionnaire. She thought of some of their answers.
“It’s stressful never knowing how my husband is, if he’s safe and well. I jump whenever the doorbell rings,” one Army wife had written. And another wrote, “I live in a constant state of worry. I’ve learned how to cope, but when you love someone you always want them to come home safely to you.”
Lexie thought of those women now, and the thousands of families who sacrificed by supporting their loved ones on active duty. She could no longer pretend that she didn’t care. The thought of Pierce possibly being hurt or worse cut her in two. As she bowed her head in prayer, one truth became perfectly clear. She was in love with him.
Chapter Ten
“Reloading!” He bellowed out, ejecting his cartridge, dropping low. Cement bit into his knees.
Beside him, Hawk kept firing, calm and sure. Three embassy workers, a secretary, a consultant and a janitor, were trying to cope with the trauma behind them. A routine, peaceful evacuation had suddenly turned dangerous. The secretary and the consultant were weeping. The janitor, a stoic local, continuously recited the Lord’s Prayer.
His prayers already said, Pierce palmed the magazine into his weapon with a familiar click. The concrete walls of the office building they’d stumbled in provided good cover and with the windows blown out, they had good defensive position near the downed bird.
“This was supposed to be a piece of cake,” Hawk muttered. “Hey, Gray! Get on the horn and find out when our ride’s coming.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Gray called out above the deafening explosion of an RPG.
Cement and shrapnel went flying, most of it missing them. Good thing. He swiped dirt and cement dust from his face, struggling to see the helicopter wreckage and the injured copilot they were guarding. Jax was down, sprawled in the dirt and clutching his side, leaving a hole in the defense.
“Hawk, cover me.” Pierce knocked Hawk in the arm. “I’m gonna get Jax.”
Suppressive fire erupted behind him. He ran out through the spitting chunks of cement and whizzing bullets. The first step out into the open was the hardest. A man didn’t have more than a chance to think of the people he loved before his boot hit the ground and he was exposed. It was Lexie’s face that haunted him as he sprinted into the open, bullets pitting the earth around him.
The comforting scents of taco and seasoned beef filled the air as Amber set two dinner trays heaped with food from the dining hall onto the coffee table in Lexie’s room. Giselle’s support group had become too large for the smaller dorm room and they had been forced to relocate.
“I’m heading back for drinks.” Amber surveyed the small crowd. “Who needs refills?”
“I’ll have more iced tea. Thanks for all this, Amber.” Lexie’s stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a bucket of nails, but she managed what she hoped passed for a smile. “Giselle?”
The girl hardly seemed to notice. She was staring at the TV as if she hoped a journalist would come on and report Pierce’s safety status. If only they could. Lexie took a plate from the tray and a napkin from the tidy stack. “Try to eat something, Giselle.”
“I’m not hungry.” Which is exactly what she said after Amber and Rose had fetched the first round of tacos from the dining hall.
“You have to eat something. This could go on for a long time.” Right now the anchor discussed mortgage loans and the fed’s speculated rate cut, and a very serious investment consultant doled out his view of things.
Worry ate at her. It was impossible to concentrate, except for the ticker at the bottom of the screen rolling around with the latest news tidbits. There had been no change in that, either, not where the military action was concerned.
“Pierce needs you to take care of yourself.” She set the plate directly in front of Giselle. “Besides, I think there’s statistical evidence that low blood sugar weakens prayer strength.”
“You’re making that up.” The girl tore her gaze from the screen. “I’ll try to get something down if you do.”
“How can I say no to that?” Lexie took a plate for herself. The lush shredded lettuce, red juicy tomato, thick sour scream and melted cheese looked delicious in the corn taco shell, but the nails in her stomach seemed to have multiplied. She eased into her desk chair, put the plate on her knees and gathered a taco with both hands. One bite, and her stomach bunched up in protest. Giselle was watching, so she kept chewing.
The investment dude was still talking about T-bills, and she wished she could fast-forward live television to get to the part about the military action. What about the soldiers? Was it over? Were they out of harm’s way? She had been praying for them all afternoon long, but it didn’t feel as if it could ever be enough. Giselle had said that no news was good news. That was her only consolation now as she swallowed, and it was like swallowing sand.
She was totally getting the girl’s view of things. No wonder she’d been so adamant about wanting Pierce out of the Army. It was one thing to look at his service in theory, terrifying to experience the reality of it.
But as nerve-racking as it was for her to wait, she couldn’t imagine how tough it was for hi
m. She did her best not to think about all the things that could go wrong. She could not bear to remember what he had said about being prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice. Her heart broke, and it took all her might to hold back the tears burning behind her eyes. She set her taco down, unable to take another bite.
Giselle’s cell phone rang, and the girl jumped. Everyone jumped. Was it Mrs. Granger calling with unbearable news? Rose grabbed the remote and silenced the TV. The ticker tape rolled across the screen, “American embassy under siege. An Army helicopter shot down. Reports of casualties.” Unchanged over the last hours. Was Pierce one of those casualties?
She went cold from the outside in while Giselle answered her phone, whispered “hello” and listened. One second turned into a century, two seconds into an eternity. She licked her dry lips, unable to feel anything, fearing what might be said, that Pierce had—
Don’t think it, she instructed herself. He’s got to be fine. He has to be.
“Oh, Mom.” Giselle’s bottom lip trembled. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m worried about him, too. A group of friends are watching a news channel with me. Yeah, I’m doing okay. We’ve had a prayer circle. I’m eating dinner, yes, I promise.”
There was no bad news, simply a mother checking on her daughter. Relief rushed out of her like a tidal wave, knocking down every defense, every barrier, leaving her every vulnerability exposed.
I am in such trouble, she thought, resting her forehead in both hands. Every inch of her trembled. Her heart was too involved. Look at her, icy down to the soul in fear for him. Forgoing her studying seven days before finals because she couldn’t focus on anything but worrying over Pierce and praying for his safety.
“Mom, they’re talking about it right now. Wait.” Giselle, phone in hand, turned her attention to the screen where the camera cut to a dark city street. The same correspondent was standing against a building, with the urban setting as a backdrop. Sporadic gunfire burst like a full bag of microwave popcorn, winding down.
Rose zipped the volume up.
“…fighting has stopped. There are still some insurgents in the area, but I can confirm the embassy is now evacuated and all American personnel are safe and accounted for.”
The news anchor broke in, posing a question to some military analyst, and there was no news of more injured soldiers.
Thank You, Lord. The prayer lifted from the truest places in Lexie’s soul.
“No news is good news,” Giselle told everyone and returned to her conversation with her mom.
Lexie picked a tomato out of her taco and munched on it, feeling drained and in pieces. The feeling lasted through the night, into the following day and throughout the next week. As she answered essay questions on a blue book exam, writing about neurotransmitters, receptors and reuptake time, at the back of her mind the worry for him remained.
“Brownies!” Gray’s victorious shout rose above the general chaos of their tent. The best thing about coming back from a tough mission was finding the letters and packages that had accumulated.
Pierce stared at his booty, a thick stack of letters, probably from Mom and Skip, who didn’t want to fuss with e-mail, and a box from Lexie Evans. He sat on his cot, unable to make himself rip open the package.
“Have one.” Gray tromped up, a shoebox of powdered sugar–topped brownies held out as an offering. “Layla made ’em. It’s good to have a girlfriend.”
Until she gets tired of waiting for you and leaves you for someone who isn’t gone most of the time. He bit those words back. Maybe Gray would have better luck in the romance department. He took a brownie. “Tell Layla thanks.”
“I will. Looks like you’ve got some goodies, too.” Gray winked at him, as if the box was good news. He was young and still wet behind the ears. He hadn’t felt the strain of what a demanding job meant to a man and his life back home. Gray tromped over to Hawk’s cot, offering him a brownie, too.
That left Pierce to contemplate Lexie’s box. He tore at the tape, taking his time, chewing on the brownie along the way. He didn’t want to admit why he was dragging his feet. He didn’t want to admit that his feelings for her were more than the simple friendship he’d agreed to.
If they were, he couldn’t let them be.
“Looks like you made a good haul,” Hawk commented as he opened a letter. “I can see the return addy from here. You and Lexie are still in contact?”
“Apparently.” That was the safest answer. For how long, he didn’t know. She was sure on his mind a lot. He’d gotten pretty personal in his e-mails to her—well, about as personal as a man like him was going to get. It had been simple opening up to her.
That was a sign right there.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Hawk prodded. “Maybe she sent cookies.”
He was being wary, that was all, when he didn’t need to be. Here he was worrying about his feelings getting beyond his comfort zone, when the truth was a girl like Lexie wanted a man she could count on. Someone who would be at her side every day. Jealousy ate at him as he imagined that lucky man, a guy who would be there for her, who could put her first.
Sadness crept into him, and as he tore at the last stubborn tape holding the box top together, it consumed him. He should be happy looking down at the treats she’d been thoughtful enough to send instead of being swamped with despair.
“Look at all that!” Hawk reached into the box and snagged a roll of sweet and tart candy. “You are one lucky dog.”
“If only.” He put his grin on, but he was about the unluckiest man in camp. “She’s just being nice.”
“I’ll say. She’s a nice girl.” Hawk ripped open the paper wrapper and tossed a wafer into his mouth. He bit down, making a sour face. “It could work, you know. It’s not ideal, but nothing ever is.”
“I’m not looking to settle down.” He grabbed a long strand of red licorice, wrapped in a long plastic sleeve, fighting to hide what hurt the most. With another job, under different circumstances, he might have a chance with her.
“Look at what Pierce got! Candy.” Gray’s call brought the rest of the team, rummaging through the selections for their own favorites. The guys gathered around him, hooting and teasing over their choices—grape bubble gum, rainbow-colored candies and peanut butter cups.
Pierce welcomed his buddies, gladly sharing and stealing a second rope before someone else could take it. The jokes and laughter helped him to forget his frustrations and the seeds of wishes he could not sow.
The chaos and noise was a happy sound, echoing in the hallway and into her room. The last finals were officially over and the students who hadn’t bugged out yet were packing to go home. Christian music tumbled into the hallways along with laughter and tearful goodbyes.
Lexie opened her windows to the warm May breeze and soaked in the warm sunshine spilling through the leafy trees. She’d aced her final this morning, so the pressure was off. She only had to finish packing, get the last of the girls checked out of their rooms and pack the rest of her stuff into her SUV. Contentment filled her; it had been a good year, although the days had whipped by impossibly fast. All but the last seven. Those days had been torture.
She did her best to ignore her computer. She was not going to give in to the urge to check her e-mail for the umpteenth time. He would write when he could, just as he’d done before. Worry had turned into a dull ache, one nothing could ease.
“Lexie?” Giselle was at the door, her dark hair pulled back in a single ponytail, happiness on her face, sporting a yellow MCU T-shirt and tan walking shorts. “I’m on my way out and I wanted to see you one last time.”
“I’m glad you did.” She wove around the half-filled cardboard boxes to give the girl a hug. “I’m going to miss you, Giselle.”
“Me, too.” She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and swiped at her eyes. “Look at me. I’m a mess. I’m not good at goodbyes.”
“It’s not goodbye, it’s I’ll see you in a few months. With the way time is rollin
g by, it will be the last week of August before we know it, and we’ll all be right back on campus. Besides, you can call or e-mail me anytime.”
“I know.” She sniffed and handed over her room key. “I’m going to pester you with e-mail. Just a warning.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” She grabbed the clipboard from the edge of her desk and made a checkmark.
“By the way, I finally heard from Pierce.” Giselle grabbed her purse and a heavy bag from the floor and hefted both over her shoulder.
“Pierce?” Her hands went cold. Everything did. “He’s all right?”
“As right as he’ll ever be, apparently.” Giselle’s shoulder slumped beneath the weight of her bags. “All that worry, and he’s fine. He e-mailed me this morning. He’s been keeping busy. No surprise there.”
The ache deep in her heart sharpened. He was okay; of course she’d known that. No news was good news. Still, it was a relief to hear the words.
“I’ve got to get going. Mom wants me home by supper, so she doesn’t have to worry about me driving mountain roads in the dark.”
“Drive safe, Giselle.” She teared up, seeing the girl go. “Blessings.”
“Blessings!” Giselle called back, hurrying down the hall, eager to get home.
Maybe there was an e-mail waiting for her, too. Images of Pierce teased Lexie as she dropped the clipboard on the coffee table and labeled the room key. She saw again the charm of his dimpled smile, the way he’d looked in the rain as he spoke about his brother, and how safe she’d felt in his arms when he’d carried her.
She found herself in front of her computer, impatiently waiting for the mail program to kick up. Tearful cries rang above the music and noise in the hallway and she glanced over her shoulder. Amber and Rose were hugging in farewell.
