Her phone chimed, alerting her to a new voice mail. A phone call she’d obviously missed while getting more boxes from the car. The call came from a number she didn’t recognize, but instantly her stomach twisted in knots.
She followed the prompts and waited for someone to speak but there was only deafening silence and instantly she knew who had called.
She held her breath, hoping, wishing he would say something. Anything.
I love you.
I hate you.
She could make out the sound of his breathing in the receiver. Voices in the background, but nothing distinguishable.
All too soon, the message ended.
Instead of choosing to delete ten seconds of dead air, she saved it and listened all over again just to hear his breath. And maybe if she listened hard enough, the beat of his heart.
RISKY MISSIONS WEREN’T just part of the job. They were the job. But on the pushing-your-luck scale, some missions were far worse than others, and this one in particular didn’t sit well in his gut. Danny returned to C-Co’s makeshift quarters where he quickly briefed his squad. When he was done, instead of preparing his weapons and ruck, he went in search of pen and paper.
His mind had been with her for much of this deployment. When he was kicking in doors and leading his men, his focus was one hundred percent on the mission at hand. But those other times, before he drifted off to sleep after being awake for thirty-six hours straight, his thoughts were of her. Of what he wished he had said to her before he left.
There was so much he had to say to her and no fucking idea where to start.
He did what he could, scribbled down what came to mind, unsure if what made its way onto the paper made any sense at all. It was a far cry from poetry, wasn’t a decent love letter, either. But he got the important stuff down. That he loved her, would always—underlined twice for emphasis—love her. And that he hoped someday they might figure out a way to be together forever.
He folded the page, sealed the envelope tight, and shoved it in his pocket.
From there he went to find Mike, who was helping Lucky and the other medics stockpile their kits for the upcoming mission. He waited patiently out of the way, not wanting to interrupt. But his face must have revealed the uncertainty he felt inside, because Mike took one look at him and came marching over.
“What’s wrong?”
Danny pulled the once-white envelope, now smudged with dirt, from his pocket. Using his fingers he attempted to lessen the stain, but only succeeded in making things worse. “I need to give you this.”
“What the fuck is this?” Mike asked, refusing to take the letter addressed to Bree from his brother’s outstretched hand. “I’m not taking a death letter.”
“It’s not—”
There was no point in arguing. Mike called it what it was. And for the very first time in ten years, Danny was scared to death. Not even as a snot-nosed kid fresh out of RIP, dropping into Iraq under the cover of darkness and into the middle of a war zone had he been this scared.
But it wasn’t the mission at hand that frightened him as much as never having the chance to tell Bree face-to-face how much he loved her. Had always loved her. Even when he left her.
“—I just need her to know.”
Reluctantly, Mike took the envelope from his hand. “What is it about this mission?”
“I don’t know.” That was the honest truth. The feeling hadn’t been there two nights before or the mission before that. But he could no longer pretend that everything was as it should be. “Just got a bad feeling about it, Mikey. They’re dropping us on a compound in broad daylight, which is bullshit for one and fucked up for another. We spend most of our lives training in the dark and then they go and do this. But whatcha gonna do?”
He turned to walk away, but then stopped himself, remembering one final thing.
“Just so you know, I bought her a ring. It’s in the left pocket of my dress blues.”
Anger crossed Michael’s face. “Why the hell didn’t you give it to her?”
“I had a whole thing planned because I wanted to do it right this time, not like in Myrtle Beach. And I sure as hell wasn’t gonna hand her a velvet box before I boarded a plane. Then she told me about the job offer and . . .” He still couldn’t believe it. How in a matter of hours every one of his plans had taken a deep dive into a steaming pile of shit. “Anyway, if something happens—”
“Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“—I’m just saying, if it does, then you can give it to her or return it or maybe you can use it someday. So . . . I’ve got to go.”
Before he reached the open hangar door, Michael chased him down and grabbed him up in a fierce embrace.
“Do me a favor. Remember that you have a lot to live for. Don’t go out there putting yourself in harm’s way unnecessarily.” Still clutching his shoulders, Michael stepped back so he could stare Danny in the eyes. “You may not have kids at home like a lot of these guys, and at this point you may or may not have a wife, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t loved. That you wouldn’t be missed. Do you hear me?” Michael shook him hard for good measure. “Dad loves you and it would kill him to lose you. Same goes for me.”
“I hear ya.”
Danny affectionately slapped his brother’s shoulders with both hands then pulled himself from Michael’s grasp. “Gotta go.”
He was halfway across the tarmac when Michael called out to him. “I’ll see you on the other side, Danny!”
Without turning around, Danny waved his hand in the air. There was no point in drawing out their goodbye.
In the past ten years he’d seen it happen more than once. A guy got a bad feeling in his gut, a sixth sense about something going wrong, and it always came to pass. Maybe they died because they were scared and lost their edge. Or maybe they died simply because it was their time to go.
No one would ever know for sure. He could only hope that in this case, he was fucking wrong.
BREE STRETCHED THE tape across the cardboard flaps, sealing the last box shut. Being filled with only candle holders and throw pillows and towels, it was far lighter than the others and she carried it into the living room.
Danny’s space was his own again, having returned to the dull, monochromatic style it was before. The photos she’d found that first week and put into frames remained untouched. And beside them, a large framed print of the two of them, the same photo taken during the parade that appeared in the paper.
She wanted to take it. Even had it wrapped and packed in a box at one point. But it didn’t feel right. That picture belonged here, in this place. If Danny wanted to take it down after she was gone and bury it in the bottom of a box along with the other photo he kept of the two of them, then so be it.
Bree looked around the apartment one last time to be certain nothing had been missed. Her clothes and shoes and everyday things she’d wait to pack, saving them until the morning she moved, just three days from now. That meant there was only one more thing.
She stared at the ring on her finger. It definitely wasn’t right for her to keep it.
As much as she loved Danny, as much as she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, being in a one-sided relationship could only last so long. Sooner or later it would only bring both of them misery. He didn’t intend to marry, but he’d done so out of some sense of duty and misplaced guilt. She would forever be grateful for what he did, helping her get her life back. But she would always feel they threw away another chance at happiness.
“No time like the present.”
She sat down on the end of their bed and attempted to remove the ring in a single pull. Despite her fingers being slender, the vintage wedding band was snug and required some effort to remove it. She’d twisted the ring halfway over her knuckle when someone knocked on the door.
“Just a second,” sh
e yelled as she pushed the ring back on for the moment.
Without looking through the peephole, she flung open the door.
“Mrs. MacGregor?”
The men standing in front of her were clearly military although she didn’t recognize either at first glance. The one closest to her had a patch between the buttons of his jacket with two bars, but she couldn’t recall what rank it meant. She studied his name and didn’t recognize it, either.
But the black stitching on his right chest was a symbol everyone knew.
Chapter Twenty-Four
MARIE ONCE TOLD her how to know if your husband was injured or killed based on how many men came to your door and what they were wearing. But she couldn’t remember a bit of it now it was actually happening. Once the cross on his uniform caught her attention, she lost all focus and only vaguely heard him introducing himself along with the man standing beside him.
“How is he?” she heard herself ask.
“May I come in?”
If she said yes, she didn’t hear it. Wasn’t sure if she nodded or spoke or if they just came in anyway. The chaplain guided her to the loveseat while the other man closed the door behind himself and remained outside.
“Your husband is alive, but in critical condition,” he began. “What I have been told is he suffered three wounds. One to the leg. Two to the torso. I do not know the severity of each. An initial surgery was performed in theater before he was transported to Landstuhl.”
“Where’s that?”
“Germany, ma’am.”
She was trying to wrap her brain around what he was telling her. “Where was he that they transported him to Germany?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified, ma’am.”
Of course it was. That was the operational security stuff Danny had warned her about.
Meanwhile, her imagination ran wild with bloody scenes from every military movie she remembered. And the fear was slowly replaced with anger.
Why, after all, should fathers and mothers and wives and sons and daughters be told where their loved ones have been sent to fight? She’d watched the evening news every day since he left. Searched the internet for any clue to his whereabouts. So many places in the world they could have sent him. So many places for him to die far from his family. From her.
But she had no choice but to accept the fact she might never know what happened to Danny simply because the mission or whatever they called it was classified.
Her flash of anger quickly gave way to acceptance and numbness.
The chaplain took her hand in his. “Mrs. MacGregor?”
She turned to look him in the eyes for the first time. They were an interesting shade of gray. Not quite blue. Not quite green. It reminded her of the early-morning fog the day Danny left.
“Is there anyone you’d like to call or someone I can call for you so that you’re not alone?”
“I can do that?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
As the chaplain watched, she sent a text message to Marie, asking her to come over. Ten minutes passed without response, leaving her to assume Marie was busy with the kids.
She fought her way through another wave of tears and before she knew it and without any prompting, she began to tell the chaplain the story of her and Danny. How they grew up together, how they once meant everything to each other, how they eventually went separate ways. Then she told him of that early morning in a Myrtle Beach grocery store, of his backyard proposal and the courthouse wedding. She told him of the laughter and tears and everything in between.
Turning over her hand, he pressed a brass coin into her palm and folded her fingers over it. “In the hours and days ahead, I’m sure there will be times of darkness, times when you will feel very alone. When you do, look at this and remember that is certainly not the case. You have your family. You have your military family. You have your heavenly family. All will be there for you when needed.”
As she clutched the coin tightly in her hand, letting the edge dig into her skin, there was a knock on her door for the second time that afternoon. Marie came rushing through the moment Bree opened it, immediately throwing her arms around Bree’s neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear the alert for your text message and only saw it after the call came in regarding unit injuries.”
Assured she would be taken care of, the chaplain left and Bree began telling Marie everything she knew, which in the end amounted to very little. For now she was waiting on a call from the hospital in Germany. She had no idea if he was on the way to Landstuhl or already there, whether he’d be shipped back to Walter Reed within a matter of days or if his injuries were so significant the army would send her overseas.
“Have you talked to his father?”
She’d dialed Mac a dozen times in a fifteen-minute span before she forced herself to put down her phone. “Voice mail.”
“They’ll get ahold of him,” Marie said, patting Bree’s leg. “So what are you going to do in the meantime? Stay here, or go to Myrtle Beach and wait there with your family until Danny’s stateside?”
Bree shrugged.
“You are going to wait for him, aren’t you? Don’t tell me after everything you two have been through, you’re just going to take the easy way out?”
“I’m supposed to be in Greensboro—”
“Don’t make me smack some sense into you,” Marie said, pointing a finger at her. “You know you don’t want that job. I know you don’t want that job. In fact, I think the only person in the world who doesn’t know this is Danny. So here’s what you’re going to do.” Marie grabbed Bree by the arm and towed her into the bedroom where Bree’s empty suitcase sat beside the bed. “You’re going to pack your suitcase with only the essentials.” She opened the top dresser drawer and pointed inside. “Get at it.”
Then she calmly took a seat on the corner of the bed and kept a watchful eye on Bree while messing with her phone.
“Here’s the thing,” Marie said a few minutes later. “There’s a flight that leaves for Myrtle Beach in ten minutes, which you wouldn’t make even if there was a seat available. Do you think you’re okay to drive there? It’s how far?”
Having gathered her essentials from the bathroom, Bree stopped short in the doorway. “You’re looking up flights for me?”
“Of course I am. That’s what friends do.”
Tears threatened once again. “How am I—”
“Listen to me. You can do this.” Marie crossed the room and took hold of Bree once again, guiding her to the suitcase. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned being an army wife all these years, it’s that I have a pretty good idea which marriages are strong enough to survive military life. Which spouses can ride this wild lifestyle out. You’ve made it through your own battles and that’s why Danny needs you. You’re strong enough to handle this.”
Bree took a deep breath and composed herself. Marie was absolutely right. So was the chaplain. As her dad would say, it was time to buck up. She owed it to Danny to be there for him. As to what would happen between them afterward . . . well, she’d worry about it later.
“Depending upon traffic, it takes about four hours from here to there. When is the next flight?”
Marie checked her phone. “Not until eight. So you might as well drive to Myrtle Beach. If you leave in the next hour, you can be there around nine.”
They threw the last of her things in the suitcase and headed out the door.
“For the longest time I wondered why Danny didn’t marry. Why he bounced from one woman to another, can’t even call them relationships. Now it all makes sense. He was waiting for you.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Bree said as she loaded her suitcase in the Tahoe. “Trust me. I was right where he left me.”
“Okay, maybe waiting is the wrong word here.” Marie followed her around to the driver-side door. “Maybe
it’s more like hope. He was hoping for a second chance with you.”
A LITTLE BEFORE ten that night, she pulled Danny’s Tahoe into the driveway of his childhood home. Only once she turned onto their street did Bree realize she’d completed most of the drive from Savannah on autopilot. She remembered stopping for gas and placing a quick phone call to Mac, but aside from that she recalled nothing of her trip. An accomplishment that was equally amazing and disturbing.
Even before she shut the engine off, the porch light flickered to life and the front door opened when both Mac and her dad appeared on the front porch. By the time she’d reached the top step, she was overcome with tears for what seemed like the millionth time that day.
“Don’t you worry,” Mac said, his voice a low grumble in her ear as he clung tightly to her. “My son will make it home. After all, he’s got a lot to live for.”
She could only wonder what Mac would say if he knew they’d decided to go their separate ways just minutes before Danny boarded his plane.
When her father-in-law finally released her, she was immediately caught up in her father’s arms.
“Just hang in there, pumpkin,” her father said, alternating between rubbing her back with one beefy hand and kissing the top of her head.
As they followed Mac into the house, her dad held her steady with one strong arm wrapped around her shoulders. Then her mother met them just inside the door, took her by both hands and led her to the sofa, all the while asking if she’d eaten, if she was thirsty or needed to lie down. All that smothering care and concern she’d run away from months earlier, she gladly welcomed now, willing to take any and all support she could get.
And then from out of nowhere Father Bryant came in.
She wanted so badly to tell him to get out. To say things weren’t so critical with Danny that it required all the prayers and consolation.
Once and For All: An American Valor Novel Page 23
