Carly

by Lyn Cote

  Carly whimpered, “Hurt. Nurse.”

  Nate’s heart lifted at her awakening. Quickly Nate located the call button. Then, feeling as if he’d just seen Carly reborn, he lightly stroked a small patch of unbandaged and unabraded skin on her face. “Hi, honey, I’m here. Daddy’s here.”

  “Dad-dy,” Carly said these two syllables as if they’d exhausted her. “Mom?”

  “Mom had to stay with your Grandmother Bette and Michael.” He spoke close to her face, not wanting to disturb the other sleeping soldiers. “She wanted to come but she couldn’t leave them.” He wouldn’t mention Chloe’s heart attack. Carly might feel guilty about it.

  Carly tried to nod, then grimaced as if it had caused her more pain.

  On soundless shoes, the nurse bustled up to the bed. “What’s our patient need?”

  “She says she’s in pain,” Nate said, ready to battle the nurse for his daughter.

  “Woke me up,” Carly mumbled.

  The nurse consulted the IV bags hanging at Carly’s bedside. “Did you forget,” she said kindly, “that you have the morphine pump here?” She pointed out a line that had been secured to the bed near Carly’s left hand. She slipped the control into Carly’s hand. “Give it a push.”

  Carly obeyed. “I forgot.”

  “It would have been hard to give yourself an extra dose while you were asleep,” the woman said with a gentle smile. “Wait about a half hour and if the pain hasn’t ebbed, give yourself another dose. Then no more till morning, okay?”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. This is my job. And I want to make you as comfortable as I’m able.” The nurse straightened Carly’s bed clothing and then left.

  Aware that Kinnard stood nearby listening, Nate moved close to the bed again. “I’m here for the duration, honey. I’m not leaving until you’re much better.”

  “Daddy, please find out about . . . Sam and Joe and . . . Bowie. We were . . . in . . . mess tent . . . together. No one . . . told me. . . .”

  “I’ll find out, honey. Is that morphine starting to kick in?” He tried to turn her attention away from those potentially disastrous concerns. Dear God, let them all be fine. “I’m going to watch the time for you.” He glanced at his watch. “In case you need to give yourself another dose.”

  “Better,” Carly said, closing her eyes. “Stay.”

  His love for her expanded inside him, filling him with the same tenderness that he’d felt for her the first time when as a little girl, she’d snuggled into his lap. “I will, honey. I’ll be here all night.” Nate kissed an unbandaged patch of forehead and then watched as Carly’s features relaxed. Finally, he said, “She’s asleep.”

  Kinnard stepped around the curtain. “She sounded really weak.”

  Nate nodded.

  “She’s so young. Only seventeen. She shouldn’t have to go through this.” Kinnard’s voice roughened with outrage. “She should be at school somewhere, enjoying herself.”

  “That wasn’t her choice,” Nate said simply. “She’s just like the rest of us. We make decisions and then we must live with the consequences.” He looked Kinnard in the eye. You have a lot to make up for.

  Kinnard said nothing, just stared down at his daughter who remained unaware he’d come.

  Again, Nate went over in his mind the names that Carly had asked about. I hope they’re all alive and doing well. He couldn’t face adding to his daughter’s burden. Kinnard was right. She was too young for this. But it had come anyway. Dear Father, bless her and restore her. And help me know what to do about her meeting her real, I mean birth, father. Maybe he should consult her doctors about Kinnard first. I’m not doing anything but what’s best for Carly.

  Morning came finally. Though longing for sleep and a hot shower, Trent hovered near Gallagher, who still sat beside Carly. About seven o’clock, she opened her eyes and tried to smile. Trent fell back to his position behind the curtain, where his daughter wouldn’t notice him. He watched with jealousy gnawing his insides as Gallagher touched her as carefully as if she were made of tissue paper. Trent hadn’t gained the privilege of touching her yet, but he was hearing her voice. For that he was grateful. But would he, should he, be allowed to introduce himself to her today?

  Trent saw Carly’s breakfast tray being delivered. His own hunger awoke, but he stifled it while watching Nate help Carly swallow some oatmeal and scrambled eggs. Gallagher was helping her drink some milk through a straw when a tall, young doctor passed by Trent and entered the curtained area around Carly’s bed. He carried what must have been her chart. The doctor paused at the end of her bed, reading, and then looked up with a very serious expression on his face.

  Gallagher stood up. “I’m Carly’s stepfather and her adoptive father. How is she doing?”

  The doctor nodded but spoke to Carly. “I’m Law Henning, your primary physician. How are you doing, Private Gallagher?”

  “I’ve been better,” Carly said barely above a murmur. “How is my hand?”

  “So far, so good. You might need further surgery, but those of us in charge of your case have decided that we’ll just wait and see how you bounce back before we do more.”

  “Are any of my friends here?”

  Trent didn’t like hearing the choked worry in Carly’s voice.

  “Who were you looking for?”

  “Bowie Jenkin. Sam Washburn. Joe Connolly.” She added mention of their battalion and company.

  “I’ll find out if they’re here or not.” The doctor jotted on the chart.

  Nate asked, “How soon is she going to be able to go home, or at least Stateside?”

  “She’s going to have a long recovery time. And there will be some aftereffects.” He turned to Carly. “You suffered a rather severe concussion, which is all too common in cases of explosions. I’m afraid that you will have periodic severe headaches and some memory lapses for up to a year.”

  Carly said in a rueful tone, “Thanks, I needed to hear that lovely bit of news.”

  Henning took a step closer and picked up her good hand, at last showing compassion. “I’ll ask about those friends of yours. See if I can get news of them. If you need anything, tell the nurse.” He turned and left the room.

  Trent followed him and motioned for him to come farther away from the entrance. And then Gallagher joined them in the hallway. “What else can I do for you?” the doctor asked in a low voice.

  Nate said, “This is Carly’s birth father, Trent Kinnard. She has never met him.”

  Trent felt a hot flush suffuse his face.

  The doctor looked him up and down. “And you are telling me this why?”

  “We want to know,” Trent replied roughly, unable to meet the doctor’s gaze, “whether I should stay out of sight or let her know I’m here.”

  “Ah.” The doctor folded his arms. “Does she want to see you?”

  Trent looked to Carly’s stepfather.

  “I know she wants to,” Nate replied, “but I hesitated to let her become aware of Kinnard because—even though it might be happy stress—I didn’t know how much she could handle right now. I didn’t want to—you know, upset the apple cart.”

  “I see. Later today, or tomorrow, a visit might be possible,” Henning said. “She’s been through a lot. Her body is really weak now. But fortunately, she’s young and healthy, and she appears to have a supportive family.”

  “You don’t think it would hurt her?” Trent asked, feeling as if this easy acceptance were almost too much to hope for.

  “No, I don’t. But don’t do it if you’re just going to say hi and then good-bye. After her physical wounds heal, she’ll be dealing with the aftereffects of the concussion and also probably post-traumatic stress disorder for months to come. She’s going to need a lot of care and support. Don’t make her think you’re going to be there if you’re not.” The doctor turned to leave.

  Nate stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Did you mean it about checking on her friends?”

 
; “If I said it, I meant it.” The doctor looked disgruntled.

  “No offense.” Nate held up one hand. “Anyway, please let me and Kinnard know first if anything happened to any of them, especially Bowie Jenkin. I don’t know if he was a sweetheart or just a very good friend. If anything bad happened to him, or even to Sam or Joe, it will hit her hard. But Bowie would be the hardest loss.”

  The doctor nodded. “I’ll let you know first. And if something did happen to them, it’s best if you, rather than I, told her. She’ll need your support to weather bad news.” With that, the doctor left them.

  Trent looked to Nate, his heart pounding with hope and fear. Would he get to speak to his daughter at long last that day? “What do you think?”

  “I think we’ll do it his way,” Nate said. “You can talk to her later. Did you make reservations somewhere?”

  Trent didn’t understand why Nate was asking this but replied, after a pause, “Yes. I have a suite reserved in town.”

  “Well, maybe after you meet her, if it goes well, we should share the responsibility of being here with her. I’m not leaving until Carly is really on the mend, and that could be a while. But I can’t stay here twenty-four hours a day. I need to shower and sleep and so do you.”

  “Right.”

  “How long can you stay in Germany? Don’t they expect you back at work?”

  “I’m retired from my law practice. What about you?”

  Nate shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ve taken a leave of absence. A lot of stuff has been happening with Leigh’s family.”

  “I was told Leigh’s aunt Kitty died last fall.”

  Nate eyed Trent. “And her mother has cancer, and her grandmother is recovering from a mild heart attack.”

  Trent let this collection of bad news echo through him. “Rough.”

  “Yeah, Leigh has been through the wringer. She took leave to help her mom, and then Carly was wounded and her grandmother had her attack. I decided I should be the one to come. Fortunately, I was between cases and was able to get leave.”

  Trent wondered if he should offer some financial assistance but instantly rejected the idea. Nate wouldn’t appreciate it. Trent stifled a yawn.

  “Well, do you want to leave and take your turn at a shower and a nap first?” Nate asked. “The doctor said to wait, and you’ve got a room.”

  One way of helping occurred to Trent. “Why don’t you just stay at my suite? Suites usually can accommodate more than one and it sounds like we won’t be there together often. I’ll just let the hotel know.” Trent wondered if even this offer would offend Nate.

  Nate studied Trent for a long moment. “Thanks. We might as well.”

  Trent held out his hand in thanks.

  Nate shook it. “Let’s just hope that she doesn’t get bad news about her friends. I don’t know how she’ll handle that.”

  Trent nodded. “Maybe having me here will help that.”

  Nate lifted his eyebrows.

  “Give her something else to focus on,” Trent said diffidently.

  Nate shrugged. “Maybe. You go on to the hotel. I’ll be here. When you get back, we’ll see if it’s time for you to make yourself known.”

  Ivy Manor on the same night

  In the upstairs bathroom, Leigh sat on the side of the cool porcelain tub while her mother, on her knees, wretched in dry heaves into the toilet. Leigh murmured soft encouraging sounds. She was in a warm nightgown, robe, and slippers, as was her mother. When Bette motioned for the glass of water on the sink, Leigh handed it to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full night’s sleep. Every night either Bette or Chloe or Michael needed attention. But she was glad she had stayed.

  Taking a leave of absence and right in the midst of the first war where women were serving as part of the U.S. armed services had been tough on her editor and on her. She rubbed the back of her neck and stretched it. Then she took the glass from her mother’s trembling hand.

  Panting, Bette pushed herself back and sat leaning against the bathroom wall. Her eyes were ringed with gray shadows and her face was gaunt, her cheeks hollow. “I think that might be it for a while. But I don’t want to move right away and start everything up again.”

  “That’s fine, Mom.” Leigh said. Fatigue rolled through her like a bowling ball, taking down all her pins. She tried to swallow a yawn and failed. She wondered how long her mid-forties stamina would hold up.

  “You should go back to bed.”

  Leigh shook her head. “No, I’ll get you back to your room and comfortable first. Don’t worry about me. Dan’s been a great help, letting me take a nap every afternoon. I don’t know what I’d have done without him.”

  Her mother managed a wan smile. “Me, too. But I still wish you’d been able to go to be with Carly. I’m sorry all this has piled up on you.”

  “Mom,” Leigh said, pausing to yawn again, “it’s just life. Things seem to clump together. It’s not your fault.” And I’ve never felt closer to you. Still, the fact that her daughter was seriously wounded and in a military hospital shocked Leigh. She’d tried to imagine what her beautiful, young daughter had suffered. What did it feel like to be in the midst of a missile explosion? Perhaps see friends die?

  Leigh recalled the riot in Chicago that she’d been a part of in 1968. It had shaken her badly and changed the course of her life. What would the aftermath of this experience be in Carly’s life? “Don’t worry about Carly,” she said to reassure her mother and herself. “I believe Nate. When he called, he said that Carly is in bad shape, but she’s recovering.”

  Bette nodded. “That’s a blessing. I was so frightened that we might have lost her.”

  Me, too. Dear God, I’ve been so stubborn. You preserved Carly’s life. Bring her home safely, and I’ll tell her the truth. I will. I won’t hide from the past anymore. Please bless my mother and grandmother and help them recover, too. I have given up trying to do it my way. I want you to lead me out of the tortuous maze I’ve trapped myself within, where I keep hurting the ones I love.

  Landstuhl, Germany

  That evening, Nate had wandered over to the TV in the waiting area at the end of the floor. Schwarzkopf was answering questions about the end of the Gulf War. Five weeks of air strikes and four days of a ground war and it was over. Saddam Hussein’s famous Republican Guard had melted away into the desert. If the war had ended a few days earlier, his girl wouldn’t have been wounded.

  For a moment, Nate wished he had Hussein alone in a room for about an hour. But that was pointless. From jet lag, he felt dragged out and almost dead. He wanted to get out of his wrinkled clothes and shower. He turned to see Kinnard getting off the elevator—an unexpectedly welcome sight.

  They met in the hallway. “I actually fell asleep for a couple hours,” Kinnard said. “I didn’t think I would. Did I stay away too long? How are you? Carly?”

  Nate held up a hand in greeting. Fatigue clawed his stamina. Each step, each word depleted him. “I’m fine. No change in Carly. Did you watch the news?”

  “No, I don’t speak German so I didn’t bother.”

  “The war’s over.”

  Kinnard’s mouth became a straight tight line. “Why couldn’t it have ended just a few days earlier?”

  Nate shrugged. “I can’t stay here much longer. I’m about asleep on my feet, and I need a shower. I think we better just take the plunge. Are you ready to meet Carly?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Trent felt his pulse race. Gallagher was offering him access to Carly, something that had been denied him for nearly eighteen years. It was almost too wonderful to contemplate, too exquisite a hope and fear combined. But he managed to nod. “Maybe. . . .” He cleared his dry, constricted throat. “Maybe you should go in and prepare her . . . ask her.”

  “No,” Nate said with a certainty that Trent coveted, “let’s just do it. She’s waited long enough, and she wants to meet you.” He turned to go back into Carly’s room.

 
Trent stopped him by gripping his arm. A tardy concern intruded. “Won’t Leigh be angry with you that you let me see Carly? I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.”

  “Let me worry about Leigh,” Nate said gruffly. “Carly is determined to see you with or without her mother’s permission.” He frowned. “This has caused a lot of conflict between them. I’ve tried to get Leigh to tell Carly, explain how—”

  “How I seduced her mother while I was in a marriage of strictly political convenience,” Trent forced out the words. “I know that Leigh would never believe this, but I realized after I lost her and my wife, that she was the one I could have loved.”

  Trent stopped there. After all, Nate was Leigh’s husband. “Don’t misunderstand me. I want to see my daughter, have wanted to since I learned I’d fathered her. That has only intensified as the years have passed. Carly is all that I have of my brief time with Leigh.” Trent felt his heart pounding as he stripped away his pride. “I’ve regretted treating Leigh so cavalierly, and I’ve paid for my sin.”

  Nate listened but said nothing. His quiet acceptance had uncapped Trent’s reserve. Nate Gallagher gave the impression that he was the kind of man one could confide in, a man not easily shocked. No doubt as a detective he was practiced in the technique of subtly encouraging confidences. And no doubt Gallagher was used to hearing confessions of all the unconscionable things people did to one another.

  Trent stilled himself, slowing his breathing. “Five years after my one-night stand with Leigh, my wife left me. She decided she could no longer live in a loveless marriage, and she’d found someone she loved. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me. But it did. My neat plan for a prominent and successful life was starting to unravel. And then two years ago, our only son died in a drunk-driving accident. The last traces of the cocky guy I was, the one who had all the answers during McGovern’s 1972 presidential campaign, died a fiery death that night.” Trent felt purged, stripped naked. He waited for Gallagher, the man who’d had enough sense to win both Leigh and Carly’s love, to reply, to condemn him.