by Ladew, Lisa
His fingers caressed the letter through his pocket. He would read it. But first he had to read Shane’s letter again. Even if the letter in his pocket did name his father, that information had very little bearing on the crisis he would find when he got back to work. His mother’s letter could wait.
He wanted a plan of action fixed firmly in his mind. He would figure out a plan. Then he would sleep. And as soon as they landed in Kuwait he would follow the plan.
He unfolded the sheet of paper he had printed Shane’s email out on, and began to read.
Dear JT,
God I wish you were here. If you had been here two nights ago I wouldn’t be in this shitty mess right now. I fucked up man. And because I fucked up, everybody is dead. Our whole squad is dead. Jack, Danny, Vegas, Gadge, Howie, Grantz, Jefferson. We got hit with RPGs man. We were out in the middle of the fucking night doing some fucked up secret mission for the Colonel and when it was done we piled into the Humvees and took off. We didn’t even get a half mile down the road before everything fucking exploded. I don’t even know what happened really. From what I have been able to piece together, we were slammed with the artillery and then whoever fucking jammed us rolled up on us and pumped a hundred bullets into each of us. Some Bedouin found us the next morning and I was still alive, because I was under somebody. I don’t know who, thank God. He took all my fucking bullets - well most of em anyway. They humped me out of there and turned me over to the Monks. The Monks called the Marines and I was evac’d to Camp Patriot. That’s where I am now. In the Medical Clinic. I might be shipped out to Mattras Hospital soon though. I have 26 bullets in my right leg. Ha ha. But get this. I don’t have to worry about them because they are just going to cut that leg off. Ha ha. I’m laughing to keep from screaming right now. It scares the nurses, ya know? And I can’t afford to scare the nurses. Col Clarkson came through here an hour ago. He looked mad enough to spit fucking nails. I think because I was alive. Can you believe that? And he ordered a fucking communications shutdown for me. No fucking email. No fucking phone calls. Nothing. I talked the civilian nurse into letting me use her phone to email you. All the medics are too fucking scared of the Colonel to even think about it. I don’t fucking know what’s going on man, but I’m scared. I’m scared the Colonel fucking wants me dead. And I don’t know what to do about it. Even if I could call up the General right now, it’s not like he’d believe me. Know what I mean? I’m sure the Colonel has his ass covered 6 ways to Sunday. For all I know the official story is that I took everybody out there for no reason. No one will TALK TO ME. No one’s saying anything. The only reason I even know about the Bedouins and everybody being dead is the civilian nurse. Her name is Cindy. I think she likes me. At least I know the ladies will still like me with only one leg. But will they like me when I’m fucking court martialed?!! That’s why I had to write you J - you gotta find out what’s going on. You gotta get back here and help me and figure out what the Col is up to. Here’s what he did. He woke me up in the middle of the night on Tuesday. It was right around midnight. He called me into his office and said we had a mission and we had 25 minutes to be on the road. I asked him why Master Sergeant wasn’t giving the orders and he said he’d been called away on business. I said OK and I got everyone up and moving. He gave me coordinates and said we were to set up a hot perimeter and shoot anything that moved. I was fucking nervous as hell. I’m not supposed to be leading a hot mission. But nothing moved and we didn’t shoot anything. I don’t know what we set up a perimeter for. There was a tent in the middle. No one came in or out of it while we were there. He gave me a mission phone, and when he called us off we left. That was it. And then the shit storm. Man I wish you’d been here JT. You would have known what to do. You would have told him to fuck off. I should have told him to fuck off. God I’m sorry man. Shane
JT folded the letter in his hands and put his head back against the headrest. Shane Teagan was the Staff Sergeant under him, and his best friend in the world. And Jack was dead? Howie too? The whole damn squad? How did this happen? What kind of a secret mission did the Colonel send them on? And why? Shane was right, he wasn’t supposed to lead a hot mission. Not in the Sinai Peninsula. And the Master Sergeant should have been the one giving the orders, not the Colonel. The whole situation was a colossal fuck up. And why did Shane think he was going to be blamed for it? JT racked his brain, trying to read between the lines. The whole email was rushed and he knew it didn’t tell the full story.
When he’d first gotten it, he’d prayed it was somebody’s idea of a sick joke. He knew Shane wouldn’t do something like that, and neither would any of the other guys in the squad. So maybe someone in another squad who didn’t like him? Or didn’t like Shane? But who. That didn’t make any sense.
He’d called the unit. And been told that the Colonel was away in Kuwait. Which is where Camp Patriot was. And the Master Sergeant was not in either. And the FNG he’d been talking to on the phone didn’t know anymore than that. Then he’d called the Medical Clinic at Camp Patriot. The Army Specialist he’d talked to wouldn’t say whether or not Shane Teagan was a patient. And he wouldn’t say anything else either. And when JT demanded to talk to his Sergeant, he’d just gotten hung up on. JT ground his teeth at the memory. That Army Specialist better hope JT didn’t run into him.
Because that was the plan. As soon as he landed in Kuwait, he’d go see Shane and get the full story. Then he would look up Colonel Clarkson and ask him exactly what had gone down that night.
A plan made, JT laid his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. The heavy equipment behind him creaked and moaned as the plane bumped over the light turbulence. He didn’t bother checking his watch, but knew there was at least 12 hours left in this flight. Luckily, he was the only passenger, sharing the huge cargo hold with only some Army tanks. He shoved out of his seat and unrolled his pack. If the turbulence stayed light, he should sleep well.
Gunnery Sergeant Jon Phillip Taylor, JT to his friends, rolled out his pack, laid down, and fell asleep almost instantly.
Chapter 4
T minus 72 hours
Still on the C-17 Globemaster Airplane Flying over Europe
JT moaned in his sleep, waking himself in an instant, hazy images of red hair and freckles vanishing as his eyes opened. He checked his watch. 5 hours till landing. He’d slept for what, seven hours? And the dream had woken him up. He hadn’t had the dream in three or four years. Heavy stress used to bring it on. And apparently it still did. Especially heavy stress about him not being able to protect someone he loved. JT rubbed his forehead. Why did life have to suck so much sometimes? Why was the world so dangerously imperfect?
He stretched, then rolled his sleeping roll up again. He didn’t want to sleep anymore.
JT prowled the cargo bay and wished for windows to look out. He knew it was night-time, but he wanted to see it. He thought about wandering up to the cockpit and decided against it. The Army pilots hadn’t seemed very friendly.
He returned to his seat and sat down, feeling like he was forgetting something. He went over the plan again. It was simple. See Shane. Find the Colonel. Nothing to forget there.
He stared off into space for a moment, letting his mind wander. It stuttered instead, but finally he remembered. His mother’s letter.
His hands went to his pocket and retrieved the letter. JT written on the front in handwriting he didn’t recognize. He opened the letter, and realized his mother must have had at least one stroke before she’d written that letter because her handwriting was almost nothing like normal. Too big, shaky. Like an old woman’s. The realization that his mother was dead speared through him again, stealing any peace of mind he’d found with 7 hours of sleep and a plan. He was truly alone in the world. A non-existent father, a dead mother, a dead wife. A dead squad. He had Shane though. He fixed Shane’s face in his mind and smiled. “Coming to see you buddy, a few more hours,” he whispered into the cavernous airplane.
He focused his eyes on his
mother’s writing, and began to read, his eyes automatically correcting her mistakes.
JT, my dearest son. You mustn’t think any less of me when you read this letter. I don’t know if your life would have been better or worse if I had not done what I did 30 years ago, but I do know that no one could have loved you more than I did. Than I do. You have been the best son in the world, and that is why I must tell you the truth now. You deserve it.
This is so hard. It is so hard for me to bring myself to write the words. I’ve tried to say them to you a dozen times in the last 20 years. No two dozen times. And I was never able to. I was afraid you would hate me. Please son, don’t hate an old lady for wanting to have a child.
JT, you aren’t my son. I adopted you. When you were younger, I lived in fear that this would come out somehow. There were a few people at the hospital that knew, but they all promised they wouldn’t tell. Every day you went to school I prayed you would come home still blissfully unaware of this fact. And you never did find out. And when you would ask about your father, I never knew what to say. The circumstances of your birth were so strange. I don’t have any idea who your father is. Or even your mother. But I will start at the beginning.
One night, I was floating in the Labor and Delivery at Westwood General Hospital. I normally worked in the ICU, but Labor and Delivery was short. I volunteered. Some angel made me say I would do it when they asked for volunteers. I was 32 years old, and had almost given up on finding a husband and having babies. I know I was never the prettiest woman, but even the ugliest woman can find a partner. I don’t know what it was about me that men didn’t like. I still don’t know. My opinionated nature? But this is about you, not me. I wanted a baby so bad. I’d always wanted kids. I was beginning to consider adoption, but it’s hard for a single woman to adopt a child in this country, and I didn’t have the money to go overseas. I was thinking about fostering children, just to be able to hold a child in my arms and heart for a little while.
And then God gave me you. A young, lovely lady was brought into the hospital by a taxi driver. He said he had picked her up on the side of the road, screaming and obviously in labor. She never even got a chance to give her name, because she was unconscious by the time she got to us. The doctors cut her open and delivered you. And you were placed into the custody of the state right away. Because your mother died on the operating table. They weren’t able to stop her bleeding. She was young. Maybe 16 years old. She had no identification on her. No one knew who she was.
They gave you to me that evening. You were small, but breathing on your own. But you did seem to need constant care. You would scream if no one was holding you. I held you all night and fed you from a bottle. You had wise eyes and a tiny shock of dark hair. I knew you were special right away.
I said I would work a double shift so I could hold you all day too while they decided what to do with you. Your mother had no identification. No one ever claimed her. The police couldn’t figure out who she was. By the end of my second shift, the state had already come down to take you into protective custody. I asked what would happen to you and they said you would be placed with a family who would take care of you until your biological family was found. I asked if I could take you, and they said I could, if I signed up to be a foster parent. I did on the spot and took you home with me that afternoon. It was scary, but wonderful. I was torn from that very first day, because I wanted what was best for you, so I wanted your family to be found. But I also wanted you to stay with me forever.
I called my supervisor and arranged for a leave of absence of a week. When I still had you at the end of the week, I made it two weeks. When it seemed your family would not be found, I made it a year. I had enough money put away to allow me to stay home that long.
You were the most precious little baby on the planet. You did want to be held constantly, but I didn’t mind that at all. You grew swiftly, and by the end of that first year, you were walking and trying to run the household already. You were a very precocious child. When you were 3, they let me adopt you legally. I was thrilled, but sad at the same time.
You see JT, there is more to this story than just what I have outlined in this letter, and what you already know.
JT, you were a triplet. There were three babies. Your sisters were smaller than you, and both looked very different than you. But I don’t know what happened to them. The state never considered trying to keep the three of you together. And I never thought of trying to take you all. And that haunts me to this day. Once I went home with you, I don’t know what happened to your sisters. The state took them and wouldn’t say where they went. And to this day the records are closed.
I’m sorry JT. Sorry I never told you. And sorry I can’t tell you more about your sisters. I am just thanking God that he didn’t take me home before I got a chance to share this with you. Now it is your choice to try to find them or not.
I wish you a lifetime of love, happiness, and joy, my son. You deserve your every wish to come true. Tina will welcome me at the gates and we will be your guardian angels from now on. I love you son. I couldn’t love you more if you came from my own blood. Please forgive an old woman her secrets. Love, Mom
JT skimmed the letter quickly, a few plump tears rolling unnoticed down his face. Adopted? Sisters?! He went back to the beginning and read it again, slower this time. And then he read it one more time. He sat back in his seat and squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could. Would he open them and find this was all a dream? It couldn’t possibly be true, could it? If he were really adopted, it would explain a lot about his life, but completely shatter the rest of it.
The skin on his face tingled and his heart raced. The plane lurched underneath him and he barely registered it. The roller coaster his mind was on shoved all other thoughts and concerns aside.
Sisters. He had not one sister, but two? He had triplet sisters who shared his birthday and blood with him? He was part of a family he’d never met, never even known existed? And how could he find them? His mother hadn’t left any clues. JT put his head in his hands, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut. Could he even deal with this right now?
He couldn’t. He had to get his mind straight for the task ahead. His mother was gone. His sisters (sisters!) barely existed to him. But his friend needed him now. And Marines who found themselves emotionally distracted in the Middle East oftentimes found themselves dead.
Purposefully, deliberately, JT refolded the letter and put it into the envelope. He folded the envelope into a tiny square, repacking the grief, shock, disbelief and hope in his mind in the same way. He unzipped his duffel bag and shoved the envelope deep into a zippered pocket. In his mind, he did the same.
He sat down in his seat and proceeded to get his mental state under control. Colonel Clarkson was no one to mess around with. He would need all his wits for the coming hours and days if he were going to make it off of Camp Patriot with his rank and his job still intact. And he fully intended that if anyone was going to be demoted and kicked out of the Marine Corps and maybe court martialed, it would be Colonel Clarkson. Not him, and not Shane.
If only he knew what really had happened that night. Well, that’s what he was determined to find out.
Chapter 5
T minus 48 hours
Daniela’s family home
Dani threw clothes in her bag hurriedly. She didn’t have time to run to her apartment upstate, so she’d just have to make do with what she had here. She certainly didn’t have much that was appropriate for an assignment in the Middle East though. Luckily, she thought she should be able to catch up with Uncle Kevin in Kuwait City without too much trouble. He had an office at Camp Patriot, just outside the city. She could dress normally in Kuwait City. No hijab, the veil that covers the head and chest traditionally worn by Muslim women (and non-Muslim women traveling or living in Muslim countries), was mandated there.
That’s how she was viewing this. As an assignment. She wasn’t being sent by her station, but she knew once s
he told them where she was going for a short vacation, they would find something for her to report on. That was fine with her. Business always took her mind off the troubles in her personal life.
She went over what her dad had finally admitted to her in her mind. A week ago, Uncle Kevin had paid off every debt he ever owed in his life. What possibly came to about almost 2 million dollars in debt. Dani’s mind boggled at the amount. Uncle Kevin couldn’t be making more than $180,000 a year. Even with the overseas pay and the hazardous duty pay and the housing allowances he was getting. And his wife had bought a new million dollar (at least) house and a new car and put their son in a new, expensive school, all on the same day. So yes, something smelled bad about all of this.
Her dad had said that he went around to all of Uncle Kevin’s bookies and asked if he hit it big on something. And the answer had been no. He’d then asked Uncle Kevin’s wife if they had hit the lottery. She’d said “No, Kev just finally got smart about business.”
Dani’s dad had mulled that over for a few days, before finally deciding it meant the worst possible thing it could mean. Kevin’s business was the Marine Corps, and there was no money in that. Unless he was doing something illegal. And horrifying.
He had then called Uncle Kevin. Every hour for a few days. Uncle Kevin would not answer, and would not call back. Maybe he’s on a mission, Dani had offered. But she didn’t believe it either.
So now she was going to find him personally. Her father hadn’t wanted her to go, but he wasn’t going to try to stop her. What could he do? Dani was 28 years old now, and had been jetting around the world on assignments for 6 years. Her mother wouldn’t want to know about any of it. She would just kiss Dani goodbye, and ask her to call if she met any cute boys. To her mother, she was forever sixteen.
