Navy Rescue

by Geri Krotow

  She felt an urge to pull back, to look him in the eye and tell him she’d realized what really mattered in life.

  If she did, he’d think she was crazy, suffering from PTSD, that she didn’t mean any of it. She had no way to convince him of her sincerity.

  Her epiphany—that love and relationships were the only important things in life—was too late. He didn’t deserve to be harangued with revelations that might have served them better four years ago, maybe even earlier.

  Homecomings weren’t good times for surprises or emotional breakdowns.

  Instead, she clung to his shoulders and leaned heavily against him. It beat collapsing on the tarmac in front of onlookers.

  She would have stayed in his arms for hours if he’d allowed it. The longer she could soak up his strength, the longer she could put off facing the reality that she had to go home with him and play at being friends.

  Drew made the decision for both of them as he pulled back and bent his head to hers, taking the sunglasses off. “I’m so glad you made it, Gwen.”

  His eyes were unnaturally bright and she wanted desperately to believe it was from relief that she was alive.

  “I am, too. And I’m doing great. I won’t be in your way for long. I appreciate your taking me in, though.”

  His instant frown removed the shine from his eyes and his mouth formed a straight line. An all-too-familiar expression from the last months of their marriage. His body stiffened next to hers but he kept his arms loosely around her waist.

  “It’s going to take a while to recover from everything you’ve been through, Gwen.”

  “Do I look that bad?”

  He had the decency to appear chagrined.

  “You’ve been to hell and back. Ro told me you were living in the jungle for most of your time on the ground.”

  “I was. But I’ve been trained to do that. I went to SERE school, remember?” Graduating from the navy’s Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape training had been one of her proudest accomplishments.

  Until she’d carried Pax through one of the more dangerous places on the planet and lived to tell about it.

  “Speaking of Ro...” She peered over his shoulder to where her best friend stood next to the ridiculously handsome Miles.

  “Ro!” She stepped away from Drew, holding her arms open. Ro ran up to her and gave her a big hug.

  “Welcome home, sis.”

  Gwen couldn’t say anything past the burning in her throat.

  * * *

  DID HE REMEMBER her going to SERE school?

  Drew shoved down a distinct, primal need to growl as he watched Ro and Gwen reunite.

  How could he forget? When Gwen arrived back from SERE she’d sported several scrapes and bruises. The large bruise over her kidney had given him pause—and been the start of a long battle to convince Gwen that she belonged somewhere other than the navy.

  He ignored the tension in his stomach. He’d been young and fiercely protective of his new wife. She’d been just as intense, determined to prove she’d make a good officer.

  Gwen had never understood that of course he supported her career and her talents. But to him she’d been his wife first. And he’d wanted to protect her, to keep her from the horrors she’d witnessed in the war in Afghanistan.

  Now she’d survived the wilds in the southern Philippines. She’d evaded terrorist camps and again, death.

  No wonder she hardly spared him a glance. He couldn’t stand to look at himself, either.

  Because in the end he hadn’t been able to protect her—from anything.

  He waited until she was done with the brief greetings from Ro and Miles. They’d agreed before she landed to keep it short. Ro would visit Gwen soon enough, at home.

  As soon as possible without being rude, he walked back to her side and slipped his arm around her waist. She stiffened for a moment before she relaxed, no, leaned into him.

  He noted that Ro and Miles discreetly moved away as she turned her head into his shoulder. Fear raced through him. This exhausted, drained Gwen was not the proud woman who’d left on deployment eight months ago. Not the good friend he’d had on island over the past several years, the one he’d split the vet bills with.

  “I never doubted that you’d survive this, Gwen.” He couldn’t resist planting a kiss on her head before he lifted her chin to let her see he meant it.

  “Liar.” Her mouth tilted up in its lopsided grin. God, he’d missed her. He couldn’t stop himself from stroking her cheek before he stepped back. He still kept his arm around her, in case she needed the support. His fingers tingled. Her skin, even after months on the run and recovering from the brutal conditions she’d endured, was still the softest thing he’d ever touched, at least in the places the sun hadn’t reached.

  “Maybe I was scared you’d been killed, but I knew if anyone could get out of that hellhole alive, it was you. I never gave up hope, Gwen.”

  Her gaze measured him and he had no doubt he didn’t make the grade. How could he? He’d begged her to leave the navy during her department head tour, the ticket to her XO/CO tour.

  Back off. You’re friends.

  “Homecomings always stir up emotions. Once you’re back on your feet this will feel like a dream.”

  The spark in her eye extinguished and she looked exhausted. “You’re right, of course.”

  Guilt ran a knife through him, leaving another invisible wound. He’d been safe and warm in his bed, working in his office, living on the island Gwen loved so much while she’d battled a monsoon, a missile, terrorists. Yet she’d come back. And she’d saved the lives of her crew, and—

  “The baby. When will you get to see the baby again?”

  “You know?” Her eyes were wide, her mouth open. Her soft, sexy mouth.

  “Of course I do, Gwen.”

  “I’m not sure when. It may be a long while. I can’t believe you already found out about him.”

  He sighed. “I was still listed as next of kin on your Page Two. Because everyone knew we’re still friends, the command kept me informed pretty much every step of the way. Ro gave me any information I wasn’t officially cleared for.” He nodded in Ro’s direction. “Without her I wouldn’t have known you were safe until a day or so later.”

  He also knew that she’d told Ro she didn’t want any visitors at the Madigan Army Hospital, not even her best friend. Certainly not her ex-husband, no matter how solid their friendship was. She’d requested that everyone wait to see her until she got back to the island.

  It had nearly killed him to wait, not to drive down on his own and burst into her hospital room.

  He had a lot of ground to cover if he was going to make things right with her. Although it was nothing like the horrors Gwen must have gone through, during the past six months he’d lived in his own kind of hell. Trying to persuade her to get out of the navy and settle down into his idea of the perfect life had been his biggest mistake. He’d paid for it with their broken marriage. But at this point all of that was inconsequential. Except for his deep desire to make it up to her, to be anything but the pain in the ass he’d been for too long. Gwen’s independence was so important to her that she’d left their marriage rather than rely on him to meet her emotional needs. Needs he hadn’t been capable of meeting, not then.

  The least he could do now was be a real friend—with no expectations.

  “Drew, thanks so much for coming today.” She put her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry I didn’t want anyone to visit right away, but I thought it was best. I was looking pretty rough when I first got back.”

  He shook his head. As if he’d ever thought she was anything less than beautiful! “Don’t you remember how awful I looked when I got back from downrange ten years ago?”

  “You were tired. And the nightmares
weren’t exactly fun for you.” A glimmer of fear flickered in her expression.

  “Gwen, you’re going to be okay. You’ll get through it—I did.”

  “I don’t want you to think you have to take care of me just because of that time, Drew. We’re not married anymore. I’m not your responsibility. About the baby—yes, I found a baby while I was on the run.” She faltered, her eyes downcast and her shoulders slumped. “I want to go home, um, to the house, and talk about it there. Not here.”

  * * *

  “You’re free to leave, Gwen. No one’s going to ask any more of you than you want them to.” He glanced over at the commodore, Ro and Miles. They were huddled in a group several feet away, trying to look as though they weren’t studying every aspect of their reunion.

  Some reunion. He hoped they hadn’t expected a passionate embrace. He and Gwen hadn’t kissed that way since they were both younger, still married, still in love.

  God help them both get through the next few days.

  * * *

  THEY DIDN’T TALK on the drive to the house. Gwen couldn’t get past the weight of exhaustion that pressed on her bones, and thankfully Drew didn’t attempt conversation.

  You’re going home. You’re almost home!

  As much as she told herself the house would never be home again, not with Drew, it was how she felt as he pulled into their driveway. As if she were returning from a regular deployment, home to the safety of their marriage. She’d always felt safe with Drew, regardless of how ugly it got between them.

  “Here, I’ve got your bags.”

  Drew grabbed the two small overnight bags—one she had from the embassy in Manila and the one Ro had sent stuffed with new clothes and cosmetics.

  “Ro went overboard—she bought me so many outfits and girly stuff. I need to thank her and pay her back.”

  “You know she’ll never take any money from you. She was worried that you were living in Madigan Army Hospital gowns and sweatpants from the embassy store in Manila.”

  Gwen laughed as she climbed the wooden steps to the front door. “It was pretty bad, at first, but the embassy staff found clothes that fit me, and as you know, there are some wonderful markets in the PI. They outfitted me with all kinds of summer clothing.”

  “It’s a little too chilly for that here.”

  “Yes.” Actually, she hadn’t paid much attention to the weather or the temperature—she’d been focused on Drew. Early spring on Whidbey was typically windy and chilly. Today the air was still and the sun shone, making the grass sparkle. She’d missed the deep emerald-green unique of the Pacific Northwest. Gwen soaked up the scenery, let it lift her spirits.

  “The door’s unlocked.”

  Of course it was. Drew didn’t see the need to lock the door, ever. It’d always bothered her, his view that if thieves wanted in, they’d get in.

  “So Nappie’s still guarding the place?” They’d shared the dog, a hound mix, along with the parrot, when she’d moved out.

  “Rosie’s helping. Nappie’s hearing isn’t as good as it used to be when she was a pup.”

  Sure enough, as soon as Gwen stepped foot inside, the bird belted out “Mommy’s home!”

  Rosie said “Mommy’s home!” whenever anyone came into the house, male or female, acquaintance or stranger. Still, it made Gwen smile and she had to wipe away a few tears of gratitude.

  “You all right?” Drew’s hand was on her shoulder and no, she wasn’t all right—not considering the way she’d reacted to his touch.

  “Fine, fine. Like you said, I’m going to be overly emotional for a bit. The docs told me the same thing. It’s not personal, just part of my recovery process.”

  Drew dropped his arm and motioned for her to go up the stairs.

  “Let’s get you settled.”

  “Wait—I need to say hi to my girls.” She bent down and accepted wet sloppy kisses from Nappie, the long-eared rescue who’d been their first pet. After she was certain Nappie had received enough affection, she walked over to Rosie, the Indian Ring-Necked parrot who hadn’t stopped talking.

  “Whatcha doing?” Rosie cocked her head at the angle that always made Gwen laugh.

  “Rosie’s a pretty bird, aren’t you, girl?” Gwen crooned. Rosie bent her head forward, exposing her nape for Gwen to scratch. It was the ultimate show of trust from a winged creature. More burning tears pushed at Gwen’s eyes.

  Was she going to see everything through a lens of grateful tears from now on?

  “Good bird.” She gave Rosie a kiss on her beak and turned back to Drew.

  “Where to?”

  She thought he’d take her to the guest room, where she’d lived for months before she’d moved out, but followed him to the master bedroom.

  “I made this up for you. I wasn’t sure how you felt about coming back. Wait—let me rephrase that. I know you didn’t want to come back here, that you’d want your apartment. I’m sorry it got rented out from underneath you, Gwen.”

  Gwen watched Drew put her small travel case on their bed. What had been their bed, in the master bedroom, which was oddly devoid of any hint of Drew’s presence. Neat stacks of her clothes and favorite books were on the bureaus, where Drew had placed them; she never folded her clothes so meticulously.

  That was why he’d always done the laundry.

  “Losing an apartment is part of the deal when you’re considered dead, I suppose.” Her attempt at humor was weak, and she knew it.

  “This is not going to be easy for you, Gwen, and I want you to promise you’ll tell me immediately if you think you’re down too far.”

  They both knew what the down too far could lead to. Friends had attempted suicide at such points in their post-war return to “normal” life.

  “I’m not one of your PT clients, Drew.” She held up her hand. “Wait, that came out way too harsh. Can you tell I haven’t had regular conversations for a long time?” She referred to not having to use gestures the way she had with Mia, the woman who gave her and Pax shelter in a remote village, or using the very few words of Tagalog she knew.

  He smiled. “Does it seem weird to be talking to people who all speak English again? Other than doctors and navy personnel, I mean.”

  “Yes and no. I had to communicate with Pax, of course, but that was mommy-baby stuff. All physical. Hugs, kisses, tickles. When I settled in with a village woman, Mia, she and I communicated mostly through sign language. It’s not like I was in solitary confinement or anything.”

  Except in her thoughts of him...and the mental and emotional review of her life those months away from civilization had granted her.

  “Like I said, you need anything, you tell me.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m in the guest room. As you can see, I’ve brought in some of your stuff—the rest is in the garage.” The gruff edge of apology surprised her. It wasn’t his fault she was here, that he’d had to go through her household goods.

  She tried to smile, tried to look as if she knew how to handle a multisentence conversation anymore. He was right; she hadn’t talked to a lot of people for the past six months, not until the past two weeks during which she’d been quizzed and downright interrogated by every embassy and military official who needed information from her.

  How did you survive, Commander? Were you raped? Were you hungry much of the time? Where is the baby from? Why did you decide to take a baby with you? Do you really think you can leave the country with that child? How can you prove you didn’t kidnap him?

  “Gwen? You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She couldn’t, wouldn’t, have him waiting for her to explode with PTSD symptoms. “Don’t worry, Drew, I haven’t shown any signs of PTSD yet. I’ve had one or two nightmares, but that’s to be expected.”

  His expression softened. “Of
course it is. It’s like being downrange, Gwen, but probably worse. You were without your crew, your team. You were all alone out there for a lot of the time, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, at least the first month and a half. Shortly after I found Pax I made some friends I could trust among the locals.” Heat rushed to her face. “You’ve heard all this, haven’t you?”

  “Not all of it.” He shifted on his feet. “I know you’re not ready to talk about it. Once you decide you are, I’m probably not the person you’ll want to share everything with. But I’m here, Gwen. Ro’s here. You’re not alone. And your mother wanted to be here with her husband when you landed, but I convinced them to wait at least a week or two. She’d appreciate a call that you’re here—later, when you’re ready.”

  * * *

  “I AM SO sorry you got saddled with taking me in, Drew.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not a problem.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “You never changed that Page Two, you know.”

  Ah, her Page Two—the second page in any sailor’s service record, but the most important in the event of his or her death. It listed next of kin and who their Service Group Life Insurance was going to.

  “No, I didn’t change it.”

  “You’ve had a busy few years. Your Page Two was an easy thing to forget, although I’m surprised your admin chief didn’t ask you about it.”

  Admin had reminded her, but she’d purposefully kept Drew as the primary beneficiary on her policy after the divorce. She would never have made it this far in her career without him. He deserved it all if she was killed in the line of duty, legal husband or not. Her mother and stepfather were financially secure; they wouldn’t need the money.

  And even if they had, she would’ve kept Drew as her beneficiary. It wasn’t his fault he’d married a woman who was never meant to be married.

  They’d been so young.

  She couldn’t say it. Not again. Not now.

  “If anything happened to me, it would take care of my share of the house. Plus, it’d keep Nappie and Rosie fed and in great toys for the rest of their lives.”

  Drew’s silence proved how crazy she sounded.