Navy Rescue

by Geri Krotow

  “I know.”

  His scrutiny was more unbearable than hiding under leaves on a bug-infested forest floor. His eyes still revealed nothing, but she knew him well enough to understand that he was judging her.

  White-hot anger mixed with humiliation at having to beg him for this one last favor, especially after he’d been all but forced to take her in. She searched for a safer place to rest her gaze and locked on to the phalaenopsis orchid that grew from the hand-painted ceramic pot he’d given her for their eighth anniversary. The creamy white vessel was sprayed with brilliant orange, red and yellow tulips. They were reminiscent of Washington State’s Skagit Valley Tulip Festival, where they’d gone that year. They’d delighted in taking photos of each other in every pose imaginable, their backdrop the acres upon acres of tulips.

  “So now what, we wait to see if I’m crazy? Or if I’ll keep getting better?” She dragged her focus back to him. A jolt of awareness made her blink. There was no denying he was the handsomest man she’d ever known.

  He’s your ex-husband.

  “I need a chance to adjust, Gwen. I believed you were still alive—but I was so scared you were dead. Dead. Gone, never to be seen again.” He shook his head. “I imagined you’d been eaten by sharks. No one thought you’d survive the monsoon, much less months on the run through some of the most remote areas on the planet.” He paused. “And yet... It was like I believed two things simultaneously—that you were alive and that you were dead.”

  His revelation twisted his face into a mask of confusion.

  “It’s not my fault, Drew. I didn’t purposely disappear for six months. I didn’t choose to find a baby in a pile of burned-out huts, either, but I did.”

  “Why do you think it’s your job to save this kid?”

  “It’s not a job, Drew. It’s fate.”

  * * *

  DREW WENT BACK to work on the third day after Gwen’s return. They needed distance, he knew, but it was still hard to pull out of the driveway before she woke up. What if she had a nightmare? In three short days his Gwen radar was pinging as though it’d never stopped.

  “Hi, Serena.” He entered the clinic and walked to the receptionist’s desk.

  “Nice to have you back, Drew. You okay?”

  Serena was a true beauty, with her dark, shiny hair and luminous brown eyes. She’d proved to be a superb single parent to her young son. She’d lost her army husband to the war a couple of years ago. They’d been stationed in Texas, and she’d used the tragedy as a reason to start over and come west. She fortuitously landed on Drew’s doorstep—he’d needed a receptionist/assistant when Opal quit and Serena had worked in a PT office near Fort Hood, Texas, for three years.

  “I’m great, glad to be back. Do we have a busy schedule today?”

  They went over the clients, discussed where they’d need to coordinate with his other assistant, Terri.

  “Terri won’t be in until a bit later, when we start the aquatracker schedule. Dottie Forsyth’s the first of six clients for the tracker today. Terri and I will be able to manage the schedule between us.”

  Drew nodded. The aquatracker was his clinic’s pièce de résistance. A rectangular water tank, it housed a small but powerful treadmill that allowed his clients to walk and run under water. There were various levels of power for the treadmill, as well as jets that could be employed to provide resistance for the more advanced athletes he often treated.

  “If Terri’s not in when Dottie arrives, I’ll need you to stay with her during her session, as usual.” Drew mandated that a staff member be in the room or nearby with any client on the aquatracker. His insurance did, too.

  “Of course.” Serena smiled as she went over the schedule with him. “How’s Gwen?”

  Drew paused. Serena had been supportive of him throughout the ordeal. She, of all people, knew what it was like to lose a military spouse.

  “She’s okay, thanks for asking. It’s going to be a long road to recovery for her.” Even as he said it, he felt horrible for not saying everything was perfect. What Serena’s husband would have given to come home to his family....

  “I’m sure it will be. But her time here isn’t up yet. She came back for a reason.” Serena said the words as if she were simply stating a fact.

  “You may be right.”

  Drew believed in something greater than himself, or so he thought, but he didn’t have the faith Serena did. There might be a divine reason Gwen had survived, but it wasn’t to come back to him.

  Fate was a bitch.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T FAIR. She’d put in her time, learned Drew’s every need. She knew what he wanted before he did. It was only two days after his wife was back, barely two weeks since she’d returned after miraculously surviving that crash, and Drew was completely distracted by Gwen. He’d almost been over the bitch but then she’d gone missing. Because he was such a wonderful man he’d had survivor’s guilt.

  They’d been so close to taking the next step in their relationship.

  As usual with Drew, she was going to have to give him a little push in the right direction. Something to shake him up and out of the rut he was in over Gwen.

  Honestly, when would Gwen get it? Drew didn’t love her anymore.

  It didn’t take her long to figure out what to do, how to work it so that Drew’s attention would be off Gwen and he’d be turning to her to lean on.

  It was almost too easy. The idiots in the front office didn’t realize anyone else was back here.

  She didn’t even try to suppress the nasty, whiny voices in her head. She was tired of having to rein them in, tired of having to play by society’s rules.

  Drew was a fool, but she forgave him. He didn’t understand how manipulative Gwen was. Gwen didn’t love him, not like she did. No one could love him like she did.

  Damn Gwen, that bitch. If she hadn’t fought her way back from being lost at sea, things would be smooth sailing with Drew. She would be Mrs. Drew Brett by now, and Gwen would be a fading memory.

  She’d worry about her later. If Gwen wasn’t careful, she’d pay dearly for keeping Drew from her.

  It was sad, really, that Mrs. Forsyth turned out to be her ticket to Drew. Dottie didn’t deserve to go through any more trouble than getting old was already causing her. But Dottie was a tough old broad. And all she needed to do was give the clinic a little scare.

  “Hello, Dottie. How’s it going?”

  Dottie Forsyth lifted her wrinkled face. Her short blueish-white hair was damp at the neck, her skin saggy where it was exposed by a bathing suit that looked as if it had seen better days. In the last century.

  “I’m fine, thanks. I didn’t realize more than one of you was working today.” Dottie knew the voice was different but she’d never be able to identify; Dottie’s eyes were bad. Without her glasses she was as blind as a newborn rat.

  “You know how busy it gets in here. We have to hop around the stations. Drew asked me to check on you.”

  “I’m almost done.” Dottie paced along the underwater treadmill in the aquatracker, Drew’s prime piece of real estate on Whidbey Island. He’d been the first physical therapist to purchase one, and it had become a real boon to the business. Drew was so smart. They were a great team.

  Doubt clouded her intentions for a moment. Would this make Drew suffer? Would he lose business if Dottie had an “accident” on the aquatracker?

  No. Dottie would be fine. And no one would ever blame Drew for anything. He was the perfect man. All she needed was a chance to get Drew’s attention. Make him see that she was the woman for him.

  Gwen.

  That bitch was supposed to be dead.

  “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Dottie was nearing eighty years old, panting like a dog, submerged in water to her chest. Her long-term memory was
reasonable, but short-term was starting to go, which would be a nice benefit when she had to talk about her accident to the staff.

  “We’re always switching up the schedule. You usually come in on my day off. Drew’s business is doing so well he’s had to hire new people. It’s spread out the schedule more evenly.”

  She faced Dottie as she spoke to the old bag, so Dottie didn’t hear her lock the door to the main therapy room.

  Dottie squinted at the digital readout.

  “Damn these cataracts. Without my glasses I can’t see as clear as I used to. How much time do I have left?”

  “Five more minutes. You can get your eyes fixed, Dottie.”

  As long as it’s after today.

  She walked up to the water tank, her body separated from Dottie’s by thick plate of glass and hundreds of gallons of water. “Insurance usually covers cataract surgery for seniors.”

  She maintained eye contact with Dottie until Dottie turned away, face pointed forward as she kept walking at the speed of an ancient turtle.

  Do it. Without hesitation she reached for the rpm dial and turned it up several notches. Next, she flipped on the hydro jets, which forced water at Dottie’s bird legs. The jets were great for injured athletes, giving them enough resistance to help build muscle mass more quickly. But an old lady like Dottie would never be able to keep her head up, not with the strength of the jets working against her.

  She wouldn’t be alone for long, though. Just long enough to cause a commotion.

  “Hey, did you—” A splash. Drops sprinkled the floor as Dottie’s hand hit the water. There was a thud. The treadmill whipped Dottie back against the fiberglass shell of the aquatracker’s water tank.

  She looked over the rim at Dottie. The hag’s face was barely above water as her terrified, unfocused gaze sought her out.

  She smiled at Dottie. “You okay?”

  Dottie opened her mouth to scream but the sound was no more than a gurgle as her head submerged.

  She had to wait a few minutes to make certain Dottie was staying under, for the time being. As she waited she reopened the door to the main therapy room, just a crack.

  Drew and his stupid staff had never noticed anything amiss.

  “Drew, that call’s on line two,” The female voice carried into the aquatracker room. Time to duck out.

  She left the water-therapy room the way she’d entered—through the door that exited onto the main corridor. Within minutes she was back in her regular life, no one the wiser.

  Drew would be hers. She’d just assured it.

  * * *

  GWEN WASN’T SURE if she was more relieved or reluctant to be alone in the big house.

  It helped that Ro called in the morning and promised to bring lunch. As she showered she planned to have a simple breakfast and maybe surf Ravelry, a social media site for knitters and crocheters, for a knitting project Ro could do with her. Sitting around waiting to get healthier wasn’t going to be easy, especially while she was expecting word on Pax’s adoption.

  Drew hadn’t promised her any help yet, either. Could she blame him? The dry taste of regret clung to her. He’d have every right to think she was trying to manipulate him through sex. Her feelings for Drew were anything but simple, and she’d only compounded the conflict between them.

  “Way to go.” She spoke to the empty room as she threw on sweatpants and a cozy hoodie. No sense in brooding; Drew had started work again today and she had the entire house to relax in. Gwen couldn’t get over how the upstairs hallway blissfully cushioned her bare feet. The varnished wood railing was familiar and sturdy under her fingers as she looked out at the great room. From her perspective she saw that Drew’s chair, the oversize leather recliner she’d given him on their tenth anniversary, showed no indentations, no signs of regular use.

  The sofa, however, looked as if it had been through the jungle with her. The bourbon-colored leather had wrinkles and scars she didn’t recall. As she continued to stare at the cushions, she recognized the indentation, the shape—of Drew. Where his head would be, his back, his legs.

  As if he’d slept on the sofa the entire time she’d been gone.

  Where they’d made love yesterday.

  Love? More like goodbye sex, just as Drew had said.

  Tears spilled onto her cheeks.

  He’d slept on the couch when they’d first started fighting a year or so before their divorce. The occasional one-night couch foray turned more permanent as their fighting cooled into its more sinister cousin—indifference.

  When Drew had moved out of their bedroom and into the guest room on the other side of the house, it had been the death knell of their marriage.

  It’d taken them several painful months to face up to that reality.

  She’d been able to ignore the pain of it all by throwing herself into her work.

  Nappie’s growl surprised her out of her thoughts. The sound of the side kitchen door shutting frightened her. Drew wouldn’t come back this early, and Ro wasn’t due for several hours.

  “Grrrrr.” Rosie’s imitation of Nappie’s growl validated Gwen’s fear.

  Gwen watched from the balcony as Nappie struggled up from her bed near the bottom of the stairs and headed for the kitchen.

  She stayed on the landing, wondering if Drew still kept the baseball bat next to the bed.

  A petite figure emerged into the great room.

  Opal.

  Opal?

  She has a key.

  Was Drew seeing her? He never said he wasn’t seeing anyone.

  The tiny blonde looked up before Gwen could slip back behind a column. Because of the open architecture, Opal saw Gwen as soon as Gwen saw her.

  “Gwen! I’m so sorry. I thought you’d be out at the base.”

  Gwen was excruciatingly aware of how disheveled she was in her sweats. She wished she’d put on real clothes.

  “Hi, Opal.” She started down the stairs.

  “Gosh, I hope I didn’t scare you. I’m only looking for Drew.” Opal’s eyes were wide. She seemed as shocked as Gwen felt.

  “He’s at work.” Gwen took in Opal’s tight black jeans, her inky blue turtleneck accentuating her perky breasts.

  This is still your house.

  Kind of.

  She was not going to be made to feel like Frumperella in her own home, for God’s sake!

  “He’s never too tired to miss a day, is he?” Opal smiled.

  “I didn’t realize you had a key.” Drew always left the doors unlocked but even so, Opal acted as if she’d been walking in here regularly for a long time.

  “Oh, well.” Opal had the grace to appear embarrassed.

  Gwen wished she could have grabbed the words back.

  You’ve been gone for eight months.

  Who was welcome in Drew’s place, who did or didn’t have a key, was none of her business.

  “No need to explain. Can I help you? Is there anything you need?”

  “Gee, this is awkward.” Opal grimaced, but in a friendly way that reflected her discomfort.

  “I’m sorry, Opal, this isn’t anyone’s fault. It’s hard on everybody, me showing up alive and all.” Gwen heard the sarcasm in her own voice but Opal took the words at face value.

  “It is, isn’t it? I mean, I’m so relieved to know you’re okay, and so is Drew. He’s such a sweetheart. When you were reported missing, he felt so bad for you.”

  “Oh?” Gwen gritted her teeth and shoved her hands into the deep pockets of the hoodie. Opal didn’t need to see her clenched fists.

  “I tried to tell him he wasn’t responsible, but you know, you two are still friends, and his natural instinct is to protect you like a big brother would.”

  “Right. Don’t worry about it, Opal.” Gwen s
ighed. How could she be angry at Opal? Opal was all girl. From her curly blond locks down to her tiny feet, always in spiked heels, she was the antithesis of Gwen’s taller stature and athletic build.

  Gwen had often wished Opal was a dumb ass, too. It would have been easier to dispel her jealousy, a jealousy she hated admitting she felt toward any other woman, especially one Drew worked with. Opal wasn’t only attractive, she was bright. She’d bought a failing business and turned it into a profit-making venture in under a year.

  “Are you still going to school?”

  “Oh, no, I got my business degree last month. I’m working my tail off at the coffee shack, but I love it, you know?” Opal laughed. “Drew’s complained that he had to hire two people to replace me.”

  “He probably did.” Drew had praised Opal up and down when he’d hired her as a temporary assistant. She was a gem of a worker and reliable. As soon as she had the funds for her business, however, she’d quit the clinic.

  “How’s Brady?”

  Opal frowned. “His daddy has him for the rest of the school year. I’ll get to have him this summer.”

  “I’m so sorry, Opal.” And she was. They were close in age, but Gwen was extremely aware of the advantages that going to the Naval Academy had given her, compared to the hardship Opal endured as a single parent, especially during the years she was struggling to earn a degree on a part-time basis.

  “I’m sad and I miss him, but a boy needs his father. Drew—”

  Opal cut off whatever she was going to say.

  Drew always wanted to be a dad... Gwen’s cheeks ached from forcing a relaxed, noncommittal expression. Her head started to pound behind her eyes.

  “I have to get some coffee, Opal. Would you like some?”

  “Oh, no, I’ve had enough this morning.” Opal smiled. “If I’d realized you were here, I would’ve brought you your favorite latte.”

  “You’re sweet—thank you. Is there something I can do for you?” Gwen knew she wasn’t being the best hostess, but it wasn’t as though she’d invited Opal.