Navy Rescue

by Geri Krotow

  Besides, she’d never been the hostess type. Give her a ready-room with suited-up aviators eager to execute a mission over social pleasantries any day.

  “No, no, thanks. I have to get back to the Koffee Hut. I ran home to get my laptop, so I can keep up with my supply orders. I only came by to see if Drew needs anything.” Opal looked wistfully toward the upper deck. “He doesn’t get enough sleep.”

  Opal knows his sleep patterns.

  Which meant they’d slept together?

  None of your business.

  “I’ll let myself out. I hope you feel better soon, Gwen.”

  “Thanks.”

  Opal left through the kitchen door. Her shape cast a shadow on the lowered shades as she walked along the side of the house to the deck stairs that would take her down to street level.

  Gwen went to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup from the half pot Drew must have brewed. The coffee was bitter but the heat comforted her. Her body still thought she was in the jungle, and she shivered against the chill of the house.

  Gwen stared at the kitchen door for a full minute before she walked over and threw the dead bolt.

  * * *

  LUNCH WITH RO was a relief after dealing with Opal. Ro sat next to Gwen on the couch in the living room, asking benign questions about her time in the PI.

  “You haven’t touched your lunch.” Ro looked at Gwen’s plate on the coffee table, laden with take-out barbecue that Ro had brought, then back at her.

  “I haven’t been able to eat a lot at one time, and I had a big breakfast.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Gwen sighed. “To be honest, my appetite for pork isn’t back yet.”

  “Oh?”

  “Let’s just say I had more than my share of pig over the past six months.”

  Ro laughed, and Gwen loved her for it.

  “Kind of like trying to have ramen noodles after the academy?”

  “Exactly!”

  While living in Bancroft Hall, the Naval Academy’s dormitory, late-night study sessions were often fueled by easy snacks like soup and noodles in a disposable cup.

  “You know, I still can’t eat any kind of instant or freeze-dried anything.” Ro smiled and her whole face lit up.

  Gwen stared at the woman who’d been her best friend for the better part of two decades. Ro was brunette with short-cropped hair that emphasized her feminine features. They’d met at the academy and Gwen considered her more of a sister than a friend.

  “I can’t believe you’re getting out of the navy, Ro.” She’d always been as gung-ho career navy as Gwen.

  “I can’t believe you’re alive.” Ro reached across the sofa and gave Gwen a bone-crushing hug.

  Gwen hugged her back. And was very aware that six months ago she would have shied away from such a demonstrative gesture, even from Ro.

  Gwen pulled back before more tears could flood her already swollen eyes. Between the painful conversations with Drew, not to mention impulsively making love to him after so many years apart, she was emotionally spent.

  “You’ve become awfully touchy-feely, Ro. Where’s the lifer I knew?” She referred to Ro’s determination to make the navy a lifetime career—twenty years of active duty, minimum.

  “Yeah, the West Coast’s definitely been good for me. I’ve reevaluated my priorities.” Ro’s eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm Gwen couldn’t remember ever having.

  Yes, she had—a long time ago.

  When she’d believed that Drew had hung the moon...

  Ro’s expression sobered. “I know you’ve been through a lot, honey, and if you need me anytime, for anything, all you have to do is call. Is there something you want or need to talk about now?”

  Gwen laughed. “I want you to enjoy your happiness, Ro. You’ve deserved a great relationship in, like, forever.” Which made Ro the last person she wanted to burden with her joy-smothering tales of survival. “Of course I’ll call you—I already have! If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve had to come home in scrubs from Madigan Army Hospital.”

  “I’m glad the clothes fit, although I’ll bet they were too big, but I know you’ll put the weight back on soon enough.” She paused. “What else happened over there? Or aren’t you ready to talk about it?”

  Gwen snorted. “All I’ve been doing is talking, Ro. I’m talked out. I had to tell the State Department folks at the embassy in Manila the whole story at least three times. They had an on-staff psychiatrist who talked to me, as well. Once I was back stateside, I had to do it all over again with the docs at Madigan. Even the commodore wanted his cut of the interviews.”

  Ro rolled her eyes. “He’s harmless. Ever since the last one went to the brig, and he stepped in, everyone’s been a little testy, shall we say.”

  “It wasn’t easy when we found out Commodore Sanders had turned out to be a murderer.” The previous spring the entire wing had gone through chaos with a sailor’s assumed suicide that was actually murder. All hell had broken loose when further investigation revealed it was the commodore, who’d then tried to eliminate the two people who got too close to the truth—Ro and her now-husband, Miles.

  “Yeah, that was ugly. But nothing like what you’ve been through.”

  “I don’t know about that, Ro. You and Miles faced the reality of dying out in Deception Pass. The only difference is that I was in the PI.”

  “We’ve all faced it, downrange.” Ro spoke quietly. She was right—all four of them, both couples— had individually deployed to either Iraq or Afghanistan. Miles had physically sacrificed the most; he’d lost his leg to the war against terrorism.

  “And that’s why what I’ve been through shouldn’t merit any more attention than the experience of every other vet coming back from deployment.”

  “Spare me, Gwen. You were totally on your own, in the midst of who knows how many insurgent groups, without any outside support. You must’ve figured out that you were assumed KIA.”

  Ro bit her lip after she’d used the acronym for Killed In Action.

  Gwen grasped her hand. “After what I counted as thirty days on the run with no sign of an extraction team, yes, I assumed that no one was coming in for me.” She shook her head. “I lost it yesterday, with Drew. I didn’t even realize I was still pissed off that there weren’t any rescue attempts. I never heard one damn U.S. aircraft overhead.” Of course she’d been assumed lost at sea, and since she’d had to take cover in the jungle, rescue attempts were all but pointless due to the dense foliage.

  “You have every right to be angry. You were up against it.”

  They sat in the kind of silence only close friends can share.

  Gwen finally spoke.

  “I’m not having any of the post-war type of dreams you told me you had when you got back from Afghanistan.”

  “Good. But if things change, don’t be a hero—go get help. No one goes through what you did and comes out unscathed.”

  “I suppose not.”

  They sat together quietly once more.

  “I wish we could keep the focus on your newlywed status. Tell me what you and Miles do together—besides the obvious!”

  Ro giggled before she started talking about how much fun she was having with her husband, and how absolutely blissful she found married life.

  “Blissful, eh?”

  “I don’t know another word to describe it.”

  “Hmm.”

  Ro turned to Gwen. “Are you going to tell me about the baby?”

  “Drew told you?”

  Ro shook her head.

  “Of course not. I read some of the message traffic that was sent to the commodore from the State Department, but your heroic acts were also on CNN. Miles and I were watching television one night and bam! There you were, holding a kid, be
ing rushed into the embassy.”

  There it was again—the light in Ro’s eyes that appeared whenever she mentioned Miles.

  “I came up on a village that the insurgents had burned out. There was nothing left, and the smell—” She couldn’t go on. She couldn’t tell anyone where she’d found her baby.

  Under a burned-down hut.

  Under a dirt floor.

  Beneath his mother’s corpse.

  “That’s where the baby was?” Ro prompted. Ro and Gwen had a connection normally reserved for sisters, a connection they’d never lost. They knew each other’s moods, all their “tells.” The nuances in expression that meant nothing to anyone but the other.

  “Yes. He’s perfect, Ro. So sweet, a little bear of a guy. When I first found him he was so helpless.” Gwen wiped away the tears that had fallen. “I had to save him. If I could’ve nursed him, I would have. I know, strange coming from the career gal, right?”

  “No, not strange. Not at all.”

  “I am so damn lucky I stumbled on a safe village, a safe place to hide out. I was able to live with Pax—that’s what I named him—and there was a family who helped me get formula. Sometimes it was just sugar water, I think, but he’s alive, healthy and— Oh, Ro, what if the adoption doesn’t go through?”

  “It’ll go through if it’s supposed to, honey. Are you sure you want to be a single mother, Gwen?”

  “I don’t have a choice. I love that little boy and I’m the only mother he has now.”

  “You’re being obtuse. You know what I mean.”

  “Drew and I are beyond reconciliation, Ro. You of all people understand that. You saw what we went through, how immature we were. We had no business getting married so young. Not with both of us such diehard career people.”

  “You’ve remained good friends. You seem comfortable enough here, for now, anyway. Are you?”

  “Not really,” Gwen said with a shrug. “I need to leave as soon as I can. I appreciate all he’s doing for me, but he’s got his own life now. Just this morning his former assistant, Opal—you know, the woman who runs Koffee Hut? She let herself in and I think we scared the hell out of each other.”

  Gwen looked at Ro and smiled. “Drew’s moved on, and I’m happy for him.”

  “No way, Gwen, you’re wrong. I’ve never seen a hint of anything between them other than the fact that they’re friends and neighbors.”

  Gwen rubbed her eyes. “Face it, Ro, Drew and I aren’t getting back together. Five years is a long time, and we were fighting so much by the end of our marriage, I never want to risk going through that again.” She jumped up from the sofa and walked around the great room, needing to get outside, away from the house.

  “You aren’t your mother, Gwen. Brenda’s life has nothing to do with yours. She chose to remarry and you thought she didn’t need to. It doesn’t mean that needing a life partner is a weakness.”

  Gwen heard the note in Ro’s voice and sighed. There was no talking sense to her while she was in the midst of marital bliss. Ro still held out hope for her and Drew.

  “We’ve been over this before, Ro. I’m a born career girl and no man should have to give up his life because of mine. Even if I decide to leave the navy, quit flying, I’d still work. It’s in my blood after all these years. Drew deserves to be happy. We all do. Speaking of which, I’ve asked him to help me with the adoption. It’ll go much more smoothly if he can vouch for my mental health.”

  “What did he say?”

  “It was as if he was more worried about whether or not I’ve thought it all through. I know it’s hard for you all to believe but I’m not who I was when I left on deployment. I’d never put anything ahead of my child, and that includes my career. That’s why I’m thinking about all my navy options here.”

  Ro sipped her tea. “I’ve never doubted you’d make a wonderful mother, Gwen. So it took you a few near-death scrapes to realize it. Just don’t ignore any other lessons you might have learned over there.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AFTER RO WENT back to work, Gwen hoped to get some of her things out of the storage boxes in the garage before Drew came home. Her mother was planning to visit with her husband within the next few days and Gwen wanted to have some of her own clothes to wear, her own things around. She loved her mother dearly, but also dreaded the inevitable cross-examination she’d get regarding her time in the PI, and her temporary living situation with her ex-husband.

  The garage door rose smoothly after she hit the electronic button. Nappie wagged her tail against Gwen’s legs.

  “Okay, you can stay out here with me, but don’t go far.” Nappie promptly headed to the carnation bushes Gwen had planted with Drew six years ago.

  Right before everything started going downhill.

  Her cell phone, in her rear pocket, buzzed, and she pulled it out.

  “Hello?” She couldn’t read the caller ID in the bright daylight.

  “Gwen, it’s Ro. Where are you?”

  Gwen looked at the boxes stacked on and beside the steel storage shelves Drew had set up when they’d moved in. Was that her box of knitting stuff up on the highest one?

  “Where I’ve been since you left, and where I’ll be for the next few days—or weeks. In this house, wondering why I can’t go back to the squadron yet. Actually, I’m in the garage.” She was surprised Ro had called again so soon but she supposed her reappearance affected everyone differently. Maybe Ro needed reassurance.

  “You’re feeling okay?” The urgent note in Ro’s voice hit Gwen’s solar plexus.

  “Yes, yes. What’s going on?”

  “Do you think you’re up to driving? You need to go to the PT clinic. Drew needs you.”

  “For what?”

  “There’s too much to explain—just go there.”

  Ro clicked off before Gwen could respond.

  Was this a sick attempt of Ro’s to get her and Drew back together? Ro wasn’t an alarmist by nature, and although she’d continually expressed hope for Gwen and Drew’s marriage, even at its worst, Gwen knew Ro, knew she wouldn’t pull matchmaking crap this soon after Gwen’s return.

  The feeling she’d had all morning—an inexplicable dread she’d attributed to her overall anxiety at the transition back home—caved in on her. She’d tried to blame it on Opal’s unexpected visit, but those anxieties had been soothed by her conversation with Ro.

  Something was wrong, and it wasn’t her post-PI trauma. Drew needed her.

  Gwen pocketed her phone and coaxed Nappie inside. She hadn’t driven in the three days since she’d returned to Whidbey. The doctors had warned her to ease into everything, especially driving. It was the same protocol all sailors followed when they came back. What she’d practiced after every deployment downrange.

  This wasn’t the time to worry about the pace of her transition, however. She looked over at her small fuel-efficient sedan, parked where Drew must have left it. As long as she could get it started, she was good to go.

  * * *

  GWEN DROVE INTO town, marveling at how the five-minute trip to the clinic seemed more like five miles. Being behind the wheel felt strange, but her concern over Drew after Ro’s scary call distracted her from her driving fears. It allowed her subconscious to make the physical decisions.

  When she’d tried to call him on his cell or the clinic phone, she’d been put through to voice mail.

  Several police cars were parked in front of Drew’s physical therapy clinic, either the Oak Harbor City Police crest or the Island County Sheriff’s emblem on their doors.

  Her anxiety roared, and her muscles grew tight.

  She scanned the scene as she walked up to the cordoned-off area, the yellow police tape separating her from Drew.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to keep back, ple
ase.”

  “But I’m a friend of the owner.”

  “Drew Brett?” The officer looked at her a little too sharply.

  “Yes—he’s my...my ex-husband.”

  Was she going to find out she was a widow?

  You can’t be a widow if you’re divorced.

  Where the hell was her command voice when she needed it?

  The police officer kept his gaze on her while he spoke into his transmitter. “I have a woman here who says she’s Drew Brett’s ex-wife.” Gwen stared at the officer as he listened to his earpiece. He was with Oak Harbor, not the Sheriff’s Department, and his last name was Joseph. Officer Joseph was Drew’s height, about six-feet two inches, but with a bit of a slimmer build. She knew it was her military training that had her noticing and filing away all these details; it prevented her from succumbing to complete and utter panic.

  Officer Joseph’s eyebrows rose. “What’s your first name?”

  “Gwen. Gwendolyn.” Oh, God, were they checking his next-of-kin notifications? Was he injured, or worse? Had he kept her on his list, as she had his?

  “Right. I’ll walk her in.” Officer Joseph gestured to a colleague who leaned against his patrol car. “Hey, Billy, watch my area, will you? I’m doing escort.”

  The other cop straightened and waved at his coworker. “I’ve got it.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” He held up the yellow tape for Gwen to duck under. The image of crawling under thorny vines in the jungle flashed through her mind.

  Stay here. You’re on Whidbey, not in the PI.

  Gwen followed the police officer as they entered the clinic from the street. The sunlight faded to a dark, heavy atmosphere that shrouded the usually bright space.

  There were small clusters of people humming about the clinic. Police and other unidentified workers with latex gloves took photos, put objects in clear plastic bags and took notes. Gwen’s gaze passed over them all and didn’t stop until she found Drew.

  Alive. He was alive.

  His golden skin was pale and it pulled around his eyes, making it look as if he’d been up all night.