That got a grin out of Scott. “That’s why I know what it’s like. Before Jordan, I was stuck in that kind of life. Now, it’s different. Jordan means everything to me.” But he couldn’t ignore how her e-mails lately had seemed to be hinting at how unhappy she was.
The sound of artillery fire broke the moment. A rocket exploded.
“Look out incoming.”
They heard the sound of another explosion and then watched as the truck directly in front of them exploded. Pieces of shrapnel hit the Humvee. Then all of a sudden the hummer was airborne. It didn’t take a genius to know they’d hit an IED. The smell of burning oil and fiery smoke filled the air. Landing on its side, Nick started to move, to crawl out of the vehicle. He turned to Scott. “Are you all right?”
“I think so, funny though, I can’t feel my legs. I think I’m pinned.”
From the back of the vehicle, the gunner, Jones from Sacramento, groaned in pain.
“Hold on, Scott, I’ll get you out.” Nick started working on freeing Scott, but he had difficulty getting a good grip. Blood was everywhere. Despite Nick’s best efforts, he couldn’t seem to get Scott to budge. Scott was bleeding badly.
“Nick stop. Stop. Help Jones. Get him out first. He’s in bad shape. Just look at his head.”
Despite the command, Nick continued to pull on Scott’s shoulders trying to wedge him out of the vehicle. “No, I’ve almost got you loose.”
“That’s an order, Lieutenant Harris, Jones first, then me.”
Nick crawled to the back, and kicked open the back door. He easily slid out of the space before reaching back inside, pulling Jones, hefting him to his shoulders and out of the vehicle. Nick carried him away from the Hummer to the other side of the road to safety as quickly as he could. Running back, Nick got to the Humvee and crawled back inside, once again wedging into the small space beside Scott. Nick started working on getting the twisted metal away from Scott’s legs. It was slow going. He saw Scott start to lose consciousness. “I’m here, Scott, talk to me.”
Grabbing underneath his shoulders, Nick began to pull him up to no avail. He then went to work trying to bend the metal holding Scott in place. Only then, did Nick see how badly Scott was injured, how much blood he’d lost.
“Nick, listen to me. Listen to me. Stop. Promise me, Nick, you’ll see to it that Jordan and Hutton are okay? Promise me, Nick. She’s unhappy. Jordan’s been unhappy for months now.”
“Shut up, and help me get you out of here. Turn sideways a little more. Move to the damn right a little more, will you? The damned metal is everywhere. Turn the other way for a second.”
“Tell Jordan how much I love her. Nick, I want you to hold Hutton for me, okay? Are you listening to me? Promise me, Nick...you’ll hold Hutton. I so wanted to hold her just once. Take care of Jordan, Nick. Take care of them for me. See to them, Nick. Save Jordan, Nick. She’s unhappy. Don’t let anything happen to them. Promise me, Nick.”
“Shut up, will you? You’re going to make it out of this tin can if I have to…”
Just then, the gas pouring out of the tank ignited, causing the Hummer to explode in a fiery ball, throwing Nick out the back. Badly wounded, he tried to get up, but he couldn’t get to his feet. He started crawling in the sand toward the burning Hummer. He heard voices getting closer. Two soldiers ran toward him. It was the last thing he remembered before passing out.
Nick woke up inside a tent, a field hospital, with a doctor standing beside his bed, studying a chart. But as he did his best to focus on the room, the doctor looked as if he were far away. Through bleary eyes, Nick mumbled, “Scott, where is Captain Phillips. Scott Phillips where is he? Did he make it out?”
A nurse approached the other side of the bed. He heard her voice. “He’s asking about his buddy I take it. It isn’t the first time.”
The doctor nodded. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, Captain Phillips didn’t make it.”
Nick closed his eyes. Tears ran down his face. “I screwed up. I couldn’t get him out. I promised him I’d get him out of that goddamned tin can.”
Nick came awake. The trembling was back. Perspiration pooled down his body. He ran shaky hands through his hair. The clock by the bed read three-forty-five. After going weeks without Scott haunting him, the dream was back. Nick tried to shut out the sounds and smells of that day.
He couldn’t shake the image of Scott’s face for that last time. He remembered every line, every crease on his face. But it was the look in his eyes that would haunt Nick till the day he died. Scott had known he wasn’t going to make it.
Nick looked around the studio apartment. The loneliness hit him like a moving freight train. He yearned for Jordan.
How would Scott feel about that? he wondered. God help him, he couldn’t help it, but he couldn’t shake Scott’s own words. How could any man in his right mind not fall in love with a woman like Jordan? Scott’s words. How many times had Nick heard him say that?
Suddenly, it became clear what he had to do.
He dressed quickly, making his way through the dark out to the Harley. As quietly as he could, he pushed the bike down the driveway and then as far along the road away from the house as he could before jumping on and starting the engine. He roared off, heading for the highway.
Twenty minutes later, just as the sun tipped the horizon pink, Nick found himself standing over Scott’s grave. Touching the marble headstone, he sucked in a wobbly breath. “I’m here. You wanted me here. I’m here. I’m doing the best I can, Scott. I’m taking care of Jordan and Hutton just like you wanted.”
He ran a hand through his hair and started to pace.
“Ahh, Hutton, Hutton’s amazing. She’s this little person who smells all soft and cuddly. She looks just like Jordan but with your eyes. You were right about that Scott, she has your eyes. But God Scott, Jordan is beautiful, inside and out. You were lucky there, bro. She’s everything you said she was and more. But here’s the thing…damn it. You sent me here to take care of them and…damn it, Scott, I couldn’t help it. I’ve fallen in love with Jordan, with Hutton too. When you sent me here, you didn’t think of that, did you? And what am I supposed to do about that now, huh Scott? What the hell am I going to do now?”
His breath hitched. A sigh escaped. “The Cove’s just like you said it was, a great place to raise a family. Not the town, though, nor the people. The people suck, Scott. You were just flat out wrong about Pelican Pointe. What were you thinking there, bro? The people here couldn’t care less about anyone but themselves. You knew Jordan wasn’t happy here. That’s why you bugged the hell out of me. You knew. You knew she was miserable. You wanted me to come here to take care of her.”
Out of steam, spent, he dropped down on the grass. He sat there tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of that damned hummer. So, damn sorry. I wasn’t quick enough. If I’d reacted sooner… What is it you want from me? I’m doing all I know to do. What is it you want?”
Scott sat down on the grass beside his friend. “Come on, Nick. You’re a good man. One of the best soldiers I’ve ever seen in combat. You know exactly what to do. You always have.”
“Not this time. Didn’t you hear what I said? Goddamn it, I’m in love with Jordan.”
“I knew you would be. Took you a little longer than I thought it would. Let go, Nick.” Scott put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “You need to revisit what happened that day, bro. You’re all mixed up inside. Let go of the guilt you’ve been carrying around. It’s eating you up. You’re wasting these days with Jordan, spoiling them. Let go of the guilt, Nick, before you ruin everything.”
And with that, Scott was gone.
For twenty long minutes, Nick sat there, teary eyed until suddenly he wiped his nose and jumped to his feet. For the second time that morning, he realized what he had to do.
He climbed on his bike and roared off toward town.
As he passed the Pelican Pointe city limits sign Nick drove like a man possessed. Sunday mornin
g half the town must still be asleep. But he looked up and spotted all the cars parked in the church parking lot. Perfect. Just the people he wanted to talk to. He turned the motorcycle into the lot and killed the engine. Getting off the bike, he removed his helmet and stared up at the stained glass windows, the huge, colorful images of Jesus and the cross.
Although, he wasn’t dressed for church, not even close, he stomped toward the double doors, looking for a fight. He hadn’t even bothered to shave. Red-eyed from crying, even though services had already started, he stormed inside, almost daring anyone to stop him. When that didn’t happen, he made his way down the aisle of the small auditorium to the podium where Reverend Whitcomb stood in mid-sermon. The pastor just assumed he was late and walking to a seat in the front pew.
But Nick passed the rows of pews filled with parishioners. He recognized a few of the faces in the relatively small crowd. There was Murphy and Ferguson and Wade Hawkins and old man Taggert. There was Wally Pierce, who sat next to Lilly and her kids. Nick ignored their looks of surprise. When he looked up at the wide-eyed pastor, who had stopped talking and stood there with his mouth gaping open, Nick took advantage of the momentary silence and hopped up the steps to the dais. Several members of the congregation began to protest. But Nick barely heard any of them. He thought he heard Murphy’s voice, thought he heard Murphy tell them to sit down and be quiet.
Angry that Jordan might be at risk to lose everything, angry over how the town had treated her, he was in no mood to be conciliatory. “My name is Nick Harris. Some of you know me, most of you don’t. But every one of you here knew Scott Phillips.” He adjusted the pastor’s microphone and repeated, “Scott Phillips, the National Guard soldier whose hometown was Pelican Pointe, California, the soldier who lost his life a year ago in Iraq, serving his country.
“Scott grew up here. You knew his grandparents. You knew him as a boy. You knew him as a man. He had history in this town. You knew him when he moved back here to raise his own family, when he brought his wife back to this town, a wife he had to leave when his Guard unit got called up. He left her behind in your care while he served his country, while he did the right thing. And what did any of you do for Scott in his absence? What did you do for his wife and daughter? Did you lift a finger to help either one of them?
“I can tell you what he thought would happen. He thought you’d take care of Jordan while he was gone. He thought you’d help her get through a difficult time. He might have even thought you’d help get his dream up and going. He trusted you with what he loved the most, his wife and daughter. And how have you treated them in his absence?”
At that moment, Murphy got up from his seat, followed by Carla Vargas. They both walked to where Nick stood as if to lend support.
Nick kept right on going. “Scott loved Pelican Pointe. God knows why. There were days when that’s all he talked about. How great his hometown was, how great the people were. How the people in Pelican Pointe would do anything for anybody. Why he believed that, I have no idea only that he did. But you and I know that isn’t what happened.
“I served with Scott in Iraq, in the same Guard unit. While we were there, he saved my life on more than one occasion, but when it came time for me to save him, I fell short. I didn’t pull him out of that Hummer in time and he…died. I might have failed Scott then, but know this…I won’t fail Jordan now. All of you are letting his dream die. His dream’s in jeopardy. Every day you turn your back on Jordan, you’re letting Scott Phillips down.”
Nick looked out at the faces in the crowd. A few hung their heads and refused to look up or meet his eyes.
“Know this though; I won’t fail Scott a second time. He deserves to know his death meant something that he died for something that mattered. He deserves to know that Jordan and Hutton will have a home, that they’ll go on strong without him. Scott deserved to see his dream come true. Even if it’s from up above. That’s all I have to say.”
Nick swallowed hard and handed the microphone back to the preacher. He strode down the steps, past the parishioners and outside, leaving the doors clanging together and the stunned congregation, strangely silent.
Chapter Twenty
Breakfast had come and gone without Nick. His motorcycle wasn’t parked out front. As the morning stretched on, Jordan had a funny feeling, almost a nagging, creepy feeling in the pit of her stomach. By mid morning she began to wonder if Nick might have taken off. The idea saddened her. But as sad as she felt, it also made her mad.
The only way she’d know for sure if he was gone was to head over to the studio apartment to see if his things were still there. She was just about to scoop up Hutton and do just that when she heard multiple vehicles pulling into the driveway.
Her stomach fluttered. A sick feeling began to spread from somewhere inside. Picking up Hutton, she slowly walked to the front door and stepped out onto the porch. When she saw Murphy getting out of his truck, followed by Ferguson, and a few of the other townspeople, dread washed over her. “What’s going on here, Murphy?”
“What all needs doing, Jordan? Point us in the right direction. We’re here to help, better late than not at all.”
“Where’s Nick?”
“Isn’t he here? Didn’t he come back from town?”
“No.” A wild fear flitted in her brain. She stared at Frank Martin and Wally Pierce before turning back to Murphy. “Why is everyone here?”
Before Murphy could answer, Frank Martin, the banker walked up and stood behind Ferguson, followed by Edmund Taggert. Jordan saw the sheepish look on their faces. She mechanically told Taggert, “I’m sorry about the noise we’ve made this week, I really am, but we have to finish before Friday.”
Taggert shifted his feet but shuffled forward. “It ain’t that. I just got to say, that man of yours has guts. Not many men would stand up in church and make an ass out of hisself like he done. I’m sorry I caused you so much grief the past two years.” The old man shifted his feet again and went on, “I taught Scott to fish. Not having kids of my own, that boy used to come around my place to visit the animals. Got used to him being there. I forgot that, forgot what a character he was when he was little. I want to help you get this place ready.”
Before Jordan could speak, Wade Hawkins trudged up behind Taggert, and Bran Sullivan followed him. Before long it seemed as if every able-bodied man in Pelican Pointe snaked behind Murphy waiting for further instructions from the mayor on what to do next. But Murphy merely went into a detailed account of what Nick had said at the church.
Jordan listened but couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why would he do that? Unless… Oh, my God, Murphy, he’s gone, he isn’t coming back, is he?”
“I didn’t get that impression at all, Jordan. But there’s something I probably need to tell you.”
Without realizing it, she held on tighter to Hutton. Even the warmth of the spring morning couldn’t stop a shiver from tingling down her arms. The last time anyone had uttered those words they had knocked on her door to tell her Scott wasn’t coming home. The sick feeling swept over her again. She couldn’t shake it. Where the hell was Nick? Why was he not here?
“Then where is he, Murphy? Ferguson’s is closed on Sunday. In fact, Ferguson is standing right behind you. I knew it. He’s gone. He didn’t even say goodbye.” She finally let out the choked breath she’d been holding.
“Nick made us remember our hearts. He wouldn’t just leave like that.”
“What are you talking about, Murphy? Made you remember what heart? You aren’t making any sense.”
“Exactly. We lost ourselves for awhile, the whole town did, but Nick brought us back. He made us remember we’re here to help each other. When rough patches hit us, all of us, we save each other from disaster. Nick made us remember how we’re supposed to care for each other as a town, how we should see each other through the rough times. Scott was one of us. Nick reminded us that Scott would have wanted us to help. In fact, he expected better from all of us. We
just needed Nick to remind us, to shake us up.”
“Start talking Murphy. You’re starting to scare me.” Truth was, she’d actually gone straight past scared to downright fear.
Murphy sucked in a breath. It wasn’t his place, but what the hell. “Nick was there—in Iraq with Scott. He was with Scott when he died.”
“I know all that. Get to the point.”
“What do you mean…you know? Jordan, Nick blames himself for not being able to get Scott out of the truck fast enough.”
“Oh, God. I was afraid of that. That isn’t what happened at all.” Jordan started to pace the length of the porch. “I knew who he was after that first day. I recognized the name from Scott’s letters. He always mentioned Nick this, Nick that. I was just waiting for him to talk to me, to open up, tell me about it himself. I was trying to be patient, give him time to do it his own way. I knew he must be suffering from post traumatic stress or survivor’s guilt. I wanted him to talk to me and tell me in his own time, in his own way.”
“Do you know he’s in love with you?”
That had her stopping in mid-pace and turning back to Murphy. “I was hoping. Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I have to talk to him, Murphy. Where…”
“He left the church a good thirty minutes ago.” Murphy scratched his head at that, and added, “Maybe he didn’t think you’d want to see him. After all, he felt like he’d failed Scott, maybe he felt like he’d failed you too, and took off.” But that didn’t sound like the guy who had told the congregation he wasn’t about to give up.
“He didn’t fail Scott. Oh, God, Murphy you have to get him back. We’re wasting time just standing around. I have to talk to him, tell him. I have to straighten this mess out.”
Murphy pulled out his cell phone, punched in a few numbers on his speed dial. “Brent, this is the mayor of Pelican Pointe. I need a favor.”
Promise Cove Page 29
