He listened to Lucia sing along with the CD. She knew almost every word to the songs. Who cared if, during Whole World In His Hands, it was Ho Wood?
For the first time he allowed himself to wonder if the baby Selena was carrying would be as smart. If it survived. If Selena could carry it to term. If-if-if. How was he supposed to feel? How could he promise to lay his life down to protect other people’s children and not do the same for his own? But it wasn’t his life hanging in the balance, it was his wife’s. The guilt and pain of this struggle were constant.
He turned the thoughts off. He couldn’t think about it. He had to concentrate on Selena. He was more worried about her emotional state right now. Those few moments of grief at the hospital would not be the last.
Though they’d traveled to New York several times since Lucia was born, and both their families had come to visit when they could, Grandma Rose was someone new in Lucia’s world. She was both excited and a little shy for all of five minutes, then gave Rosalie enthusiastic hugs and kisses. She sat on the couch between Selena and her mother and jabbered away, filling them both in on everything she had done at daycare. Her vocabulary was growing through the lessons she was taught at daycare and through music. But her pronunciation was sometimes comical.
For the rest of the evening, Grandma Rose held center stage and did most of the cooking. At eight o’clock Selena ran out of steam and went to bed, and he got Lucia tucked in soon after.
It was as he was checking on Selena for the fourth time and easing the bedroom door shut, Rosalie caught him in a hug. “She’s going to be okay. She’s strong, and she has you in her corner.”
“I know,” he said trying to be positive, though the fear was still there.
“You don’t have to entertain me if you want to go on to bed. I know you’ve been running between home and the hospital. I have my e-reader and the television. If Lucia wakes up, I’ll take care of her.”
He didn’t want to go to bed, but he did want to lie beside his wife and just know she was there.
“Frank and I have had a long marriage. And it’s because we’ve leaned on each other we’ve made it when other friends didn’t. You and Selena have that kind of marriage.”
“I haven’t been home nearly enough.”
“But when you are, you pour everything you have into it, Oliver. She knows you love her.”
He nodded, though the guilt wouldn’t go away. He knew the other married men experienced it too. More marriages ended than survived the teams. “I put fresh linens on the guest room bed and laid towels out for you. Help yourself to anything you need.”
Rosalie patted his arm and murmured goodnight. She went back into the living room.
He slipped into the bedroom, took a quick shower, and eased in beside Selena.
Her eyes opened and she studied his face for a moment. “I’m very proud of what you do, Oliver. You have nothing to feel guilty about. I went into our marriage with my eyes wide open.”
So she had heard what they’d said. “You didn’t count on the teams.”
“No, but it was something you needed to do and I understood. I still do.”
Just as she needed to carry their baby. He flinched away from the thought. “You’ve read the code we follow.”
“Yes.”
“I take it very seriously, Selena.”
“I know you do.”
“I was thinking you need your own code.”
She sifted her fingers through the curls on his forehead, and he sighed, and then lifted her palm to his lips. “Repeat after me. I will never give up.”
She looked into his eyes for a long moment, and a lone tear streaked across her nose and onto the pillow. “I will never give up.”
“If adversity knocks me down, I will pick myself up.”
“If adversity knocks me down. I will pick myself up.”
“I will use every ounce of my strength to fight.”
Her voice cracked but she said the words. “I will use every ounce of my strength to fight.”
“I will never stop fighting.”
“I will never stop fighting.”
He wiped her tears away with the sheet. “I love you. No matter what happens, I’ll love you.”
She nodded. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and cuddle her, but the tubes were there, and he was afraid he might accidentally hurt her. Instead he laced his fingers through hers and held tight.
Chapter Seven
‡
Selena stared at the huge clump of hair in the drain. There was more and more each day. So much she’d bought a screen for the tub so it wouldn’t go down the drain and clog.
This latest loss looked like a small animal had drowned in the shower. She braced herself before turning to face the mirror over the sink. Her heart fell and tears glazed her eyes. She’d thought seeing the flat, nipple-less area where her breast had been removed would be the worst shock she’d sustain, but seeing her hair fall out had a suck factor all its own.
They had been so upbeat about her prognosis until the three lymph nodes had come back positive. Three lymph nodes had made the difference between chemo and no chemo.
And this latest suggestion by her medical oncologist had hit her hardest. He wanted her to have her ovaries removed once the baby was delivered.
She stared at her reflection. She didn’t want Oliver to see her like this. Ragged. Unkempt. She stared at her reflection. Would she lose her eyebrows and lashes too? With her Italian features, she’d look like a modern day Mona Lisa. She tried an enigmatic smile. It ended up more a grimace.
She lowered the lid onto the toilet, sat down and gave free vent to the tears for the next five minutes. Only five minutes, because it was all the time she could spare to dwell on this loss. With difficulty, she dragged her composure back into place, mopped her face, and blew her nose. Rifling through a lavatory drawer, she found a pair of scissors, but just did a few halfhearted snips before putting them down. Why do a job when an expert was available?
She picked up her cell phone and dialed Trish and Langley’s number.
Langley answered the phone with a brusque, “Hello.”
“Langley, this is Selena.”
“Hey, pretty lady. You okay?”
“Yes, I just called to ask a favor.”
“Shoot.”
She explained what she needed. “If I swing by, could you do it before I have to go to work?”
“Yeah, I can do it.”
“I can be there in about twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be here.”
She dressed, took her nausea medication, and applied a light makeup to cover the bruise-like shadows beneath her eyes, then wrapped a scarf around her head.
Langley opened the door to her and ushered her into the kitchen. “You lucked out, the clan just left for school with Trish.”
“Oliver took Lucia to daycare for me.”
Langley put a chair in the middle of the kitchen floor and whipped out a barber’s cape from his kit, and then produced scissors, clippers, and a comb.
Suddenly shy, Selena studied his lantern-jawed, homely, handsome face. “It looks pretty bad.”
“It’ll be okay, honey,” he said, his gaze steady.
Her throat tight, she sat in the chair and dropped her bag on the floor next to her. The vulnerability of having such a widely recognized cancer side-effect out where everyone could see was as painful as her aching joints. Everywhere she went people stared.
Langley unwrapped the scarf and laid it on the counter. He ran his fingers over the long strands still hanging in there at the back. Her hair was so thin on top she could see her scalp. She knew what his fingers came away with when he drew a deep breath. “I’ll need to use scissors first, take some length off so the clippers won’t pull.”
Selena swallowed. “Okay.”
He got out the scissors. With every fallen strand her head felt lighter, and she decided to equate each one with shedding yet another worry. She relaxed and gazed
absently at the small ray of sunshine reflecting off the toaster. This was just one more thing she had to endure to stay well until the baby was born. At the flutter of the baby’s kick, she rested a hand against the side of her distended abdomen, enjoying the moment of communion with her unborn child.
Langley turned on the clippers, and, starting at her hairline in front, then going from front to back in long, slow, smooth strips. The fuzz scattered across the barber’s cape looked like black feathers. When he turned the clippers off, she twisted around to look up at him.
He cupped her naked head with his large hand, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “All done.”
“Thank you, Langley.”
“Welcome.” He tugged the Velcro catch on the barber’s cape free, shook it off, and turned away to fold it and stuff it in the case with the clippers.
“I can help you clean up.”
“I got it covered. You better scoot or you’ll be late.”
“Does it—It looks better this way, doesn’t it?”
Langley turned to face her. His smile looked natural and eased the tightness in her chest. “Prettiest G.I. haircut I’ve ever seen.”
Selena smiled. But as soon as her fingers explored the area behind her ear, tears threatened. She dropped her hand, jerked her chin up, and squared her shoulders. “Bald is beautiful.”
Langley laughed. “You’ve convinced me.”
Selena shot him her best smile, scooped up her purse, and rose from the chair. “I owe you some double chocolate brownies.” She gave him a quick hug.
“With nuts,” he added, giving her a gentle squeeze in return.
“With nuts.”
She murmured, “Bald is beautiful,” all the way to work.
*
Langley’s call was only a small surprise.
Oliver rubbed a hand over his jaw and jerked the wheel to avoid a slow-moving delivery van as it turned in front of him. “How was she when she left?”
“She was holding it together. As she was leaving, she said ‘bald is beautiful,’ and nearly drove me to my knees.”
“I understand.” He did. With every new thing she had to face—the treatment, the nausea, sore joints, aches and pains—she just kept going. She clung to her job as a small spot of normalcy in her otherwise cancer-fighting-filled life. But how much longer would she be able to work?
“If you have any ideas how I can help her face this, let me know.”
“Roger that. I’ll give it some thought.”
“Thanks, Lang.”
“Whatever it takes, my friend. See you at the base.”
“I’m on my way.”
There were things about her treatment she wasn’t sharing with him. He couldn’t go to every doctor’s appointment, though he’d made it to every chemo treatment thus far. The first had been terrifying. Though he’d tried to remain calm and reassuring, her anxiety about the baby had spread to him. Watching the fluid flow into her vein and wondering if she would have a reaction, or if it would send her into premature labor, had been the worst four hours of his life.
And now, even though Selena covered the evidence with scarves, he’d seen what was happening to her hair in the shower, on the bathroom floor, even in the clothesbasket. And there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.
And the day after chemo, she was always knocked off her feet by nausea and exhaustion. And he was so fucking helpless to protect her from any of it.
He ran his hand over his own tight curls. He’d shave his hair off, too, but she loved running her fingers through it when they lay in bed and talked each night. What could he do to offer her support? He’d ask the other guys.
He turned the car toward Coronado. They would be transported to Miramar, where they were to fly out for a HALO jump, high altitude, low opening. When in CONUS (the Continental U.S.) they were required to do jumps to keep their skills razor sharp.
Doc and Bowie looked up as he exited the car and moved to meet him. With a quick greeting they entered the storage facility to retrieve their jump gear, so they each could spread theirs out on tables for close inspection. He made himself concentrate on double-checking every strap and buckle. Then inspected his face mask, hose, and oxygen supply, even though they’d done the same thing the day before in preparation.
Hawk entered with the three new guys of the unit—Jeff Sizemore, call sign Bullet, their new sniper; Seaman Jack Logan, call sign Box for his COM expertise; and Seaman Kelsey Tyler, call sign Celt, a member of the fire team. Langley Marks followed behind them.
What if something happened to Selena while he was twenty-nine thousand feet in the air and he couldn’t get to her right away? What if something were to happen to him while she was going through all this? He loved what he did, knew the members of his team depended on him. But right now she needed him more and, since they weren’t deployed into a war zone, they could do without him, or transfer someone in to complete the team until he could return.
He reached for his phone and stepped away from the group to call Selena. The bank’s automated system asked him to key in the extension and put him through to her office. Her voice sounded the same as always when she answered. “Selena Shaker speaking. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to check on you,” he replied.
“I’m fine. Just working on some paperwork and getting ready for a meeting.”
“Feeling okay?”
“Just a little tired.”
Of course she wouldn’t mention the hair thing until he saw her tonight. “I’ll be out of touch for a while. If anything happens, you know the backup plan.”
They’d devised a list of people to call who would stand in for him until he could reach her. What they hell did that say about his priorities?
“Yes. But I’m sure I won’t need to call anyone. I’m having a good day. Even my stomach has decided to cooperate.”
A good day after she’d had Langley shave her head? He smiled. His wife was amazing. “Good, I’m glad, cara.” She’d been plagued with morning sickness the first few months, and now the nausea from the chemo had kicked in to take over. She must sometimes feel like the problems and physical stressors would never end.
He wouldn’t stress her out by telling her what training they were involved in today. She’d worry. “Should you have to call, Langley will be coordinating today. He’ll have his cell and he’ll know how to get me to wherever you need me, as fast as humanly possible.”
“Okay. I have a doctor’s appointment later. So I’ll be fine. Be careful.”
“Roger that. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Everything okay?” Langley asked when Oliver joined the rest of the team and immediately went back to checking his equipment.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” He was going to enjoy this last jump with his team, then speak with Hawk about a change of duty until Selena came through delivery and treatment.
He needed to have his mind in the game a hundred and ten percent if he was to do justice for the other guys in his team. And as long as Selena was going through this, he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to do it.
The rest of the men were already changing into thermal shirts to go under their polypropylene garments. It could get damn cold at twenty-nine thousand feet at the 126 mph they’d be dropping. They’d wait to put on balaclava face masks and gloves when they were airborne.
An hour and a half later, when they finally boarded the aircraft, they were weighted down with the rest of their gear, including body armor, an oxygen system and mask which snapped to his helmet, plus altimeter, parachute, and goggles. This time, he thought, they at least would not have the extra hundred pounds of equipment usually strapped to them during missions. Which meant more freefall time before he opened his chute.
“You wouldn’t believe it. I’ve never caught a dolphin fish any bigger than twelve to fourteen pounds. This sucker had to be at least thirty,” Doc said.
“This is beginnin
g to sound like one of those tall tales you fishermen spin all the time,” Sizemore said, the flash of his smile bright white in the dim light of the fuselage.
“I have proof.” Doc dredged his iPhone from the right front pocket of his cammies with some difficulty. He scanned through the pictures until he came across the one he wanted. He held it up.
“You know pictures can be deceiving,” Bowie said from his seat next to Doc. “Depending on the perspective.”
The look of betrayal on Doc’s face was almost comical. “Just for that, neither one of you guys are invited to my fish grill. I have enough mahi-mahi fillets to feed the entire team. We’ll be eating and partying while you two sit home alone and hungry.”
Oliver laughed, then just as quickly sobered. He was going to miss the guys. They were his backup down range, and had shown their support more times than he could ever repay.
“Hey, Greenback.” Doc waved a hand to get his attention. He wandered over to where the guys had congregated. “We’ve been talking about nicknames. We know why Bowie got his, being from Texas. And mine is self-explanatory, as is Bullet’s. But none of us know where yours came from.” His brows rose. “Care to share and put the mystery to bed?”
Oliver braced a hand against the steel fuselage. He grinned at the memory the question triggered. “I had just made it through BUD/S, and we’d transported out to Machen to do SQT (SEAL Qualification Training). We were sent out to do some night maneuvers in the desert. You know, using compass and the stars to navigate and do patrols. Our lieutenant notifies us we have another team lying in wait to ambush us somewhere out there, and part of the fun is for us to avoid capture and get back to the base undetected. He assigned me and two others to protect our back door in case they approached us from the rear. It’s black as pitch with a slice of moon the width of a gnat’s eyelash, so we’re wearing our NVGs so we can see two feet in front of us and not step on a rattlesnake or each other.”
Doc and Bullet nodded a shared understanding in their expression.
“Well, the lieutenant radios back to check on us every so often, and I’m looking through the NVGs turning everything green in front of me, and every time he asks for a status I say, “It’s green back here.”
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