by Roslyn Bane
“Did you get involved with Sam because you felt sorry for her?”
“No! I was, am, genuinely attracted to her. God, I love her!”
“Does she love you?”
Kris sighed and shook her head. “She did. I don’t think so now.”
“Give her some time.” He sipped his coffee, took her hand, and looked at it. “How’s your arm doing?”
Kris wiped her face dry and looked at her hand. “It’s good as new. There’s no problem with it. Do you want some breakfast?”
“Yes. I’m starving.” He walked to the fridge and started rooting around. “Good, you have eggs. And bacon. Really? Bacon? I thought that was against the doctor code.”
She snatched the bacon from his hand. “Keep it up, and I won’t fix you any.”
“Sure, you will.” Tommy took the frying pan from her hand and set it on the stove. “You know, Krissy, I don’t think your Marine is going to say anything. She’s pissed. Maybe she threatened just to have something to say, or to make you hurt. Ultimately, if she loves you, no matter how mad she is, she won’t destroy you. She’ll also be worried about looking weak. I’m not a Marine, and that’s what I would be worried about. That and appearing foolish.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“I know, sis. If she really knows you, she’ll realize that too…it might take a while. She’ll come around.”
“I don’t think so. It’s already been a month.”
***
Sam leaned on the counter looking out the kitchen window. Her jaw ached, and she realized she was clenching her teeth. She slapped at the lever for the water, turning it on to fill a glass. She drank it quickly, refilled it, and turned the tap off.
Glaring out the window, she saw the planters, now in full spring bloom. The tulips and top-heavy daffodils swayed on their fragile stems. She shook her head and stared at the flowers, biting down again until her jaw throbbed. She guzzled the water and slammed the glass down in the sink. The crack of the glass was instantaneous with the sharp jab into her hand. “Damn it.” She looked at the blood running from her palm, wiggled her fingers, and grabbed a towel. She wrapped the towel around her hand and pressed it firmly against the wound. Sam stormed outside and ripped the flowers out of the pots before knocking them over.
Stomping back into the house she pulled off the towel, turned on the water, rinsed her hand and looked at the lacerations. “That was fucking stupid.” She wrapped the towel around her hand again before snatching a plastic sandwich bag from a drawer. She turned sharply to cross to the refrigerator and slipped in the blood on the floor, landing on her side with a thud. Momentarily stunned by the impact, she lay on the floor motionless and groaning. After a minute, she made an assessment of what was hurting. Her right hip and elbow were hurting, but nothing was severe. She slowly stood up, limped the last few steps to the refrigerator and pulled out the entire ice bin.
Moving carefully back to the counter she reached for a few more plastic bags and filled them with ice. Gathering another towel, and the ice, she limped into the living room before lying down on the couch with ice on the painful areas. After several minutes of staring at the ceiling, she started to look around the room. A picture of Kris and herself, from Key West, sat on the end table, their eyes soft on each other. Sam remembered Alannah taking the picture just as they had separated from a kiss. There was a trio of candles, arranged on another table, bought by Kris, set next to a bright blue vase, now filled with dead flowers.
The novel Kris had been reading sat neglected, a bright pink slip of paper serving as a bookmark. Her gut clenched and she squeezed her eyes tight against the tears that formed. After several more minutes, she stood, picked the vase up and returned to the kitchen. She sniffed the trace of fragrance in the wilted flowers, before dropping them in the trash.
Carefully removing the broken glass from the sink, she dropped it in the trash, before rinsing the vase. She went into the bathroom and cleaned and bandaged her palm. Looking in the mirror, she checked her hip and elbow for bruising and poked them to see how tender they were. She looked at her reflection noting the dark smudges under her eyes, unkempt hair, and blood on her shirt. She remembered Kris standing behind her, insisting that she look at herself in the mirror and describing what she saw, right before they’d kissed for the first time. “Damn you, Kris. Why would you do this to me?”
Limping slightly Sam went back to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge before going outside to sit on the patio. She sat brooding with her beer until her gaze settled on the planters, the flowers already wilting from the heat of the sun. An unfamiliar feeling washed over her, and it took several seconds for her to realize it was shame.
Sam moved quickly to the garage and returned with a bag of dirt and a shovel and carefully replanted the flowers into the containers. She watered them thoroughly and moved them out of direct sunlight hoping they would survive her temper tantrum. She brushed the dirt from her hands and put the supplies away. Returning to the house, she dumped the rest of her beer down the drain and placed the picture of her and Kris into a drawer in the living room. The novel was tossed into the trash. It landed in the bin back cover up and she realized it was from the library. Her gaze fixated on the book for several seconds. With a sigh, she retrieved it and brushed off the crushed flower petals, before picking up her keys and wallet to return the book.
***
An hour later Sam watched the waves slam against the beach as a storm approached. She sipped a beer and thought the waves matched the fury within her. The waitress placed another beer in front of her and picked up the empty plate. “I didn’t order another beer.”
“Beer is compliments of the blonde off to your left. She said her name is Gena.”
“Thanks.” Sam looked over her shoulder and smiled recognizing the woman, who was now gliding toward her, hips swaying enticingly. Sam stood up to greet her.
“Sam, I didn’t know you were back. I was hoping to hear from you when you came home.”
“Hey there.” Gena leaned in to kiss her and Sam turned slightly and kissed her on the cheek. “I wasn’t in any shape to see anyone for a long time. Sit down. Would you like something to drink?”
“A frozen daiquiri would be good.”
“Sure thing.” Sam motioned to the waitress and quickly ordered. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been busy. The business has grown a lot over the past year. I actually had to hire another assistant to help with the clients.” Gena shifted in her chair.
“That’s great. Everyone needs accountants.” Sam didn’t react to the stroke of a foot along her leg.
“So it seems. How long have you been back?”
“I’ve been back in the States a year, but down here, about nine months.”
“I’m crushed you never called.” Gena laughed her blue eyes sparkling with merriment.
Her eyes are blue but not as brilliant as Kris’.
“I thought you might be getting home in the next few months. Seriously are you okay? It looks like you’ve lost weight. Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I got back early.”
“How did you get lucky enough for that to happen?” She sipped at the frozen daiquiri that the waitress had delivered.
“I got injured, lost my leg.”
“Stop. You did not.” Gena slapped Sam on the arm. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“I’m not kidding,” Sam said flatly.
“Sam?” Gena started to bend over to look but stopped herself.
“Go ahead look.” Sam pulled up her pants leg.
“Oh my God! Oh, Sam, I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I…”
“It’s okay. I’ve gotten used to it.” She reached out and wiped the tear that was sliding down Gena’s cheek. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry. Can I ask how it happened?”
“I was shot down, lost part of my crew. My leg got crushed.” Sam spoke quickly, her voice flat. She paused
to force down the despair she felt creeping up and cleared her throat. Her eyes focused on the white-capped surface of the water. She exhaled slowly. “Three of us made it.” She looked up in surprise when she realized Gena was holding her hand. She watched as Gena turned her palm up to place a kiss there.
Gena sat up and searched Sam’s face. “That must have been horrible. Are you okay with…everything?”
“As well as can be expected.” Sam looked at a spot on the horizon.
“Would you like to get some dinner? Or I could cook something for us back at my place. We could talk, get reacquainted.”
Sam sat thoughtful and quiet. “That sounds nice. But I’m going to have to pass. I…listen, Gena, I appreciate the offer, but I met someone.”
“Oh, well, that’s too bad for me.” Gena looked around. “Is she meeting you here? I’d like to meet the woman who settled you down.”
“Um, no. We had a fight.”
“So you’re down here cooling off. It must have been a doozie if you came all the way down here. I’ve never seen anything faze you.”
“You could say so.”
“I’m sure she’ll call soon to apologize. I hope everything works out for you.” Gena stood and walked around the table before bending over to kiss Sam on the cheek, “Give me a call if you find yourself available. She’s a lucky woman, Sam.”
Chapter Fifty-eight
SAM LAY MOTIONLESS IN bed, staring at the ceiling. While the sweat dried on her body, she tried to slow her breathing. Two in the morning. Again. She thought about the dream that had woke her. She wished she knew whether the dream was a flashback or if hearing Kris try to explain what happened had planted the memory in her head.
Giving up on sleep she walked to the living room, turned on the TV, and flipped through the channels looking for something interesting. She stopped as she came across M*A*S*H and watched for several minutes before it broke to a commercial. She went to the kitchen, rooted through the fridge, pulled out a beer, and leftover Chinese food. She dumped it on a plate and placed it in the microwave to warm. By the time the food was ready, the show had resumed, and Sam sat at the snack bar eating while she watched the episode. As the show unfolded, it revealed how the medical team was inundated with wounded and the staff showed their stress. The episode ended and another began.
The surgeon Hawkeye suffered an eye injury from an explosion, and it was questionable whether he would see again. His career as a surgeon would be over. Like Kris. Her career could have ended. Because she came out to help me. I’ve never thought about that. That doesn’t say much for me. Sam lay down on the couch watching, her beer forgotten on the counter along with the remnants of her late night food binge.
Thirty minutes later she sat at the computer searching for the surgical company Kris had been assigned to. The public information on the command website spoke about the mission of the medical team and how they had served in Afghanistan. She read about the numbers of casualties the small hospital handled and looked at some of the photos of the facilities and staff. She found a picture of Kris holding a small girl. Kris was smiling broadly. The toddler’s face was animated with laughter, while an Afghan woman stood nearby, a trace of a smile on her face.
“This was before children scared you. What happened?”
Sam sat staring at the picture before continuing to read. She was surprised to learn that the facility had come under mortar fire frequently and had been infiltrated by insurgents several times. The medical staff itself had suffered casualties but had performed admirably. Sam realized that during the time that she was in Afghanistan the medical command had lost more of its members than her squadron had.
She pushed back from the computer, and stared out her window into the darkness and thought to herself that Kris had lost friends, team members too. Maybe more than she had. That she probably had to try to save the lives of her own friends. Kris had most definitely seen more of the ravages of war than she had. As Sam stared out the window, she tried to remember her initial care after her injury. Most of it was a blur, even her time in Germany. She could distinctly remember several doctors and nurses, but she was only one patient. How many had they dealt with daily? She realized for the first time that she wondered how the medical team put up with the urgency and stress every day.
***
Sam sat at the picnic table and picked at the sandwich she’d packed for lunch. She watched as families stopped to eat at the roadside picnic area. Kids were running about, screaming, exercising their pent-up energy after their car ride to wherever.
Sipping her water, she watched as two boys, clearly twins, about ten years old slowly approached her bike. They stood looking at it as they spoke in whispers so that she couldn’t hear what they were saying. They moved closer to touch it, she stood up and called to them, “Please don’t touch that!”
Walking over to them she asked them again not touch it, and they stood still and waited for her to come over. “Do you like it?”
“It’s awesome,” they said simultaneously. “What kind is it?”
“It’s a Victory motorcycle.”
“Why does it have a Marine Corps sticker on it?”
“Because I’m a Marine.”
“Na-ah.”
“I sure am.”
“What do you do?”
“I fly helicopters. Well, I used to.” She watched as the mother approached.
“We love motorcycles. They’re the best, but mom says we can’t have one. Not even dirt bikes.”
“Well, it’s important to listen to what your mom and dad have to say.”
“Dad ran away.”
“Daniel, Jacob that’s enough.” Their mother’s voice rang out sharp, but she smiled at Sam. “Sorry they’re bothering you.”
“They’re not. They’re just admiring the bike.”
“Look, Mom, it has a Marine Corps sticker on it. She says she’s a Marine.”
“And flies helicopters too! I want to be a Marine when I grow up. But mom says it’s dangerous. Did you go to the war?”
“I did.”
“Boys leave her alone so she can have her lunch.”
“Mom says lots of soldiers got hurt over there.”
“They do.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Boys come on.” She smiled awkwardly at Sam.
“It’s okay, ma’am.” She turned back to the twins. “I was hurt in a helicopter crash. Now I have an artificial leg.”
“No way. Cool.” The boys spoke together. “Can we see?”
“Boys stop!”
Sam smiled at the woman. “I don’t mind. It’s best if kids get comfortable seeing people that are…different. To see what we can do.”
“Do you have a peg leg? It doesn’t look like it.”
Sam laughed. “It’s not a peg leg like pirates have. It’s more like a robot leg.”
“Cool!”
“If your mom says it is okay I can show you the bottom of it.”
“Ah sure.” The woman shifted side to side.
Sam pulled the leg of her jeans up, and the boys saw the prosthesis. After a few seconds, she tugged her pants leg back down.
“That’s so cool,” the boys shouted. “Is there a foot in your boot?”
“Yes, so I can walk.”
“Some people have blades instead so they can run,” the one boy stated matter-of-factly.
“That’s right. I can change the foot to a blade and go running.”
“Wow. How did you get to be a Marine?”
“I went to the Naval Academy and studied hard.”
“What does your mom think?”
Sam was quiet for a few seconds before answering. “She was sort of happy and sort of sad.” She stood up, glanced at her watch. “I need to get going. It was fun talking to you boys. You know if you want to be Marines one of the first things you have to do is follow directions. Your mom is in charge so you should follow her orders.”
The w
oman smiled at Sam and shooed the boys back over to their picnic table. As she walked away, she turned back to Sam. “Thanks for your service.”
Sam smiled and nodded, and had to fight to hold back tears. Sam walked back to her table and finished her sandwich in one large bite and chugged her remaining water. She placed her trash in the bin before she mounted her bike and tightened her helmet’s chin strap. She started the bike, gave a wave to the boys and roared away.
Two hours later, Sam sat on her porch and thought about the day. Hearing the boys say their father had run away bothered her. She wondered if the boys would have a good life. She hoped they would and thought they had a good chance because their mom was with them and she seemed to have her stuff together.
Sam sat and brooded about her fractured family. She wondered where her siblings ended up. The closest thing she had to a family was the Klines. No, not the closest, they were her family. And the Corps was. And Kris. But Kris was gone. Sam worried about the high probability that she would be medically discharged from the Corps.
With a sick feeling in her stomach, she moved into her small office, turned on the computer and started to put together a resume. It was time to plan for the future. An hour later she pushed back from the desk in near panic after giving up on trying to put her military experience into something useful for the civilian workforce. She sent a quick text message before changing into running gear, switching to a running blade, and setting off for a run. Thirty minutes later, a grin spread on her face when her phone flashed the text response. Next weekend she was going Chattanooga.
Chapter Fifty-nine
SAM PARKED OFF TO the side of the driveway, got out of the car, and reached in the trunk for her suitcase. Before she had the trunk closed, the front screen door flew open with a loud crash and Lauren ran to her, nearly knocking her over. Sam somehow managed to keep her balance.
“God, Sammy, you’re home.”
“It’s good to see you too.”
“Where’s Kris?”
Sam felt her smile fade. “It’s over.”
“What? No way. You two were totally wrapped up in each other. Perfect for each other.”
