The Will to Love

by Lindsay McKenna

  As the second cup came to a boil, Quinn removed it and took a sip. He liked his coffee black and strong. Over the rim, he saw the look of absolute pleasure on Kerry’s face as she drank.

  “Ohh…I never knew coffee could taste so good, Quinn. This is delicious….” She closed her eyes and savored the taste of it.

  His conscience ate at him. Back at Camp Reed, they had real coffee in huge urns, available twenty-four hours a day at the many chow tents that had been hastily erected in different parts of the hundred-thousand-acre military base. Dipping his head, he sipped his coffee with a scowl. The soft sighs of pleasure emanating from Kerry as she relished each sip ripped at his heart. She deserved so much more. She was a good person in a very ugly situation—so brave and helpful to those in need. In his eyes, Kerry deserved a medal, but she’d never get one. After what he’d seen this afternoon, Quinn knew that just surviving in this area was heroic.

  Opening her eyes, Kerry smiled at Quinn, who sat with a dark scowl on his face. He seemed bothered by something, but wasn’t saying much.

  “You said you were born in the mountains of Kentucky. Like the Hatfields and McCoys?” she teased, trying to lighten his mood.

  “Yeah, you could say that.” Fighting the sadness and frustration he felt for the people around them, Quinn looked at Kerry. Just studying her attractive features and gray eyes lifted his spirits and made his heart pound a little harder for a moment.

  “I was barefoot most of the time until I went to a local high school nearby. Up until then, I was home-schooled by my ma. My pa was a man of the woods. He hunted and killed what we needed for food. My ma tended a huge garden, and me and my sisters used to help her can stuff in the fall. When I wasn’t book learnin’, my pa would take me out and teach me how to hunt and track.”

  “What a wonderful childhood,” Kerry said. “I was born and raised here in Ontario, California, a huge suburb of Los Angeles. I’m afraid I’m a city girl in comparison to you.”

  “Opposites.”

  “What made you join the Marine Corps?” she asked, sipping the cooling coffee with relish.

  “My pa was in the corps. So were my uncles, and my granddaddy before them. It’s a tradition in our family.”

  “Are you making it a career?”

  “Probably.” Quinn shrugged. “I don’t know anything else. I’m not a math wizard. I don’t pretend to be smart like a college graduate.”

  “The fact that you didn’t go to college doesn’t mean you aren’t intelligent,” Kerry pointed out. “Look how many good ideas you’ve come up with so far. You’re good at assessing a situation and coming up with solutions.”

  Feeling heat steal into his face, Quinn shrugged. “I’m fire team leader. It’s my job to do that.”

  “I feel your common sense and practical knowledge are a huge plus here. You dovetail beautifully with me and my ideas.”

  “Yeah, we make a good team,” he admitted quietly. Glancing around, he could see people getting ready for nightfall, which would happen around 1730 this time of year.

  “I was so looking forward to your coming,” Kerry admitted. “Today I realized just how tired I’ve become—mostly because I wasn’t eating much.” She gave a short laugh. “You can’t get far on a growling stomach. It’s been tough pushing myself through my physical tiredness to keep going.”

  “I don’t know how you’ve done it.” And he didn’t. His admiration for Kerry came through loud and clear in his voice. “You’re so patient with people.”

  “You have to be, Quinn. That was part of my training as a deputy.”

  “Yeah, but a lot of it is you. You’re a good person, Kerry. Mighty good, as my ma would say.”

  She laughed softly. “Thanks, that means a lot to me, Quinn.” She gestured toward him. “So tell me about yourself. Are you married to some woman who loves the outdoors as much as you? Is she in base housing on Camp Reed with you? And do you have kids? You’d be a great father, I think.”

  Startled by her personal questions, he was caught off guard. “I’m not married,” he told her gruffly, “so there’re no rug rats around.”

  Kerry grinned. “Rug rats? That’s a military term for kids, right?”

  “Yeah. A nice term.”

  She tilted her head. Kerry couldn’t believe Quinn didn’t have a woman in his life. She’d seen a shadow flicker in his blue eyes when she’d asked.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “I guess I got nosy and overstepped my bounds with you. You just seemed like you were married and settled down. I could imagine you with a couple of kids—taking them fishing and hiking in the woods. Doing the kind of things that give children a wonderful sense of the natural world that surrounds them.”

  Quinn finished his coffee. “I was engaged once,” he admitted abruptly. “But Frannie wasn’t happy that I was a marine. She was a social climber, to be blunt about it. I was an enlisted man and I found out too late that she wanted someone with more rank and status. Like an officer.”

  Grimacing, Kerry sipped the last of her coffee. She handed the empty cup to Quinn. Their fingertips met briefly, and again she enjoyed the contact. His demeanor made her feel solid and secure. Protection emanated from Quinn like warmth and light from the sun. And she was starved for both.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Kerry murmured. “At least you found out before you tied the knot.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, putting the cups aside, “I did. She wasn’t honest in our relationship, I discovered. And if I marry someday, which won’t be soon, I want truth between us. My ma and pa have been married for over thirty years and I saw, growin’ up, what it took to hold a marriage together. It’s a lot of hard work, but I think it’s worth the effort.”

  Resting her elbows on her crossed legs, Kerry smiled softly. “It sounds like what I had with Lee, my husband. And you’re right, in the throwaway society we’re in today, people waltz into marriage like it’s a one-night gig at a local club, and waltz out of it the next day.”

  “It’s far from that.” Quinn glanced down at the watch on his right wrist. According to Morgan Trayhern, one of the big navy helos was going to try and come in just before dark to deliver an extra load of supplies, including the insulin that was so desperately needed. Quinn hadn’t said anything to Kerry about it, because Trayhern couldn’t promise it would arrive that quickly. But Morgan had told Quinn he’d go through hell and high water to try and get it off to him by the end of the day. This one shipment would make such a difference, and Quinn wanted nothing more than to give these people, including Kerry and little Petula, some respite from the horrible circumstances they dealt with daily.

  “How did you meet your husband?” he asked now.

  “We were at the police academy when we met.” Kerry sighed. “Lee was a lot like you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, he was born and raised in the Sisque Mountains, in a tiny logging community in Northern California known as Happy Camp. His dad was a logger, his mother a teacher at the local school. Lee could hunt black bear and cougar when he was ten years old. His father taught him well.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m twenty-seven now. We got married after we graduated, when I was twenty-one.” She lost her smile. “At least we had six wonderful years together. We worked for the same sheriff’s department, though we had different areas to patrol. Our watch officer gave us the same hours so that we could at least have a life together outside work. We both had the graveyard shift.”

  “Any kids?” He didn’t mean to ask that, but he suddenly had to know. So when he saw Kerry’s face go pale and her gaze drop as she pretended to pick at a thread on her dusty, dark green slacks, he suddenly felt as if he’d tramped like a bull into the proverbial china shop. Obviously he’d touched on a very poignant subject, a raw wound in her life. “You don’t have to answer that. Don’t mind me. I shouldn’t have asked,” he told her abruptly.

  “No…” Kerry said in a low tone, “I don’t mind you asking, Quinn. I like t
alking with you, if you want to know the truth….” And she did. Forcing herself to look at him, Kerry saw the angst in his eyes. Opening her hands, she whispered, “I was pregnant with our first child when Lee got killed in the line of duty. When I heard from my watch chief that he was in the hospital, I went there. I remember fainting after the doctor came out and told me he was dead. Two other deputies were there and caught me. When I came to, a few minutes later, I had horrible cramping in my abdomen. I was numb with shock. They took me home and I remember just lying there on the couch, curled up, staring off into space. I couldn’t believe it, Quinn…that Lee was dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s more….” Kerry hitched up one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “I remember finally sleeping, probably near dawn. When I woke up, hours later, the cramping was worse. It was then that I miscarried. I was three months along and the shock of his death caused it.” Biting her lower lip, she whispered, “So I lost our baby, too.”

  Quinn could hardly bear to look at her. He heard the sadness, the helplessness, in her voice, but there was nothing he could do to soothe her loss. Not a thing. And the good Lord knew, he wanted to. He wanted to do something to ease her agonizing burden.

  Chapter Five

  January 15: 0600

  Quinn didn’t have the heart to awaken Kerry at dawn the next morning. He’d just finished his three hours of duty at the distribution center, and had come back to her hovel. Quietly easing away the blanket over the door, he saw a scene that tugged at his heart.

  It has gotten very cold last night, with the wind whipping and sawing inconstantly. Petula had left her bed and made her way into Kerry’s arms for more warmth. Kerry lay on her side on the unforgiving cardboard beneath her, her legs drawn up toward her body. Curled in her arms, little Petula snuggled, both of them sound asleep. Kerry had her face pressed against Petula’s hair.

  Quinn stood there frozen, absorbing the heart-wrenching scene. It hurt him that all they had was cardboard to sleep on, now that Kerry had given the two Oriental rugs on the dirt floor to families who desperately needed something to cover up with during the cold nights. No one should live like this.

  On top of everything else, he’d gotten a call that the navy helicopter wouldn’t arrive until late today with the badly needed extra supplies. It had been held up because the medical items had to be flown in from San Francisco. Obliquely, he wondered if the little girl who needed insulin would survive until that afternoon. Frustration, he was discovering, was becoming his worst enemy.

  Allowing the blanket over the door to fall into place because it kept out some of the biting wind, Quinn tried to be quiet as he moved about. Kerry had been up until 0100 this morning dealing with people who had problems, demands, urgent requests made worse by their rising hysteria. Word had gotten out that a marine team was here, and the news had run like wildfire across Area Five. When people heard that help had arrived, they came from miles around to the shopping center, pleading for relief.

  After easing his rifle off his shoulder, Quinn slipped out of his Kevlar flak vest. He’d worn his heavy cammo jacket while standing on guard this morning because of the cold out there. When the night sky had begun to turn gray with the coming dawn, Private Cliff Ludlow had relieved him of guard duty. They had to keep an around-the-clock guard at the distribution center. Some people, beyond desperation, were sneaking in during the night to steal what little food or water might be left. Kerry couldn’t stay up twenty-four hours a day to stand guard, so she couldn’t stop the thievery until Quinn and his men had arrived to help.

  When Private Ludlow had taken over, his eyes puffy from sleep, Quinn had purposely gone around the back of the shopping center, quietly moving among the massive piles of rubble, eyes open and ears keyed to any sounds. It had been silent, but Quinn didn’t put it past Diablo to start trouble once they heard that a marine team had come in. Or the presence of the team might scare the gang away, possibly driving them into Area Six adjacent.

  Now, as he quietly eased his hand into his massive pack and searched for three breakfast MREs, his mouth quirked in pain. Kerry had lost her baby due to the trauma of losing her husband. Trying to grasp how that must have felt, he shook his head. It was impossible to imagine. Taking the MREs from the pack, he quietly began to open them. More than anything, he’d like to waken them to a hot, decent breakfast. Little Petula had eaten off and on from the MRE he’d opened yesterday morning. According to Sylvia, the girl hadn’t vomited once. By last night, Quinn could see the difference a little good food made for the girl. She was more animated, her wan cheeks touched with some color.

  More than anything, he wanted Kerry to eat. He needed her strong and alert. She had the bad habit of giving away most of her food and supplies—even the rugs off her dirt floor—to those she saw as more needy than herself. What a big heart she had in that strong, beautiful body of hers.

  Quinn quickly and efficiently fixed the three MREs, and when the enticing smells of eggs and bacon began filling the cold space within the hut, he glanced up.

  Kerry was beginning to stir. Her eyes opened slightly, her lashes thick and dark against her pale flesh. The sight of the soft hair grazing her cheek made Quinn want to go over and gently tame the strands back into place, but he resisted. She slowly eased her left arm upward and rolled onto her back. Blinking, she raised her head.

  He gave her a slight grin in greeting. “Breakfast is on, sweet pea.”

  Sweet pea. An endearment, Kerry realized vaguely as she struggled out of the deep folds of sleep that still tugged at her. Quinn sat near the door, his legs spread wide, the meals cooking on heating tabs before him. Light leaked in around the blanket at the door, leaving his hard face in shadow. The beard made him look truly like a warrior from the past. Maybe it was her sleep-fogged mind, Kerry thought as she gently extricated her arm from around Petula. Turning, she covered the child with both blankets, tucking them around Petula’s bare feet.

  Quinn said nothing as he savored the sight of Kerry wakening. Noticing the slight puffiness beneath her glorious, dark gray eyes, the softness of her full lips, he felt his heart mushroom violently with feelings for her. She sat up and rubbed her hands against her face.

  “What time is it?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

  “It’s 0600—6:00 a.m. to you civilian types,” he teased.

  His voice was like rough sandpaper across her awakening senses, as delicious as a lover’s caress. Lifting her head, she met his blue eyes, which were filled with warmth. Seeing the slight smile on his full mouth, she smiled shyly in return. He’d taken off his helmet, and his hair, dark and short, emphasized the shape of his large skull.

  “That smells wonderful….” she whispered, moving slowly across the few feet of space to where he sat.

  “Yes, and you’re gonna eat all of your MRE today,” he told her darkly, handing a plate along with some plastic utensils.

  Thanking him softly, Kerry sat down nearby. She tucked her legs beneath her and balanced the warm plate on her right thigh. “Mmm…this is the best wake-up breakfast I’ve ever had! Thank you, Quinn. You’re a knight in shining armor to me, to all of us….”

  Watching her covertly, Quinn proceeded to wolf down his own meal. So Kerry saw him as a knight…His chest swelled with pride, and his heart hammered briefly. Tongue-tied, he didn’t know how to reply to her husky words of thanks.

  Kerry slowly ate the fluffy eggs, which were sprinkled with bits of diced red and green pepper and fragrant slices of onion. Her mouth watered as she spooned up the bacon. She knew she had to eat slowly and not gulp down the wonderful meal as she wanted to. No, she didn’t want to follow Sylvia’s example. Food was too precious to waste like that.

  “We had five intruders last night,” Quinn told her between bites. He stirred the hash browns with his plastic fork, his brow wrinkling for a moment. “Civilians, not Diablo.”

  “Desperate people.”

  Nodding, he rasped, “Yeah. It was p
itiful. And every one of them had a sad story to tell, one that ripped my heart out. Some cried and begged me to give them just a bottle of water. Others had family members who are dying, who desperately need meds. I didn’t realize how bad it really was out here, Kerry….”

  Sadness flowed through her as she took another mouthful of eggs. “I know, Quinn. It’s so tragic. It takes every bit of strength I can muster not to cry with these people every day.” She sighed, lifting her head and looking around the hovel. Her gaze rested lovingly on Petula, who was snuggled like a bug in a rug, just the top of her unruly black hair visible. Kerry knew with the two thick wool blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon she was warm. For that Kerry was grateful.

  “You kinda like that rug rat, don’t you?”

  She lifted her head and gazed at his shadowed face. “Yes, I do. Her parents are dead. I intend to keep her with me until we can find the rest of her family after this terrible crisis is over.”

  “And if you hadn’t found her? What would have happened to her?”

  Frowning, Kerry felt her appetite fade abruptly, even though her stomach was cramped and crying for food. Setting down the MRE, she whispered, “She’d probably be dead by now, because Pet couldn’t scrounge enough food for herself. So many people over the last two weeks have been killed reentering their destroyed homes or a grocery store, searching for food. The quake aftershocks are powerful. Real killers. No, she’d be like a lot of others—trapped in the rubble and killed outright, or injured, with no hope of rescue.”

  Hanging his head, Quinn forced himself to finish his breakfast, though he was no longer hungry. “This is such a mess,” he began hoarsely. “I just didn’t realize the extent of it, the desperation…. Last night was bad, Kerry. As I said, I had five people—three men and two women, come to the center to steal. They were shocked to see military personnel there. It stopped them cold in their tracks.”