Читать книгу Navy Rescue - Geri Krotow - Страница 10
ОглавлениеCHAPTER ONE
Six months later
“YOU’VE GAINED TWENTY-SIX degrees in your mobility over the last six months, Helen.” Drew smiled at his prize patient and snapped his protractor closed. Helen Burkoven was sixty-two, and had presented with a frozen right shoulder, due in part to her competitive tennis practice of the past fifty years. She made a lot of his younger clients appear lazy.
“I can’t tell you how great it is to be able to pull weeds again, Drew. The brambles had taken over my rose garden!”
“As long as you keep doing the exercises we’ve gone over, you’ll be fine—but take it easy on the tennis court, okay?”
Helen grunted and walked over to the chair, where she waited while Drew got an ice gel pack out of the chiller.
He arranged the pillow under her arm to make her more comfortable before he placed the gel pack over her injured shoulder.
Helen groaned in pleasure. “Oh, that always feels so good after all the work you make me do.”
“Sit tight and enjoy. You’re free to go in fifteen minutes.” He set the timer near Helen’s chair and went to see his other client, Tom, who was doing leg exercises for his knee on a wheeled office chair.
Drew relished the modern layout of his clinic. One large room held the equipment and therapy tables for up to six clients at a time.
“How’s it going, Tom?”
“Fine, doc. But I feel like a crab on the beach, walking around while I’m sitting on this stool.”
“It’s going to help your knees, trust me.”
“Drew?” Serena Delgado, his receptionist, interrupted him.
Drew looked at her sharply, but his annoyance dissipated at the stunned expression on her beautiful face. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t express it in front of his clients. Serena didn’t normally interrupt his consultations. The last time she’d burst in like this—
Gwen’s plane had gone down.
That was well over six months ago, but damned if he didn’t tense up and expect Serena to give him more bad news.
There isn’t anything worse than knowing Gwen’s never coming home.
“You have some visitors. It’s very important.”
The dread that had simmered in his gut since the minute he’d learned Gwen was missing erupted into an all-out boil.
They’ve found her body.
As much as every piece of naval intelligence that he’d been told about, not to mention logic, indicated that Gwen had perished in the South Pacific six months ago, he’d held out hope. That she’d survived—that she’d come back. That, somehow, against all the odds, she’d made it.
He shook off the fantasy.
If she’d lived, if she came back, they’d only be the friends they’d become since the divorce.
“Drew?” Serena stared at him. He swung his gaze to Helen, his rotator cuff patient. She hadn’t said a word, but she wasn’t deaf. Her eyes sparked with knowing. Hell, the whole town knew what he’d been through. The P-3 ditch. Gwen’s role in it—she’d saved her crew. The entire damned crew had returned safely to Whidbey Island. To their families.
Except Gwen.
Gwen didn’t have a family to return to anymore. Only him, her ex-husband, and their shared pets. The island newspaper had detailed Gwen’s naval career as well as her personal bio, including their divorce. Her MIA status had been picked up by the national news, as well.
While locals like Helen knew an awful lot more about his personal life than he’d choose, they didn’t know the half of it.
“Go ahead, Drew. You’re done with me.” Helen’s eyes didn’t twinkle any longer, and her expression was gentle. Motherly. “We’re all praying for you.”
“Thanks.”
After a quick nod at Helen, he followed Serena to the back office, behind the therapy room.
He stopped at the threshold when he saw the occupants.
“Ro.”
Lieutenant Commander Roanna Mikowski, his wife’s best friend since they’d been midshipmen at the Naval Academy, stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She was still on active duty, but had put in her resignation so she could remain in the same place as her husband, Chief Warrant Officer Miles Mikowski. A stab of envy broke through his shock as he saw the obviously happy couple.
Why couldn’t Gwen have resigned, too?
It wouldn’t change who we both are. We’d still be divorced.
Miles stood next to Ro and offered Drew a slight smile. “Drew.”
“Miles.”
Silence stretched between them. They’d shared an awful lot of grief these past several months. Tension seemed to crackle off Ro and Miles. They were going to confirm his worst fears, the news they’d all dreaded.
“Do I need to sit down?” His voice sounded sane, steady, but he couldn’t feel his mouth move with the words.
“Yes.” They spoke in unison, then glanced at each other. It was the kind of look that only a couple who knew and deeply loved each other exchanged. Drew missed that kind of intimacy.
He sank into the leather office chair, unable to relax.
“Spit it out.” He wanted to run away, leave the office, leave Oak Harbor, charter a flight off Whidbey Island. Destination: Anywhere But Here.
It wouldn’t change the truth.
“Drew, they’ve found Gwen.” Ro’s voice was low and steady. He gave her credit for being so strong.
He couldn’t stop the tears that squeezed past his closed eyes. “Where?”
“Drew, look at me. You don’t understand.”
He opened his eyes and saw that Ro’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, too.
“She’s alive, Drew. She made it.”
“She—” His voice crapped out on him. Miles nodded in affirmation. Relief bloomed in his chest. And then common sense shut it down.
“That’s impossible.”
“Ro’s not kidding, Drew. She’s alive! She was caught by insurgents but escaped from their prison camp after two weeks.”
Gwen. Alive.
Drew jumped out of the chair and grabbed the edge of his desk. “Where was she for the past five months? Where is she now?”
“Apparently, she found a small village where she hid out until she had a chance to walk out of the jungle. She got to our embassy in Manila via the Philippine government, once she was able to reach them. She saved a baby’s life while she was out there.” Ro paused. “That, of course, is classified.”
He blinked, grateful that Ro was willing to risk telling him something she probably shouldn’t have.
“I appreciate it, Ro.” He turned to each of them. “Thanks for sharing this with me. I’ll call her mother.”
Ro shook her head. “She’s probably already called her. It’s going to hit the news any moment.”
“Got it.” Drew was grateful they’d come and told him in person, so he wouldn’t hear it first on the radio or see it on TV. Now he needed them out of here. They were waiting for a reaction he couldn’t give them. No matter what he’d told them when Gwen had gone missing, it didn’t change who he and Gwen were. They were friends. Exes who’d outgrown their youthful first love.
“She’ll be coming home in about a week. She’s being flown from Manila to Seattle, and examined down at Madigan for several days.” Madigan Army Hospital was three hours away, south of Seattle.
“I’m sure they’ll take good care of her,” he said. “She’s tough, we all know that.” He stood up as if to go into the therapy room. It had to be enough of a hint for them.
“No, Drew, stop.” Ro walked around the desk and put her hand on his arm. He stared down at her hand.
“She needs some time to come to grips with it all, to adjust to the reality that she got out of there alive.”
“You talked to her?”
“No, not yet. I’m telling you this ahead of the call you’re going to get from the commodore. I couldn’t bear the thought of you finding out alone. We wanted to be with you.”
He looked at Ro, then Miles.
“You know this doesn’t change anything,” Drew said. “We’ll never be more than friends.” He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but there it was.
“This isn’t the time to worry about that, bud.” Miles gave him a long look. “What you told Ro and me, it’s just between us.”
Drew wasn’t so much in shock that he didn’t know bullshit when he heard it. Ro was Gwen’s best friend since they’d been on the same sailing team together. Gwen was like a sister to Ro. Drew shook his head and walked to the side of the desk. He beckoned to Miles and Ro, and enveloped them both in a hug.
“She’s alive. Nothing else matters.”
He’d been given what he’d prayed for. The chance he’d bargained for with God. He’d promised he’d accept that they were friends, and never hold another angry thought about the fact that they weren’t destined to be more.
Surprisingly, Gwen’s disappearance had taught him to be grateful for the entire time he’d known her—not only the good years of their marriage but the tough years, too. It had all brought him to where he was today, enjoying the career he’d dreamed of in his favorite place on earth, Whidbey Island.
He couldn’t go back to regrets or what-ifs.
To the reasons for a divorce that had become final five years ago, after nine years of marriage.
Miles pulled back from Drew’s embrace but Ro stayed by his side, her expression hopeful as she kept glancing over at Miles as if for support.
Please don’t bring up the possibility of reconciliation.
“There’s a detail we still have to take care of, Drew.”
“Yeah?”
“She has to stay with you.”
Drew pulled back and dropped his arms. He rubbed his face.
“I’m willing to help her out, Ro,” he said after a moment, “but living with me? Not going to happen. She’d never agree to it. Besides, I’m sure Brenda will take her home before the week’s out.” Let her mother, Brenda, help her out for once.
He could be her friend, but not in such close proximity. Not day after day, in a situation he might mistake for more than it was.
They’d all thought she was dead.
You knew she was still alive.
“She’ll want to come here. Whidbey is home to her. And you know Brenda’s not who Gwen needs right now. She needs someone who’s had PTSD, who’s been through a war. Someone who understands what she’s got ahead of her.”
Leave it to Ro to pull out the big guns.
“I went through my issues a decade ago, Ro.” Miles was watching him with wary alertness.
“Ro and I just finished going through our ‘issues.’ None of us will forget the hell it can be once we’re back. You’ll be able to support Gwen like no one else can. You’ve known her almost as long as Ro has.” Miles didn’t add the “you’ve been married to her” part. He didn’t have to.
No. Freaking. Way.
Gwen in his house? Living under the same roof again?
No.
“You’re still forgetting that Gwen has to agree to this.”
“Her apartment’s been rented out. You have all her stuff in your garage from a month after she went missing. It’ll take at least two weeks before she’s steady enough to go looking for a place of her own.” Miles spoke reasonably enough.
“I’ll get her household goods delivered to a new apartment. Hell, I’ll find an apartment for her, if that’s what it takes.”
Ro and Miles stared at him. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“I realize you two would love nothing more than for me and Gwen to suddenly decide we made a mistake and get back together. But it’s not going to happen, and we all know it. Why make her suffer right from the get-go? She needs to get herself squared away without being around me.” And he didn’t need the reminders of what had gone wrong, what they’d lost when they’d allowed themselves to drift apart.
Ro leaned over the desk. “You’re all she’s got, Drew. Her mother and stepdad are not who she’d pick to recuperate around. You know that as well as I. She could come stay with us, but...”
“You’re still newlyweds. No way.”
Ro nodded. “Right, and as much as we don’t care about that, Gwen would.”
“Speak for yourself.” Miles smiled at Ro.
A sense of anticipation awakened in Drew. To have Gwen home, to be able to exchange simple small talk while she healed, seemed innocent enough. But it wasn’t good in the long run. For either of them.
Still, his gut instinct to take care of her was hard to ignore.
“Drew, you’re a physical therapist. You know that clients have to start from a baseline, work on the smaller, less challenging exercises first. Only after their strength comes back can they do the hard stuff. Like when you helped me get my hips and lower back straight after my fall.” Miles gestured at his prosthetic leg. He’d survived a tough rehabilitation with the navy. He’d taken a fall several months back and had come to Drew’s clinic for physical therapy.
Drew glared at him. “Being patronizing isn’t your forte, pal. Your back and sacrum were easy fixes—you were already in great shape. Gwen and I haven’t seen each other in over six months.” And hadn’t spoken, or touched or talked like a real couple in five years.
They were friends without benefits.
“This is a lot to put on you, Drew, but imagine what Gwen’s going through. For her to come back to anyplace but a house she’s familiar with is too much right now. She needs the easier road.”
“I don’t disagree with that, Ro, and you can’t disagree with the fact that there aren’t a lot of happy memories for Gwen in my house.” It’d taken him years to call it my house and not our.
“Think about the comfort the pets will give her, Drew. You have to know it just about killed her to leave Rosie and Nappie.” Ro’s persistent tone grated. This was the problem with having friends who’d known you forever. They called you on your crap.
What they’re saying is true.
After Gwen moved out, she’d asked to come by when he wasn’t around. Said she needed to spend time with their parrot and their dog, so the pets wouldn’t be traumatized by the divorce. It had evolved into a joint pet-sharing venture that rivaled the joint-custody agreements divorced parents arranged. He didn’t know how much Ro knew about that, and wasn’t going to volunteer it.
“Okay, fine—she needs a place, and the house is probably the best option for her. She can be with the pets. I’ll take a room in town.” Hell, he could camp out in his office.
Miles shook his head as he put a calming hand on Ro’s shoulder. “That won’t work, either, Drew. She has to be with someone, another adult, in the house. Hell, Drew, you know what coming home from war’s like. The nightmares, the crazy crap right afterward. No one should have to do that alone.”
Miles was right. He watched Ro slip a protective arm around Miles’s waist. Both Miles and Ro had gone through their post-war transitions as single sailors, living on their own. They’d found each other in the midst of it.
He couldn’t let Gwen suffer on her own, no matter how difficult the living arrangement was for either of them. He stared down at his closed laptop, unable to look at the happy newlyweds while contemplating the antithesis of a honeymoon with his ex-wife.
His injured, battle-fatigued ex-wife.
Shit.
He looked up at his closest friends.
“When did you say she’d be back on the island?”
* * *
DREW SHOVED THE glass-paned door wide open and strode into the parking lot behind his practice. The blustery March day was no match for the heat of his blood as it pumped through his veins with an intensity he hadn’t experienced since—
Since the navy told him Gwen was dead.
He ran both hands over his head, willing the sharp, cold bite of the March air to prove he wasn’t dreaming.
Gwen was alive.
Maybe there was a chance. Maybe the reason neither of them had connected with anyone else yet was— No, never.
She was still Gwen.
They’d never forgiven themselves for ending their marriage. They’d been too young to understand that sometimes it was okay to let a relationship go before it hurt too much.
Gwen hadn’t made any attempt to say goodbye before she left on deployment. He didn’t know what had possessed him to drive to the hangar to see her off that last day. He was sure she’d chalked it up to pity, as she always did whenever he expressed compassion for her.
He’d said he was seeing her off like any other friend, and thanked her for her service. Gave her a friendly hug.
What had he been trying to prove? That he could touch her without wanting to make love to her again?
Her reaction had been cool, professional. The shell she’d grown over the past several years had hardened to an impregnable wall that didn’t let anyone in.
Especially him.
Living through what, by all accounts, had been hell on earth—captured by insurgents, escaping, being on the run through the Philippine jungle—must have cracked that wall in more than one place.
Didn’t Ro say she’d saved a baby?
And if there was a chance for him to get inside Gwen’s heart again, did he really want to?
He gazed at the water and shook his head.
Surviving the worst nightmare of her life wouldn’t change Gwen’s mind about their divorce, and it hadn’t changed his. No matter what the circumstance, they’d always end up back where they’d stalled—neither willing to compromise for the relationship.
He’d worked hard to start a life without her, and she’d never sacrifice her career for a marriage.
Thoughts of what might have happened to her ripped at the shock he’d been in since he ran out of the building. If she’d been raped...
“Damn it all to hell!” He yelled at the parking lot, to the soccer fields and playgrounds that edged the perimeter of the island’s shore, to the calm water of Puget Sound.
A startled seagull flapped off the waste bin Drew’s practice shared with a hair salon. He registered the bird’s presence but didn’t try to shield himself from any potential droppings.
He dug his numbed fingers into his pockets and pulled out his car keys. He’d left everything except his keys and his wallet in the office. He’d been too crazed to grab his jacket.
Didn’t matter. The car had a heater and he had to get out of here.
* * *
LOST IN THOUGHTS of Gwen’s return, Drew drove up to the Koffee Hut. Drive-through-only specialty coffee shops were a common feature in the Pacific Northwest, and Whidbey was no exception. Only after he’d shifted the car into park next to the trailer window did he realize his mistake.
“Drew! What a nice surprise. In the middle of the day, too.” Opal smiled at him from the serving window of her business. She’d set it up after leaving his employ; she’d been one of his assistants for the first two years he’d had the PT clinic, during which she’d earned a part-time business degree at the community college.
“Yeah, well, I needed a break. I’ll have the usual.”
“A large cup of drip, coming right up.” Worry lines appeared between her perfectly shaped brows. With stunning blond curls and bright blue eyes, Opal looked like a cherub in an Italian painting. He watched as she plucked a cup from the tall stack and poured the coffee. Her expression reflected friendly concern.
“What’s going on, Drew?”
“Nothing much.” He wasn’t going to confide in Opal. It’d been hard enough convincing her that he didn’t want to pursue a relationship with her. He refused to encourage her or lead her on.
The entire time she’d worked for him she’d been a worthy employee, but he never crossed the line and dated people he paid. Good thing, since she’d bought the house next to his right after he and Gwen split. It might have been a real-estate coincidence, but it was still awkward in those first few months after his divorce, when she’d started her new business. She’d repeatedly emphasized that she didn’t work for him anymore. If he’d dated her, it would have been a disaster when they broke up.
Because they would have. Long-term relationships weren’t on his agenda.
One had been enough for him.
Opal’s feelings had been hurt that he wouldn’t even consider a date with her. They were both single, ran their own businesses, loved the Pacific Northwest.
After several attempts to have Drew over for dinner, Opal had accepted their “friends only” status.
Maybe he had been crazy to turn her down. If he was involved with someone else, he wouldn’t be a safe harbor for Gwen. He wouldn’t feel as if he was staring down the wrong end of a weapon.
“You don’t look your usual chipper self.” She handed him the hot cup. As he reached to take it, she put a hand on his wrist.
“Drew, we’re friends. How many times have I told you I don’t take it personally that we didn’t work out? It’s okay if you need an ear.” Didn’t work out? They’d never been more than friends.
Neither had he and Serena, who still worked for him so was technically off-limits. Serena was another available woman who, on paper, appeared to be a good fit for him.
Drew fought to keep a scowl off his face.
He’d had every opportunity to date other women and like a fool he hadn’t. If he had, Gwen’s return wouldn’t be shaking him up so much.
He gently removed her hand from his arm and took his coffee, leaving the payment on the small Formica counter.
“I appreciate your concern, Opal. I’m just not ready to talk about it.”
Opal’s kind smile was back. “I totally understand. Let me know if you want me to bring over some dinner for you tonight.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. Did a big load of grocery shopping yesterday.” He was lying and prayed she hadn’t checked his refrigerator the last time she’d popped in uninvited to leave him muffins or a casserole.
He really needed to start locking the side deck door.
Until now he hadn’t minded her unannounced drop-ins, since she’d accepted that they’d never be more than friends. Now that Gwen was going to be staying with him, he’d have to convince Opal to stop her visits.
Or keep his damned door locked.
* * *
DREW DROVE TO the other side of the island with his coffee in one hand, the other on the steering wheel. It used to be a favorite haunt of his during the dark days of his divorce from Gwen.
Gwen.
He gulped too much of the hot coffee, which burned his throat, but that served as a way to keep him grounded. God knew he needed something to keep him focused on reality. It’d be too easy, too natural, to think that he and Gwen were going to find a way to reconcile.
Never. You can’t reconcile what isn’t there. When there’s nothing to work with.
They had nothing left of what had been their marriage. Just a run-of-the-mill friendship.
Drew didn’t consider himself a stupid man. But maybe he’d screwed up by not forcing himself to date more regularly. When the divorce became final, he swore he’d never settle down again. Plus, he’d almost no time to date. He’d blamed it on the stress of his expanding practice, the stress of the adjustment.
You know why you haven’t looked at another woman.
He crushed the paper cup, scalding his hand and spilling the coffee all over the steering wheel and his lap.
“Dammit!”
Drew unzipped his gym bag, which sat on his passenger seat. His smelly workout T-shirt soaked up most of the liquid. He’d finished more than half the cup, so the damage wasn’t as bad as it might have been.
He looked at his pants and frowned. The brown stain spread down his zipper, onto his right leg.
If the mere thought of Gwen coming back into his home unnerved him this much, how was he going to stay steady enough to help her while she suffered through her reentry?
Frustration was already a constant companion; with Gwen under the same roof it would be that much worse.
Drew threw the soaked shirt on the passenger-seat floor and leaned back, forcing himself to focus on the scenery.
The ebb and flow of the waves on West Beach were in stark contrast to the flat Puget Sound water he saw out of his office windows every day. The energy in each white-capped wave soaked up his anxiety, bit by bit.
He’d come here every single day after he and Gwen had agreed to separate with the intent to divorce. She’d never asked where he was going and he’d never volunteered it, even when he knew she probably thought he was meeting friends at a bar.
The first two months after she’d ditched her plane in the South Pacific, he’d been out here every chance he got. He’d never missed an appointment that first week she was MIA, but Serena and the rest of the staff had known his mind was elsewhere. Wondering what kind of torture Gwen was enduring. The local and eventually national news media reported the Pentagon’s assessment that she’d been lost at sea.
Gone. Dead.
But he’d known. Deep down, he’d known. Gwen’s heart was still beating, somewhere.
Ro’s position as the wing intelligence officer gave her access he’d never get as a civilian, and she’d brought him what little intel she’d been able to gather. Miles had cornered him after a therapy session one day and told him that both he and Ro were concerned about his increasing isolation, his avoidance of them and others outside work.
Miles had convinced him that going on with his life wasn’t an affront to Gwen’s memory.
After Gwen had been gone six weeks, Drew allowed himself to mentally engage with the world again. He couldn’t fight the facts, but he didn’t have to ignore his instincts, either. He’d figured that if she were still alive after six weeks—which he’d believed even if no one else had—she’d survive whatever came her way. Somehow she’d make it out.
As she had.
He went to sip his coffee and only when his empty hand curved around air did he shake off his thoughts. He couldn’t prevent a smile. Gwen would never settle for plain drip coffee. She took hers like a lot of people native to the Pacific Northwest. Two shots of espresso, with steamed low-fat milk. Maybe a shot of almond syrup if her sweet tooth was nagging her.
Their Sunday-morning routine rushed at him with its remembered familiarity and warmth. They’d hem and haw over whose turn it was to get the pastries, their once-a-week treat from the local bakery. Gwen liked the fresh-made éclairs, while he favored the apple fritters. One of them would pick up the pastries and coffee, while whoever stayed home walked the dog, fed the bird and got the woodstove blazing if it was chilly.
It’d been so easy, so natural, their life. Their love.
Until it got hard. Their professional drive, perfectionism and insistence on each being the best at what they did took its toll. Damaged the bond between them.
Memories of their competitiveness still made him squirm. They should’ve seen it; two strictly trained naval officers were innately competitive at a primal level. That hadn’t changed, even when he’d left the navy. Of course it had bled into their relationship and blown it to smithereens.
The event that had exploded the fissure into an impassable crevice had taken place on the night of a squadron party. He’d been there with Gwen, acting the consummate navy spouse as usual. He’d played the role willingly; anything to keep the peace, to let her see he wasn’t threatened by her success. His practice was still fledgling but promising.
He’d left the celebration early—told her he’d meet her back at home. They’d taken separate cars as they’d both come from work.
Unbeknownst to him, one of Gwen’s subordinates followed him home and tried to convince him to let her come in and talk to him. She was an attractive aviator, a younger version of Gwen. Except that she didn’t seem to care that Drew was married. To her boss.
But Gwen had come back before he’d gotten rid of her, and assumed the worst. Hell, at that point in their marriage he would’ve thought the same thing if he’d found a strange guy in his house.
After he’d pummeled him.
He’d told her the truth.
Gwen, nothing happened. She came over and said she needed to talk. I let her in, told her I wasn’t interested. She’s just young and dumb.
I’ve never thrown myself at my boss’s husband.
You’re a professional, Gwen.
She’d shaken her head. It doesn’t matter, Drew. The point is I believe you—and this doesn’t surprise me. I wouldn’t blame you if you had taken her up on her offer. Let’s face it, I haven’t been a great wife to you.
She’d referred to their lack of lovemaking. Either or both of them had been too tired over the past few months. It should’ve been a red flag after the way they’d burned for each other in their earlier years.
The conversation hadn’t solved anything. The disbelief, hurt and anger that Gwen should have expressed, should have felt, wasn’t there.
Gwen’s desire to pursue her naval career, his decision to open a private practice that made him averse to further navy moves, as well as their inability to forge a solution to their failing relationship— it had all been too much for any marriage.
Gwen had moved out within the week, and their road to friendship had begun.
Five years ago. It felt more like fifty.
He turned the key in the ignition so that he could lower the windows. The salty Pacific breeze cooled his face, tugged at his hair.
Reminded him that he was alive.
Gwen’s alive.
Sunlight played off the frothing waves as it slipped out from under a heavy cloud. He’d been here for over an hour; he needed to get back to the office, back to reality.
And get ready to do the one thing he dreaded most—living in close quarters with his ex-wife again.
