Читать книгу On Guard For Thee - Murray Snow - Страница 6

Chapter 5

Оглавление

U.S. Army Hospital

Landstuhl, Germany

6 December, 1347 Hours

Leeanne and her father waited. They had paced back and forth so much that they had long since learned to avoid each other. Twenty paces forward and a small loop back down the hallway on the other side. Twenty more paces, another loop.

James had arrived at the American military hospital two hours earlier and was still being examined by the chief of the surgical staff. The doctors said his condition had improved, but no words could calm Leeanne’s fears. Only by seeing him, alive and breathing, would she allow herself to relax. Only then would she stop worrying.

Then she would kill him herself.

She knew in her heart he would survive: the Army couldn’t kill him. He would die from his own brand of stupidity, and nobody who knew him could argue that point.

They were at opposite ends of the hallway when the doctor stepped out of the elevator. “Every—” He looked at the two people, waiting as they converged on him. “Everything looks good, sir. They’re taking him up to room 424 now.”

Leeanne was already on her way up the two flights of stairs, and she swore when she saw he was not yet in the room. She paced to the window, crossed her arms over her chest, and waited. Occasionally, she picked at her fingernails.

Occasionally, she wiped away a tear.

The sounds of a stretcher coming down the long hallway filtered into the room. She looked at her father; their similar feelings communicated without words. Her hands trembled as James was wheeled in, and she covered her mouth. Fear and panic gripped her. She hadn’t expected him to look like this. His face was lifeless, and tubes protruded from various parts of his body as life saving fluids flowed into him.

She moved to the side of the bed and pulled a chair close. She wanted to crawl under the covers and lie next to him, to hold him and take away his pain. She caressed his cheek and day’s growth of dark beard.

James groaned, and he slowly moved his head from side to side. “James?” she said, barely more than a whisper.

His head turned toward her voice and his eyes slowly opened. He sighed. A small smile appeared and he chuckled at some private thought. He winced and gritted his teeth. “Hey, babe,” he groaned weakly. “I bet you’re pretty pissed, eh?”

She laughed. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you myself.” She kissed his forehead, lingering as the familiar smell of his skin penetrated her soul. “Dad is here, too.”

James raised his head and groaned as he again moved too far. He squinted, trying to clear the drug-induced fog. “Hey, boss?”

Hanson smiled. “Hey.”

James licked his lips. Although the intravenous fluids kept his body hydrated, his mouth was as dry as a prairie wind. Leeanne reached for a plastic cup and filled it from the pale blue jug. His mouth seemed to absorb the water before he could swallow. “How’s Emerson?”

Hanson rubbed his eyes. “He didn’t make it, son.”

“Oh, God.” Tears spilled onto the pillow. “He was my responsibility.” His voice was still quiet and husky.

“There was nothing you could have done,” he said. He moved to the side of the bed. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, you need your rest.” James nodded and closed his eyes.

Leeanne looked at him for a long while. She kissed him before standing and then leaned heavily into her father’s chest. She knew Emerson. She felt bad at losing a friend and she cried, but, this time, she was being selfish.

This time, the tears were tears of happiness.

7 December, 0923 Hours

James’s breathing changed slightly as his journey back to consciousness began. A young nurse carefully looked into the intravenous bag, watched the clear saline solution drip into the reservoir, down the thin tubing, and finally through the small needle. The tubing moved against the hair on his arm as she adjusted the drip rate, and he stirred.

“Leeanne?” He rolled his head in her direction and sighed.

She smiled as her eyes traveled over his muscled torso. God, he’s handsome. “No, sir.” She leaned over and flicked the penlight to life, “but, thank you for the compliment.”

His eyes opened wide. She was close, too close to focus on. His arm swung up and he grabbed her wrist. The penlight flew from her hand and bounced off the wall. She struggled, trying to pull away, but realized it was a futile effort.

His eyes darted back and forth, his breathing labored. For the first time in a very long time, she was afraid. The rage she saw was terrifying and it showed a side most men tried to hide, but as quickly as it appeared, his eyes, and his grip, softened.

He relaxed his hand, his breathing heavy and deep. Pain swept through his damaged body, reminding him where he was. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I—”

She frowned as she looked down. Her wrist had already started to swell. “Your family left this morning. They went back to Canada.”

“You’d think they would stay longer.”

“Why? Do you want to scare the hell out of your wife as you just did to me, sir? Now, if you’re sure of where you are and who I am, may I complete my examination so I can go put some ice on my wrist?” James looked up. He looks so much like a child. She smiled. “It’s okay.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t use my good arm, eh?”

“You don’t have a good arm, sir.”

“Oh yeah.” He moved to pour a glass of water, but couldn’t quite reach.

“I’ll get that, sir.” She reached for the water jug, coming close enough that he could smell her perfume.

Something was out of place. Something didn’t belong in Germany. “What’s that you’re wearing?”

“It’s a nurse’s jumpsuit.”

“Cute. I meant the perfume.”

She filled the glass and bent the straw into his mouth. “Vanilla Mist. I picked it up on my last trip home.”

He pulled back, swallowed, and licked his lips. “Where’s home?”

“Saint-Didace. About an hour outside Montreal.”

“Huh?”

“I’m on a two-year posting. There are a few of us over here and the commander thought you might feel a bit more relaxed with some folks from the old country. Major Webber is still here.”

“Oh, God.” He rolled his head to the side and stared out the window. “That sonofabitch is never going to let me forget this.”

“That’s pretty well what he said last night in the cafeteria.” She smiled and pointed the penlight into his eye. “Look to the side please, sir.”

He glanced at the two hooks and maple leaf on her collar before looking away. “What’s your name, Master Corporal?”

“Josie Manon, sir.”

“Well, Josie Manon. I have a feeling we’re going to see quite a bit of each other for a couple more days, so why don’t you forget I’m an all-knowing, all-seeing officer and that you’re just a lowly, insignificant, junior rank. My name is James.”

“Why you—“

“Gotcha.” He looked at her as her eyes flared. She was by no means a natural beauty, but some unknown quality caught his attention. Her shoulder-length brunette hair, slightly unkempt from the long hours, framed her slender face, and her skin was fair and smooth.

“Apparently, the only good thing about you being here, James,” she said sternly, “is that you will one day leave. Hopefully, you won’t drive me completely crazy by then.”

She turned and walked to the window as she filled out the chart. “Are you always this much of a pain?”

She turned when he didn’t respond as expected. “Dr. Webber,” she called loudly. She ran to the side of the bed and hit the panic button. “I need help in here.”

James stared blankly at a pool of blood seeping onto the white sheets. His sudden twisting only moments before had caused the incision on his side to open. She pressed one hand to his side and took his pulse.

“Oops.” Blood oozed through her fingers. “Hey. Don’t squeeze so hard.”

“Shut up.”

The sound of footsteps filtered down the hall, and Vince Webber ran into the room. “For Christ’s sake, Dusty. What the hell did you do this time?” He placed a stethoscope against James’s chest.

“I—”

Josie looked up. “I startled him when I adjusted the IV and he tried to rip my arm off. The incision around the drainage tube pulled open. I was on the other side of the bed when it happened. Pulse is normal.”

“Get me the stapler, Master Corporal. You know something, pal?” Webber said as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“Take it out on the prick that zapped me. Besides, you butchers need all the practice you can get.”

“Shut up or I’ll check your prostate with a crowbar. You now owe me a bottle of cognac. Any more of this shit and you’ll be into me for a full case.” Webber took the stapler, pinched the skin together, and fired the first staple.

“You bastard. How about some of that freezing crap?”

“Shut up, you wimp.” Within minutes, Webber had the incision stapled together. “Get a bag of O positive hooked up and stay with him for a while. He should be back to his normal idiotic self in no time.”

“Yes, sir.” Josie was surprised at the flutter her heart gave. Damn it, girl. Calm down. He’s a married man.

“I love you too, Vince,” James called out.

As Webber left, a grin spread across James’s face. “Alone at last. Whatever shall we do?”

Her face flushed. Oh, the things I could do. “After I change your sheets, you, sir, are going to rest and I am going to read a magazine,” and think dirty thoughts about us.

James sighed and looked at the small bedside table. It was covered with newspapers—at least ten, he mused, as his brow furrowed. “Who brought all those papers?”

Josie smiled. “I guess they forgot to tell you. You’re a hero.”

“Huh?”

“Modest, too. The world has taken notice of your exploits in Yugoslavia. Those are papers from the U.K. and the U.S., Canada, of course—and even one from Australia. All of them are making you sound like the Second Coming.”

Morgan closed his eyes and shook his head. “I just did my job,” he said softly.

Josie shrugged and sat down. “It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

On Guard For Thee

Подняться наверх