Читать книгу The Marine's New Family - Roz Dunbar - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Though Tess fell asleep with a smile on her face, the smile soon faded as she was pulled back into the same horrible dream that had haunted her for months. The dream that replayed those awful events in Afghanistan.

The day had started so well. She and her team had been welcomed warmly when they’d arrived at the Afghan orphanage with their medical supplies. As a member of Hope Corps, Tess had spent the past several years of her life bringing medical relief to underprivileged countries. That day had seemed just like any other. But then it had all gone horribly wrong.

She had just finished vaccinating the four-year-old girl in front of her and was handing her a wrapped piece of candy when she felt the first explosion. Forcefully, she was sucked out of her chair as she instinctively reached for the child, gathering her close. As the air pressure equalized she fell to the floor, tucking the child beneath her in an attempt to shield her from whatever was happening around them.

Acrid smoke began to fill the room, making it difficult to breathe. Dimly, she heard the frightened cries of children and the urgent voices of several adults who were making an effort to comfort them. Tess slowly raised her head, scanning the room. It was difficult to see through the smoke, but she could make out glass everywhere. Glass and chaos. Both covered the room like fine glitter. Several women dressed in loose-fitting burkas were lying on the ground, crying and speaking rapidly in Farsi as they began to get up from where they had been thrown. Two of them started to gather children and usher them out of the room as quickly as possible. Where they were going, Tess had no idea, but she realized it was probably not a good idea to stay where she was. She felt a small wiggle beneath her and heard a faint whimper. The child was struggling feebly to get free. Tess looked down into wide brown eyes filled with fear.

“Are you all right?” she asked the little girl in stilted Farsi, and was reassured by the slight nod she received in response.

Mentally, she went over the layout of the orphanage, trying desperately to remember if there was an exit nearby. Where were her coworkers? Was anyone hurt? If so she needed to give medical aid quickly. Her thoughts were a jumbled mix. Taking a deep breath she murmured a brief prayer. Dear Lord, please help me to think clearly.

Immediately a sense of calm came over her as her thoughts cleared. Pushing herself up to a sitting position, she caught the eye of one of the Afghan women, who rushed over to take the little girl from her. As Tess was handing the youngster over, the second explosion sounded and the world caved in on top of them. The startled look of the woman who had just taken the little girl into her arms was the last thing Tess saw before losing consciousness.

To this day, she still didn’t know how long she’d spent lying there. In her dream, the transition was seamless. One moment, she was watching the world collapse around her. In the next moment, she heard a voice speaking over her head.

“She’s alive.” Tess heard the words before opening her eyes. The voice was deeply male and unfamiliar.

Who’s alive? Me? Am I? I don’t feel alive, she thought fuzzily, trying to make sense of what was being said above the incessant ringing in her ears. She struggled to open her eyes without success, opting gratefully for the blessed darkness that enveloped her again. She awoke to the sound of the same warm male voice, which seemed to wrap around her like a comforting blanket.

“Ma’am, hold on. United States Marines, and we are going to get you out of here.” The rich voice rumbled close to her ear. “Morgan, get help and lift this beam off of her.”

“Yes, Gunny. Baldwin, I need a hand over here.”

Such a nice voice. Marines? Tess fought again to open her eyes. Who called the marines?

“Ma’am, hang in there. Can you open your eyes?”

Slowly, she opened them and focused on the ruggedly handsome face of the man bending over her. Feature by feature she took him in. His head was encased in a tan-and-brown digital-patterned helmet, so she couldn’t tell the color of his hair, but his eyes were an incredible azure blue, set in sun-kissed chiseled features that sported a day’s growth of beard. There was something in those eyes that made her feel safe, a relaxed self-assurance that whatever was happening, he had the situation under control.

“Ma’am,” he said with a comforting smile. “I’m Gunnery Sergeant Luke Barrett. You’re an American?”

Tess nodded, wincing with pain as she moved her head.

“Try not to move too quickly. You have quite a bump on your head. We’ll get you help as soon as we get out of this building. It’s not safe to stay here.” Looking over his shoulder, he nodded to someone behind him before turning back to her and saying, “Okay, put your arms around my neck.”

Her eyes never left his face as she lifted her arms slowly. She was afraid to look around, afraid of what she knew she’d see. It could not be good, not by any stretch of the imagination. Part of the ceiling was gone. The bright light was sunshine. That much she could tell. And she was cold, very cold. The smoke was gone and she could breathe, but each breath made her feel as if shards of broken glass were grating against each other inside her chest.

The marine gently lifted her out of the wreckage as though she weighed no more than a child. She felt the rough material of his camouflaged uniform and hard body armor beneath her cheek as she clasped her arms around his neck. Pain. Remarkably intense pain jabbed at her legs like a thousand hot needles piercing her flesh. She stifled a groan as, with a Herculean effort, she tightened her grip. He was her lifeline and she was determined not to let go, even for an instant. She noted a fleeting look of concern shadow his face as he felt her stiffen in response to the hurt. With grim determination and quiet confidence he began to move through the rubble of what this morning had been a building filled with the excited shouts of children as Tess and her coworkers arrived to set up their mobile medical unit. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Clarity washed over her with all the force of a massive tsunami. The children! The little girl she had held close after the first explosion. Was she all right? Tess looked back at the place she had been lying, her pain forgotten. The child had been right in front of her, had just left her arms. Desperately, Tess scanned what was left of the room. It was now nothing more than a twisted heap of concrete, glass and wooden beams. Impossible for anyone to have survived the carnage. She had no idea how she had survived. Then she caught sight of something that caused her heart to splinter. A small arm poked through the wreckage, palm open, revealing a piece of brightly wrapped candy.

Tears began to stream down Tess’s face. Shifting in the marine’s arms, she struggled to ask him to stop, to go back, but her voice refused to obey as deep physical and emotional pain combined, causing her to slip into unconsciousness once more.

Usually, the dream ended there—or worse, started over at the beginning, to play through again. But today she heard a familiar voice say some entirely unexpected things.

“I thought I heard someone come in. Groceries are all put away and the furniture is on the porch. Why did you use the front door?”

Tess heard the marine talking again, just as she had heard him in her dreams for endless nights since he had pulled her out of the wreckage. His voice was always deep and soothing as he assured her he would make certain she was safe. She would never forget his voice. Only this time he was talking about groceries and furniture. Well, that’s a twist on the same old nightmare, she thought in her dream state. Why in the world is he talking about groceries? Funny. Nuzzling her cheek against the soft fabric, she fought to catch hold of the dream to see what he was talking about, not wanting to wake till she found out.

* * *

Luke stopped short as he entered the cozy living room, his voice trailing away. He had entered the room expecting to see one of the Salter sisters, back from whatever last-minute errands they’d undertaken to prepare the cottage for their guest. The woman he found instead stopped him in his tracks. Stunned, he stood there, looking at the sleeping woman as if he had seen a ghost. She was a ghost, really. He’d never thought she would survive her wounds, she had been so critically injured when he had found her in the remains of that charred, ruined Afghan orphanage.

For a moment he thought she might be someone else, that he had been mistaken. But no, the same auburn hair glistened in the sunlight that streamed through the window near where she slept. She had the same fine porcelain skin, small straight nose and full pink lips that he remembered so clearly. Luke knew that beneath the closed lids were eyes the color of deep green jade. He had memorized her face and it had haunted him day and night. As his eyes continued to trace her features, he stopped at the small scar on her left temple. It had bled so much, but she had made it. Despite all her injuries, and the huge odds stacked against her, she had lived. Thank You, Lord. The prayer was silent and heartfelt.

Luke’s mind tripped back to that day he had carried her out of the orphanage. It was as though it had happened yesterday.

Holding her securely in his arms, he knew that she had seen the child partially covered by the wreckage, but he had no intention of stopping or going back. It would do no good. His mission was to get her out and to safety. He could not help the dead, but he was determined to help the living. The pain on the woman’s face was something Luke knew he would never forget. Senseless death was difficult enough to witness, but the senseless death of children was intolerable. Concern and empathy touched him deeply as he glanced down at the dark auburn head lying against his shoulder, but he needed to get her out of there.

Looking around, he mentally calculated the safest path out and picked his way through the debris. As he stepped across a pile of concrete rubble into the cold, bright sunlight he noticed the woman wince, and he lifted a heavily gloved hand to shield her jade-green eyes from the glare of the sun. He quickly scanned the area for medical personnel and called for a corpsman.

“Doc, we need help. This patient’s bleeding pretty badly.”

Luke gently lowered the woman to the hard, arid ground as the medical officer made his way over to them. He stepped back as the corpsman knelt next to the injured female and began a cursory examination, starting with the wound on her head and working his way down to her lower extremities and then back up to her skull again. Luke noticed her grimace with pain as the medic probed the gash on her temple gently, trying to stop the bleeding.

“How bad is it, Doc?” Luke knew her situation was serious, but had no idea how grave it really was.

“Honestly, Gunny, it’s not good, but it’s not the head wound I’m most concerned about. There may be internal injuries, and her left leg has a pretty serious break. Femur. Not pretty, and she’s in a lot of pain. It’s what we can’t see that bothers me, though. I have no idea if she’s bleeding out.” He never looked up as he spoke, instead reaching into a medical kit and pulling out a bag, a battery-powered IV pump, tubing and needles.

“Can I help?” Luke lowered himself next to the corpsman, his eyes focused intently on the woman’s face.

“No, but someone’s going to have to carry her down this mountain to a safe zone. There is no way that a helo can land in this terrain.” The corpsman had already inserted a needle into the woman’s arm and attached tubing as he spoke. “Ringer’s lactate with a morphine push,” he explained to Luke as he worked next on immobilizing the broken leg.

“I’ll carry her. Just make sure she’s good to go, Doc.”

“I’ll carry her, Gunny,” Corporal Baldwin offered. Luke hadn’t notice him standing there, he had been so caught up in what the navy corpsman was doing.

“No, Baldwin. I’ve got this.”

The young marine looked at him oddly for a moment and then walked away without another word.

“She’s ready to be moved now,” the corpsman said a minute later. “We need to get her out of here, fast.”

Luke nodded and knelt to pick the woman up gently, balancing the portable IV pack securely against his chest. It wasn’t going to be an easy trip down the mountain by any stretch of the imagination, and the less pain she was in the better.

The journey was rough, but he never really gave that part another thought. She would periodically open her eyes and focus on his face. He had no idea if she could hear him, but part of him felt that she could. So he talked to her. He talked about anything and everything he could think of. He told her about his life at home. He told her about two special elderly ladies who had welcomed him into their lives and hearts, making a home for him, the first he had had in years—maybe ever. He told her about a village on the coast of North Carolina where he wanted to live for the rest of his days.

Before he knew it they made it to flat terrain, and up ahead he saw a CH-53E helicopter waiting. Luke breathed deeply, knowing that they had made it and that this was her ticket out of there. He just hoped she’d pull through once they got her to proper medical facilities. He met the corpsman at the door of the helo and gently transferred her into the man’s arms.

“Don’t leave me.” The hoarsely whispered plea was heartfelt.

Luke had looked at the woman with surprise, his eyes locking with hers. He hadn’t thought she was capable of speaking or that she was even aware of what was going on.

Smiling, he told her, “You’ll be all right. You’re in the best hands possible. I’ll check up on you. Promise.”

He watched her nod slowly and close her eyes. The corpsman saw Luke hesitate and assured him that they had her and would take care of her. “According to comm she’s in pretty bad shape. We’ll get her to Kabul as soon as possible. They’ve got the best medical officers there.”

“Can you let me know how she does?” Luke still hesitated, not wanting to leave her for some reason.

“Can’t say that we can or can’t. They don’t tell us much because of HIPAA laws, and she’s a civilian.”

Luke nodded and backed away from the medical helicopter, watching it as it lifted from the landing zone and took his charge away. And he prayed, just as he had prayed for her every step they took together down the mountain. He knew that God was everywhere, even in that remote part of Afghanistan.

Shaking his head, he came back to the present. He had tried to find her, follow up on her, but without a name to help him identify her, he couldn’t seem to find any information. He had run into one dead end after another and had finally given up. But he prayed for her each day. He had never stopped doing that. It was all he could do.

Yet now she was right in front of him. He felt guilty for staring. It wasn’t fair somehow. She was vulnerable in sleep and he did not want to wake her. But he couldn’t look away. Then his eyes caught sight of the cane next to the chair and he felt a sharp stab of compassion. The soft lavender sundress she was wearing hid any scars that might be on her legs, but he knew they were there. One thing he was sure of: if God had brought her here, He had a reason.

“Hey, Dad, I finished with the chairs. Can I go to... Hey, who’s that?”

Luke put his finger to his lips, “Shhh.”

“Who’s she?” Caleb whispered.

“She’s the new tenant we built the screened porch for,” he explained simply, as he tried to usher his son out of the room.

“We don’t have to whisper no more. She’s awake.”

“Awake?” Luke turned sharply to see that Caleb was right. The woman was sitting up and looking at them with shock.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” Her tone was low and even, but she was obviously frightened and disoriented, judging by the way her small, white hands were clutching the arms of the chair.

Luke immediately tried to diffuse the situation. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We didn’t know you were here yet. We brought groceries for your pantry.”

“Groceries?” He watched her closely as she slowly digested what he had just said.

“Yeah, the ladies asked us to do it,” Caleb tossed in helpfully.

“The ladies?” she repeated, still looking slightly disoriented.

“He means the Salter sisters, Katie and Annie.”

Luke watched as recognition dawned in her green eyes, and her hands visibly relaxed their death grip on the chair.

“Oh, the aunts.” She summoned a small smile as she shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

She has a lovely smile, Luke thought inconsequentially. She’s lovely, period. And she didn’t recognize him. That much he was certain of. There was no spark of recognition in her eyes.

“My name is Luke, ma’am, and this is my son, Caleb.”

“Hello, Luke and Caleb. I’m Tess. Tess Greenwood.” The smile again.

“Hello, Tess. Nice to meet you. Say hello to Miss Greenwood, Caleb.”

“Hello,” Caleb muttered, before adding, “Can we go now, Dad? Joey is waiting for me.”

“Yes, son, we’re leaving now. Everything has been put away, Tess. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call on us. My number is on the calendar in the kitchen.”

“It is?” Tess and Caleb spoke at the same time, and Luke smiled.

“It is. I do work on the cottages for the Salters from time to time and they asked me to leave a number, just in case.”

“Oh, I see. Well, thank you for the groceries. If you give me a receipt I’ll reimburse you.” The smile had faded and her voice had become distant. “And I’m sure I won’t need anything else, but thank you.”

Luke hesitated at her tone, but nodded as he ushered Caleb out of the living room to the back of the cottage. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that that she was here, literally on his doorstep. He would see her and have a chance to speak with her later, he assured himself. For now, he needed to concentrate on his son.

“She must have been pretty tired. She was sleeping and it’s still daytime,” Caleb said as he buckled his seat belt in the truck.

“I think you’re right. She must be pretty tired. So, ready to go swimming with Joey and his dad?”

“I guess so.” Caleb shrugged his slender shoulders and looked out the window.

“You guess so? I thought you couldn’t wait to get there.”

“I can’t. Let’s just go, okay?”

One step forward and two steps back, Luke thought as he started the truck. It was as if the boy was afraid to let down his guard for any length of time. Luke had thought it had been a good day. Caleb had been more animated than he’d ever seen him since his son had gotten to Swansboro six months ago. Things had seemed to be changing, but now Luke couldn’t be sure. He knew that Caleb missed his mother terribly, but Luke couldn’t get him to talk about her. Would the boy ever feel comfortable opening up to his father? Only time would tell. But one thing was certain. Luke had never known that he had the capacity to love anyone the way he now loved his son. Not even his ex-wife.

Was that the problem? Had he not loved her enough? They’d been little more than kids, high on puppy love, when they’d gotten married. They hadn’t really known yet the people they’d grow up to be—or that the years to come would pull them apart instead of binding them together. Was that why she hadn’t told him he was going to be a father?

He could understand why she’d left him, and he didn’t hold a grudge. She couldn’t take the moves and deployments. He didn’t blame her; being a military spouse was a tough job and required sacrifices that normal married couples didn’t have to make. He’d wanted her to be happy, and she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t find that happiness waiting at home for him month after endless month, year after year. So he’d let her go. After the divorce papers were signed, there was no further contact. It was as though their three years together had never happened.

But the proof of their marriage and their love—short-lived though it had been—was sitting in the seat right next to him. Why had she kept him from his child? Surely she had known that he would have made certain that he was in Caleb’s life. Luke would have helped Jen raise their son, would have taken care of them both. He had thanked God every day for the past six months that Jen had had the foresight to write a will giving him guardianship. He couldn’t imagine life without Caleb now.

But now there might be a fight ahead to keep his son with him. Jen’s parents, Dave and Katherine Lockard, had made it pretty clear that they wanted custody of their grandson. They had been in Caleb’s young life since he was born. Uprooting him was wrong, they claimed. No matter that he was with his biological father. They were going to petition the courts for full custody.

Luke had gone to great pains to assure both Caleb and his grandparents that they could see each other anytime they wished. He wasn’t trying to keep them apart; in fact, he had taken Caleb to Tennessee for a visit last month. But there was no way he was going to hand over custody. In a world where it was prudent to pick and choose your battles wisely, Luke knew with everything in him that his son was worth fighting for. He just needed to figure out what was best for Caleb. He prayed that God would show him the way.

“Well, you’ve earned it, after all the hard work you’ve done today.” He grinned at Caleb as they headed down the sandy lane. The boy kept his head averted and didn’t reply. It was like climbing a mountain with no ropes. For both of them. God, help us, Luke prayed silently.