Amish Sweethearts (30 page)

“Speak in English,” Grant said. “We need to know what you’re saying.”

Again, Zane hadn’t registered the Pashto. “Let your God bless you,” Jaalal said, still in Pashto. And then in a whisper he added, “And don’t come back here.”

Zane closed his eyes, aware of Jaalal’s hands pressing against him and his breath on his face. If he never came back he’d never see Jaalal again. But he’d never forget him either.

By the time the helicopter arrived, his wounds felt as if they
were on fire. Jaalal kept pressing until the medics took over. Then he stepped back. Zane lifted his good arm in farewell to his friend.

“God keep you,” Jaalal said, the wind of the chopper blasting against his face.

“And you,” Zane whispered.

Grant stood by Sarge now, his weapon pulled too. Sarge turned to Zane quickly. “We’ll be down to base as soon as we can. Hopefully before they fly you out.”

One of the medics ran back to the chopper. As Zane waited, he watched the branches of the trees above his head dip in the wind.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. . . .”

He was as near to death as he’d ever been, yet very much alive, as alive as he’d been as a child, running through the field at dusk, the fireflies dancing among the poplar trees. God was with him, just as he had been then.
I will do my best to be still and know that you are God
, he prayed.

The medic returned, and two of them moved Zane onto a gurney and then lifted him. For a split second he could see the other Afghans still standing around the pickup. Clearly they were under Jaalal’s control. The medics loaded Zane into the chopper first and then Benham and the other injured man.

“Why didn’t you wait for my signal?” the second one asked Benham in Pashto.

“I was tired of waiting,” Benham answered. “Don’t talk now. That man you shot—he’s a translator. And a friend of Grandfather’s.”

“Figures,” the other man said. The medics secured them to the gurneys and blindfolded them both. Benham cursed but then stayed quiet. There was quite a bit of activity around him for a while, and when Zane asked the medic how Benham was doing, he answered that everything was fine.

Sarge must have alerted Casey to what was going on, because when the medics hauled Zane off the helicopter at the base camp, she was waiting.

She stepped to the side of the gurney.

“I’m okay,” he said before she could say anything.

“Barely,” she answered, trying to smile. At least she wasn’t crying.

When they reached the door to the clinic, Casey stopped. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can,” she said.

“Thanks,” he answered.

Soon nurses and a doc surrounded him. “Looks like you’re going to make it,” the doc said in a southern drawl.

“Unless you screw it up,” Zane said.

The doc laughed and then said, “Mind if I pray for you? And for myself?”

“Are you a chaplain?”

The doc’s eyes danced. “No, son, but I double as a Baptist preacher back home.”

“Then by all means,” Zane responded, “please pray. And for my family too. This is probably going to be harder on them than me.”

The doc grabbed Zane’s good hand and prayed, asking God for healing and comfort for the family. Then the doc got to work.

It wasn’t a big deal, not really. He was going to be okay. The bullet just grazed the back of his head. And his shoulder would heal. It could have been so much worse.

“Blood pressure’s dropping,” one of the nurses said.

He didn’t hear anything else. He was back in the field where the fireflies darted in and out among the poplar trees.

Zane groaned as he came to. A voice asked, “How’s the pain?”

“Not so good,” Zane answered.

“We’ll do something about that.”

Zane opened his eyes, expecting a nurse, but it was the ER doc again. “Your blood pressure tanked—you had a bleeder in your shoulder. We had a few rough minutes there, but we got you into the OR and got it fixed.”

“Wow” was all Zane could say in response.

“Hold on, I’ll get the nurse.”

Fifteen minutes later, after more medicine, Zane started to relax a little. After twenty minutes the pain was manageable.

“Are you up to having a visitor?” the nurse asked. “There’s a soldier worried about you.”

“Which soldier?”

“Casey Johnson.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” Zane tried to sit up a little. “But wait—”

The nurse stopped.

“What do you need?”

“The stuff that was in my pockets.” He had his phone and a little Bible his mom had given him and the pieces of jasper rock from the creek down by the fort and, of course, Lila’s letter.

“Everything’s safe. In a plastic bag, waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” Zane said. “Tell Casey to come on in.”

The nurse started for the curtain again.

“Hey, did anyone call my folks?”

The nurse shook her head. “We were waiting for you to wake up. You can if you want or your sergeant can.”

“He’s here too?”

The nurse nodded.

“Please send them both in.”

This time Casey had tears in her eyes, and Sarge looked like the battle-weary soldier he was.

“I’m okay,” Zane said.

“Now,” Casey responded. “As if what happened out there in the field wasn’t enough—tanking in here was a cruel thing to do.”

“Sorry,” Zane said sheepishly and then turned his head toward Sarge. “How did everything turn out once the reinforcements arrived?”

“All right,” Sarge said. “Jaalal said Benham was set on ambushing us. It wasn’t Jaalal’s intention or that of the guys in the second truck—at least we don’t think so. Jaalal said he wanted them as backup against Benham and the other guy.”

“He was going to shoot his own grandson?”

“If he had to.”

“Yikes,” Zane said.

“Yeah.” Sarge frowned. “He said he was glad you did it for him—and he’s glad you’re not a better shot. But that was before—”

Zane tried to sit up straighter. “Before?”

Sarge cleared his throat. “Benham didn’t make it.”

“But he was talking. He seemed fine.”

“The bullet nicked his lung. It collapsed by the time they reached the base.”

Zane’s head fell back against the pillow. He’d killed a man. Jaalal’s grandson.
God . . . this wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Sorry,” Sarge said.

He wouldn’t cry, not now.
Why?

Sarge must have been nervous because he said, “I was about to kill Turner by the time we got out of there.”

Casey elbowed him.

Sarge’s face grew red. “Sorry.”

Zane tried to shake his head but it hurt. “Don’t worry about it.”

“At least Turner’s leaving on furlough. Hopefully I can pull
it together while he’s gone. On the other hand, Carlson said to tell you he’s pulling for you. He was pretty shook up—in a normal way, as opposed to Turner—about you being wounded.”

“Tell Wade thanks,” Zane said.

Sarge sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

“They’ll send another translator,” Zane said.

“I don’t want another one,” Sarge said. “I want you to get yourself better ASAP, so you can stick with our unit.”

He might not be too bad off, but he wasn’t going out in the field anytime soon. He looked at Sarge. “What did the doc say to you?”

“As long as you’re stable, they’ll fly you to Bagram in the morning and do a CT scan. Then maybe on to Landstuhl.”

Germany.
That was where his dad had gone when he’d been injured, where his mom flew when Zane was twelve.

“How long would I be there?”

“They don’t think too long. Depending on how things look they’ll either send you back here or on to the States for rehab.”

Zane sighed. “That sounds like it might take a while.”

Sarge shrugged. “You never know. I’m going to be optimistic. I’m hoping they send you straight back here from Bagram.”

“Speaking of the States,” Casey said. “Do you want to call your folks? Or I could call your mom if you want. I can phrase it so I don’t freak her out.”

Tears filled Zane’s eyes, and he blinked quickly. “Maybe. . . . What time is it?”

“Seven p.m. here,” Casey said.

“So still morning back home?”

Casey nodded.

Mom wasn’t working as much this summer while Bub was home from school. Just a day a week. Chances were she’d be home. He toyed with calling his Dad first but decided it would
be better to call Mom. Who knew what the news might trigger in his dad? Then again, who knew what it might trigger in his mom?

Sarge said he was going to go get a shower and some sleep before he gave the mission any more thought. Casey asked the nurse for Zane’s phone, and then stood at the edge of his bed. “Where do I find her number?”

“Let me see it,” Zane said, reaching out with his good hand. He took the phone and clicked his photos icon. Up popped the photo of Lila.

“Want me to call?” Casey asked.

Zane shook his head. “I can do it,” he answered.

He closed the pictures app and then clicked into his phone.

Favorites.

Mom.

He pressed her number.

18

S
hani placed the last of the ripe tomatoes into the basket and then moved on to the cucumbers. Adam yelled something to Trudy in the field, although Shani couldn’t make out what. She put three cucumbers into the basket as her phone buzzed in the pocket of her shorts. She carried it everywhere these days, hoping Zane had a chance to call. He was headed back to Bagram this week, so the chances were good he would. She retrieved it quickly. Sure enough, it was Zane. It was evening in Afghanistan.

She pushed accept and gushed, “Hi, sweetie, how are you?”

“Mom?” His voice didn’t sound right.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m on base, in the hospital.”

Shani’s heart began to race. “What happened?”

“A couple of bullets—”

Her legs weakened. She stepped from the garden, to the grass. “Where?”

“In my shoulder.” His voice grew faint. “And the back of my head.”

“Baby,” Shani managed to say.

“I’m okay, really.”

Shani took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm. “How long will you be in the hospital?”

There was a long pause.

“Zane?”

There was a muffled sound, and then a woman’s voice said, “Shani? This is Casey.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yeah. He had a bleed in his shoulder so they had to rush him to OR, but he’s okay now.”

Shani’s hand began to shake. “What about his head?”

“The bullet grazed his skull, so a lot of blood, but not any lasting damage.”

“Thank God,” Shani said. “What’s next?”

“Bagram and then possibly Landstuhl.”

“I can meet him in Germany if he goes. I can be there in a day or two.” She’d done it before—she could easily do it again.

“I’ll ask him,” Casey said.

More muffled voices, and then Casey came back on. “He says for you to stay put. He’ll call if he ends up there.”

“All right. Tell him I can do whatever he needs.”

“He’ll have a better idea once he knows what’s going on,” Casey said. Then she added, “Hold on.”

She came back on. “He said he’s sorry he can’t talk—he’s pretty wiped out. He says to make sure to tell Adam and his dad that he really is all right. He doesn’t want any of you to worry.” Then Casey’s voice choked up a little. “But he wants you to pray—not just for him but also for Jaalal and his family.”

“Was Jaalal hit too?”

“No,” Casey said. Shani was pretty sure there was more to
the story. Casey continued, “He wants you to ask everyone else to pray too.”

He meant the Lehmans, Shani was sure. “Of course,” Shani said. “Tell him I’ll ask everyone right away.”

“I’ll make sure his phone is charged,” Casey said. “For the trip. And that his charger gets packed.”

“Thank you,” Shani said. “For everything.” She liked the girl—a lot. “How are you doing?” Shani asked.

“Okay, now. He gave us a scare . . .”

Shani’s heart sank, wishing someone had called her earlier. “When did it happen?”