Carly (16 page)

Her fingers trembling, Leigh reached again for the phone and dialed Nate’s work number. His answering machine picked up. Barely
able to speak, Leigh stammered, “Nate, Carly is being sent to Saudi. Please . . . please come home. I need you.”

Five days later

Carly knew she should have said no, but when Bowie had asked her to meet him after mess, she’d only nodded. Now in the early
darkness of winter, they sat side by side on the picnic bench in a small, deserted park on base. Leafless branches flickered,
rustling drily in the wind, and Carly thought about the desert da> of them. When would they return to trees?

But most of all, she was very aware of the man sitting close beside her. She remembered the touch of his lips on hers and
the feel of his arms, his strong arms around her. Had it been his embrace that had helped her sleep the night they’d heard
about their deployment?

“You never told me what you were frightened of,” Bowie said. “Is it because we’re being shipped to Saudi tomorrow morning?”

Carly wanted just to say yes, leave out all but the simplest truth, and put an end to the conversation. But Bowie deserved
better from her. “That’s part of it.”

“If it makes you feel any better, heading to Saudi bothers me, too.”

Carly nodded, but she felt compelled to reveal something else that had been bothering her. “I keep waiting for Haskell to
say or do something.”

“You mean because he saw us kissin’?”

She nodded again, feeling a warm blush on her face.

“He just told me to make sure I didn’t touch you unless it was after hours. And to keep a low profile.”

Carly tried to sort out what these cryptic words indicated and failed. “What do you think that meant?”

“You know, after you took care of Joe that day.” He looked as if to see if she understood what he was saying.

“You mean the day he . . . touched me?”

“Yeah,” Bowie went on quickly, “that kind of told everyone, ‘Hands off.’ And the sergeant doesn’t want that to change.”

“What does one have to do with the other?” Carly asked, still baffled. Why would Haskell give her a pass on this? Was he softening
toward her?

“Well, maybe he thinks if the other guys see me kissing you, they might try it, too. And then there might be fights.” Bowie
looked chagrined and slightly embarrassed.

Carly exhaled loudly. What a ridiculous idea. She couldn’t help but grin. Men fighting over her? “So Haskell thinks I’m going
to go luring his men to disaster?” she asked, momentarily diverted. “Kind of like a
femme fatale?” Men
, Carly thought.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Bowie spoke up, “So what upset you? I mean, besides heading to Saudi?”

Carly sighed. How she wanted to lay her burden down.

Bowie tentatively touched her cheek. “You don’t have to tell me.”

His accepting words released her. She turned her face in to his shoulder. “I have nightmares. I’ve had them for a very long
time.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

She rubbed her face against his cotton camouflage jacket, feeling the hard muscles of his arm and chest. “When I was ten years
old, I was kidnapped.”

Bowie gasped and folded her in his arms. “What . . . what happened to you?”

“I wasn’t molested. They just grabbed me and taped my eyes and mouth shut, put a sack over my head, and kept me tied up. Then
two days later they dropped me off at a hospital.”

“Did your parents have to pay a ransom or something?”

“No, that’s what made it all so weird. I think my mom knew why I was taken and that it had something to do with my father.
But she would never tell me everything—or anything, really.”

“Was this a kind of custody battle?”

Carly rested her head against his unyielding chest. He was so strong. “No, I was born out of wedlock, and I don’t know who
my birth father is. I keep thinking he might have had me kidnapped so he could be with me. But if he did, he never let me
know it was him. And I can’t think he was one of the men who scared me, was so rough with me, and made me cry.”

“So your nightmares are about your kidnapping?”

“I think so. In the dreams I’m just so very frightened and cold, and I can’t open my eyes or my mouth. I feel as if I’m being
smothered. And shadows are moving toward me and I think they’re going to hurt me. And I scream but no sound comes out.”

“Scary.” Bowie stroked her back.

She shuddered at his gentle touch, breathing in his soap-clean scent. “They stopped while I was in basic. I got over them.
It was great. I think I was too tired to have dreams or to remember them, and then at graduation, I felt as if I had made
it, as if I didn’t need to be frightened anymore. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a real high to graduate from basic. When did the nightmares start again?” He stroked her cheek.

His fingers ignited magic sparks that danced through the nerves of her face and down her neck. “When Saddam Hussein invaded
Kuwait. I must have known that we would end up going there.”

“Well, you know we won’t be on the front lines.”

“Yeah, I know.” And then there didn’t seem to be anything more to be said. Bowie had no control over the U.S. army or Iraq’s.
Carly remembered how Bowie’s kisses had made her feel. She had slept better that night. She leaned forward, tempting him to
make the first move.

“Can I kiss you again?” Bowie asked, sounding as if it would be too good to be true.

He’s so sweet. Just like Nate
. She nodded, not taking her eyes off his.

Looking as if he’d just opened a birthday gift he’d really wanted, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Her arms naturally circled his neck and she prolonged the kiss. She knew that she hadn’t sorted out her feelings about Bowie
as a friend or possible boyfriend. But his kisses made her feel she could do anything, even sleep through the night.

On Pearl Harbor Day, Carly arrived in a foggy and unexpectedly chilly Saudi Arabia. It had taken her company two days by airplane,
with a stopover in Germany, to reach the Mideast. After a tense eight-hour flight from Germany, they’d been warned that the
army didn’t have time for jet lag and Haskell had ordered them not to have any. With her duffel on her shoulder, Carly climbed
down a narrow ladder from the upper deck of the C-5 onto the tarmac at the air base near where their battalion would be stationed.
She felt fuzzy, as if she had left her brain somewhere over Italy.

Bowie caught up with her and steadied her with a touch on her elbow. “You okay?”

Carly had no answer for him. She hadn’t flown internationally since the summer she’d visited Paris with Chloe and Kitty. And
when they’d arrived in France, they’d been whisked away in a limousine to a four-star hotel. She doubted those types of accommodations
awaited her. Wishing a hot shower awaited her somewhere soon, Carly walked side by side with Bowie to where their platoon
was meeting up.

Having Bowie near gave her strength. She glanced up at him and found him smiling at her. She tried to smile back. Facing a
war, even in a support role, had hit her as though she were starting basic all over again. The universe had once again been
turned upside down.

Haskell motioned for them to gather around. “It’ll be morning in a couple hours. Just bunk down anywhere here in this area.”
He motioned to the concrete floor of the hangar. “After morning mess, we’ll be processed in and then head out to get our camp
set up. While you’re here, you’ll keep your chemical warfare gear with you at all times. If you hear a siren, put it on immediately.”
He gave them all a stiff glare. “No exceptions, got it?”

Only solemn silence answered him.

“And everyone will be briefed on how to get along with Arabs,” the sergeant continued. “Not only will you be meeting Saudi
citizens while you’re here, but other Muslims are here as part of the coalition. Oh, Gallagher, women get a special training
session after the men’s. The Saudis evidently don’t like the idea of women in uniform.” He gave a wisecrack grin.

Carly just nodded. She was so tired, even the floor looked inviting. And if the Arabs weren’t thrilled to have her, she knew
how they felt. She wasn’t thrilled to be there.

Saudi Arabia, December 15, 1990

O
utside the desert-camouflaged tent she shared with several other women in the battalion, Carly waved to Bowie and he hurried
toward her. They’d survived their first cool, foggy week in Saudi. She’d never been so homesick in her life, not even during
basic. Every day she’d felt like running away but had nowhere to run. Only Bowie and the good humor of her other platoon members
had made it bearable.

That day, she and Bowie were embarking on another venture, a few hours spent in Riyadh. This filled her with a sharp sense
of anticipation—and danger. Did she really want to go where she must hide her face?

“I can’t believe we got a whole day off.” Bowie greeted her with a big smile. He wore the same desert camouflage they all
wore, which was a dappled mix of beige, tan, white, and gray. “And just in time for Christmas shopping.”

Carly saw in his large blue eyes that he wanted to kiss her in the worst way. They’d been so busy they hadn’t had a moment
alone all week. They were officially off duty now. And frankly, touching Bowie would provide a needed boost to her nerves
for the mission into the risky unknown. After glancing around to make sure no one was paying them any attention, Carly herded
Bowie back to where the tent flap was fastened. Then, in its partial cover, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him briefly but
thoroughly on the mouth. Touching his lips slipped a knot free inside her, and she let him take over the kiss.

“Hey, hey!” Joe called out, jogging toward them. “None of that! The Sheiks of Araby will have your head.”

Stepping away hurriedly, Carly blushed and she noticed that Bowie was red, too. “Where did you two come from?” she demanded.

Joe hustled up to them with Sam bringing up the rear. “We’re Bowie’s backup,” Joe said. “If he can’t protect you from the
locals, we will.”

His words made her stomach do a yo-yo swing. But she gave him a satirical glance. After all, it had been Joe she’d flattened.
“Like I need protection,” she mock-boasted. “You should know better, Joe.”

His hands covered his heart. “Oh, she got me . . . again.” Then he laughed at his own joke. “I’m hoping you’ll help me pick
out something to send to my girls back home.”

“You have
girls
back home?” she teased in a mystified tone. “Are they blind, deaf, and dumb?” Secretly, she was glad to have Joe and Sam’s
company.

Joe punched her arm. “Hey, what about you? We saw you kissing this jerk.”

Looking wide-eyed and innocent, Carly shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just wiping a bit of
dirt off his cheek.”

Both Sam and Joe hooted as the four of them began ambling toward the waiting bus. “Is that what you’ve got to wear in town?”
Sam asked, pointing at the long black
abayah
and black veil slung over Carly’s arm.

“Yes,” she answered. “I can only say that I’m glad I was born in the USA.” She dreaded the moment she’d have to put on the
humiliating garb. Why had the U.S. brass bowed to this degradation of American women soldiers? Easy: they were all men.

“Hey, Carly!” a familiar voice hailed from behind.

Carly turned and squealed with delight, “Lorelle!”

In her MP uniform, Lorelle jogged over to Carly and hugged her.

Carly hugged back, and then they were both giggling.

“Women,” Joe commented.

Lorelle turned her head. “Watch it, soldier. I can arrest you, you know.”

“Hey, you can arrest me anytime,” Sam piped up and then looked abashed.

Lorelle chuckled. “You say that now, but . . .”

Carly quickly introduced Lorelle as a lifelong friend. She caught Sam studying Lorelle’s face and hid a grin. Lorelle did
look very good in her MP uniform. “We’re catching the special bus into town.”

“Hey, me, too.” Lorelle fell into step with them and Carly noticed that Sam managed to drift to Lorelle’s side. “Otherwise,
I wouldn’t be dragging this along.” She waved the veil and
abayah
.

They reached the bus. “Better put that stuff on,” the driver said, lounging beside the vehicle.

Carly grimaced, then both she and Lorelle dropped their
abayahs
over their heads like ponchos and pulled the drawstrings around their necks. The black clothing covered them completely,
from their necks to their toes.

“And the veils,” the driver persisted. “We don’t have blinds on this vehicle, and your faces must not be seen through the
windows.”

With exasperated groans, Carly and Lorelle both settled veils onto their heads and adjusted them so they could see through
the small rectangular spaces left for their eyes. How did the Saudi women stand that costume in the heat of summer? Carly
felt almost smothered, and the winter day was cool. “How the women here put up with this garbage I’ll never know,” Carly complained.
“I think I’ll start a revolution.”

“Well, that’s why you’re wearing this gear, aren’t you?” Joe said. “They don’t want their women getting ideas.”

Carly didn’t bother to reply. Bowie helped her into the crowded bus and sat beside her in the far back. Joe and Sam sat just
da> of them with Lorelle between them.

“Get ready for a bumpy ride!” the driver said as he climbed in. He started the bus and drove forward slowly, the engine laboring
over the barely improved road toward the highway to the big city.

In spite of her depressing garb, Carly felt her spirits lift as they departed the military base and were out in the open.
Adjusting to desert life in a militarized zone had taken its toll on her, on all of them. The guys she worked with had coped
by joking more, swearing more. Somehow the others had guessed about the budding romance between Bowie and her. They had all
begun giving her weird advice about men and teasing good-natured Bowie.