Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) (27 page)

Daisy wrapped her arms around herself. “I told you I wasn’t going to do this again, Sky.”

“It’s just dreams, Daisy. I can handle it.”

“Okay, but maybe I can’t. Because that’s exactly what Jack said. You suggested I go talk with someone. And it’s helped. Have you gone for help? You know, what’s good for the goose and all that?”  

Finally he had a leg to stand on. “Yeah, I did. They make you talk to someone after an accident like that. You have to go talk to the squadron doc and a shrink.”

“When was the last time you talked to ‘the squadron doc and a shrink?’”

“After it happened. Couple of years ago.” He was losing ground again. “No, wait I had to go through it again after the attack on the
Blanchard.
Look, I’m fine, Daisy. Really.”

Daisy leapt from the bed and pointed to the headboard. “A man just woke up in my bed
screaming.
I wouldn’t say he was fine, Sky. I wouldn’t say he was fine at all. You told me that in order to move forward with my life, I had to let Jack go.”

Her voice gained momentum by the second. “Only then could I move on and be able to love again. That’s what you said. And I had to get past the fear that if I left him behind
it didn’t mean he didn’t matter.
You taught me that. But did you do it
yourself
? No, you’ve clung to this…this tragedy…afraid that if you leave Daniel behind, it will mean that his life was unimportant. You’re afraid you’ll forget him
as if he never mattered.”

Daisy paced. She stopped, turned, and glared at him. “And you had the audacity to suggest that
I
needed counseling. Talk about the goose and the gander!”

Sky stood and faced her, hands out in supplication. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I really thought I could handle it.” His voice gained strength until he was shouting. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep talking to a shrink. I’m sorry I couldn’t save Daniel. I’m sorry I
didn’t die.
I’m sorry for ever fucking living! What do you want from me?” he cried.

She stood there, eyes wide. “I want you to admit you need help.”

Completely spent, Sky collapsed at the foot of the bed. He cradled his head in his hands and mumbled, “It’s still not as bad as Jack’s problems.”

Daisy sat down beside him, but did not touch him. “What’s big and bad to you is big and bad to you. You cannot compare it to other people’s pain or symptoms. PTSD is not a competitive sport.”

Sky jerked his head up to look at her. “What makes you so sure it’s
PTSD?”

Daisy flew up from the bed, her hands punctuating her speech. “It goddamn well is! You had a traumatic experience. You have repercussions that interfere with your life
and mine
. That’s PTSD. Wake up and smell the fucking coffee!”

Sky took that one like a shot. Braced himself with his hands. His head fell back. He exhaled deeply. He was all out of ammo.

Daisy Mae wandered into the melee, jumped into his lap, and had the gall to purr. He pushed her away. “Some alarm cat you are,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“She…” Suddenly his hair needed repeated smoothing. “She usually wakes me up. She senses when I’m dreaming, I guess.”

Daisy stood there, hands on hips, disbelief on her face. “
Daisy Mae
wakes you up from your
nightmares
?”

“Usually.”

Daisy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God! Is that why you’ve kept her here?”

Sky looked at her sheepishly. There was no need to answer the question. He swallowed. “Look, I’ll go talk with somebody, okay? How ’bout we discuss this when I get back from the mission?”

“How ’bout we don’t? How ’bout I don’t ever want to talk to you again? How ’bout good-bye? How ’bout that?”

Sky walked to the bedside table, head hung low. He picked up his wallet and keys and put them in his pockets. “Okay. I’ll definitely talk to someone when I get back.”              

Daisy threw her hands up in the air and sighed heavily. “You don’t understand, Sky. This isn’t about a couple of dreams. This is about deceit. You lied to me. When I said I could never deal with another man with PTSD, that should have been the time to fess up. Oh, my God, did I really call you trustworthy tonight? I should have followed my instincts. I knew you were bad news the second I met you. What was I thinking?”

“Daisy, I’m sorry. What if I
promise
to talk with someone? I really do love you.”

“You know what? I thought I loved you too, but it’s a little late for that. Because I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for lying to me. You knew how badly I was hurting over Jack’s condition and yet you continued to deceive me. So how ’bout this? How ’bout I think you need to leave. Right now. So please pack up your
alarm cat
and get the hell out of here!”

Chapter 25

Talk about crashed and burned.

Sky hadn’t felt this bad since... No, this didn’t even come close to the way he’d felt when Daniel died, but he still felt pretty shitty.

Why hadn’t he listened to himself in the locker room that day when he realized this falling-in-love stuff was too much work? The day he’d decided to let Daisy go because it was too much damn trouble? Oh, yeah. That plan had flown right out the window when she asked him to hold her all night, and he’d ended up in her guest room bed.

And here he was back in his own bed at what? Three o’clock in the morning? He hadn’t been able to sleep since she’d thrown him and Daisy Mae out on their asses three days ago. He couldn’t even go on a decent unshaven, unwashed, drunken bender because he had to go to work to prepare for an op. Prep days, when he was usually gung-ho about flying south and hoping to kick some drug-runners’ asses. Everyone else at the squadron was in pep rally mode, and there was Sky, slumping around headquarters like some kind of emotional road kill.

The nights hadn’t been much better. Even his favorite shoot-’em-up flicks didn’t take the sting out. There he’d sat for the past three nights with Daisy Mae on his lap, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and dead soldier beer bottles, watching good conquer evil. And it only served to make him feel fat and lazy. He should have worked out his angst at the gym—but then he wouldn’t have had the luxury of feeling sorry for himself. He might have felt pumped up about life in general, instead of sinking down to a deep navy blue.

Here he was, able to sleep as much as he wanted at night without worrying about the dreams, and he couldn’t sleep. Oh, he dropped off with no problem, but he awoke a few hours later. Hurtin’. And thinkin’.

Stinkin’ thinkin’.

Interesting how he hadn’t had a nightmare since Daisy asked them to leave. At least that wasn’t what was waking him up.

Daisy Mae stretched and head butted Sky under the chin, nuzzling her way under the covers. She liked to curl up in the crook of his arm and purr herself back to sleep. Hey, at least somebody could sleep around here. What a pathetic excuse for a man. With a fucking
cat
curled up in his arms instead of the most incredible woman in the entire world.

He should have listened to himself that day and walked away from Daisy. But, no. He’d gotten sucked into that magical in-love place. A place, he swore, he’d never go again. Because when it didn’t work out, it hurt too damn much. Christ, had he actually asked her to marry him? Ouch.

He considered going out partying the last couple of nights. What was the use of pretending to be a grown-up if Daisy wanted nothing to do with him? Fuck that. Might as well go back to having fun for the sake of having fun. Yeah, like he was having fun. Ha. But he couldn’t even drag his ass off the sofa for the past seventy-two hours, except to put his game face on and go to work.

Not that flying out to the USS
Van Den Elsen
later today and maybe catching some bad guys off Central America over the next couple of
weeks wouldn’t be fun. Any day flying was fun to Sky, but it saddened him to know that when this mission was over, he’d head back to this pathetic bachelor apartment with its mismatched everything and be utterly and totally alone again. Oh, yeah. It was going to be a merry fucking Christmas. Even the thought of inviting lush young ladies to join him did nothing to raise his spirits. Sky didn’t want any lush young lady. He wanted Daisy.

Daisy Mae repositioned herself and cuddled under his chin. At least
this
female would be on her back when he returned, waiting for him with bated breath—or was that just a reflection of the wrong brand of cat food? In the old days, he would have thought that was funny. Nothing was funny these days.

Come on, Sky, she’s just a woman. Plenty of those to go around.

But not like Daisy.

Maybe he would do what he’d told her. Look into talking with someone about the nightmares after they completed this op. But that wasn’t going to help things with Daisy. She wasn’t pissed at him for not talking to someone or even for having a couple of bad dreams. She was pissed because he’d essentially lied about it. She’d felt betrayed. Okay, maybe he hadn’t come clean about his dreams, but she never asked if he had nightmares. She’d asked if he suffered from PTSD. And he hadn’t honestly believed that was the case. He and Daniel hadn’t been in combat, so…

“Wake up and smell the fucking coffee.”
Was that how she’d put it?

Double ouch.

Daisy had been upset and rightfully so. Because as much as he’d tried to deny it, it was PTSD. She’d nailed it: “You had a traumatic experience. You have repercussions that interfere with your life and mine. That’s PTSD.”  And she’d said something about symbolism. What the hell was that all about? Wasn’t symbolism something you had to think about in high school literature class? Did grown-ups still have to do that?

Deep down he’d known it was PTSD all along. But he’d been too bull-headed to deal with it because—how had Jack put it? Counseling is for pussies? That was exactly how he felt. At least up until about seventy-two hours ago when Daisy pointed out to his sorry ass, right before she kicked it out the door, that he needed help. Philip
hadn’t been afraid to get help, and look at the magical life he was leading. Okay, so Sky would seriously consider talking with someone when he returned in a couple of weeks.

That decided, he glanced at the clock to see it was now four A.M. He flipped back the covers, figuring the night was a wash. He might as well get up and report early to the squadron. He and Mikey had a full day ahead of them, flying out to the frigate that would take them down through the Panama Canal for drug patrol. Maybe they’d bust some bad guys and he could take his wrath out on them. He might as well shower, shave, and write instructions for Daisy Mae’s care. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “At least somebody’s going to miss me while I’m gone.”

“I have no idea where he went or how long he’ll be gone. We’re not only finished, but I told him in no uncertain terms to get a new vet. Even gave him several recommendations. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him returning to the clinic,” Daisy said, looking over Lillian’s shoulder at the computer.

“Methinks thou doth protest too much, Daze.” Lillian pulled up the appointment calendar for the day and hit Print. “I think you’re still in love with Cap’n Crawford.”

“Darn you, Lillian, I am not.” But Daisy was having trouble convincing her elevated heart rate.

“Are too. Do you have any idea how much you’ve smiled and
laughed
in the past couple of weeks? Everybody noticed. You didn’t hear all of them. But every client mentioned it as they were checking out. ‘What’s with Dr. Daisy? She seems like a new person. She must be in love or something.’ I just say, ‘I don’t know, but it sure is good to see her so happy.’”

“I wasn’t all that cheerful.” Daisy took the list and started pulling records.

“Oh, yes you were. Now look. What if he apologizes and gets help for his what? Dreams?”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “I can’t even believe I told you about it.”

“Honey, you gotta talk to somebody. You can’t keep it all bottled up, like you did for the better part of three years.”

“I did not.”

“Come on. You did. You know you did.”

Daisy could feel herself caving. She missed Sky so much, but… “Oh, Lillian, I don’t know. I don’t think I could go through it again. What am I saying? I
know
I couldn’t go through it again. It’s too painful. And it brings back such bad memories of how Jack and I fell apart. And it’s not just the dreams. I feel betrayed. He kept the truth from me. Maybe if he’d come clean in the first place, I might have been able to deal with it.”

Daisy handed the records to Lillian who stacked them on the desk and added notes to each.

“You told him about Jack, right? He knew how you felt? Maybe he was afraid to tell you. Afraid you’d can his ass right then and there.”

“And maybe I would have. I just don’t know. But I know I cannot tolerate deception.”

“How about that counselor? You still talking with her? That’s been helping, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what? What does she say about Cap’n Crawford?”

“She says I should think about…” Daisy’s voice drifted off as she scooped up the pile of clients’ records for the day and held them to her chest.

Lillian swiveled around in her chair. “What? Come on, you can tell me.”

“She says she could tell how happy I was. Just like you said. Why won’t you all just leave me alone?”

“And let you be miserable?”

“Yeah. Miserable.” She leaned over and hugged Lillian. “But thanks for caring. You’ve always taken such good care of me.”

Lillian gave her
the look
. What was Daisy thinking that she could keep anything from this dear woman who knew her so well?

“Come on. Spill. What else did the counselor say?” asked Lillian

“She thinks I should forgive him as long as he’s willing to seek help. She says I should
allow
myself to love him.” Daisy glanced around the small office, taking in her diplomas, her dogs, and the cluttered desk. Her gaze returned to Lillian who waited patiently. “I told him I loved him the other night. Right before it happened. Right before I found out.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Lillian hugged her. “Sometimes you gotta go with your heart, Daze. Isn’t that what your friend, George, said?”

Daisy sighed. “Yes, he did. And George was one wise man. I miss him.” Daisy sighed and shifted the records in her arms. “Come on, we have work to do here. The clinic’s not going to open by itself today.”

“And then what? You going to volunteer somewhere tonight?”

“You know what? I don’t even have the energy to do that anymore. I’m…I don’t know.”

“I think you really need to take some time for you, and think about what that counselor is advising. Daze, it’s because we care about you. We want you to be happy again. And you certainly seemed happy with Cap’n Crawford in your life.”

“I know. But what if I forgive him and what if his symptoms get as bad as Jack’s? Or what if he goes away like Jack did…and he doesn’t come back?”

“Fighting Dutchman Control, this is Cat Scratch Four-Seven-Five,” Sky barked over the radio to the USS
Van Den Elsen.

“Cat Scratch Four-Seven-Five, this is Fighting Dutchman Control.”

“Four-Seven-Five currently off your two-three-zero for twenty-five miles. Request flight quarters.”

“Roger, Four-Seven-Five. Setting flight quarters at this time.”

“Four-Seven-Five inbound.”

Mikey had practiced landing a helicopter on the deck of a small training platform ship in flight training and in the flight simulator, but this would only be his third time actually landing on a ship at sea. The ocean was fairly calm today, but that didn’t mean the USS
James
Van Den Elsen
might not be bobbing away out there. Landing on the deck of a fast frigate was a little dicier than setting a helo down on a training platform, calmly floating in a protected bay. And while landing on a small ship’s deck in the simulator was difficult, the penalty for crashing was only embarrassment. Today would be the real deal, and Sky’s palms began to sweat as Little Girl neared the ship.

With the frigate’s flight deck measuring only thirty-seven by seventy-three feet, a pilot had to be absolutely precise when landing a seventy
-
foot
helicopter on it.
Particularly one
with a fifty-four foot rotor spinning at two-hundred-fifty-eight RPMs, producing a deafening roar and one hundred MPH turbulence while setting the eleven-ton beast down.

Sky sensed Mikey’s nervousness and was reminded that he’d been a rookie pilot once too. Suddenly a wave of sadness washed over him. Daniel Meyers had been his HAC and Daniel had taught him to land the same way Sky was teaching Mike. Daniel had been amazingly patient with wild card Sky Crawford, who somehow had had the sense to keep his smart mouth shut and listen when his mentor instructed him.

God, he missed Daniel. Whether or not Sky might have saved him, he just plain missed him. Daniel had been a good pilot and a good friend. Sky always referred back to how Daniel had taught him when he worked with Mikey. Wouldn’t Sky love to be able to call his mentor up out of the blue and say, “Hey, Daniel, just calling to say I was thinking of you while training my co-pilot. Remember how wet I was behind the ears? Remember how you always called me ‘Kid?’ And how patient you were with my wild ass way of doing things? Anyway, I wanted to say thanks for everything you taught me. And I miss you. I hope the seas are calm where you are and the decks aren’t pitching and…” Sky swallowed the lump in his throat and checked his gauges. He needed to focus.

“Fighting Dutchman, Four-Seven-Five. Five miles off your stern,” Sky reported to the ship.

“Cat Scratch Four-Seven-Five, Fighting Dutchman manned and ready.”

“Roger, Control. We have a visual. Request green deck for one approach and one free deck landing.”

“Four-seven-five, you have green deck for one and one.”

Mikey put in his two cents worth. “Landing checks, please.”

Sky pulled out his pocket checklist and skimmed down the Landing Checklist, mentally ticking off items. “Everybody locked?”

Mikey tugged at his five-point harness and replied, “Locked left.”

“Locked aft,” came the response from Petty Officer Quinn, who monitored the computer in the cabin and prepared Little Girl for her approach to the frigate. “Probe is coming down.”

Sky knew Quinn had opened the cargo hatch in the deck, known as “the hellhole,” so he could verify that the extension of the two-foot long probe was in position to anchor the helo in the bear trap on the flight deck. “Landing checks complete,” Quinn said.