Once and For All: An American Valor Novel (23 page)

“No time like the present.”

She sat down on the end of their bed and attempted to remove the ring in a single pull. Despite her fingers being slender, the vintage wedding band was snug and required some effort to remove it. She’d twisted the ring halfway over her knuckle when someone knocked on the door.

“Just a second,” she yelled as she pushed the ring back on for the moment.

Without looking through the peephole, she flung open the door.

“Mrs. MacGregor?”

The men standing in front of her were clearly military although she didn’t recognize either at first glance. The one closest to her had a patch between the buttons of his jacket with two bars, but she couldn’t recall what rank it meant. She studied his name and didn’t recognize it, either.

But the black stitching on his right chest was a symbol everyone knew.

Chapter Twenty-Four

M
ARIE ON
CE TOLD
her how to know if your husband was injured or killed based on how many men came to your door and what they were wearing. But she couldn’t remember a bit of it now it was actually happening. Once the cross on his uniform caught her attention, she lost all focus and only vaguely heard him introducing himself along with the man standing beside him.

“How is he?” she heard herself ask.

“May I come in?”

If she said yes, she didn’t hear it. Wasn’t sure if she nodded or spoke or if they just came in anyway. The chaplain guided her to the loveseat while the other man closed the door behind himself and remained outside.

“Your husband is alive, but in critical condition,” he began. “What I have been told is he suffered three wounds. One to the leg. Two to the torso. I do not know the severity of each. An initial surgery was performed in theater before he was transported to Landstuhl.”

“Where’s that?”

“Germany, ma’am.”

She was trying to wrap her brain around what he was telling her. “Where was he that they transported him to Germany?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified, ma’am.”

Of course it was. That was the operational security stuff Danny had warned her about.

Meanwhile, her imagination ran wild with bloody scenes from every military movie she remembered. And the fear was slowly replaced with anger.

Why, after all, should fathers and mothers and wives and sons and daughters be told where their loved ones have been sent to fight? She’d watched the evening news every day since he left. Searched the internet for any clue to his whereabouts. So many places in the world they could have sent him. So many places for him to die far from his family. From her.

But she had no choice but to accept the fact she might never know what happened to Danny simply because the mission or whatever they called it was
classified
.

Her flash of anger quickly gave way to acceptance and numbness.

The chaplain took her hand in his. “Mrs. MacGregor?”

She turned to look him in the eyes for the first time. They were an interesting shade of gray. Not quite blue. Not quite green. It reminded her of the early-morning fog the day Danny left.

“Is there anyone you’d like to call or someone I can call for you so that you’re not alone?”

“I can do that?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the chaplain watched, she sent a text message to Marie, asking her to come over. Ten minutes passed without response, leaving her to assume Marie was busy with the kids.

She fought her way through another wave of tears and before she knew it and without any prompting, she began to tell the chaplain the story of her and Danny. How they grew up together, how they once meant everything to each other, how they eventually went separate ways. Then she told him of that early morning in a Myrtle Beach grocery store, of his backyard proposal and the courthouse wedding. She told him of the laughter and tears and everything in between.

Turning over her hand, he pressed a brass coin into her palm and folded her fingers over it. “In the hours and days ahead, I’m sure there will be times of darkness, times when you will feel very alone. When you do, look at this and remember that is certainly not the case. You have your family. You have your military family. You have your heavenly family. All will be there for you when needed.”

As she clutched the coin tightly in her hand, letting the edge dig into her skin, there was a knock on her door for the second time that afternoon. Marie came rushing through the moment Bree opened it, immediately throwing her arms around Bree’s neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear the alert for your text message and only saw it after the call came in regarding unit injuries.”

Assured she would be taken care of, the chaplain left and Bree began telling Marie everything she knew, which in the end amounted to very little. For now she was waiting on a call from the hospital in Germany. She had no idea if he was on the way to Landstuhl or already there, whether he’d be shipped back to Walter Reed within a matter of days or if his injuries were so significant the army would send her overseas.

“Have you talked to his father?”

She’d dialed Mac a dozen times in a fifteen-minute span before she forced herself to put down her phone. “Voice mail.”

“They’ll get ahold of him,” Marie said, patting Bree’s leg. “So what are you going to do in the meantime? Stay here, or go to Myrtle Beach and wait there with your family until Danny’s stateside?”

Bree shrugged.

“You are going to wait for him, aren’t you? Don’t tell me after everything you two have been through, you’re just going to take the easy way out?”

“I’m supposed to be in Greensboro—”

“Don’t make me smack some sense into you,” Marie said, pointing a finger at her. “You know you don’t want that job. I know you don’t want that job. In fact, I think the only person in the world who doesn’t know this is Danny. So here’s what you’re going to do.” Marie grabbed Bree by the arm and towed her into the bedroom where Bree’s empty suitcase sat beside the bed. “You’re going to pack your suitcase with only the essentials.” She opened the top dresser drawer and pointed inside. “Get at it.”

Then she calmly took a seat on the corner of the bed and kept a watchful eye on Bree while messing with her phone.

“Here’s the thing,” Marie said a few minutes later. “There’s a flight that leaves for Myrtle Beach in ten minutes, which you wouldn’t make even if there was a seat available. Do you think you’re okay to drive there? It’s how far?”

Having gathered her essentials from the bathroom, Bree stopped short in the doorway. “You’re looking up flights for me?”

“Of course I am. That’s what friends do.”

Tears threatened once again. “How am I—”

“Listen to me. You can do this.” Marie crossed the room and took hold of Bree once again, guiding her to the suitcase. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned being an army wife all these years, it’s that I have a pretty good idea which marriages are strong enough to survive military life. Which spouses can ride this wild lifestyle out. You’ve made it through your own battles and that’s why Danny needs you. You’re strong enough to handle this.”

Bree took a deep breath and composed herself. Marie was absolutely right. So was the chaplain. As her dad would say, it was time to buck up. She owed it to Danny to be there for him. As to what would happen between them afterward . . . well, she’d worry about it later.

“Depending upon traffic, it takes about four hours from here to there. When is the next flight?”

Marie checked her phone. “Not until eight. So you might as well drive to Myrtle Beach. If you leave in the next hour, you can be there around nine.”

They threw the last of her things in the suitcase and headed out the door.

“For the longest time I wondered why Danny didn’t marry. Why he bounced from one woman to another, can’t even call them relationships. Now it all makes sense. He was waiting for you.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Bree said as she loaded her suitcase in the Tahoe. “Trust me. I was right where he left me.”

“Okay, maybe waiting is the wrong word here.” Marie followed her around to the driver-side door. “Maybe it’s more like hope. He was hoping for a second chance with you.”

A
LITTLE
BEFORE
ten that night, she pulled Danny’s Tahoe into the driveway of his childhood home. Only once she turned onto their street did Bree realize she’d completed most of the drive from Savannah on autopilot. She remembered stopping for gas and placing a quick phone call to Mac, but aside from that she recalled nothing of her trip. An accomplishment that was equally amazing and disturbing.

Even before she shut the engine off, the porch light flickered to life and the front door opened when both Mac and her dad appeared on the front porch. By the time she’d reached the top step, she was overcome with tears for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

“Don’t you worry,” Mac said, his voice a low grumble in her ear as he clung tightly to her. “My son will make it home. After all, he’s got a lot to live for.”

She could only wonder what Mac would say if he knew they’d decided to go their separate ways just minutes before Danny boarded his plane.

When her father-in-law finally released her, she was immediately caught up in her father’s arms.

“Just hang in there, pumpkin,” her father said, alternating between rubbing her back with one beefy hand and kissing the top of her head.

As they followed Mac into the house, her dad held her steady with one strong arm wrapped around her shoulders. Then her mother met them just inside the door, took her by both hands and led her to the sofa, all the while asking if she’d eaten, if she was thirsty or needed to lie down. All that smothering care and concern she’d run away from months earlier, she gladly welcomed now, willing to take any and all support she could get.

And then from out of nowhere Father Bryant came in.

She wanted so badly to tell him to get out. To say things weren’t so critical with Danny that it required all the prayers and consolation.

But she didn’t know just how dire the situation was, nor was she the one suffering. So she held her tongue.

Everything they were saying, the prayers they recited, reminded her of last rites.

They had prayed over her in the same way when she was at her weakest. When she was most vulnerable. When she wanted nothing more than to sit up in her bed and tell them to get the hell out because she wasn’t going anywhere.

But this time they couldn’t force her to sit there and take it.

So she politely excused herself and headed down the darkened hallway to Danny’s old room. She flipped the switch and the single overhead bulb snapped, shrouding the room in darkness. For a moment she wondered if she wasn’t supposed to be here. If the universe was telling her she was violating Danny’s personal space and the burned-out lightbulb was a sign to go.

But if she wasn’t here, where was she supposed to go? Back across the street to her parents’ house, to her old room? Going there felt like giving up.

From memory she crossed the room to where a small desk sat in the corner. Surprisingly, the gooseneck lamp still worked, casting odd light and shadows across the room. Exhausted from the emotional roller coaster she’d been riding most of the day, Bree sank down onto the edge of his bed to start, then slowly lowered herself onto the mattress, placing her head on the pillow. Her eyes scanned the room. Dusty books high upon a shelf. Ribbons and medals and trophies. A Major League movie poster. Several framed pictures.

Atop the dresser was one of Danny and his mother. In it he wore a Braves T-shirt while sitting in his mother’s lap, her arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing him as she kissed his ear. A big smile as he tried to wriggle from her embrace.

He couldn’t have been older than five at the time. He would have lost her soon after. She wondered if that was the last picture of them together.

Bree pulled her phone from her pocket, swiped the unlock screen with her thumb. No voice mails. No emails. No text messages. She quickly sent a message to Marie, letting her know she’d arrived in Myrtle Beach. A few seconds later she received one in return.

Get some rest. Keep me posted.

Then, refusing to put it off any longer, she fired off an email to her friend in Greensboro, explaining Danny’s injury, that she was awaiting news on his condition, and would likely be delayed a week at minimum. Whether or not she held the job for Bree was a different story.

From there she opened the photo gallery on her phone, swiping through the many pictures she’d taken since arriving in Savannah. She stopped on a selfie of the two of them, last photo taken of them together the night before her birthday. In it, with Talmadge Bridge in the background and the sun setting behind them, Danny pressed a kiss to her cheek.

At this point she didn’t care if they stayed married or divorced. All she wanted was for him to live. Nothing else mattered.

B
RIGHT SUNLI
GHT STREAMED
through the open blinds, waking her. At some point in the evening she’d fallen asleep in Danny’s room and the problem of whether to stay here or across the street was easily solved. Her suitcase had been brought in from the car and sat near the closet door and her phone was—

“Shit!”

Just seconds later she heard the distant ringing of a telephone. Instead of digging the charger from her handbag, she raced through the living room and into the kitchen where Mac was talking on the phone. She’d barely rounded the corner when he told someone on the other end, “She’s right here. Hang on.”

He covered the mouthpiece with his palm. “It’s someone in Germany calling with an update on Danny,” he said, handing her the corded phone. “Give me a second and I’ll get on the other end.”

“Hello?”

“Mrs. MacGregor, my name is Anne and I have news about your husband.”

This stranger had the voice of an angel, kind and soothing. She said Danny had recently come out of a long surgery, that he suffered significant internal damage as a result of multiple wounds. Although he survived, his list of injuries was extensive.

Ruptured spleen. Damaged kidney. Perforated bowel.

There were other words like significant blood loss, transfusions, low blood pressure, and high risk of infection.

“Barring any post-surgical complications and if his vitals remain stable, he will be transported to Walter Reed within a day or two.”

The woman promised to keep an eye on Danny and to call if there were any changes.

Bree hung up the phone and took a seat at the kitchen table. Once again, all she had to do was sit and wait.