True Valor (12 page)

“I’ll get them, Grace.” Wolf pushed back his chair again. “What do you want?”

“Pilot’s special. Get Bruce one too.”

Wolf groaned. Bruce raised an eyebrow when Wolf headed toward the kitchen. This could be interesting.

She leaned forward to see around Cougar. “Hello, Bear.”

“Gracie.”

“How’s Kelly?”

Bear smiled at the mention of his wife; he’d been married two years. “Loving Virginia life. Not sure what to think of snow. Playing tourist. You’ve got a headache.”

She blinked as she thought of how to answer that. It was the first time Bruce had ever seen her search for words, and he narrowed his eyes as he realized what it was Bear had observed. She was smiling, but it wasn’t reaching her eyes. They were dark with pain. Start of a migraine? G’s, noise, and adrenaline would do that. “The AAA casing smacked into my canopy,” Grace finally replied. She helped herself to leftover pizza.

Bruce shot a look over at Bear. They had both seen a lot of crashes. What she wasn’t saying suggested a lot.

Wolf returned with two glasses. “A pilot special. Diet Coke, cherry juice, two cherries, and a dash of vanilla. They didn’t have hazelnut.”

She tasted hers and nodded her approval. Wolf slid a glass over to him. Grace looked at him and winked. Bruce sampled his more cautiously. “Pretty good.”

She chuckled.

“Have you already got a room for the night?” Wolf asked.

“Yes. I brought my toothbrush this time. It’s a short stop; I’m on the 0800 propeller hop back to the
GW
.”

“I suppose you’re going to sleep in rather than join me for an early breakfast.”

Grace turned Wolf’s arm to look at his watch. “Absolutely.”

Bear leaned back and exchanged a silent look with the other SEALs. Dasher rose moments later. “Speaking of the time, we’re taking off at 0700. My boss will get annoyed if I’m flying with less than four hours sleep.”

Cougar got up and hauled Pup to his feet. “Grace, I’m going to put the child to bed. It’s past his bedtime. Next time we get a chance to visit remind me to fix you a SEAL special.”

“I’ll do that. Night, guys.”

Bear leaned over and handed her a blue free calling card. “Make sure Wolf calls Jill before you send him to bed.”

“Glad to, Bear.” She looked over at Rich, who also rose. “Thanks for hauling Wolf home safely rather than leaving him in the sandbox.”

“I owed him a few,” Rich replied easily. “Good night, Gracie.”

The table cleared out and left only the three of them. Wolf started clearing the table, putting the glass bottles in the blue recycling bin, setting them carefully inside, not tossing them.

“You can ask,” Grace commented, leaning back and watching Wolf. Bruce got the feeling she had momentarily decided to forget he was here. Her attention was on Wolf, and there was a quiet focus to how she was watching her cousin. If Bruce could have left without disturbing the two of them, he would have.

Wolf stopped moving bottles, turned, and just stared at her. “There’s blood on your flight boots.”

“Nosebleed, not mine,” Grace replied easily. “We had a deck hand get hurt when an oxygen tank cart slid and slammed him into the tower.”

“And the flight? How close was it really?”

“Only my own errors. I nearly stalled out. The slotted flaps and aileron got chewed up. She could have sustained a lot more damage and still been airworthy.”

“You aren’t supposed to be getting yourself shot down.”

“Don’t pick a fight at 2 a.m.”

“What was I supposed to tell your dad?” he bit out.

“‘Frank, she was doing what she loved’?” Grace leaned over and caught his face in her hands. “Relax. I’m going to grow old with you. You’re family. You’re stuck with me.”

“You—” Wolf leaned forward and smacked a kiss on her nose. “Gidget, go to bed.”

“Are we okay?”

“When I get my heart out of my toes.”

She slipped the blue card Bear had given her into his pocket. “Go call Jill.”

Wolf glanced over at Bruce. “I’ll see her to the dorm,” he promised.

“What time is it there?”

“Nine a.m.”

Wolf got to his feet. “I’ll go call Jill.”

Grace placed her hands on the back of his chair as she watched him leave, then leaned forward to rest her chin on her hands. “Did I handle that right?”

Bruce had no idea. “How close was it really?”

“Minimal flight controls. Ninety degrees and rolling over, crashing altitude. I couldn’t eject even if I wanted to.”

“You willed the plane to fly.”

“Muscled and babied it back.”

He slid her one of the remaining water bottles that hadn’t been opened yet. “You handled it just fine.” Sometime tomorrow he’d try to get over the impact of knowing she’d nearly gotten shot down while providing cover for their exit from Iraq.

“How’d you get the name Striker?”

Figuring out the tangents a woman took was one of the things he had learned long ago not to even try to do. Bruce stretched out in his chair, crossed his ankles, and smiled at her. “August ’89, The Game.” The memory was a rich one. “The PJs were playing the SEALs for the division playoffs. I struck out on a fastball and I’ve never been able to redeem myself.”

“Over a decade and you still have the handle.”

He flexed his fist as he smiled. “I somehow manage to renew it every year.”

Her laughter was soft and spontaneous. “I wish I hadn’t been tagged with Gracie.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I’m particularly graceful.”

“It’s how others see you. How I see you.”

“Jill once said you specialized in being kind. She was right.”

Her words surprised him, and he wished she could see what others did. She’d nearly melted her cousin’s heart with that promise to be around to grow old. She smiled at him and Bruce felt warmth curl around his heart.

He’d love to keep her up talking but it wouldn’t be fair. Her evening had been even longer than his. She would have launched from the
GW
hours before that rescue. “Have you taken something for that headache?”

“Yes.” She reached for the water bottle. “I’m sorry about your hand.”

“It will heal. Friction tore through the gloves by the end of the drop.”

“I wasn’t on the channel to hear radio traffic, but I could see you were having an interesting night. Was that a normal mission?”

“The ones involving water are much more scary.”

She blinked. He liked her laughter. It bubbled. “You’re serious.”

“We train for nights like tonight. I’m glad we were able to get in and get them out quickly.”

She thought about that, her gaze probing his expression as she rolled that answer around, testing it. “Ecuador was like this, only not as quick.”

Ecuador had been much, much worse than this. He’d seen a man he was trying to reach shot in the head. “Yes.”

“Do the risks bother you?”

Only the failures.
That kind of reassurance she didn’t need to hear tonight. “Not really,” he replied easily. “I only live once. I long ago decided I wanted to do something that mattered. Hauling guys out of danger is worth the risk.”

“I feel that way about flying, that I was born with a love for it.”

“Why the Navy?”

“I hate flying level and slow.”

She was priceless. “You don’t do much of that in the Navy,” Bruce agreed, smiling at her and wondering what it would take to someday convince her to take him flying with her. She’d probably try to make him toss his lunch with a few snap rolls.

Grace pushed back her chair. “Come on, help me find the place where I dumped my stuff. This base is so big I get lost getting from point
A
to
B
.”

“Have your billeting slip?”

She tugged open the pocket of her flight suit. “Somewhere.”

He glanced at the piece of paper she found. “Easy; first building past the fitness center. But quite a hike from here.”

“You’ve stayed on this base before?”

“A few times. It’s our hub for deployments in this area. They’ve got a great bowling alley.”

They walked outside. The night had comfortably cooled and the stars were bright. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep on a bed that’s not rocking.”

“Somehow I think exhaustion will compensate.”

They passed the family community center. “This way.” Bruce pointed left.

Instead she stopped and turned in a full circle. “You know, if I didn’t know better, we could be on a base in the States. It’s obvious Americans helped build this side of the Turkish air base. Even the buildings look like those from home.”

“Homesick?”

“Some. I miss the small things. My apartment is over a bakery. I miss waking up to the smell of fresh bread in the morning. Movies with Jill. Sunday comics. What about you?”

“Popcorn.”

“That’s it?”

“I’ve already got your company.”

“Smooth, Bruce, very smooth.”

“I thought so. Things I miss—I’d add evenings at the beach. It’s where I spend most of my time. I’ve got simple tastes.”

“There’s popcorn and soft ice cream in the
GW
’s dirty-shirt wardrooms.”

“The Air Force has better movies.”

She graciously nodded. “I’ll give you that one.” She walked backward, expanding her list. “I miss busy streets and libraries and TV with lots of channels but nothing on, grocery stores with packed shelves, church choir practice, weekend volleyball practice, fast food served in super-size, ice cream shops, ATMs at every corner, daily mail delivery. . . .”

His smile grew as the list went on. “You’re homesick.”

“More than I thought. Six months is a long time to be away.”

“You’ll love it even more when you get back.”

“True.”

They passed the fitness center. “There’s your building.”

“Where are you?”

“Back the way we came a bit.” He walked her to the door. “I suppose I could save a few weeks of mail time by hand delivering a letter.” He pulled it from his pocket.

“You were carrying it?”

“I was adding a postscript when we got the call out.”

She took it. “Maybe I’ll save it for the morning.” She laughed at his expression. “I’m kidding. I’m rather a fanatic about mail. I love getting it.”

“Good. I enjoyed getting yours.”

She looked at the letter, scuffed her foot on the concrete. “Thank you for what you did tonight. I would have been lost if something had happened to Wolf.”

Bruce fully understood. “It was my pleasure, Grace.” She looked up, and he smiled at her. It was too early in the relationship to say good night in the way he would prefer. “It was great to see you tonight, even if it was under these circumstances.”

She pulled open the glass doors. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Next time Wolf weaves right when he should weave left—find a camera and take me a picture.”

He laughed. “I’ll do that. Good night, Gracie. Sleep well.”

* * *

It was a single person dorm room. There was a small refrigerator, dresser, closet space, a combined bookshelf and desk unit, a double bed. The walls had no color and the tile floors had throw rugs, properly placed to square corners with the furniture. After months of slipping into a narrow bunk and pulling a blue curtain to provide privacy, Grace found the space almost too much. She sprawled on the bed. There was a peaceful point where sleep had been denied when her body stopped complaining. She knew as soon as her eyes closed she would be sound asleep. She had to read the letter first.

It was addressed to her but not yet sealed. She pulled out three pages of notebook paper.
Lord, thanks. This is a great way to end the night.
She’d meant it when she said she loved letters. They were glimmers into someone’s soul.

Ben had written regularly, but they had been short notes not that different from Wolf’s. She’d known Ben very well. For him, saying
I miss you
had been practically putting his heart on the page. She’d saved every one of his letters. She had a feeling she would now be saving Bruce’s.

He liked to chat on paper, she realized within the first couple paragraphs as it continued the free style he had shown in his first letter. She laughed as she read about the parachute jumping.

His letter turned serious.
“The military teaches you not to get attached to the place or the thing but the people.”
She twisted a corner of the blanket around her finger. She liked his perspective, agreed with it.

“Ben carried your picture.”

It caught her by surprise.

“God can fill those holes I’m sure you feel when life gets quiet.”

She started fighting tears as she read. Bruce didn’t know the half of it. He just had to point to the hole and she felt the emotion. She missed the incredible friendship she’d had with Ben. And she hated the fact she hadn’t been able to say good-bye to him.

The letter turned to Ecuador and Wolf, and she turned the pages slowly.
“My partner Rich had been hit in the initial rescue attempt and Wolf became my second. He jokes he loves adrenaline, but when you need him, Grace, Wolf is the steady man who is there to do what needs to be done.”
Bruce understood her cousin. She was relieved to find the friendship between the two men was deep and solid from both sides.

John 14:27.

Where was a Bible when she needed one? She leaned over to the desktop where she had put her flight bag. When there was room based on the number of mission documents, she carried her small New Testament. She was intensely curious to see what Bruce had chosen to say. She found the verse.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”

She read the verse a second and a third time and was struck with one immediate realization: if she wanted to write a letter at Bruce’s level, she was going to have to step up her letter-writing skills. It had been a casual letter on the surface, but the comments were woven together from casual statement about today, to perspective on the situation, to a point he wanted to make. He was a message person. He was a man who had something to say and knew how to say it in a profound way. And as she read his letter again, part of her heart started to resonate as he touched something deep inside that others had never made an effort to reach.