True Valor (19 page)

She looked between the two of them. “Basketball?”

“Gracie, he landed in a tree during a night jump.”

“Ouch.”

“Crosswinds,” Bruce said in his own defense. They’d been up at Fort Bragg, the units rotating back joining up to get in some real jumps to shake off the rust. The CARP jump hadn’t gone as planned. The C-130 came in low and fast. They jumped at eight hundred feet using the wind from the plane’s forward motion to fill the canopy and were on the ground in twenty seconds. They called it a Controlled Aerial Release Point, but about the only thing controlled was the fact it guaranteed they were going to hit the ground hard with minimal exposure to enemy fire. He’d hit a tree.

Wolf took pity on him and distracted her. “Have you seen Jill yet?”

“No! And I want to see this ring I’ve been hearing about. Is she at the Air Wing tent?”

“Keeping station under all the red balloons.” Wolf led the way, clearing a path for them.

Grace reached back and caught Bruce’s hand and tugged. “There is more to this story. Walk with me. Talk.”

Bruce fell in step beside her, amused. This spurt of energy and homecoming emotion would wear off. Did she want to just go home and crash? want to enjoy the freedom of a night out on the town? He’d settle for something in the middle if he could talk her into it.

Twenty

* * *

She was losing her voice. Grace couldn’t remember when she’d had such a wonderful welcome home. She’d settled on one of the picnic tables at the east corner of the Air Wing tent and was fighting the desire to visibly wilt. Families of the squadron personnel and kids from the flying club had been coming by to say hi. She was just about smiled and hugged out.

“Grace.” Bruce handed her another cold drink.

“Thanks.” He settled across from her at the table. She braced her chin against her hand and decided she would be quite content simply to look at him for a while. Bruce was better looking than she remembered, even with the black eye. The man had to scrunch up to fit a picnic table; he was a tall man with broad shoulders and powerful forearms, strong hands. The sun had lightened his short dark hair. She had forgotten the way his eyes added to his smile.

“Did you sleep last night?”

She gave a rueful smile. “Not much.”

“You want to get out of here?”

She looked over to where Jill was in the middle of arranging the charter bus for her clients who needed a ride home. Grace had already arranged to meet Jill for breakfast tomorrow; the two of them were going to have a great time catching up on news. “I’d love to get out of here. Did you see where Wolf put my gear?”

“He’s already taken it down to my car.” Bruce offered her a hand up and then simply chose not to release hers. She laughed lightly as she tugged and he tugged back. He squeezed her hand. “Now that you’re back, I’m not letting you go.”

“Then don’t forget my flowers.”

He picked up the large glass she’d converted into a temporary vase and handed it to her. “How long can you stay in town?” she asked as he led the way to the parking lot.

“My flight back leaves tomorrow at 0500.”

“Too bad.”

“Oh, I think I can pack a few days’ worth of stuff into the one we have. Assuming you can stay awake.”

“That may be a bit of a challenge.”

The parking lot had begun to clear out. Bruce released her hand to unlock the car door for her. “My welcome home gift,” he offered, as she picked up the package in the passenger seat.

“On top of the flowers?” She settled her makeshift vase between her feet. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

He chuckled. “Go ahead and open it.”

She didn’t want to rush it. By the time she finally lifted the box lid, Bruce was pulling out of the base. He’d remembered her words from Incirlik. It was her list of
I Miss
items framed. She loved it. “This is wonderful.”

“Just in case you’re at a loss of what to do in the next few days.”

“It’s a perfect gift.”

Outside the car window familiar landmarks were passing by. She found it interesting that she didn’t have to give him directions to her home. He parked in the lot behind her building and retrieved her bags. The bakery was busy. Grace stuck her head in long enough to share a greeting with the owner and a promise to stop back by later, then headed upstairs to her apartment. She used keys she hadn’t used for months and pushed open the door.

The apartment smelled of lemon oil and cinnamon. “Just drop those in the hall,” she murmured, setting off to wander through the rooms, getting reacquainted with her space. There were current magazines on the end table, mail neatly arranged on the desk, and a stack of movies from the local video store on the table. Bruce watched her, leaning against the archway to the living room. There were even homemade cookies in the cookie jar. Her answering machine was filled with friends saying welcome home. And flowers.

She had missed the fresh flowers. She counted six vases as she wandered through the apartment. Jill had outdone herself. Bruce was watching her, not saying anything, just letting her absorb it at her own pace. She smiled at him as she ended her tour. “It’s good to be home. I’m going to get changed.”

“Take your time. I know how nice it is to have options in clothes again.”

She stepped into the bedroom and was confronted with a full closet of clothes. “I didn’t think guys reacted that way to clothes.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, having choices again.”

She heard the TV turn on as she pulled out the first blouse. This was not going to be an easy decision. “Should I find something casual or something elegant?”

“Surprise me. I’ll adapt my plans to fit.”

She finally settled on jeans and a knit top, choosing old favorites. She paused to enjoy the roses by her bedside. “Do I owe you thanks for all these flowers?”

“Wolf sent a few of them too.”

Her cousin may have sent the daisies, but the roses—Bruce had gone out of his way to make a statement. She looked at them a few times as she dressed, brushing her hair. She took her time with makeup. “Where’s Emily?”

“I left her with my partner Rich for the weekend.”

“Is she doing okay?”

“She loves the beach.”

Grace thought about socks and shoes, then wandered out to the living room barefoot instead. Bruce was rewinding a videotape. Her apartment looked small with him here.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Bruce.”

“You do.”

“And you’re embarrassing me.” She smiled at him even as she said it, pleased that he wasn’t commenting on the freckles and the touches of gray hair. She headed to the kitchen; she was craving fresh fruit.

“There’s a new restaurant a block over we can check out for a late lunch.”

“Sounds wonderful.” She wasn’t in a hurry to leave. She settled on the chair by the couch holding a pear and the first group of welcome home cards from her kids at the flying club.

“I kept all of your letters.”

“Did you?” She opened the first one and didn’t dare glance over at Bruce. He sounded incredibly self-satisfied.

“Did you keep mine?”

“What if I said no?”

“That blush tells me you did.”

She looked over at him, amused, charmed, and decided it was worth taking the risk. “Just what are you hoping for from this friendship?”

“As much as we can make of it.”

She tilted her head, thinking about that. He liked to arrange things too much to leave it that open, but he was playing it safe. “Good answer.”

“Find shoes. Let’s go take a walk, go shopping, and get some lunch.”

“But that’s work,” she felt obliged to protest.

“Sunshine that is just pleasantly warm, people, exercise . . .”

She let him pull her to her feet and went to find shoes.

He took her hand as they strolled the streets of her neighborhood, talking about what had been going on with Jill, things she had missed in the news in the last months. The neighborhood had changed.

“You’re not listening.”

“What?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

“Sorry. I leave for a few months and new businesses appear.”

“Lunch, and then we’ll wander through a few of them.”

He was as good as his word. Bruce bought her lunch, and then they wandered through a new gift shop where he handed her cards, one after the other, from humorous to serious. “When’s your birthday?”

She tilted her head and considered that twinkle in his eye. “I’m not telling.”

“Gray hair. Must be the big 3-0.”

She was past thirty and had a feeling he well knew it. She politely stepped on his toe as she reached for a birthday card that had a black balloon on it. “I know when yours is.”

“Only because Jill insisted on having me serenaded last time.”

She smiled.

His eyes narrowed. “That was your doing?”

“I’m not telling.”

He draped an arm around her shoulders and tugged a lock of hair. “Wise woman; I’d have to retaliate.”

She giggled at the threat. “This one’s for you.” She handed him the card.

“You wound me. Here.” He handed her the one he had been looking at.

She glanced down, expecting a birthday card. It wasn’t. It was a sweetheart card. And it left her speechless. He hugged her. “Want me to buy you one of those stuffed penguins?”

The question asked with a touch of hopeful expectation broke the serious moment. She looked at the display he indicated and laughed. “Don’t you dare. I can’t believe Wolf started this crashing penguin joke.”

“I think they’re cute.”

“Emily is cute; stuffed penguins are just stuffed penguins.”

“Why do I get the feeling you were a serious child?”

“Wolf needed someone to show some common sense.”

“True.” He tugged her into a bookstore next. “Whatever you like. I’m buying.”

“A dangerous offer. Carrying too?”

“Sure.”

She pointed to the left. “Mysteries first.”

He left her occasionally to take tangents through side aisles. She got caught up reading the first chapter of one of the books and lost track of time. He draped an arm around her shoulders and laughed softly. “Buy it.”

She glanced up, smiled at him, and closed the book. “It’s not that good.”

“Sure, it’s not.” Bruce chuckled. She added it to the stack of books he carried. “I’ve got one for you, Grace. Second book down.”

She tugged it from the stack. The book was a collection of letters from the Civil War, soldiers writing back to their families. She flipped through it, found them fascinating. “I didn’t know you were interested in history.”

“The people stuff of history.”

She got caught by a yawn. “I’m fading on you.” It had been an 0500 morning and she’d been running at full energy for six months. Fatigue was taking over.

“You’re allowed.” He turned her toward the counter. “Let’s go buy these and you can curl up with a good book.”

They wandered back to the apartment at a leisurely pace—Grace reading him some of the Civil War letters aloud, Bruce steering her around obstacles she threatened to run into as she read.

Back at her apartment, she headed toward the couch and kicked off her shoes. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed an afternoon more.

“Take a nap. I’m going to read a book and watch you sleep.”

She tilted her head as he settled in the chair across from her, amused. “Are you?”

“Absolutely.”

She needed a catnap, and the last thing she wanted to do was toss him out. She snuggled back into the cushions. “I’ve missed this couch.” She made herself comfortable. She was at peace.

“Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“Welcome home.”

She smiled as she drifted toward a nap. “I think I’ve decided to like you.”

Bruce ~

You made my first day home so special. I don’t have words to say just how much it meant to me.

Thanks for the flowers.

The afternoon letting me nap.

The double feature in movies that had me laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

The hug good-bye.

It’s strange to be sending a letter via e-mail, knowing you will get it as soon as I hit Send. Please be careful as you train. I teased you about the black eye, but I know it could just as easily have been a broken leg. I lay awake for several hours last night, getting accustomed to the shadows and the sounds and the stillness—home is very different from the carrier—I lay awake and I thought of you. Some friendships are gifts, and yours is in that category. I don’t know where this is going, but I find it fascinating to find out.

Grace

Grace ~

It’s going somewhere interesting, and we’ll wisely take it one day at a time. (You’re adorable; did I mention that when I saw you?)

Yours, Bruce

Twenty-One

* * *

SEPTEMBER 2

N
ORFOLK
, V
IRGINIA

She was grateful to have her pillow back. Privacy. Quiet. A comfortable bed. Grace wrapped her arms around a massive feather pillow as she stifled a yawn and let herself drift awake. It was absolutely wonderful to be home. A week, and it was still settling in.

She hadn’t been able to sleep in and enjoy it nearly enough for her liking. Shore life was incredibly busy. There were two new pilots—nuggets—to get integrated into the squadron. Equipment upgrades. Weapons quals coming up in Nevada. Sea trials with the full fleet prior to the next deployment. Her day planner was already filling up with commitments and dates.