Desert Dreams
By Kennedy Northcutt
©2010
For disclaimers, please see Part 1. For other stuff, visit my blog:
http://kennedynorthcutt.wordpress.com.
Part 4
Chapter 10
"Oh-five-niner, come in," a tinny voice crackled over
a battered radio. "Oh-five-niner, respond! You still with us
Delancy? Come in!" Kevin Johnson's voice turned frantic, but
fell on dead ears, literally.
The Black Hawk was a jumbled mess of twisted and smoking
wreckage. Delancy's lifeless body lay slumped and bleeding against
the instrument panel. His co-pilot's face was no longer
recognizable, having smashed against the windshield during impact.
Neither had survived the initial impact.
A lone truck drove toward the site of the downed aircraft and
stopped next to it. Sunlight glared off the surface of the
dull-gray truck.
Several insurgents in nondescript clothing jumped from the truck
and trained their weapons on what was left of the American chopper.
They exchanged a few words and checked the wreckage for
survivors.
"Oh-five-niner, come..." Machine gunfire erupted and
instantly silenced the radio.
Several of the insurgents discharged their weapons into the
already-dead American bodies, as well as the air above them. They
cheered and danced in triumph before jumping back into their truck.
The truck took off and disappeared into the desert, leaving the
still-smoking wreckage in silence.
***
"We need to send another rescue chopper out there to find them,
sir," Kevin anxiously confronted his CO.
Farrell paced his office and chewed on the stub of an unlit
cigar. Although he'd vowed to quit smoking, the taste of the
tobacco was something he was craving intensely at that moment. "We
sent two and both are MIA."
"There are survivors," Kevin emphasized. "I know it, sir.
Delancy saw something before they chased that other truck into the
desert."
"It may just have been a reflection on the desert floor,"
Farrell waved the cigar impatiently. "There's no way to know if any
of them survived, and I'm not wasting another chopper on a futile
rescue attempt."
"But, sir!" Kevin slammed both hands on the Colonel's desk. "We
don't know that they're all dead!"
"As you were, Major!" Farrell barked. "I know you were close to
Captain Stephens..." he held up a staying hand when he saw that
Kevin was about to protest. "Don't think that I don't know what
happens in my own camp, Major. I'm not a complete idiot."
The look on Kevin's face said it all. "She's my friend, sir,
nothing more." He girded himself for his next words. "She's also
one hell of a surgeon and a damned good leader."
"Whatever your relationship is or otherwise, Major," Farrell
continued. "I understand how you feel. However, the simple fact of
the matter is we just can't spare another chopper at the moment.
Not to mention, we don't have another pilot and crew to spare. I'm
sorry, but that's how it is."
Kevin paced to the window and stared out at the desert beyond.
He was dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing the day
before, but didn't care. When he'd learned that Lacey's chopper had
been shot down during a search and rescue mission, he'd volunteered
to man the base communications radio and hadn't left once during
the entire night. He knew Lacey and Mac were out there somewhere
and felt he owed it to his friends to advocate for their safe
return.
"They're alive, sir," he said quietly. "I know it with all my
heart. I also know we need to find them and bring them back. Even
if they aren't alive, we owe it to their families to retrieve their
bodies and send them Stateside. We can't leave them out there for
the damned insurgents to mutilate. You know what that will do for
morale."
Farrell stepped up next to the man and placed a reassuring hand
on his shoulder. "All right," he said, gazing out at the
brightening day. "I'll send one more chopper out there." He slapped
Kevin's shoulder as he turned back to his desk. "I'm authorizing
the use of the new Chinook that was delivered a few days ago. It
hasn't been field-tested, yet, but I'm sure Tiny has it all fueled
up and ready to go. It also has a full complement of medical
supplies and equipment on board, just in case you find them alive
but injured."
Kevin could only turn and stare in astonishment. When he'd
barged into his CO's office to argue his case he hadn't expected to
succeed. This was more than he'd hoped for and he could only beam
at the man in dumbfounded silence.
"Cat got your damned tongue, Major?" Farrell finally broke the
silence.
"N-no, sir," he said. "Thank you, sir,"
"Don't thank me yet, Major," Farrell shot back. "I'm sending you
out there personally to retrieve any survivors or bodies and bring
them home."
Kevin's eyebrows shot into his hairline. He hadn't had a great
deal of flight time since taking the promotion to Major and wasn't
quite prepared for this new development. He had, however,
maintained his dual-engine rating and was thankful for small
wonders.
"But, sir…"
"No buts, Major," Farrell continued. "I don't have another pilot
available. Besides, you have that dual-engine rating that no one
else here has. Report to the flight line at 0700, and I'll have a
crew there to fly with you."
Kevin snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!" He turned on his heel
and was about to march out of the office.
"And, Major?"
"Sir?" Kevin stopped with his hand on the door
knob.
"Do not get your ass blown off out there. I want that aircraft
back here in one piece. Is that clear?" Farrell said with a
smirk.
"Yes, sir!" Kevin left the office.
***
"You sure you're up to this, Major?" Tiny yelled to be heard
above the whir of the Chinook's dual propellers. The thing looked
like a droopy puppy-a droopy, tan puppy with spinning ears above
its head.
"Just like ridin' a bike, Tiny!" Kevin replied with a toothy
grin.
"Take care of her then, sir," Tiny shouted, as he patted the
side of the aircraft then stepped away and wiped his dirty hands on
the equally dirty rag he always carried. "And bring them back safe,
sir!"
Kevin didn't answer. He merely saluted as the Chinook lifted off
the helipad and soared into the clear blue sky.
"Safe flying, Major," Tiny murmured, frowning as he walked back
toward the maintenance hangar.
Losing two choppers in two days was weighing heavily on him.
Losing two of his closest friends - Captain Stephens and Mac - was
something he just couldn't think about. The big man wasn't one to
dwell on mishaps, but this one just spelled disaster. He lifted a
silent prayer to the heavens in the hopes that someone up there was
listening.
"Take care of 'em, will ya?" Tiny asked quietly, before he made
his way back to the shade and relatively cool
hangar.
***
Mac was barely conscious when she felt someone move next to her.
She opened her eyes to see Peters watching her intently with a
frown of concern on his tanned and dirty features.
"What?" Her voice cracked on the single word. Her throat was dry
and her vision swam. She knew the blood loss from her shoulder
wound had depleted what little reserves she'd had after the
crash.
A relieved sigh escaped the sergeant's lips and he smiled at
her. "I didn't think you were ever gonna wake up,
ma'am."
"I'm awake," Mac groused in that gravelly half-whisper. "I feel
like shit, but I'm still hangin' in here. Wha's up?"
"We got us some more company, ma'am," his expression reflected
his worry.
"Dare I ask?" She eyed him warily.
"Far as I can tell," he answered staring up at the cloudless
sky. "There's at least a half dozen trucks this time. I think
word's spread that we put up a fight and there's another downed
aircraft nearby."
Mac shot him a worried frown. "The other chopper was shot down,
Sergeant? God, have I been out of it that long? How did you find
out?"
"I found the wreckage earlier, ma'am," he answered, wiping the
sweat from his brow with a bare arm that sported an eagle and
American flag tatoo.
"Survivors?" She asked hopefully, but girded herself for the
worst.
"None, ma'am," he answered before turning away so she wouldn't
see the pain in his eyes.
Mac knew there was something he wasn't telling her. "Spill it,
Sergeant," she said simply.
"The fuckers got there before I could, ma'am," he answered.
"They mutilated the bodies. There's nothing left of 'em."
His anger rose as he replayed the scene he had come upon. The
insurgents were still shooting when he'd crawled closer for a
better look. By the dim light of the truck, he could see what they
were doing and it had infuriated him to see his fellow Americans
treated in such an undignified manner. He wanted nothing more than
to do something about it, but there was nothing he could do, short
of getting himself killed. His ammunition supply was low and he had
no backup to rely on. It irked him that all he could do was watch
the scene play out until the insurgents were done with their
sport.
Mac sighed heavily. She could only imagine what the sergeant had
seen out there. She was starting to realize that war was a whole
lot more horrid than what she'd seen from her cockpit. There was a
human factor involved she'd never had to consider before. It was
one thing to fly around and have her crew shoot at targets on the
ground. But it was quite another to be right in the thick of
things.
"I'm sorry, Sergeant," she said quietly, trying to comfort the
man. After all, he was a friend now, despite the fact they had only
known each other for a short time. "I didn't know."
Peters' shoulders suddenly squared and his back straightened.
"We'll get 'em, ma'am. They'll pay for what they did to our guys. I
promise."
He started to get up, but Mac grabbed his arm. "Don't go off
half-cocked, Sergeant," she said when his eyes met hers. "We still
need you." She nodded to the unconscious woman in her arms. "Don't
go doing anything stupid that will get you injured…or worse.
Got it?"
He considered her words for a moment and then nodded once. "Got
it."
Mac breathed a sigh of relief at his admission. She hadn't
thought he would go out and do anything stupid, but his admission
told her differently. He'd apparently been contemplating just
that.
"So what do we do about our current situation?" Mac asked
finally. "Any ideas?"
"Fight," came a barely audible and gravelly reply that made them
both look at the woman in Mac's arms.
"Lacey?" Mac said hopefully. The doctor had been unconscious for
so long that Mac was worried she might have slipped into a
coma.
"Don't. Give. Up." Lacey croaked through dry, cracked lips.
Mac and Peters exchanged brief smiles.
"Don't worry. We won't, ma'am," Peters said. He touched one of
her swollen hands and saw her eyes flutter open briefly, then close
again. "You hang in there, too, ma'am."
"Yeah, Lac," Mac continued. "If we can't give up, neither can
you."
"T-tryin'," Lacey murmured.
"Promise," Mac said.
Lacey was quiet for several long minutes.
"Promise."
Just then, the sounds of trucks approaching drew their
attention. The sergeant sprang to his feet and grabbed the M-16 he
had placed against the side of the hole. He jumped out and
positioned himself to face the approaching threat. He didn't expect
any help and all he knew was he had to protect his
comrades.
Chapter 10
"Seven-zero-echo to Base," Kevin spoke calmly into his mic.
"We're approaching last known coordinates."
"Roger that zero-echo," Farrell's voice came back.
"Approach with caution and advise when you have
visual."
"Roger, Base," Kevin answered. "Seven-zero-echo
out."
He slowly banked left then pushed forward on the stick until
they were flying less than a hundred feet off the ground. With one
eye on his GPS, he kept the other trained on the terrain in front
of him. If there were any insurgents close-by, he wanted to be sure
to surprise the assholes and not the other way
around.
***
"They're…comin'…" Lacey's voice was so weak that Mac
had to strain to hear her.
"Yes," Mac nodded. She was worried about Peters and even more
worried about the woman in her arms. Lacey was nothing more than
deadweight in her lap. She'd tried to keep the doctor conscious by
talking to her, but hadn't been very successful. "Can't say I'm
surprised, though. We've been fairly lucky up to this point. Luck
was destined to run out sometime."
"'Sall…right…now," Lacey murmured
softly.
"Stay with me, Lacey Stephens," Mac ordered in her most superior
tone, hoping to get the woman to finally listen to her. "Don't you
leave me, Captain." Her tone softened on the last.
"Tired…s-so…tired," Lacey mumbled.
Mac could hear the trucks getting closer and knew it was only a
matter of minutes before they were completely outnumbered. She also
knew the sergeant would do his best to take as many of the enemy
out before anything got too close. She sent a silent prayer to the
heavens that someone or something would get them out of their
present dilemma. But she knew the odds were stacked against them
and had been since the beginning of this goddamned
mission.
"Should'a stayed in Afghanistan," she mumbled to herself. "None
of this would'a happened." She felt the head against her chest move
slightly and looked down into glazed green eyes.
Lacey mustered every last ounce of strength she had left to look
at the woman who meant the world to her. "Wouldn'ta… traded
this… for…anything," she smiled weakly and felt her
lips crack with the effort.
Mac smiled, despite everything that had happened, and dropped a
brief kiss on her companion's forehead. "Me either,
Doc."
Lacey's head dropped back down against the pilot's chest and her
eyes fluttered closed. She wanted to snuggle deeper into the
woman's arms, but was content just to lie there. By that time, they
could definitely hear the approaching vehicles and both women
wondered why there hadn't yet been any gunfire.
***
"Seven-zero-echo to Base," Kevin smiled, despite his misgivings.
He was watching a scene play itself out before him as he landed the
huge twin-propped aircraft a hundred yards from a convoy of parked
vehicles.
"Go ahead, zero-echo," Farrell's voice crackled over
the radio.
"Looks like we have survivors, sir," Kevin said as he cut power
to the engines. "I repeat, we have survivors."
"Come again, zero-echo?" Farrell's skeptical voice
crackled in Kevin's headset.
"We found them, sir," Kevin said, anxious to disembark the
aircraft with the rest of the skeleton crew he had with him. "I'll
fill you in just as soon as I have more intel, sir. Seven-zero-echo
out." He pulled his helmet off and climbed from the
cockpit.
***
Mac heard the vehicles stop close-by, but there was no gunfire.
She frowned and wondered what Peters was up to. Then she realized
she hadn't heard a single shot above her.
"Sergeant?" She shouted.
Several minutes passed before his head peeked down into the hole
from above and he looked at her with a huge grin on his weathered
face. "Hot damn, Chief!" He exclaimed with more excitement than
she'd ever seen out of him.
"What is it, Sergeant?" Mac asked seriously, trying to gauge his
real mood.
"We're rescued, ma'am," he answered with a cracked-lip grin. He
handed a canteen down to her by the strap and waited until she took
it from his hand.
"Rescued?" Mac asked skeptically. "What do you mean,
Sergeant?"
"Aussies, ma'am," he continued to beam. "They've set up a
perimeter and are bringing their medics in. They're also discussing
how we're going to move this truck." He looked up at the vehicle in
question and Mac noticed all the tires were flat. She also noticed
how much closer the truck was to them, as if it had sunk down into
the sand. "We tried pushing it, but couldn't get it to budge.
Damned thing's stuck tight."
Mac drank deeply from the canteen, letting the cool liquid
quench the raging thirst she'd been experiencing since sun-up. When
she'd had her fill and dribbled much of the water down her chin,
she tried to roust her companion.
"Lacey," Mac gently prodded the woman in her arms. "Come on,
Lac, wake up." She pushed a little less gently against the woman,
but to no avail. Her worried eyes met the sergeant's and he quickly
scrambled out from beneath the truck.
"Lieutenant!" Mac heard him shout. "We gotta get those two out
from under there. A-SAP!"
The young lieutenant turned from his conversation with one of
his men to face the American soldier. "I quite understand,
Sergeant. We're working on a plan to push the vehicle with one of
our own."
"Can we get a move on, Lieutenant?" Peters insisted, his
previous happiness now marred by the fact the doctor was probably
in much more serious shape than anyone realized. "Our doc's in a
real bad way and she's not gonna last much longer if we don't get
her outta there, quick-like."
Just then, they all turned to see a Chinook approach and touch
down a hundred yards from their position. Several Americans emerged
from the aircraft and raced toward them.
"Who's in charge?" A young woman in beige BDUs asked as she
approached the group near the disabled truck. She had a medical bag
slung over one shoulder with a red cross on it. The Aussie eyed her
with speculation.
"Apparently, that would be me, Corporal," the Lieutenant
answered, noticing the stripe on her sleeve and returning her
salute. "Lieutenant Harlan Davis of the Royal Australian Army, at
your service." He eyed the Chinook, as the engines whined and the
props slowed.
"Lieutenant," Simmons noticed Peters standing there, as well,
and acknowledged him with a nod. She looked around at the rest of
the group, but didn't recognize any other American uniforms in the
bunch. "Are you the only survivor, Sergeant?"
"No, Corporal," Peters answered, motioning toward the truck with
his head. "Chief Papadopoulos and Captain Stephens are in a pit
under that truck."
"Under the truck?" She glanced toward the vehicle and then met
his gaze. "Are they all right?"
"No, Corporal," he answered in all seriousness. "They were both
injured in the crash. The Chief's also been shot."
"Shot?" Simmons looked at him incredulously. She started toward
the truck, but was stopped by a hand on her arm.
"We got a problem getting to them right now, Corporal," Peters
said to the young woman.
Just then, a truck moved to the bumper of the disabled Iraqi
vehicle. Several Australian soldiers gathered around the disabled
vehicle and one young soldier climbed into the driver's seat. The
driver of the Aussie truck hit the gas, but the disabled Iraqi
vehicle didn't budge. The flat tires were, indeed, embedded in the
sand.
Kevin approached the gathered soldiers just as the Australian
driver cut the engine and waved everyone off. The others watched
his approach and saluted when he stopped in front of
them.
"Major," Lieutenant Davis stepped forward and nodded at the
American.
"Lieutenant, Sergeant, Corporal," he merely nodded at them, then
focused his attention on Peters. "Status?"
Peters straightened a little more as he faced the officer. "The
Lieutenant and his men are trying to move this truck, sir. Two of
ours are trapped in a hole beneath the vehicle,
sir."
Kevin frowned, "Who's down there, Sergeant?"
"Chief Papadopoulos and Captain Stephens, sir," he answered,
catching the relief in the officer's expression just before the man
covered it with a professional frown of concern. "We were the only
three to survive the crash, sir."
"And the other chopper?" Kevin felt the weight of command weigh
heavily on his shoulders.
"No survivors, sir," the sergeant answered brusquely. He knew
now was not the time to tell the major about the desecration of the
bodies that he had witnessed. Time enough for that during his
debriefing.
Another Australian truck was positioned in front of the disabled
Iraqi vehicle and a chain was attached from one vehicle to the
other. When the Australians had the two vehicles chained together,
the front vehicle pulled, while the one behind pushed until the
Iraqi truck slowly moved away from the hole.
***
Mac knew there was stuff going on above her, but couldn't tell
what it was until the truck overhead slowly started moving. She
could hear two trucks and the sounds of metal grinding and
scraping. Then the vehicle was gone, replaced by another that
quickly backed out of the way. She looked up and shaded her eyes
with one hand, as several faces suddenly appeared above her and
sunlight poured down into the hole.
"Chief?" She recognized Peters' voice, even though she couldn't
really make out his features in the bright sunlight.
"Yep," she answered in a hoarse voice between cracked lips.
"'Bout time you guys got us outta here." Suddenly Simmons was down
in the hole with them. "Simmons?" Mac was a little surprised to see
the young woman and gave her a weary smile. "How'd you get here?
And when did you get that stripe on your sleeve?"
Simmons looked at the two women and a frown of concern creased
her young brow. "I could ask you the same question, Chief," she
said with a wry smile. "You all scared the shit out of us.
Colonel's about fit to be tied, ma'am."
Just then, Kevin peered down into the hole. "How're they doing,
Corporal?" He asked. "Can we get them out of there and get back to
base before we have RPGs raining down on us?"
Simmons was busy checking over Lacey, who was still unconscious.
"We need a couple backboards here, STAT, sir," she called out,
meeting Mac's weary eyes. "How're you doing, Mac?" She asked in a
normal voice for the pilot's ears only.
"Not so good, Jesse," Mac answered. She looked down at the woman
in her arms. "The doc's in worse shape than I am, though. Take good
care of her, will ya?"
Simmons rested a comforting hand on the one Mac was resting on
the doctor's arm. "I'm gonna take care of both of you," she smiled.
"Don't you worry about a thing, Mac." She examined the doctor
further, then looked at Mac again. "Are both her
arms…"
"One's dislocated and I think her other elbow is broken," Mac
replied. "She also has some internal injuries. I'm sure you can
figure out the rest."
Simmons nodded, then took out an IV bag and hooked both women up
to the life-saving fluids. She took out a long instrument and stuck
it into a spot in the wall above her head, then hung both IV bags
from it.
"You're a lot more confident than you used to be," Mac commented
to the self-assured corporal.
"Dr. Stephens is a great teacher," Simmons said, not looking up
from the IV she was inserting into the pilot's hand.
"How's Jimenez?" Mac tried not to look down at the needle stuck
in her hand.
"He's fine, ma'am," Simmons answered more professionally, as
they were joined by an Australian soldier who jumped down and
grabbed the backboard that was lowered into the pit.
"Ma'am, Corporal," the young man said with a heavy accent,
nodding to the two women. "A bit tight down here."
"It served its purpose, Private," Mac replied. She could feel
the cool liquid entering her arm and wanted nothing more than to
close her eyes and relish the feeling. But something was niggling
in the back of her mind.
Simmons finished securing a brace around the doctor's neck and
Mac thought wryly that it was a bit late to take those precautions.
After having been dragged halfway across the desert and bounced
around in the back of a truck for hours, the pilot didn't know if
the doctor's injuries would have justified a neck
brace.
"It's just a precaution, ma'am," Simmons said, noting the wry
look of wry confusion in Mac's eyes.
"I was just thinking how ironic it is to put that thing on her
now, Simmons," Mac rolled her eyes.
"I understand, Mac," Simmons answered with a curt nod. "Has she
been conscious at all? Is there anything else I should know before
we move her?"
"Her side," Mac answered, without thinking. Then she added, "She
was complaining of pain in her right side sometime before dawn."
She frowned. "I applied a pressure point to it and that seemed to
help the pain subside a bit, but...." She shrugged and regretted
the move instantly.
Simmons merely nodded, then gave some muttered instructions to
the Australian soldier next to her. He nodded and scrambled back
out of the hole.
"Where's he going?" Mac asked. When she didn't receive an
immediate answer, she put a hand on Simmons arm. "What's going on
Jesse?" She glanced down at Lacey and back up to the
corporal.
Simmons met the pilot's piercing gaze as she took the
stethoscope from her ears and wrapped it around her neck. There was
a frown marring Simmons' brow that made her look years
older.
"Her pressure's really low and her pulse is weak and thready,
Mac," Simmons sighed. "It's imperative we transport her
immediately. She's been unresponsive for how long?"
Mac looked down at the blond head lying limply against her
chest. "She was conscious about an hour ago, but didn't say
much."
"I'll give it to you straight, Mac," Simmons continued with a
grim expression. "I don't know how much longer she has." She paused
to wipe the sweat from her helmeted brow. "We'll get her hooked up
to life support once we're onboard the aircraft, but there's no
guarantee she'll pull through." Her expression sobered. "I'm
sorry."
The truth of Simmons' statement hit Mac like a blast of cold air
and sent an unconscious shiver down her spine. She looked down at
the blond head and then blinked back the tears that threatened. She
was an officer in the United States Army, she silently chided
herself over and over. Then realized none of it mattered if she
lost the one person she cared about most in the
world.
Simmons could see the emotions warring on the pilot's face and
gave her a moment to collect herself. She could hear the activity
above, as the two armies prepared to evacuate the area. They were
all still within enemy territory and it was imperative they moved
out, A-SAP.
"We need to move now!" Simmons called up to those above. "Let's
do it!"
Mac merely nodded for fear her voice would give away all the
emotions she was feeling. She knew this had to play itself out to
the very end, no matter what the outcome.
"Hang in there, Lacey," Mac whispered to the unconscious woman
in her arms.
"Let's get some help down here!" Simmons shouted. Two young
Aussie medics jumped down into the cramped pit, one near Mac's head
and the other at her feet. "Carefully get the Captain onto the
backboard, boys, and let's get this show on the
road."
Simmons took the opportunity to climb gingerly out of the pit,
with a hand up from Kevin. He looked at her with deep
concern.
"Status, Corporal?" He was careful to keep things on a
professional level.
"The Captain's in pretty bad shape, sir," Simmons answered,
knowing what he was really asking. She knew the friendship that
existed between the major and the doctor. He cared deeply for the
woman, no doubt about it. "I think a ruptured spleen is the least
of her injuries. We need to get them both back to the hospital,
A-SAP, sir."
Kevin nodded his understanding. "No problem, Corporal." He
turned on his heel and headed for the Chinook, so he could ready it
for an immediate departure.
Simmons watched as Captain Stephens was lifted out of the pit by
several of the Aussies who were standing by. The young Corporal
grabbed the doctor's IV bag and laid it between the woman's legs,
then turned to the American crew chief standing by. Sergeant Smith
was as green as Simmons was only a few months earlier. He'd been
ordered to tag along for the ride, despite the fact he was fresh
off the transport.
"Get her stowed, Sergeant," Simmons ordered. "Alert Captain
Sheets that she needs life support, STAT."
Another backboard was lowered into the pit and Mac was brought
up, as well. Simmons took the IV bag from one of the Aussies and
laid it on the pilot's chest.
"Captain Stephens?" Mac asked Simmons as two men carried her
toward the Chinook.
"She's already onboard, Mac," Simmons answered, then felt her
hand grabbed in a strong grip.
"Please don't let her die, Simmons," Mac said when the young
woman looked her in the eye.
Simmons could see the deep concern in the pilot's eyes, but
there was something else there that only someone who knew the woman
would see. She clasped Mac's hand tightly in her own and smiled
reassuringly down at the woman who had been her mentor in
Afghanistan.
"We'll take real good care of her, Mac," she answered, squeezing
the hand in hers. She looked at the men around her. "Let's go,
boys."
***
They were only a few minutes into the flight when several alarm
bells and sirens went off in the forward cabin. Simmons had let Mac
know that Lacey was in a special compartment in the aircraft where
she was hooked up to life support and various monitors. Mac knew
the sounds were coming from that compartment and a moment of shear
panic hit her.
Sheets and Simmons scrambled to the in-flight ICU and Mac could
see they were working frantically on their patient. Unfortunately,
she couldn't see exactly what was going on. She glanced to her left
and saw young Sergeant Smith watching her with a mixture of
trepidation and panic.
"Can you see what they're doing to the captain?" Mac asked the
young man who was strapped into a jump seat just behind the
partition that separated the main compartment from the smaller
ICU.
Smith unhooked his safety harness, gingerly stood up and poked
his head around the partition.
"Get the hell outta here, Smith!" Simmons barked.
The young man returned to his seat and quickly strapped himself
back in. "Uh, one of the monitors that was beeping is now ringing,
instead." He glanced at Mac, who was anxiously waiting for his
report. He glanced to the side again and Mac could see he was
listening intently to the conversation behind him. "I think her
heart stopped."
Mac froze. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead as the full
impact of those ominous words hit her. Lacey's heart was not
beating.
"Wait," Smith continued, his head still cocked toward the
compartment. "They've given her a shot of something and are…"
his baby face contorted in confusion. "They just zapped
her?"
Mac sucked in a breath and held it, as she waited for the young
man to continue his monotonous narration.
"Okay," Smith sighed. "Her heart's beating
again."
Mac was really not happy with the blow-by-blow the young
sergeant was giving her. But she was also grateful to him for
letting her know what was going on. She let out the breath she'd
been holding and tried to relax again. She watched Simmons and
Sheets continue their ministrations, but still could not really see
or hear what they were doing. Mac wanted nothing more than to hop
up off the stretcher she was lying on and charge into the
compartment to demand a report. Unfortunately, that wasn't an
option. She was strapped down tight to keep her from being thrown
around the aircraft. She was also still hooked up to an IV bag that
dripped down into the plastic tube that ran into a vein in her
hand.
So she waited until Simmons finally finished whatever it was she
was doing and returned to her jump seat across from Mac. The young
medic sighed heavily and tucked a few stray wisps of hair back
behind her ear. Mac noticed she looked a little older than she had
the last time they'd seen each other.
"How is she?" Mac watched Simmons fidget with her hands as she
leaned forward over her knees.
"Her heart stopped and she went into respiratory arrest,"
Simmons answered. "Captain Sheets had to shoot her with epinephrine
to get her heart started again. She's barely holding her own." She
looked up and met Mac's expectant gaze. "We have her on the onboard
respirator, Mac, but..." She sighed and leaned back against the
bulkhead. "I just don't know."
Mac tried desperately to keep the tears from falling, but
finally gave in. "She…died?"
Simmons nodded. "For a good three minutes. She didn't respond to
the defibrillations until Sheets gave her the injection. We're
still twenty minutes out from the hospital and he's not sure she
won't crash again."
Mac grabbed one of Simmons' hands and held it. Their eyes met
and Mac saw tears swimming in Simmons' blue-gray
ones.
"She's a fighter, Jesse," Mac squeezed the young woman's hand.
"She'll pull through this. She made it this far."
Simmons gave Mac a wan half-smile and a brief nod. "I hope
you're right, Mac." She sniffed and swiped a tear from the corner
of her eye. "She's as much a part of our team as the rest of the
guys." Another tear escaped. "Did O'Leary…"
Just then the alarms and sirens went off again. Simmons bolted
for the ICU. Mac was again in the dark as to what was happening.
She waited patiently and eyed Smith when he didn't seem to be
paying attention.
"Oh," he shifted uncomfortably. "I…I don't…" He met
Mac's gaze and shook his head.
"What?" Mac shifted and wanted nothing more than to sit up at
that moment. "Damned fucking contraption!"
"Settle down, Chief," Peters grumbled from his seat behind Mac's
head. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't aggravate those
injuries."
"Lacey-I mean, Captain Stephens…" Mac tried to shrug off
his hand, but it was on her injured shoulder and shrugging was out
of the question.
"Easy, Chief," Peters continued. "The captain's made it this
far. She ain't gonna stop fightin' now that we're almost
home."
Mac collapsed back onto the stretcher and looked up at the man
who was leaning over her head with a reassuring half-smile. She
closed her eyes against the wave of dizziness that her exertions
caused and nodded.
"You're right, Sergeant," Mac breathed out a frustrated
breath.
She didn't want to concede the point, but had no choice. She
knew Lacey had managed to stay conscious that last time by sheer
willpower alone. Mac also knew Lacey hadn't been completely honest
with her about her condition. The doctor's condition had
progressively gotten worse and Mac could only wonder what Lacey had
suffered through during the initial crash that was causing her
health to spiral downward so quickly.
"She's still with us," Simmons was suddenly standing over Mac,
holding onto a bar above her head to steady herself. "We lost her
again, but Sheets brought her back. He thinks she had an allergic
reaction to the epinephrine and went into tachycardia arrhythmia."
She saw the blank stares and decided on a different explanation.
"Her heart started beating too fast and her blood pressure bottomed
out until her heart stopped again. Sheets said it's uncommon for a
patient to have a reaction like that. Captain Stephens is one of
the rare few."
"Leave it to Lacey-er, Captain Stephens-to be one of a handful,"
Mac sighed.
"She gonna make it?" Peters piped in before Mac could say
more.
Simmons sighed as she sat down in her jump seat. "Don't know,"
she answered with a shrug. "She needs surgery and we can't do that
here." She rubbed a kink in her neck. "Sheets stabilized her vitals
for the moment, but she's still in extremely critical condition.
She's also slipped into a coma."
Mac's eyes darted to Simmons. "She's in a coma?"
"Yes," Simmons answered with a nod. "It happens
sometimes…when there's major trauma…"
Mac raised her good arm and pressed her hand to the bridge of
her nose in an attempt to quell the sudden flow of tears. It was
just too much to accept at the moment. Lacey was in a coma. Mac's
thoughts raced with the implication of this latest development. It
suddenly hit Mac that Simmons was right, Lacey was
dying.
"Flight crew, prepare for landing," came Kevin Johnson's tinny
voice over the overhead speakers.
The aircraft, which had been flying fairly straight and level up
to that point, suddenly shook and the nose tilted upwards. The
engines rumbled loudly and Mac knew they were almost on the ground.
She waited for the shudder that would indicate a safe touchdown.
When it didn't come she arched a brow, impressed that the major was
so capable a pilot that he could land so gently in such a huge
bird.
The side door flew open and sunlight nearly blinded Mac, as
medical personnel poured in with practiced ease. Mac's stretcher
was lifted by two young orderlies. She didn't have a chance to ask
about Lacey as she was whisked away into a waiting ambulance. Mac
caught a glimpse of another stretcher behind her just before the
doors to the ambulance closed.
Moments later, the ambulance doors flew open again and her
stretcher was moved onto a waiting gurney. The gurney was wheeled
inside the air-conditioned hospital and Mac nearly fainted with
relief. One of Lacey's colleagues-a Captain Richardson, by his
nametag-stepped up next to her and put his stethoscope to her
chest. He listened for a moment, then nodded to the nurse on the
other side of the gurney. Then he opened her overshirt and lifted
the bandage to examine the bullet wound beneath.
"Glad to see you in one piece, Chief," Richardson said, as he
shined a light into her eyes and checked her vitals. "You ready to
get that bullet out of your chest?"
"Do I get to keep it as a souvenir?" Mac shot back with a wry
grin.
"We'll get you patched up, good as new," he said with a warm
smile and patted her arm.
Mac could see that he was about to walk away. "Hey,
Doc?"
"Yes?" He said, turning back to her.
He was tall, so Mac had to strain to look him in the
eye.
"How's Captain Stephens?" She asked hopefully.
He placed a comforting hand on the ones Mac had folded on her
stomach. "She's being well taken care of, Chief. Don't worry about
Captain Stephens. You just concentrate on getting better and leave
her in our hands."
His patronizing tone was definitely not what Mac wanted to hear
at that point. She glared at him with cold eyes that suddenly
turned ice-blue, but he turned away and left her to stew over his
asinine tone.
It seemed like hours before anyone returned to check on her. In
those "hours," she counted every tile in the ceiling and every hole
in every tile, too. She tried to close her eyes and rest, but
images of the last two days kept playing in her mind and wouldn't
leave her alone.
Finally, when it seemed she would go crazy from extreme worry
and boredom, she heard voices outside the partitioned room she was
in. Then the partition was pulled aside, revealing Colonel Farrell
flanked by Major Kevin Johnson.
"Hey there, Mac, how're ya doing?" The colonel asked with a
reassuring smile, as he stepped up to the side of her bed. "You
hangin' in there?"
Farrell pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down. He stuck
an unlit cigar between his teeth and chewed on it as his gaze met
hers.
"Yeah," Mac answered after clearing her throat a bit. "Other
than being bored to tears and having no one to talk to, I'm good."
She glanced at Kevin. "Hello, Major. My compliments to you on your
perfect landing. It was also a very smooth ride back
there."
"I had reason to make it so, Chief," Kevin answered formally.
There was a sadness in his eyes that Mac could plainly see. "I'm
just glad I could get you all back here safely."
"Yeah," Mac's gaze turned thoughtful. "Any word on Captain
Stephens?"
Both men exchanged a brief look.
"She's still in surgery," Farrell answered. "We'll know more
when she comes out."
Mac's gaze shot to Kevin, who immediately looked
away.
"Major?" Her gaze returned to the colonel. "What aren't you two
telling me?"
Kevin blinked away unshed tears as Mac crossed his arms over his
chest. "The colonel's right, Chief," he finally said. "We'll know
more when she's out of surgery."
Mac took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to
quell the sudden frustration and irritation. She wanted to scream
at them to tell her what was really going on with the love of her
life, but knew that wouldn't go over well with her commanding
officer. The man could forgive many things, but that just might not
be one of them. The silence between them stretched on for several
long moments, until Farrell finally sighed heavily and broke
it.
"You three did a fine job, Chief," he patted her arm. "Not many
people around here would have been able to do what you did." He
paused briefly before leaning closer to her. "I'll be submitting
commendations immediately and recommending promotions for all three
of you."
"With all due respect, sir," Mac said. She'd been giving the
matter a lot of thought lately and had reached a decision. "I think
it's time I retired from the Army. I've put in more than ten years
and this latest mission…Well, let's just say it put things in
perspective for me. I don't think I can ever look at combat the
same again, sir."
His brows rose in surprise at her words. Her former CO had said
Mac was a career lifer who wanted to serve until she could no
longer fly. From what the doctor had just told him about her
condition, the man thought she would be back to active duty in a
matter of months.
"Are you sure, Chief?" He finally asked. "Richardson says that
after they remove the bullet from your shoulder and repair the
damage to your knee you'll be back on your feet in no time. He also
thinks you'll be able to return to the cockpit fairly soon. He's
only sending you back to the States for a follow up and some
physical therapy, but there's no reason…"
"I've made up my mind, sir," Mac interrupted. "It's time for me
to go home for a while and get my life in order. I've served my
country and now I need to move on to
other…things."
"I understand," Farrell slapped his hands against his knees in
resignation. "All right then, if that's your final decision, then
I'll get the paperwork started on this end and have it sent to the
Brass for approval." He stood and was about to leave. "Just for the
record, Chief," he said turning back to face her. "You're one hell
of a pilot and you will be sorely missed."
He offered a hand to her, which she took gratefully. "Thank you,
sir," she answered. "It was an honor serving under your command, no
matter how brief that service was." She awkwardly saluted him and
he returned the salute and left.
Mac's gaze met Kevin's as he took the vacant seat next to her
bed. She saw something in his eyes that gave her
pause.
"Talk to me, Kevin," Mac quietly said.
"Not much I can say, at this point, Mac," he answered with the
same sad expression. "I don't want to see you go, but…" He
nodded and the tears fell unheeded down his cheeks. "I completely
understand."
"She's my life now," Mac's words were uttered barely above a
whisper. "I want to be there for her, to take care of her. I love
her, Kev."
"And if she doesn't…" Kevin couldn't finish the thought.
Putting it into words would just make it too real and
final.
Mac took one of his hands in hers. She felt the rough texture of
his skin against hers as she gently squeezed. She looked him in the
eye and smiled reassuringly.
"We both know she won't give up without a fight, Kev. You
probably know that more than anyone. You've been around her far
longer than I have. She told me you went through OCS
together."
Kevin nodded and squeezed the hand in his. "She'll fight as long
as she knows you'll wait for her and be there when she comes
around." He smiled reassuringly as he swiped the tears from his
cheeks. "Besides, she owes me money, so she has to come through
this."
Mac smiled. "How much does she owe you?"
"Fifty bucks," Kevin chuckled at the look Mac gave him. "Hey, it
may not be much, but it's the principal of the
thing."
"Did she lose a bet against you or something?" Mac
smirked.
"It was when we were in OCS," Kevin's expression turned wistful.
"I wasn't so good at the obstacle course, but I was damned fast as
a sprinter. She bet me that she could beat me in a foot race.
Needless to say, I won." His expression turned triumphant. "Then
she wanted double-or-nothing that she could take me on the climbing
wall. She lost that one, too."
"Endurance?"
"Stamina and short legs and arms," Kevin shot back with a smirk.
"She may have a good center of gravity when it comes to maneuvering
through those tires and shit, but it took her two or three tries
before she could hold onto that rope and haul herself up the
wall."
Mac chuckled. "She's really that competitive?"
"Shit yeah. Ya think?" Kevin shot back with a wry smirk. "You
ever watched her play cards? She's relentless."
Mac gave him a wry look. "I'll do you one better. I played
against her. If it hadn't been for my gunner, Lacey would have
taken us all to the cleaners. As it was, she came in a close
second."
"Probably didn't want to show you up in front of the guys,"
Kevin's expression turned solemn. "I hope you get the chance to
give her a rematch. You'll lose your shirt, but you'll have fun
doing it."
Mac glanced down at the garment in question, which was no longer
there. A nurse had removed both her overshirt and the t-shirt
underneath. Now her chest was covered in a large compression
bandage and a sheet while she waited for them to perform the
surgery to remove the bullet. She glanced over at the x-rays still
hanging in the light machine. The light was out, but Mac knew what
the x-rays contained. She'd seen the bullet that was lodged just
below her collar bone. It made her shudder to realize how close the
small projectile had come to puncturing her lung.
"You okay, Mac?" Noticing her sudden grayish pallor, Kevin
couldn't help but comment.
"Fine," Mac answered absently. "Never better."
He squeezed her hand again. "It's gonna be all right, you
know."
Mac met his gaze and hers softened. "I hope you're right, Kev. I
certainly hope you're right."
An orderly appeared from behind the partition and smiled at the
two. "Time for surgery, Chief," he said in an overly cheery
tone.
Mac glanced at the embroidered nametag on his chest. "Can you
give us another minute, Corporal Buckley?"
"Sure, ma'am," he said and ducked back out.
Kevin regarded Mac, who locked gazes with him. "Promise me that
if I don't make it…"
"Now just a minute, Mac…"
"No, I'm serious, Kevin," Mac forestalled his interruption. "If
something happens and I don't make it, please tell Lacey how much I
love her and how much I want her to be happy, even if it means
finding someone else." She squeezed his hand. "Tell her she has a
home with my family in Wyoming if she wants it. They'll take care
of her like she's one of the family. I already wrote to my brother
and told him about her. Sent the letter off a few days ago, so it
should get there in a day or two."
Kevin wiped his free hand down his face in agitation. "Tell her
yourself, Mac. Don't you dare chicken out and die on her. She needs
you more than ever right now. You have no idea what she's going
through in there."
Mac swallowed with difficulty. "Please, just promise me you'll
tell her."
Kevin regarded Mac's request for several moments, until Corporal
Buckley pushed the partition aside again.
"We really need to get going, Chief, Major," the young man said.
"Doc's waitin' for you in the OR."
Mac's eyes didn't leave Kevin's. There was open pleading in
their pale blue depths that pulled at his heartstrings. "Okay," he
conceded. "I'll tell her, if it will put your mind at ease and get
you through this surgery."
"Thanks, Major," Mac returned to the formal address. She
squeezed his hand one last time and then reluctantly let
go.
She smiled as Buckley took the head of the gurney and wheeled
her toward a pair of double doors. When she glanced back at Kevin
one last time, he caught the thumbs up she gave him and smiled
wistfully.
Chapter 11
Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Washington DC- September
2005
Mac walked down the ramp towards her brother with a slight limp.
As she stepped out into the bright sunshine, she put on a pair of
aviator glasses and smiled. She was wearing a light blue polo
shirt, jeans and Nike tennis shoes. Her auburn hair was pulled back
into a pony tail and her arm was still in a sling.
"Hey, bro," she said with a smirk as she gave the taller man a
one-armed hug.
"Hey, sis," Ben Papadopoulos returned the hug and pulled back a
bit to look closely at her. She was still a head shorter than he
was, but had a presence that made her appear taller than any other
woman he had ever met. He noticed the creases in her brow and the
wrinkles around her eyes that hadn't been there when she joined the
military, ten-plus years prior. He also noticed the slight limp and
the sling that held her arm close to her body.
Mac welcomed the arm around her shoulder, as her brother towered
over her. "So, how long before our plane leaves?" She asked
hopefully.
"I've got us booked on the evening flight out of DC," he
answered, squeezing her slightly and catching a flinch out of the
corner of his eye. "Sorry about that. Does the shoulder still
bother you that much?"
"No, it's fine," she pulled away slightly so she could rub the
area in question. "It just aches a little now and then. I have to
be careful not to move it around too much. The muscles are still
healing."
They walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. Mac stretched
her bad leg out in front of her, as she basked in the sunlight of
another beautiful late-summer day. Green trees and freshly-mowed
grass cut a stark contrast to the tans and browns she was used to.
There were also birds singing somewhere nearby, something she
rarely heard in the desert.
"So, how are Carrie and the boys?" She asked after a few minutes
of silence had stretched between them.
"They're good," he answered with a fond smile. "Carrie just
finished competing in the State Fair and won first prize for her
raspberry-blueberry-apple cobbler. The boys will all be old enough
to help out with the next roundup in the spring and are looking
forward to having their Auntie Mac there to give them a run for
their money. They hope you'll be able to get in there with the rest
of the hands and do your part."
"God, they're growing up so fast," Mac pushed a stray wisp of
hair from her brow. "Man, I've missed so much."
"How are you doin', sis?" Ben's tone turned serious and he
patted her thigh in a brotherly show of affection. "I barely
noticed the limp when you walked over here."
"Better," she said, removing her glasses to look him in the
eye-ice blue to ice blue. "The knee's coming along. The doctor says
it probably won't ever be one hundred percent again, but that's
just how things go." She unconsciously rubbed her shoulder. "I
already told you the shoulder still aches and the doc says I'll
need another surgery to finish the repair they couldn't complete in
Iraq."
"Another surgery?"
"Yeah," Mac's expression turned thoughtful as she gazed up at
the cloudless sky. "SFAC told you I died on the table that day,
right?" He merely nodded, unable to say how much it hurt to hear
that his sister almost died in combat, just like their little
brother had. "Well, they were repairing the artery that was nicked
by the bullet and couldn't remove the damned thing. Kevin-er, Major
Johnson-said they had to restart my heart and had to stop the
surgery. I'd lost too much blood and they couldn't risk having me
on the table any longer. So, they made a note in my medical record
and sent it on ahead with me."
"Can they do the surgery in Wyoming, then? Or do they have to do
it here at Walter Reed?" He watched her expression
closely.
Mac shook her head. "Actually, I had someone check into it. I'm
scheduled at the VA Medical Center in Dallas, Texas, in
October."
"Texas?" His expression mirrored his confusion. "Why the hell
would you want to have surgery in Texas?"
"That's where Lacey is," Mac answered simply. "I have to find
her-find out what happened to her and see how she's doing."
He rested his arms on his thighs and folded his hands in front
of him. "You still love her after all this time?"
Mac looked away and glanced around at the hospital and the
buildings that surrounded it. They'd had phone conversations about
her feelings for Lacey Stephens. They had also talked about Mac's
state of mind when she learned Lacey was no longer at Walter Reed.
Mac talked about how disconnected she felt and the nightmares that
plagued her when she tried to sleep. She was seeing a therapist
twice a week there at the hospital, in addition to the physical
therapy she'd undergone to get her knee back in
shape.
Sighing heavily, she leaned back against the bench and absently
adjusted the sling. "I'm still a little…you know," she
shrugged. "I don't think I'll ever forget what happened over there.
And I know I'll never forget her. The therapist says I have PTSD,
which explains the nightmares. Then again, she also says my
'lesbian tendencies' probably have something to do with the stress
of combat and my experiences during the war." She snorted. "The
woman's a quack, if you ask me."
"She's military, Mac, she has to justify your feelings for
another woman," Ben said, his gaze wandering over the various
uniformed personnel who passed in front of them. "Don't listen to
the shrinks. They don't always have all the
answers."
They had talked extensively about the special relationship the
two women shared and how much Mac missed Lacey. Having already told
him about her sexual orientation when she was still a teen, Ben
wasn't surprised by his sister's feelings for the doctor. He had
been nothing but supportive and understanding during their long
conversations. And even her sister-in-law rallied behind her in
that arena.
"All I know is Lacey was moved to a hospital in Houston after
her parents checked her out of WRAMC," she shrugged again and
looked down at the folded hands in her lap. "No one would tell me
which hospital they took her to. I haven't been able to get a
straight answer out of anyone. I think her father is keeping a
tight rein on her information. All I have is a phone number that a
nurse slipped me when no one was looking."
He saw the defeat in her posture. "Have you tried to call the
number?"
Mac lifted her head and looked everywhere but at him.
"No."
"Why not, sis?" He gently prodded, putting a comforting hand on
her thigh again. "You know her father's name. You could at least
see if it's the same number. Just call as her friend and find out
how she's doing."
Mac breathed in deeply of the fresh air and let it out in a
heavy sigh. "What if they hang up? What if her father
answers…" Her words trailed off as she turned her head
completely away from his. "God knows I'm not just her
friend."
"Hey," he gently turned her face back toward his, so he could
look her in the eye. "God may know that you love her, but her
father doesn't have to. It's okay to find out how she's doing. You
two went through hell together. Her father should understand and
respect that. The entire military is based on comrades being more
like brothers and sisters than just friends. Her father should
realize that your training and hers would make you both want to
know how the other is doing. He can't be that dense or callous
about what the two of you went through, either." He paused and
narrowed his gaze at her. "Besides, maybe she still harbors the
same feelings you do and told her parents about the two of
you."
Mac snorted. "Yeah, right." She shrugged and looked away. "Even
if she did, her family won't stand by and let her 'ruin her life'
by getting involved with someone like me."
Her last words had his nape hairs bristling. "And what's that
supposed to mean? You're a war hero, sis-a decorated veteran, at
that. She'd be lucky to have someone like you, as you so bluntly
put it. Damned if there aren't a hundred or more women out there
who would jump at the chance to be with you. You're quite the
catch, sis."
She patted his leg and squeezed. "Thanks, bro," she said with a
tentative smile. "I needed a good pep talk."
They sat there in companionable silence for a few more minutes.
"So," he finally said. "Is your stuff all packed and ready to go? I
didn't come all this way here to our nation's esteemed capital just
to listen to you whine about your girlfriend. Besides, those boys
of mine are looking forward to having their auntie home for a few
weeks."
Mac snorted. "Oh, they are, are they?"
"They certainly are," he answered. "I came here to bring my
sister, the war hero, home to her family."
She looked over at him and watched the pride shine in his blue
eyes. "Ready when you are, bro." She leaned her head against his
shoulder and smiled fondly. "Let's go home."
***
Chapter 12
Harbor Care and Rehabilitative Center - Houston, TX -
October 2005
Lacey sat patiently in a wheelchair in the sparsely-furnished
room she was more than happy to leave behind forever. Two packed
bags sat on the hospital bed, while her other belongings were
already loaded in the limo that waited out front. She held a metal
cane between her legs, as she stared out the window at the grounds
beyond.
Three months. Actually, she'd been there for six but could only
remember the last three. She'd remained in a coma, even after her
parents insisted she be transported from Walter Reed, in Washington
DC, to a hospital in Houston. She didn't remember the trip to
Houston, nor did she remember the hospital where she'd spent the
better part of a month hooked up to life support. They'd finally
taken her off the machines when she was able to breathe on her own.
But she hadn't awakened from the coma, even then.
She still couldn't remember what had brought her to this
particular place. It didn't look like a rehab facility from the
outside. Actually, it looked more like a country club, minus the
golf course. Lush manicured lawns spanned the grounds and were
surrounded by elm and pecan trees. Numerous small gardens were
intersected by concrete walkways wide enough for two wheelchairs to
be pushed side-by-side. It was the perfect place to
recover.
Even when one stepped into the main reception area, there was an
air of wealth and status that hung over the place. Salmon colored
walls and hunter green furniture made up the interior throughout
the facility and gave it a homey feel. There were several small
gathering areas throughout the facility and the nurses' station
looked more like the check-in counter at a posh
hotel.
Despite its plush appearance, however, Lacey knew the inner
workings of her own private hell. She'd spent the better part of
three months in the extensive gymnasium-style exercise and physical
therapy rooms, as well as the Olympic sized pool. Therapists in
white cambric polo shirts and khaki slacks-all of them sporting
healthy tans and tolerant smiles-put their patients through the
daily exercises designed to strengthen muscles and heal injuries.
Lacey had been one of them. And the exercises had been
grueling.
Nothing was as grueling, though, as her psychological therapy
sessions. She sat in the office of Dr. Karen Gilchrist twice a week
and talked about everything from her childhood to her life before
the Army. They went over every detail of her life-sometimes she
cried and sometimes she remained stoically unemotional-and not once
had she been able to recall her time in Iraq.
She knew she was a doctor-no, a surgeon, she mentally corrected.
She'd been told she was serving in Iraq when the chopper she was
assigned to as a flight surgeon was shot down. She'd even had a
visit from a Colonel Farrell and a Sergeant, who praised her
heroism in front of her father. She'd smirked when she caught the
frown wrinkling her father's brow, as the colonel went on and on
about her exploits in Iraq. But, try as she might, she could not
make any sense of the fuzzy jumble of obscure images that haunted
her nightmares and remained elusively out of reach during her
waking hours.
When she had first awakened from the coma, the room she was in
had been decorated with a few of her things, including some stuffed
animals from her teens. They were items from a childhood she
vaguely remembered and that didn't seem to fit her adult life, even
if she couldn't remember most of it. Flowers had been strategically
placed throughout the room, courtesy of her mother and sister. The
fragrant blooms had given the place an almost homey feel, while she
recovered from her extensive injuries and went through the daily
grind. But no matter how exhausted she was at the end of the day,
she never looked forward to returning to her room. It wasn't her
home.
***
Since she had only awakened from the coma a few days
earlier, Lacey's memories were nothing more than obscure images and
feelings. She lay there in her bed while Dr. Gilchrist patiently
waited for her to speak. It was her first therapy
session.
She hadn't yet been put through any of the rigorous physical
therapy sessions that would push her beyond the limits of her
physical endurance. She searched her mind and came up with an image
that had plagued her since she had awakened from the dark recesses
of the coma.
"I sometimes see a woman with the most distinctive blue
eyes," Lacey finally said. She absently adjusted the sling that
held her right arm and looked over at the doctor who was seated in
a hunter green wingback chair. The woman scribbled something in the
leather-bound notebook balanced on the leg crossed over the
other.
"Do you know the woman?" The doctor finally looked up and
adjusted the reading glasses on her aquiline nose. "What's her
name? Where do you know her from?"
Lacey wracked her brain for an answer to at least one of
those questions, but only came up blank. The doctor finally moved
on and prodded her to recall something that they could use as a
starting point for her memories. Lacey answered that she remembered
graduating from medical school and doing her residency at a
military facility in Florida. As soon as they tried to push her
memories any further, however, she hit a brick wall and Lacey's
memories completely shut down.
Even in subsequent sessions, as her body began the long road
to recovery and she became physically stronger, she still couldn't
put any coherent order to anything beyond her residency, especially
the images related to Iraq. She saw the dark-haired woman with blue
eyes, but try as she might Lacey couldn't place
her.
***
"Are you ready to go, Lacey dear?" Her mother's nasally voice
pulled Lacey from her distant musings.
"Yeah," Lacey nodded, putting her hand on the one her mother
rested on her shoulder. "I'm ready, Mom."
"Are you okay, dear?" The woman gently prodded, after catching
the sadness in her oldest child's misty-green eyes.
"I'm fine," Lacey sighed. "Just a little tired, I guess. I'll
feel better when we're at the house. It's been a long time…"
she suddenly looked to her mother for confirmation. "Hasn't
it?"
Her mother nodded and gently squeezed Lacey's shoulder, mindful
of the injuries her daughter was still recovering from. The
shoulder she was squeezing hadn't been injured in the helicopter
crash that had taken her daughter's life in so many ways. However,
Lacey had suffered through so much that her recovery was
frustratingly slow and painful.
"You can rest once we're home, Lacey dear," her mother leaned
down to place a kiss on the top of her sun-streaked blond, shoulder
length hair.
"Is Dad at the house?" Lacey asked. Her mother had already told
her he hadn't come to pick her up.
Her relationship with her father was strained, at best. He
hadn't been around all that much during her long recovery, only
visiting once or twice a month and never speaking more than a few
words to her directly. She wanted to ask what the problem was, but
also knew it probably had something to do with her decision to join
the Army.
"He's out of town for the rest of the week," her mother answered
with just a bit too much enthusiasm. "He sends his love and told me
to tell you he'll see you when he returns." She watched her
daughter's shoulders slump slightly. "Your sister will be there to
greet us when we get there. And Paul said he'll stop by later this
evening. He wanted me to let you know how sorry he is for not
having come by sooner, but work has been very busy for him lately.
He was assigned to a very important case that is taking up all his
time at the office."
Lacey's spirits sank even further, but she tried not to let her
disappointment show. Plastic Paul was not someone she wanted to
deal with just yet. Unfortunately, her parents were determined to
force him on her. Why the man hadn't married was a mystery that
Lacey didn't really wish to ponder. She'd never had more than a
passing friendship with the man and knew there just wasn't anything
between them to work with. Besides, even if her parents didn't yet
know it, Lacey knew in her heart she was a lesbian and would never
marry the man.
"I don't know, Mom," Lacey sighed dramatically. "I'm really
tired and I don't think it would be fair to Paul if he came to see
me now. I just don't think I'm up to receiving
visitors."
Her mother frowned at this. "Oh…well, dear," she began in
a tone that oozed insincere concern. "He wants so much to see how
you're doing. Don't you think you could visit with him, even if
it's only for a little while?"
"Mom," Lacey groused, dropping her chin to her chest in a pout
reminiscent of her childhood. "I don't want to right now. Can't you
understand? This has been really hard and I'm still so confused
about-well, about everything. I don't want to see Paul right now.
Please."
The topic was becoming a bone of contention between them and one
her mother just didn't seem to want to give in on. For her part,
Lacey didn't quite know what she wanted. The only thing she knew
for certain was that she didn't want Paul. She liked him as a
friend, but that was as far as her feelings went for the man. He
just wasn't the person she wanted to share the rest of her life
with.
A pair of smiling blue eyes flashed in her mind's eye for an
instant, then she shook her head to rid it of the familiar-seeming
image.
"Okay, honey," her mother fidgeted with the blanket that was
wrapped around Lacey's legs. "I'll call him when we get home and
tell him to stop by another day, when you're up to
it."
Lacey's expression softened. "Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate
that."
***
Six weeks later, Lacey sat in the sunroom of her parents'
spacious mansion, staring out the window at the gray sky and
freshly-manicured lawn. She'd been home for a little over a month
and was already bored to tears. Her mother had finally convinced
her to allow Paul to stop by for a visit. It was a disaster of epic
proportions that she didn't want to repeat anytime soon. When he
got down on one knee and presented her with a ring, she couldn't
help the hysterical laughter that erupted, much to the
embarrassment of everyone present. He just knelt there at her feet
with a confused expression and asked, "Well?"
Glancing up to find her mother standing by expectantly, Lacey
caught the woman's eye and saw the pleased smile her mother wore.
Then she saw her father's reaction and the red-hot anger burning in
his sea-green eyes.
"No, Paul," Lacey answered with an emphatic shake of her head.
"I'm afraid I can't marry you. I don't love you and I never
will."
"But, dear," her mother protested vehemently, trying to keep
Paul from fleeing as she faced off against her eldest daughter.
"You can't…you…"
"Now you see here, young lady," her father stepped forward at
that moment.
"I'm no longer a young lady, Father," Lacey shot back defiantly.
"I'm an officer in the United States Army, a doctor and a decorated
veteran. You can't dictate what I will or will not do anymore." She
turned her heated gaze on her mother. "It's never going to happen,
Mother, I'm sorry," Lacey said, then rose from the chair and leaned
heavily on her cane as she left the room.
She actually made it to the drawing room and was almost able to
close the door, before both her parents burst through it and nearly
sent her sprawling. She just managed to grab onto the back of a
wingback chair to keep her balance.
"You can't be serious, Lacey Justine Stephens!" Meredith
Beauregard Stephens suddenly rounded on her with more anger than
Lacey had ever seen out of the woman. "That young man has been
waiting patiently for you to come to your senses and now…now
you just throw his proposal back in his face, like so much dirty
bathwater? What has gotten into you?"
"I will not have you treat Paul with such open disrespect, Lacey
Justine," her father growled. "He has waited for you to return from
that…that godforsaken place, so he can marry you and give you
the life you deserve." He shot her a heated scowl. "You are acting
like a petulant child and I will not have that behavior under my
roof!"
"The life I deserve?" Lacey scoffed as she slowly turned to
confront her parents. "And what life would that be? The one you
laid out for me, Father? I don't think so! I'm not a child anymore
and I won't be told what to do or who to marry. I have a life, such
that it is, and I intend to live my life my way."
Lacey was still not able to stand for long periods and just
managed to sit in one of the wingback chairs, before she collapsed
in an embarrassing heap at her parents' feet. In the three months
that she had been in a coma, her muscles had atrophied to the point
that it was taking longer than anticipated for her to fully
recover.
"Now, Lacey dear," her mother's voice took on a condescending
tone that made Lacey cringe. "Your father and I are just looking
out for your best interests. Paul is a wonderful man and will
provide you with everything you could possibly want or need,
including beautiful children and a grand home. You can't seriously
tell me you won't even take a little time to consider his proposal.
He's waited so long for you to come back to us."
"I am totally serious, Mother," Lacey shot back when she finally
caught her breath. "I will never marry Paul and you know it. Why do
you think I was so quick to join the Army after I finished medical
school?" She saw her father's face turn blotchy with suppressed
rage. "And don't even start with me, Father. I don't want to hear
that outburst that I can see brewing behind your stoic
facade."
"Now you listen here…" her father started towards her
again and was held back by her mother.
"James, please," Meredith stood her ground as James Andrew
Stephens gave her an angry scowl. "She's been through enough.
Please just let her think this through. Give her time to accept
what Paul is offering and how much he cares."
"Don't, Mother," Lacey shot her mother an angry scowl that
matched her father's. "I don't need time to think and I'm not
marrying Paul. I will never marry the man, even if he were the last
person left on the earth. That's final."
"Lacey, now be reasonable," Meredith pleaded.
"There's no reasoning with her, Meredith," James growled. "Ever
since we gave in and allowed her to attend the college of
her choosing she's been completely unreasonable. And when
she went and joined the Army…Well, that is not the child I
raised. No offspring of mine would deign to lower herself to
serving in the Armed Forces when she has so much more to
offer."
"James, please," Meredith pleaded again.
"No, Mother, Father's right," Lacey stood up with difficulty,
leaned heavily on her cane and walked over to stand toe-to-toe with
her father. "I am not going to be controlled by you or anyone else
in this family ever again." She glared daggers at the man who was
only a few inches taller than she was. "I served my country and
have the scars to prove it, right down to the one on my chest where
they had to open me up and bring me back to life. And I'm going to
live this life that's been handed to me. I've also amassed a small
fortune of my own, even without the trust fund you created for me.
I don't need you and I don't need your damned money! I'm leaving
and I will not return until you find it in your soulless heart to
see me as more than just a pawn in your pitiful little universe. I
put a down payment on a place of my own. And you're not welcome
there until you come to your damned senses, old
man!"
"What?!?" Both parents exclaimed in unison.
"Now, listen here, young lady…"
"No, you listen to me for once, Father," Lacey shot back with a
defiant gleam. "I am done listening to you. I am through relying on
you. I don't give a shit about what you think anymore. I'm finished
with the two of you and your constant meddling in my life." She
stiffly maneuvered around both parents and headed toward the
drawing room door, then stopped as she reached the doorway. "Lily
knows where to find me, but I've given her strict orders not to
tell either of you where I'll be. And I don't want to see Paul ever
again." She looked pointedly at her father. "I'd ask you to respect
my wishes, but I don't hold out any hope that you'll ever respect
anything I say or do. Goodbye." She was about to walk through the
door, but hesitated and turned back to glare at them. "And just so
we're clear on this, I am a lesbian." She took pleasure in the twin
gasps of shock from both parents. "Yes, that's right. I'm gay. I
figured it out in college and, although I don't remember anything
about my military career, I at least know that one fact with
certainty. I had several girlfriends in college. That I do
remember. And there isn't a damned thing either of you can do about
it."
With that said, Lacey walked through the doorway and nearly
collided with her taller sister, who was hovering close by. Lily
grabbed her sister's shoulders and smiled warmly. Lacey was too
preoccupied to notice how fashionably her sister was dressed, in a
cream silk blouse, matching silk pants and a pair of Gucchi
sandals.
"Lily," Lacey braced herself against her sister's outstretched
arm. "What are you doing here?" She glanced behind her sister to
the empty room beyond. "Where's Paul? Did he leave?"
"Paul left with his tail tucked between his gangly legs and
Father's ring tucked away in his pocket," Lily beamed. "The little
weasel was close to tears, but was muttering under his breath that
he wouldn't stand idly by and wait for you to come to your senses.
Now I completely understand why you would never marry
him."
The two sisters made their way up the winding staircase to
Lacey's room above. Lacey knew she needed a nap after all the
excitement. But once they reached her room, her sister turned on
her like a cat on a mouse.
"A lesbian, Lacey?" Lily helped the smaller woman to the edge of
the bed. "Why the hell didn't you ever tell me?"
Lacey shrugged. "Truthfully? It's not something I really gave
much thought to after I joined the Army, Lil."
"So you really don't like…men?" Lily gave her sister a
skeptical look, as she sat down next to her.
"No," Lacey shrugged. "I don't." Then she reconsidered her word.
"I mean, I like men all right. I just don't…" she shrugged.
"I'd rather find…um…" She swallowed the lump in her
throat. "It's complicated."
"You'd rather have sex with a woman. Is that it?" Lily shot
back.
Lacey nearly choked on her sister's words. "O-okay, that's a
blunt way of putting it, I guess."
Lily smiled and gave her sister a hug. "I can't believe you
finally figured it out for yourself. Jeez, it took you long
enough."
"What?"
"Oh, come on, Lac," Lily gave her sister a conspiratorial nudge
on the shoulder. "You can't tell me you and Melissa Delgado were
merely friends. She was always giving you those puppy dog eyes when
she thought no one was looking."
"Melissa Delgado? What the hell does she have to do with…"
A sudden dawning came over her expression. "You knew about me and
Melissa?"
"Knew?" Lily scoffed. "I saw you two kissing behind the old oak
tree one summer. I think you were probably twelve or thirteen at
the time. I thought it was kinda cute, because you were the same
height."
Lacey swallowed audibly. "I didn't think
anyone…uh…"
"Little sisters are pretty good at spying on their older sibs,
Lac," Lily shot Lacey a 'duh' look. "Besides," Lily shrugged. "I
can't really blame you. Even I had a little crush on Melissa. She
was really quite beautiful with those huge brown eyes and long
lashes."
Lacey blushed to her roots. "Yeah," she admitted and kept her
eyes on the hands in her lap. "I can't believe she let me kiss her
like that. We…um…she was a really good
kisser."
Lily giggled. "I think she wanted to kiss you as much as you
wanted to kiss her. You two were so funny, though-all gangly and
clumsy. I even remember you butting foreheads once. It was all I
could do not to burst into a fit of giggles and give away my hiding
place in the bushes."
Lacey shot her sister a dour frown. "Why didn't you speak up
before now, Lil?" She set her cane aside and crossed her arms over
her chest. "Woulda saved me a boatload of trouble in high
school."
"You had to learn on your own," Lily shrugged. "Wasn't my place
to tell you that you were probably better suited for the girls than
boys. Besides, you wouldn't listen to your little sister, back
then, would you?"
"I suppose not," Lacey conceded. "It sure would have made dating
a lot easier, though. I still shudder when I think of nearly giving
away my virginity to Brad Summers. The guy was always trying to get
me alone in his car, his sister's car, under the bleachers during
football games…Ugh!"
"Yeah, but he was kinda cute," Lily snorted. "Wasn't until you
went out with Tommy your senior year that I had second thoughts
about your sexuality. Then again-"
"Then again, he did end up moving to San Francisco and setting
up house with his boyfriend," Lacey finished with a smirk. "Didn't
really see that one coming. I guess I should have known,
though."
"How so?"
"He was a great dancer," Lacey wiggled her brows at her sister
and they both chuckled. "It was nice to go to all the dances with
someone, even if he and I were only friends."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, each lost in her
thoughts. Then Lily stood up and faced her sister.
"Are you finally moving out today? Or are you going to wait
until the condo is painted?" Lily said with her hands on her
hips.
"I don't know," Lacey said on a heavy sigh. "I'm tired of
fighting with them." She looked around her childhood room. "I mean,
they even left my room exactly the same as it was when I used to
live here." She sighed again. "But I need to get back out there on
my own. I need to figure out what I'm going to do with my life from
here on out." She lifted the metal cane in her hands and stared at
it. "I can't go back to whatever it was I did in the Army, but I
can't just sit here and wait for something to drop into my lap,
either." She dropped the cane at her side. "I just wish I could
remember-"
Lily gently rubbed her sister's back. "You'll find your path,
sis. I know you will. You just need time and space, both of which
you can get by being out of this damned house." She smiled when
Lacey gave her a skeptical frown. "I'm serious. You just need to
get back out there and figure out what makes you happy. I know
there's got to be something out there you can sink your teeth
into." She rubbed her sister's arm. "You're still a doctor, so
maybe you can figure out some way to make use of
that."
Lacey snorted. "I'm a doctor who can't remember what kind of
medicine I was practicing after I graduated medical school. Like
that really helps."
"You never know," Lily smirked. "Maybe it will all come back to
you."
"Maybe," Lacey shrugged. "Sometimes I think there is something
really special that I'm missing, but I don't know what it is." She
glanced at her sister. "Didn't I ever mention what I did in the
Army?"
Lily shrugged. "Father didn't exactly let anything get by him.
If you sent me anything, I didn't receive it."
"Jackass," Lacey grumbled. "Isn't it a Federal offense to tamper
with the U.S. Mail?"
Lily snickered. "You sound just like him
sometimes."
"Oh, please."
"No, really, Lacey," Lily grinned. "You two are more alike than
you realize. Stubborn. Headstrong. Unwilling to waver in the face
of insurmountable odds."
"I'm not a bastard who manipulates his children in order to use
them for his own selfish ends," Lacey shot back. "You do know what
he used to do to me when he wasn't pleased with some of the things
I did, don't you?"
"He took his belt to you behind his closed study door," Lily
sobered. "I know."
"My tiny ass saw more welts than a damned Berber carpet," Lacey
silently shifted positions, as the memories of her childhood
surfaced.
"I'm sorry about that, Lac," Lily put a comforting arm around
the smaller woman's shoulders and squeezed. "I knew what he was
doing, but I didn't know how to stop him. He was our father, after
all. "
"You want to know the worst part?" Lacey watched Lily nod.
"Mother knew he did it and never raised a finger to stop
him."
Lily swallowed audibly. "Why didn't she at least
try?"
Lacey shrugged. "She probably figured I deserved it for the way
I acted sometimes. Who knows? It wasn't like I was the son they
wanted."
"No, but that didn't give them the right to treat you that way,"
Lily leaned her head against her sister's. "You weren't a bad kid.
You just knew what you wanted and you weren't afraid to speak your
mind." She smirked. "It was a good thing they didn't know about
Melissa Delgado."
"Yeah," Lacey smirked. "If they'd known the half of it I
wouldn't have an ass left to sit on."
Lily eyed her sister. "The half of it?"
One of Lacey's brows quirked. "So you weren't spying on us the
night we did it in the pool house?"
Lily slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out
loud. "You two had sex in the pool house?"
Lacey nodded. "It was…" She considered her words
carefully. "Let's just say we weren't all gangly limbs by
then."
They shared a companionable chuckle until Lily finally sat
up.
"Well, I guess I should go." She stood up and walked over to
Lacey's doorway. "Bill is home tonight, for once. He wants to eat
in and get to work on some projects that are coming up for vote in
a few weeks."
"You two still sleeping in separate rooms?" Lacey gave her
sister a meaningful look.
"He doesn't want children," Lily shrugged. "Besides, I
have…um…ways of satisfying that little
itch."
Lacey's brow quirked again. "Oh?"
Lily winked. "You're not the only one with little skeletons in
your closet, sis."
And with that said, she was gone, leaving Lacey to wonder what
her sister was doing and with whom. Her mind pondered the limitless
possibilities, as she lay down on her bed and fell fast asleep in
her clothes.
***
Mac was stiff and sore from a hard day of riding and herding
cattle. She winced when she moved her arm in a circle and tried to
work the kink out of her shoulder that had plagued her all day. She
was seated on Argo, her blond Palomino, as she watched the cattle
meander past her.
They were moving the herd from the west pasture to one of the
north pastures and she'd spent all day in the
saddle.
"Hey, sis," Ben rode up next to her on one of his bay geldings,
Dasher. The horse tossed his head and snorted, eliciting a whinny
from Argo.
"Hey," Mac stared out at the plume of dust kicked up by the
herd.
"You doing okay?"
"A little sore today," Mac replied. "Shoulder's been bothering
me all day."
"You know you're free to head back to the house, any time," Ben
crossed his arms over his saddle horn. "You shouldn't overdo it
with that bullet still in there. The doctor said you'd be feeling
it if you did. Besides, we got enough help out here. Jimmy's riding
flank with Lou and Charley. They've been doing a great job making
sure the stragglers don't get too far behind."
Mac glared at him. "You tryin' to get rid of me?"
"No," he returned with a chuckle, tipping his cowboy hat up. "I
am most certainly not trying to get rid of you. You've been a
really big help, sis. I just don't want you waking up in the
morning without the use of your arm again. Remember last week when
you chased down that calf and had to rope it? You wore your sling
for three days afterward."
Mac sighed. "I remember all too well." She removed her own
battered cowboy hat and wiped her rolled up sleeve across her brow.
She replaced the hat on her head and sighed.
It was late afternoon and the sun was finally descending.
Unfortunately, the heat wasn't dissipating in the least. She didn't
know what the temperature was, but thought it was still in the 90s.
It had been unseasonably cool that morning, so Mac had decided to
wear a flannel long-sleeve shirt over a t-shirt. Big mistake. It
wasn't a dry heat, like in the desert. This was the heat of a humid
sauna. She knew her undershirt was soaked through and didn't want
to remove it in the company of all the cowhands. So she was stuck
wearing a shirt better suited to late autumn weather and
temperatures.
"Go on back to the house and get cleaned up, sis," her brother
ordered, as he noticed the sweat running down her face. "You can
let Carrie know that Jimmy and I will be along shortly. We almost
have the bulk of the herd where I want them for the night. We'll
just help get them situated then turn them over to the hands for
the night."
"You really don't need me?" Mac glanced at him and saw him
shrug. "Okay, then. I'll let Carrie know you'll be home in a few
hours."
"Thanks, sis," Ben gave her a wide grin. "And save some hot
water for me, will ya? Don't let my boys use it all before I get
there."
Mac took up the reins and turned Argo in the direction of the
house. It would take her the better part of an hour to return, but
she was looking forward to the ride ahead.
"Can't make any promises there, bro," Mac gave him a wink as she
kicked the Palomino into a fast trot.
Once she was far enough away from the herd to no longer smell
the distinct scents of manure and leather, Mac slowed her mount to
a walk and let Argo pick her way along the well-worn trail. They
crossed the wide swath of ground where the herd had tamped the tall
grass down and churned it into dust. The dust was dry as a
bone.
Mac glanced up at the Grand Teton Mountains that towered
majestically over the 6,000 acre ranch. The huge mountains were
rimmed with puffy white clouds that clung to them like cotton. She
knew the reason her brother had decided to move the herd north was
because the grass and water in the west pasture hadn't lasted as
long as he'd hoped it would. The drought they'd been experiencing
during the summer was making it difficult to keep the large herd
from starving or dying of thirst. They'd already had to cull the
herd, sending a thousand head of the weaker stock to the slaughter
house for far less than her brother knew they were worth. It hadn't
been an easy decision for Ben to make and Mac didn't envy him in
the least.
As Argo picked her way along the well-worn cowhand path that was
used by the dozen men who kept track of the 10,000 head of cattle,
Mac turned her thoughts to her current situation. She knew she was
biding her time until she flew down to Texas to have surgery on her
shoulder. The bullet still lodged in there was a constant reminder
of her life in the Army. She wondered what Lacey was doing at that
moment. Did she enjoy being back with her family? Or was she
chomping at the bit to be free of her parents, especially her
father?
Mac patted Argo's sleek neck.
"I hope one day you'll get to meet her, girl," Mac said to the
golden horse. The mare merely tossed her head and shook her blond
mane. "I think you'd really like her." The mare shook her head, as
if to say 'no'. "And why not? You've never even met Lacey Stephens.
How can you make a snap judgment of someone when you know nothing
about them?" The mare whinnied and tossed her head again. "Thanks,
pal. See if you get any honeyed oats when we reach the barn. I have
a good mind to…"
Just then she heard a loud whistle ahead of her and looked up to
see someone waving her over. She couldn't tell who the person was,
but decided to investigate. Mac kicked Argo into a canter and
headed toward the waving man.
"Rusty?" Mac pulled Argo up next to the shorter cowhand. "What
the hell are you doing way over here? I thought you
were…"
Mac stopped dead when she saw a site that made her stomach turn.
Rusty was standing over the decomposing carcass of a small steer.
The brown and white coat of the steer was matted with blood and the
stomach and throat were gaping maws of torn flesh and
visceral.
"Thought ya might be your brother, Mac," Rusty's voice was
gravelly from smoking too many cigarettes. He was a cowboy in every
sense and even dressed the part. He wore a denim shirt and jeans
over dingy white long johns. He also wore a red bandana tied around
his neck and his boots were well worn from years of hard
work.
"Wolves?" Mac watched him kneel next to the carcass and examine
the ground around it.
"Probably," Rusty nodded. "Been a while since we've had 'em
'round these parts."
Mac's gaze took in the surrounding area. "They're getting bolder
now that the drought has taken hold. Probably not the last carcass
we'll see in the next few weeks." She glanced up at the cloudless
blue sky. "Wish it would rain."
"Won't matter to the wolves," Rusty said as he got to his feet
and moved back toward his mount. "They'll still go after the weaker
stock."
Mac eyed the dead steer. "That one doesn't look like it was very
weak."
Rusty leaned over and grabbed a bloody hoof. "It was lame before
the pack took it down." He dropped the hoof and swatted a
fly.
"Let my brother know," Mac said. "He's picketing the herd near
the old stream bed tonight. He'll want to know what we're up
against. How many in the pack, do you think?"
"'Bout eight, far as I can tell," Rusty nodded. "Happened just
this morning, too. Probably one of the first stragglers to break
away from the herd after we started out."
"I wonder why JT didn't notice," Mac added. "Tell Ben we need to
keep a better eye on the herd or we're gonna lose more than just a
few stragglers. Those wolves get any bolder and we're gonna have a
stampede on our hands."
Rusty nodded as he mounted his roan gelding. "You headed back to
the house, Mac?"
Mac absently rubbed her shoulder. "Yeah. It's been a long day
and I need a good long soak in a hot tub."
Rusty tipped his hat. "Don't take any chances on the way. No
telling what those wolves'll do now that they've had a taste of
fresh meat and easy pickin's."
"Don't worry about me, Rusty," Mac assured him with an easy
smile. "I know this area like the back of my hand. Those mangy curs
won't get the jump on me and Argo." She affectionately patted the
mare's neck. "Will they, girl?" Argo whinnied. "Good
girl."
Rusty nodded and kicked his roan into a gallop, leaving Mac and
her horse with the carcass. Mac eyed the gruesome scene for another
moment. The flies were swarming and the stench was already nearly
unbearable.
"Let's go, girl," Mac said as she nudged Argo into a lazy trot.
"Don't think I want to stick around here and find out what else
might be prowling these parts."
She made it to the outskirts of the main ranch property and
followed the fence line toward the house. It was a habit of hers to
skirt the property and check the fences whenever possible. She
inhaled the fresh mountain air and thought about her life, as her
eyes lazily scanned the fence line.
"Smells like we could actually get some rain tonight, girl," Mac
commented to the lazily trotting Palomino. "I just hope Mother
Nature doesn't tease us with a three-second shower." Mac rolled her
shoulder and winced. "Damned shoulder."
Her thoughts turned to the reason the bullet was in her shoulder
in the first place. She wasn't prepared for the flashback that hit
her unexpectedly. Suddenly she saw herself lying on the sandy
ground, staring into the crazed eyes of an enemy insurgent. Her
heart jumped into her throat at the look of rage in the man's eyes.
When she finally blinked, the image disappeared as quickly as it
came on.
Mac choked out the breath she'd been holding when the flashback
hit her. The memory was so incredibly vivid that the man's stench
still lingered in her nostrils and she could still feel his hot
breath on her skin.
"God dammit!" She leaned over her saddle horn and let her cheek
rest against Argo's neck. "What the hell was that?"
It was by far one of the worst flashbacks she'd experienced
since returning from Iraq. She looked around at the rolling hills
and towering mountains. There was nothing that could have triggered
such a violent reaction. And then her therapist's words hit her,
"Most flashbacks are triggered by stress, while others may just
come on with no apparent reason."
Mac tried valiantly to shake off images as she reined in her
mount. "Whoa, girl." She dismounted and wrapped the reins loosely
around the fence.
Breathing deeply of the humid air, Mac leaned back against the
fence to gaze out at the incredible view stretched out before her.
She was perched at the top of a rise with rolling hills and valleys
spread out below. Everything was green or gold, despite the
drought. The grass was a lighter shade of brownish-green than the
clumps of trees that spotted her brother's land. She could also
just make out a faint plume of smoke where her brother would have
picketed the herd.
"Pull it together, Mac," she continued and tried taking slow,
deep breaths her therapist had told her would help. In through her
mouth-slowly, deeply-and out through the nose.
She let her eyes flutter closed and willed a picture of crystal
clear water from a tumbling brook to fill her mind. She continued
to build on the image until she could actually hear the trickling
of the water over moss-covered rocks. Her heart finally slowed and
the panic subsided.
"There," she breathed out a long cleansing breath and opened her
eyes again.
Everything came into focus around her, including the mare still
munching quietly next to her. The mare's ears were cocked back
alertly as she munched contentedly. "How're you doing, girl?" Mac
rubbed the mare's soft neck and took comfort in the warmth of the
animal. "Wasn't quite ready for that one. Kinda took me by
surprise."
Mac gave Argo one final pat before grabbing the reins and
remounting. She turned the mare toward home again and kicked her
into a lazy canter.
"Damned war," Mac hissed between clenched teeth as she tipped
her hat back on her head and reveled in the feel of the wind in her
face.
She saw a tan blur to her left and turned her head in time to
see a small mountain lion spring from a nearby rock. Luckily Argo
was at a full gallop at that point or Mac would have a full set of
claws buried in her shoulder. Argo shied sideways, but not enough
to take her off stride. Mac just ducked low over the mare's neck
and gave the Palomino her head.
"Yiaaaah, girl!" Mac held on for dear life as the big
cat hit the ground behind them and gave chase. She shot a quick
glance over her shoulder and saw that Argo was rapidly
outdistancing the small cat. "Good girl!" Mac patted her mare's
neck.
She knew they only had to make it over the next ridge and the
cat would break off its chase. Mac felt sweat running down her back
as the mare continued to outpace the mountain lion. And then they
made it over the last rise and the ranch house came into view
before them. Just as she had predicted, the mountain lion pulled up
short once it saw all the activity that surrounded the ranch and
its multiple outbuildings. Deciding not to take a chance of having
the cat follow her any further, Mac kept Argo at the same gallop
until they were even with the first outbuilding. Only then did she
rein in her mare and walk her the rest of the way. She patted the
mare's neck again.
"Good girl," Mac gave the mare a firm scratch between her ears.
"Definitely an extra scoop of oats and honey for you tonight,
girl."
Mac pulled Argo up in front of the corral next to the large
thirty-horse stables. She waited for the dust to settle before
dismounting and tying the reins to a hitching post.
"Hey there, Li'l Bit," a gruff voice said behind
her.
Mac turned to greet the grizzled man in worn denim. "Hey,
Blackie," Mac gave the older cowhand-turned-stable hand a tired
half-smile. "How're things here at the ranch?"
"Swell," the man answered sarcastically, then shot a gob of
dark-brown spit into the dust at their feet. "Got a whole passel of
them damned city folk over ta ranch house. Showed up just after
lunch and are swarming around here like a pack of yellow jackets on
steroids."
"Oh yeah?" Mac glanced across the yard to where several picnic
tables were set up in the shade of two large oak trees. "A new
group to torture, eh?"
"Damned straight," Blackie answered as he removed his
sweat-stained, straw cowboy hat and wiped a dark sleeve across his
sweaty brow. Mac noticed that his thinning, greasy salt-and-pepper
hair was sticking up in all directions before he shoved the
well-worn hat back in place. "This lot's greener than the last, I
tell ya. I'll be steering clear of 'em when Butch and Pepper take
'em on their excursion tomorrow." He glanced up at the mountains.
"That is, if it don't rain come mornin'. Ya'll get the herd settled
in the north pasture, yet?"
"Ben's picketing them up near the old stream bed for the night,"
Mac answered as she watched the group of tourists in their urban
cowboy garb.
They were a curious group-six adults and an equal number of
teens and kids-that milled around the large two-story clapboard
ranch house. The adults wore brand new cowboy hats, boots and red
bandanas, courtesy of the Flying BC Ranch's small gift shop. The
three men also wore short-sleeved polo shirts and brand-new denim
jeans, while the women were dressed in a variety of western
blouses. The kids just wore t-shirts and jeans. Mac noticed one
teen in a faded red Aeropostle t-shirt who stood out from the rest.
The girl had strawberry-blond hair pulled back in a French braid
that reminded Mac of another strawberry blond. A flash of green
eyes played in Mac's mind's eye, then just as quickly
disappeared.
The girl turned toward Mac and Blackie and glared at the pair
with open hostility in eyes the color of a winter storm. She
crossed her arms over her blossoming chest and looked away. The
girl was obviously not happy to be spending the remainder of her
summer vacation there on the ranch. Mac wondered briefly which
couple were the kid's parents, then noticed a blond woman and a
red-headed man watching the teen with open disappointment. The
couple said a few words to each other, before the mother called to
her daughter.
The teen glanced at Mac one last time, before she stomped over
to where her parents were seated at one of the picnic tables. Mac
couldn't hear the exchange between the three, but knew the teen was
voicing her objections to being there. Mac continued to watch as a
younger boy ran up to the family and waved his arms animatedly. He
was obviously having a great time. Mac glanced at the girl again
and her breath caught when those stormy gray eyes stared back at
her in open challenge.
"That kid's not happy to be here," Blackie commented as he spit
another stream of tobacco juice onto the dusty
ground.
"Doesn't look like it, does it?" Mac put her hands on her hips
and looked away.
"She's gonna be a handful when they head out tomorrow," Blackie
grunted. "Kid looks ready to bolt."
Mac nodded. "She reminds me of someone."
"Who?"
Mac shrugged. "A woman I served with in the
desert."
Blackie considered Mac with a raised brow. She rarely mentioned
her time in the Army, much less her experiences in Afghanistan or
Iraq. As a veteran himself, Blackie knew just why Mac was so
tight-lipped about that time in her life. It wasn't something that
one could just share openly with those who'd never served before.
Not something others could easily understand. Besides, some
memories were best locked away where they couldn't haunt
you.
He turned his gaze back to the group of tourists. "You ever get
in touch with her?" He ventured. "Ben mentioned you'd tried
unsuccessfully a few times."
Mac shrugged again and crossed her arms over her chest. "Never
been able to get through to anyone who'd let me talk to her." She
sighed and rotated her shoulder. "Damned shoulder," she hissed
under her breath. "Damned mountain lion, too."
"Mountain lion?" Blackie's interest perked up instantly.
"Where?"
"Just over the ridge there," Mac pointed. "It tried to catch
Argo and me as we were coming down along the fence
line."
"That ain't a good sign," Blackie patted the now-sweating mare.
"Argo did a great job of outrunning the cat, then."
"That she did," Mac said and gave the mare another affectionate
pat. "You better post an armed watch on the perimeter tonight, just
in case. Have two of the hands keep an eye on the ridge and make
sure they don't shoot any of our guests. I don't want any heroics
and we don't need a lawsuit."
"No problem, Mac," Blackie nodded.
Just then, thunder rumbled in the distance. Mac and Blackie
turned their attentions to the distant mountains and watched the
clouds swirling in a mass of ominous dark-gray at their
peaks.
"Rain's comin'," Mac commented. "Gonna be an interesting day
tomorrow. The townies won't like being caught in a downpour, out
there. I should probably also let Carrie know about the mountain
lion, so she can warn the townies not to go hiking in the
dark."
"Good idea. 'Bout damned time we got some damned rain," Blackie
grunted as he took Argo's reins and led the horse toward the
stables. "Hope your brother gets back here 'fore the weather turns.
Then again, we've heard rumbles like that over the last few weeks
that didn't amount to much." He sniffed the air. "Probably a good
idea to also let Carrie know she should prepare for Plan B, just in
case."
"She probably already has Hank standing by to shuttle the group
into Jackson tomorrow," Mac patted his shoulder.
"Damned greenhorns," Blackie grunted, as he grabbed up Argo's
reins and led her through the stable door.
"Give her an extra scoop of oats and honey for me, will ya,
Blackie?" Mac slapped the mare's rump affectionately and just
managed to dodge a swat from the blond tail. "I
promised."
Glad that Blackie was there to take care of her mare, Mac turned
her attention to the ranch house and the dozen or so people milling
about in the yard. She sighed heavily knowing that her
sister-in-law would be too busy with the new arrivals to take time
out for a quick chat. Mac needed someone to talk to about the
unexpected flashback, but now was not the time.
So, she straightened her shoulders and started toward the back
door of the house. She glanced over to find that same kid watching
her curiously. Then two boys flew from the house in a flurry of
whoops and hollers, angling straight for her.
"Auntie Mac!!" The younger boy shouted at the top of his lungs
as he launched himself into her arms.
Mac barely caught him and winced at the strain on her shoulder.
The six-year-old grinned at her with his toothless smile and gave
her a quick hug before she set him on his feet.
"Dillon Jeremiah!" A woman's voice called from the back door. "I
outta tan your little hide for that!"
A Hispanic woman stepped out the back door and stood with her
hands on her slender hips. Mac gave the six-year-old a raised-brow
look. He merely grinned up at her with open
affection.
"Sorry, Auntie Mac," DJ apologized with a pout. "Di'nt mean ta
hurt yer shoulder."
Mac ruffled his blond hair. "That's all right, Digger," she
grinned down at him, as the Hispanic woman, Maria, stood sentinel
at the back door and eyed Mac with interest. "Hello, Maria," Mac
gave the woman a quick wave that was greeted with a curt nod.
Tanner chose that moment to greet his aunt with a reserved smile.
"Hey, Tanner. You behaving yourself?" She ruffled his light-brown
hair just before he ducked out of her reach.
"I always behave myself, Auntie Mac," he said as he ran his
fingers through his hair. "Mom's busy with the new arrivals, so
Maria's watching us until Daddy gets home."
Mac glanced up and saw the Hispanic woman giving her the
once-over, before returning to the house. Maria Sandoval was the
sitter for the two younger boys while everyone else was busy
running the ranch. She was single and in her mid-thirties, with
shoulder-length, dark-brown hair that she kept pulled back from her
round face. At five-foot-six, she barely reached Mac's shoulders.
Mac always felt slightly uncomfortable in the woman's presence, but
couldn't put a finger on exactly why.
Mac knew Maria was great with the boys and kept them in line
with her strict Catholic discipline. She always seemed to be
lurking around corners when Mac made an appearance in or near the
house. The woman's strange antics hadn't yet become untoward, but
Mac was sure there would eventually be a confrontation. Mac had
caught Maria watching her with more than friendly interest on more
than one occasion, even though the woman had a steady boyfriend who
picked her up whenever she was done watching the
boys.
Mac returned her attention to the two boys waiting patiently in
front of her. "You boys want to sit on the porch a spell and learn
some more rope tying?" Mac suggested.
DJ's face lit up with excitement. "Can you teach us to tie a
hangman's noose?"
Tanner gave her an equally expectant look at his brother's
suggestion. "Yeah, Auntie Mac. You promised to teach us that one
last week."
Mac gave her nephews a skeptical look. "I don't know what your
mama will say when she catches you practicing that particular
knot."
"She won't mind. Honest!" DJ piped up. "She likes us to learn
that stuff."
Mac ruffled his hair again. "You are so full of it, Digger. You
know what your mama said that time we used Edgar for lasso
practice."
"Yeah, even Daddy got hot under the collar about that one,"
Tanner added with all seriousness. "He said we had to stop using
the poor dog like that or Edgar would drop dead from
fright."
DJ burst into a fit of giggles.
"Come on, boys," Mac herded them toward the front of the house
and the covered porch. "I'll teach you some other knots that'll be
useful."
"Hey, Auntie Mac?" DJ bounced around her legs as her easy
strides took them around the side of the house.
"What's on your mind, Digger?" Mac removed her hat and tossed it
over the porch rail and onto a peg near the front
door.
"When's Daddy gonna let Tanner'n me ride with ya'll?" He
launched himself onto the wooden porch and beat his brother to the
two-person swing. "Ha! Beatcha!" He stuck his tongue out at Tanner,
who merely shrugged and sat in one of the knotty pine rocking
chairs.
Mac took a seat in the other rocking chair and was grateful to
be off her feet. She was more tired than she was willing to admit,
but wouldn't let it show in front of her nephews. They expected her
to pay attention to them, even if only for a few minutes. Mac
didn't mind in the least, even if her shoulder ached like all get
out.
"Fetch me the ropes, Tanner," Mac pointed to the three coils of
rope hanging on pegs near the door.
Tanner grabbed all three well-worn ropes and handed them to her.
"Here ya go, Auntie Mac."
Mac took two of the ropes and uncoiled one end each, then set
about slowly tying the two ropes together.
"Your Uncle Derek and I learned the Double-Fisherman's knot one
summer when we went to camp down in Louisiana," Mac said as she
slowly pulled the two ropes together with the double-knots. "They
had sail boats on the lake and we got to learn how to tie a whole
bunch of different sailor's knots."
"That's so cool!" DJ watched in utter fascination as Mac untied
and retied the knots several times.
Mac looked up at the older of the two boys, who was watching her
hands closely. "You think you can do it, Tanner?"
It was a game they played. Mac would demonstrate a knot for them
and they would have to reproduce the knot without being told how
she'd done it. Tanner, who had recently celebrated his tenth
birthday, was very good at the game. His small hands could easily
loop and work the rope into the exact knot that Mac demonstrated.
DJ, who was only six, was learning quickly, but still couldn't
quite get it on the first try.
Tanner's fingers worked expertly to create the twin knots, while
his brother made a simple slip knot out of one end of one of the
ropes his brother held.
"There!" DJ held his finished knot up for his aunt's inspection.
"I did it!" He grinned proudly.
"Great job, Digger," Mac praised the boy and ruffled his hair
playfully. She watched Tanner finish the final knot and pull the
two ends fast. "And I thought I was going to have to show you two
how to do that one more than once." She winked at Tanner. "Good
job, Tanner. I guess you earned a quick demonstration of the
Hangman's knot."
In record time Mac had a perfect Hangman knot tied from the
third rope. She held it up for the boys to see. They ogled the
coiled and looped rope with open admiration.
"Wow!!" Both boys exclaimed in unison.
"No fair," Tanner pouted. "You did it too fast for me to see
what you were doing."
"No fair, huh?" Mac tossed the rope at him. "Maybe you can
deconstruct it and reproduce the knot." She watched him stare at
the rope for a moment before a wide grin broke out on his face. "I
thought you might figure it out, sport." She ruffled his hair and
this time he didn't bother to back away.
"Anything exciting happen out there today, Auntie Mac?" Tanner
moved to the porch swing and plopped down on it with his
prize.
"Hm," Mac sat back in her chair and lazily rocked back and
forth. "We had a few stragglers that had to be rounded up and taken
back to the main herd." She watched as Tanner concentrated on the
rope in his hands.
"Didja hafta lasso any of 'em?" DJ asked as he climbed up onto
the porch rail and straddled it like it was a horse.
"No," Mac shook her head. "I gave Lou and Charlie the honors."
She considered her next words carefully, not wanting to scare her
nephews with all the details. "On my way back here I also ran into
Rusty and a mountain lion."
"A mountain lion!" Both boys perked up in unison.
"What happened?" Tanner looked her over with concern. "Are you
all right, Auntie Mac? Did the mountain lion hurt
you?"
"Is Argo okay?" DJ added.
"I'm fine and so is Argo," Mac smiled to reassure them. "Argo
was a trooper and managed to outrun the cat on the way back here."
She pointed in the general direction where the cat chased them. "It
caught us by the fence line over there."
"Wow!" DJ looked at her with renewed respect. "That musta been
awful scary, Auntie Mac."
Mac smirked. "Not as scary as being jumped by a man with a
knife, but it was pretty scary."
"You got jumped by a man with a knife?" Tanner's hazel eyes went
wide with interest.
"Yeah," Mac nodded. "Bad things happen sometimes when you're a
soldier, Tanner." She ruffled his hair as he sat on the arm of the
chair next to her. "Remember that when you graduate high school and
are deciding what you want to do with your life."
"Cha," Tanner gave her a skeptical look that reminded Mac of her
dead brother, Derek. "Jeez, Auntie Mac, I haven't even finished
elementary school and been to middle school, yet. I got time to
figure out what I want to be when I grow up." Then he grinned from
ear-to-ear. "I may just decide to follow in Daddy's footsteps and
become a veterinarian."
Mac just patted his shoulder this time, earning a smirk as he
ducked away to join his brother at the porch rail. "You do that,
sport. I think you would be a really good vet."
"Yeah, 'cept when the dogs bite his fingers," DJ chimed in with
a giggle that earned him a chuck on the shoulder from his brother.
"Ouch, that hurt, Tanner!" He rubbed the arm in
question.
"Dogs love me," Tanner shot DJ that same frown of disapproval he
always gave Mac when she ruffled his hair.
"You boys bein' good for your aunt?" Ben stepped out onto the
porch with a tall, lanky young man close on his
heels.
"Yessir," both boys answered in unison.
Benjamin Papadopoulos was just a head taller than his oldest
son, Jimmy, but the two were similar enough in looks that they were
often mistaken for brothers. They both had dark-brown hair they
kept cut short under their wide-brimmed Stetsons. And their eyes
were exactly the same color blue as Mac's. The only noticeable
difference between the two was in their body builds. Ben was nearly
six foot five and carried what the family called his "spare tire"
around his middle, just above his waistline. While Jimmy wasn't
quite as tall as his father, but was as slender as a rail.
"We were just practicing rope tying," Mac added.
Ben glanced at the hangman's noose draped over the rail and shot
his sister a disapproving scowl that nearly made her laugh. Mac
just managed to keep a stern expression on her features as Ben
lifted the noose off the rail.
"This your idea of rope tying, li'l bit?" He dangled the noose
in front of her. "Teaching my boys to tie a noose?"
"Tanner earned it after I showed him the Double Fisherman and he
got it on the first try," Mac crossed her arms over her chest and
returned his stern expression.
Ben's brow rose as he turned his gaze on his younger son. "You
tied a Double Fisherman on the first try?"
"Yep," Tanner nodded proudly. "Auntie Mac then tied the noose
really fast." He frowned. "Too fast for me to see how she did it,"
he added with a frown.
Ben tossed the noose to Tanner, who caught it and grinned.
"Don't let me see you hanging anything from that noose, son." He
gave the ten-year-old a stern look. "And don't let your mother see
you with that thing."
"Yessir," Tanner answered in all seriousness.
"Now get inside and wash up for supper, both of you," Ben
ordered, watching as the two younger boys scrambled quickly into
the house. "You joinin' us for supper, li'l bit?" He addressed his
sister.
"Where else would I bum a meal?" Mac smirked.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Ben said as he stopped at the door and
held it open for his oldest son. "Maria said to tell you Blackie is
looking for you over at the stables."
"Did she say why?" Mac stood up and worked the kinks out of her
knee and shoulder.
"No," Ben answered. "She just asked me to relay the
message."
"Okay," Mac said as she stepped off the porch. "You guys go
ahead and eat. I'll find out what Blackie wants, make sure
everything's okay and then I'll be in for supper. If it takes too
long, just go ahead and put my plate in the oven to keep
warm."
"Will do, li'l bit," Ben nodded.
"And Ben?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you please stop calling me that around the boys?" Mac
growled. "Jimmy's gonna get the idea it's okay to call me by my
nickname all the time. You've already got most of the hands saying
it and I can't get 'em to stop."
Ben chuckled. "No problem…li'l bit." His laughter echoed
inside the house.
Mac stood there shaking her head for a moment as she heard her
brother's laughter recede. "I'll never live that stupid nickname
down at this rate," she said as she made her way toward the family
stables.
There were six outbuildings in the general vicinity of the main
house. One of those buildings housed the family's horses, including
Mac's two mares and four geldings. There was also a horse for each
of Mac's nephews, who were all experienced equestrians. Even
six-year-old DJ had his own gelding that he competed in the local
rodeo circuit with.
Chance was a full-blooded roan Quarter Horse and stood fourteen
hands high. The gelding wasn't tall by most standards, but that was
just fine for young DJ. The two were great together, though. It
seemed that the horse's lower center of gravity allowed them both
to navigate the barrels and demonstrate roping techniques fairly
easily. They had even won several events in their
six-to-ten-year-old class.
Mac entered the dim interior of the stables and smelled the
fresh scent of horses, hay and leather.
"Hey, Blackie!" She called out as she walked down the center
aisle and noticed only the horses in their stalls. The tack room
was at the other end of the building, so Mac continued toward it.
She glanced above her head as some alfalfa dropped down in front of
her, but couldn't see anything in the loft above. "Blackie? You in
here?"
"He's not here, Mac," Maria's quiet voice sent a chill of
apprehension down Mac's spine, as she stopped and turned to face
the smaller woman. Maria was leaning casually against the door
frame, her hair glinting in the moonlight. "But I am," she
continued as she moved away from the door.
Mac watched as Maria sidled up to her and stopped within reach.
The smaller Hispanic woman had her dark hair down around her
shoulders and her blouse-which was usually only unbuttoned enough
to reveal the dip at her throat-was now showing a generous amount
of tan cleavage.
"You told my brother Blackie is looking for me," Mac took a step
back as Maria reached for her. "Hey, Maria, what
the…"
"Oh, come on, Mackenzie," Maria's soft Spanish accent made the
words roll off her tongue in a sultry tone. "Don't play hard-to-get
with me, chica."
Mac backed up another few steps until the backs of her knees
bumped up against an alfalfa bale sitting against one of the
stalls. She could feel the sexuality rolling off the smaller woman
in waves, as Maria continued to stalk her like a hungry panther.
All the warning bells and whistles in Mac's head suddenly went
off.
"Maria, don't," Mac warned, as she made a grab for the smaller
woman's outstretched hands and was thwarted by Maria's smaller
stature. "What about your boyfriend?"
"Jose is a great guy," Maria answered with a shrug as she
quickly closed the distance between them. "But he doesn't hold a
candle to you, chica. I've wanted to do this for a very
long time."
Mac tried to side-step Maria's advance, but ended up losing her
balance and sitting down hard on the bale behind her. That was all
it took for Maria to pounce, which is exactly what she did. Soft,
warm lips were suddenly pressed against Mac's and a firm tongue was
prodding for entry, as Maria's hands found the front of Mac's
flannel shirt and started unbuttoning.
"Mm, you're so…" Maria's words trailed off in a breathless
exhale as she pressed further into the taller woman.
"Maria…" Mac managed between clenched lips, but only
succeeded in allowing the smaller woman's tongue to breach the
barrier.
The kiss awakened a spark of desire in Mac that had been dormant
for far too long. Maria's tongue expertly danced with hers and the
kiss deepened. Mac felt her overshirt drop from her shoulders as
her own hands moved beneath Maria's blouse and the tank top
underneath. Mac reveled in the feel of soft, smooth skin beneath
her fingers. Her hands reached Maria's satin bra and deft fingers
quickly undid the clasp. She was suddenly lost in a sea of
overwhelming sensations as her mind shut out everything but the
feel of the woman pressed against her.
"God, you are so hot," Maria breathed against Mac's swollen
lips. "How could I deny this-deny us-for so long?." Maria's lips
blazed a trail along Mac's jaw line and down to the pulse point at
her throat.
As soon as Maria's lips were on her neck, Mac felt her libido
kick into overdrive. Waves of desire she hadn't experienced in
months suddenly overwhelmed her and sent her senses spiraling out
of control. Her eyes closed and she felt herself falling. But Maria
wasn't-
"No-" Mac pushed the woman away from her. "Stop,
Maria.
"I want you, amante," Maria wasn't to be deterred. She
moved right back in and delved lower until her lips were trailing
hot kisses along Mac's collar bone. "I have never wanted anyone as
much as I want to taste every part of you,
Mackenzie."
Just then, a sound from above made both women pull up short and
glare up at the loft above them. Small trickles of alfalfa fell
between the spaces in the loft's floor.
"Did you hear something?" Mac panted breathlessly, as she tried
to extricate herself from the smaller woman's grip on her
clothing.
"It was nothing, mi amor," Maria returned to her
ministrations.
As her undershirt was lifted by deft hands, Mac felt a slight
chill from the night air that hit her heated skin. The noise above
and the night air on her skin worked like ice water to instantly
cool her overheated libido.
"Maria, please stop," Mac grabbed the woman's arms and thrust
her more forcefully away. "We can't do this. There's someone up
there."
Maria was still not to be deterred. "There is an empty stall."
Maria was on her feet and reaching for Mac before the taller woman
could protest. "Come. It is only mice in the loft, chica.
Nothing to worry about."
More alfalfa drifted down from the loft onto Mac's head. "What
the-?" She looked up and saw nothing amiss in the fading light of
the setting sun coming through the doors at either end of the
stables. "Is there someone up there? If there is, come down here,
this instant." Mac was glaring up at the loft and ignoring the
woman in front of her.
Maria was insistently tugging on one of Mac's hands, but the
taller woman was not having any of it at that point. Mac stood her
ground and continued to ignore the smaller woman pulling at her
insistently.
"Mackenzie, please," Maria pleaded. "The empty stall,
Mackenzie."
"Hello?" Mac called up again. "I know you're up there. Come down
or I'll sick one of the dogs on you."
Maria gave Mac's arm a hard tug that got no response out of the
taller woman. "Do you know how long I have waited to make love to
you, Mackenzie?" Maria petulantly stomped her foot and then stopped
at the sound of a car horn honking in the distance. "And now you
think that a bunch of mice in the loft is more interesting than me?
Well, go to hell! I have Jose to give me what I need. So there!"
Mac was only mildly surprised when Maria suddenly stormed out of
the stables without another word. The tall former pilot put her
hands on her hips and just shook her head. Then another trickle of
alfalfa rained down on her and she swiped at the green stuff
sticking in her hair.
"I'm not kidding about the dog," Mac said with a long
sigh.
Mac watched as the loft boards shifted under someone's weight
and then a pair of slender legs dangled over the edge. In seconds a
young girl appeared. Mac immediately realized it was the same girl
who had watched her earlier. The kid dropped to the floor and stood
directly in front of her.
"Hey, sorry to crash your…um…Well, you know," the
girl shrugged.
"What's your name, kid," Mac crossed her arms over her chest and
glared at the girl. "And why the hell are you up in our loft spying
on people?"
"Missy," the girl answered defiantly. She still wore the same
outfit that most kids wore, but up close she really did remind Mac
of a certain spunky doctor. "Missy Applegate. I'm…I'm from
Des Moines, Iowa. I mean…um…my family is from Des
Moines. I came with them on this stupid trip. Wasn't my idea. My
parents wouldn't let me stay home by myself. Said I'm not old
enough for that yet." She fidgeted with a piece of alfalfa in her
teeth. "And I wasn't really spying. I just wanted to get away-be
alone-for a while. Do some thinking without having my little
brother all over me. He's a pest, like, ya know? I didn't know you
and that other woman were going to get it on in
here."
Mac couldn't help but feel a tug of sympathy for the kid who
was trying valiantly not to look her in the eye. She thought maybe
the kid would be forever traumatized by catching two women almost
having sex right below where she was hiding. Then Mac saw the
girl's eyes shyly track up to meet hers. There was something in
that look that made Mac even more uncomfortable than when Maria
first made her move.
"Um, aren't your parents going to worry when you're not there
for dinner?" Mac put some distance between herself and the girl by
stepping to the empty stall and leaning against the open door. "I
can take you back over to the cook house
where…"
"No," the girl quickly interrupted. "I…I, um, don't really
want to eat with them. They know I like to hang out by myself,
anyway."
Mac's brow lifted. "You're not by yourself, kid."
"No," Missy answered with a shrug as she sat down on the alfalfa
bale. "They don't really care much what I do, as long as I don't
burn anything down or get caught stealing."
"Oh, I don't believe that one for a minute," Mac eyed the kid.
"Parents always care what their kids are doing, even if the kids
don't think so. If I had kids of my own, which I don't, I would
certainly care what they're up to. I know my brother cares about
what his boys are doing, even when he's not with
them."
"Mine don't," Missy lifted a knee up and wrapped her arms around
her leg. "They made the decision to come on this stupid trip. They
never asked me what I wanted to do or where I wanted to
go."
Mac nodded sagely. "How old are you, anyway?"
Missy lifted her chin defiantly. "Sixteen, almost seventeen."
She shrugged. "I'll be seventeen in December. My birthday's close
to Christmas. Got my driver's license at the beginning of summer."
She pulled out a leather wallet attached to a silver chain that
hooked to a belt loop on her pants. Flipping the wallet open, she
held it so Mac could see it in the fading light.
"See?"
"And you didn't want to spend one of the last vacations with
your in the great outdoors?" Mac gave the girl a skeptical look. "I
know this ain't the Ritz, kid, but we have a lot of amenities that
most places like this don't." She shot the kid a teasing grin. "We
even have actual working toilets and indoor
plumbing."
"I wanted to go with my friend and her family to their condo in
the Bahamas," Missy shrugged. "Julie and me, we're best
friends. Her parents are cool with our relationship. They know we
love each other."
Mac caught the emphasis on the word 'best'. "So you two are-"
she waved a hand.
"We've already had sex, if that's what you're trying not to
say," Missy blurted with a sly grin. "We love each other. At least,
that's what we say to each other all the time."
"Whoa, kid," Mac put both hands in front of her, as if to ward
off any further discussion. "That wasn't what I was saying at all.
I don't talk about my sex life with anyone, especially not a
complete stranger."
Missy stood up and took a step closer to the dark-haired woman
who towered over her. "I can see what the Hispanic sees in you.
You're gorgeous." She took another step closer to Mac. "So, why
didn't you let her continue what the two of you started?" Missy
cocked a brow up at Mac. "She really wanted to jump you in that
stall. And it didn't look like you were really against the idea
when she had your shirt up around those gorgeous breasts of yours,
either."
Mac put a staying hand in front of her, as the girl advanced a
step closer and stopped to survey her from head to toe. Mac knew
she was only wearing the long-sleeve undershirt and nothing else.
She also knew her jeans were unbuttoned-how that had happened, Mac
couldn't remember. Apparently, the kid also knew how underdressed
Mac was, as her gaze fixed on Mac's breasts beneath her
shirt.
"Look, kid," Mac swallowed down the lump in her throat and took
a deep breath. "You're probably really nice and all. I'm sure Julie
is a very lucky girl, but-"
"What Julie and I have is…" she shrugged. "We've known
each other a really long time and we go to school together. Our
first time was a little awkward and clumsy, but we managed to get
through it with minimal psychological damage. You know how it
goes…"
Mac didn't, but wasn't about to say so. She knew her recent
liaison with Maria was still making her body throb with unfulfilled
need and this kid wasn't making helping. Mac could barely look into
the girl's eyes, as it was. They reminded her too much of a certain
Army flight surgeon's that Mac had been pining for ever since her
return from Iraq.
"You know, as much as I've enjoyed this little discussion," Mac
said, as she skirted around the girl and grabbed up her discarded
flannel shirt. "I really have to get going. I hope you enjoy your
time here…"
Her words were cut short as a pair of arms wrapped themselves
around her waist from behind and a warm body pressed against her
backside.
"Don't leave," Missy kissed Mac's back through her shirt.
"Please."
Mac groaned and squeezed her eyes shut tight. "You're just a
kid," she ground out between clenched teeth and was disappointed
when the arms around her didn't loosen. Mac grabbed the girl's
hands and pushed herself out the embrace. "Look, Missy. This can't
happen," she turned to look the girl in the eye. "I'm more than
twice your age." She chuckled to lighten the mood. "Actually, I'm
old enough to be your mother-if I'd been into guys at your age. It
just isn't gonna happen between us and that's final. You're too
young and I'm too old for this shit."
Missy smirked and tried to press closer. "I don't care." She
shrugged. "I saw how reluctant you were with that other woman, but
she still got you going. Doesn't take a blind man to see how you
responded to her kisses and her touch. I just want the chance to
finish what she started. It's not like it means anything. We'll
never see each other again after I leave." Missy managed to pull
herself against Mac's body and hold her tight, as her lips found
Mac's collar bone. "Mm, you smell good. Kinda like this place, all
leather and fresh air…"
Mac lurched away from the girl. "You're a minor, for Christ's
sake, kid!"
"I'm almost eighteen," Missy took another step forward, until
they were both standing inside the empty stall. "Besides, everybody
says I'm more mature for my age than anyone else at my
school."
"What the hell is it with me tonight?" Mac suddenly lost it.
"Two of you in one friggin' night? Did I suddenly acquire a tattoo
on my forehead that says 'Fuck the lesbian!'? Shit!" Mac stormed
past the stunned young woman until she was standing on the other
side of aisle next to Argo's stall.
"Jeez, I'm sorry. What the hell…" Missy was stunned by the
woman's outburst. "I didn't mean to get you all mad or anything. I
just wanted to have some fun." She shrugged and crossed her arms
over her chest. "I shoulda just stayed up there and let the Mexican
woman fuck your brains out while I watched. I had a really good
view from that loft. I just thought…"
"You're a damned kid!" Mac shot back. "Go back to your parents!
Goddamnit! Go back to your seventeen-year-old girlfriend and let
her get your rocks off. Just leave me the hell alone,
kid!"
Missy spared Mac one last glare before she stormed off in the
opposite direction that Maria took only moments before. Mac threw
Argo's stall door open, hooked the chain across the opening, and
leaned her forehead against the mare's neck. The Palomino blew out
a breath, but otherwise remained standing there for her
mistress.
"Son of a bitch, girl!" Mac blew out a frustrated breath against
the mare's neck. "What the fuck? What did I do to deserve this shit
tonight?" She straightened up and scratched the mare's ears. "I
wish I could say it was flattering to have two-well, I can't say
one of them was actually a woman-all over me, but it was
just…" she sighed heavily as her felt her shoulder throb
painfully. "Damn! A bath sounds so good right now." She gave the
mare's face a quick rub, unhooked the chain and closed the stall
door. "I think I'll head back to the house, eat my supper and treat
myself to a really long soak." The mare snorted and stuck her nose
through the bars in her door. "Thanks for being there for me,
girl," Mac said as she gave the nose a parting
scratch.
Mac made sure there was no else one around to ambush her, as she
darted from the stables. She hurriedly made her way to the house by
the light of the large overhead light above the stables. It never
ceased to amaze her how quickly night came on once the sun dropped
behind the mountains. The thought occurred to her that it didn't
get dark quite so quickly when she was in Iraq. Then again, there
weren't many mountains for the sun to disappear behind out in the
desert.
Mac slammed into the house through the back door, while thoughts
of Iraq quickly brought to mind a certain blond flight surgeon with
sea-green eyes. She stomped into the kitchen and removed her dinner
from the oven-baked chicken with wild rice and carrots. She frowned
at the healthy meal and was still frowning when her sister-in-law
breezed into the kitchen.
"You going to eat that or stare at it all night, li'l bit?"
Carrie asked as she rummaged through one of the cupboards for
something.
"Do you have Ben on a diet again?" Mac petulantly took the plate
to the kitchen table and sat down to eat. "Looks like he ate half
my dinner."
Carrie fixed herself a cup of tea and popped it in the
microwave, then sighed heavily. "The boys ate more than their share
tonight. I'll talk to them about it tomorrow and make sure they
don't do it again, li'l bit." She turned to face Mac and leaned
against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then again,
if you showed up on time for supper it wouldn't happen at
all."
Mac frowned as she chewed a bite of the slightly-overdone
chicken. "I was waylaid."
"Waylaid?" Carrie's brow rose inquisitively. "I was busy feeding
a group of boarders, but I still made it in time to eat supper with
the family."
"I…" Mac began, then ran a frustrated hand through her
hair. "There was…" She swallowed past the sudden
uncomfortable lump in her throat. "You wouldn't believe me if I
told you."
"Try me," Carrie took her tea from the microwave and sat down at
the table. "I have three rambunctious boys and I run a B&B out
of my house. There's really nothing I haven't heard
before."
"Maria got me alone in the stables and tried to…um…"
Mac shrugged, got up from the table and went to the refrigerator to
pour herself a large glass of milk. When she was seated at the
table again, her eyes met Carrie's. "She didn't succeed because one
of your boarders was in the loft and managed to interrupt us before
things got out of hand."
Carrie's expression mirrored her confusion. "Maria has a
boyfriend. Why in the world would she try something with you?" She
sighed heavily and Mac could see the visible tension in Carrie's
posture. "Oh, Lord. I guess this changes everything. I'll tell her
tomorrow that her services-and I do mean all her
services-are no longer needed here."
"No," Mac shook her head. "She's really good with the boys,
Carrie. Please don't think you have to fire her just because she
came onto me. Nothing happened."
"Was that all it was?" Carrie watched Mac closely any reaction.
"She just came onto you?"
"Well…" Mac looked away from the close scrutiny. "She
kissed me and…"
"That's it!" Carrie set her cup down harder than she'd intended
and tea splashed onto the table. "All of our employees know that
kind of behavior is unacceptable around here. Ben doesn't tolerate
any misconduct from the hands and I won't tolerate it from those on
my payroll, either. Maria may be good with the boys, but she's not
irreplaceable."
"Carrie…"
"Don't Carrie me, li'l bit," Carrie cut her off. "We both know
what happened before you left to join the Army. You weren't exactly
the most celibate person around here. And when you and Cynthia
hooked up right under my nose, well…"
"I slept with more than my share of girls and women," Mac added
with a wry smirk. "I was also reckless, arrogant and stupid.
Cynthia was just very willing to show me the ropes, so to speak.
She gave me…um…a leg up in the world and I'm really
glad she did. I'd hate to think what I would have done if I'd been
a bumbling teenager with raging hormones."
"Cynthia was twice your age and whored herself all over this
ranch. She wasn't just in the sack with you, li'l bit. She was
sleeping with every hand within a five-mile radius of this place,"
Carrie sipped her tea. "It didn't help that her cooking was very
lacking, either."
"Well, what she lacked in the culinary department…" Mac
couldn't help but smirk.
"Oh, don't you even get me started, Mackenzie Bridget," Carrie
huffed.
"Yes, but you also know I wasn't exactly the easiest person to
get along with back then," Mac continued. "At least I've changed
enough to be more discerning in my choice of bedmates. I'm not that
same stupid kid I was all those years ago."
Carrie placed a hand over Mac's on the table. "I know that, li'l
bit…"
"Please, will you stop calling me that?" Mac blew out an
irritated breath. "I really hate that everyone around here still
looks at me like I'm that seventeen-year-old kid with the sense
that God gave a rock. I'm a grown woman, for cryin' out loud. I
went to college, served my country and have the scars to prove
it."
"You're right, Mackenzie," Carrie corrected. "I'm sorry. It's
just hard to see you as a grown woman, sometimes, when I still see
you in those tight jeans and even tighter t-shirts. I still
remember when you walked out that door-actually, stormed was more
like it. You were hell bent on either killing yourself or killing
someone else. And that motorcycle…Ugh! That damned Harley was
your ticket to an early grave, if I ever saw one."
"Like I said, I was young and stupid," Mac said. "But I cleaned
up my life and my act. I've also found someone who makes me feel
really good about who I am now."
Carrie met Mac's gaze. "Lacey Stephens?"
Mac smirked. "Lacey Stephens," she nodded. "She's a flight
surgeon and a captain in the Army and so much more. She's bright,
funny and makes me feel like a million bucks by just being with
her."
"So, when are you going to go find her and bring her back to
meet your family?" Carrie gave Mac a sincere hand squeeze. "Ben
told me her family took her to Houston."
Mac's expression became melancholy. "I don't know. I haven't
been able to get in touch with her or her family."
"You tried?"
Mac nodded. "The last time I called no one answered." She
swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat every time she
thought about Lacey's family and what they might be doing to her.
"I think her father's wise to our relationship and is keeping her
from me."
"Hey, it's okay, Mackenzie," Carrie took Mac's hand in hers and
gently rubbed the pilot's suddenly cold skin.
Tears sprang to Mac's eyes as emotions that she was just barely
able to control suddenly rose to the surface. "I just want to know
how she's doing. We were so close in Iraq. She was…" She
slammed a fist on the tabletop. "I love her, goddamnit! I want to
see her. Is that too much to ask? We were so banged up after the
crash and…Lacey slipped into unconsciousness during our
rescue…I just…I don't know if she ever recovered or
even if she remembers our time together." She put her head in her
hands. "I want answers. I want to know if she feels the same way
about me that I feel about her."
"Oh, honey," Carrie scooted her chair around the corner of the
table and took Mac into her arms, as the taller woman suddenly
broke down in a fit of tears. "I'm so sorry. Shhhh. It's all right,
now. Just let it all out, li'l…um, I mean,
Mackenzie."
"Lacey and I survived that god-awful crash, but…" Mac
sniffed loudly and sat up straight again. "We lost some really good
men that day," she continued as Carrie handed her a wad of tissues.
"I don't even know if the bodies of our guys were ever recovered. I
tried calling around and no one will give me a fucking straight
answer. It's just so damned frustrating!" she slammed a fist on the
table again, rattling her plate and silverware.
Mac swiped impatiently at the tears on her cheeks, then blew her
nose into the tissues.
"I have a friend in Salt Lake City who might be able to help,"
Carrie chuckled wryly at the almost child-like antics of her
husband's sister. "You know how my father was when your brother
asked him for my hand in marriage. Jeez, I've never seen so many
sparks fly as I did that night. I thought Daddy was going to have
an apoplectic seizure right there on the spot. As it was, he just
paced and ranted that no daughter of his was ever going to marry a
hired hand, much less a cowboy with no prospects and no
future."
Mac chuckled. "Yeah, he about busted a gut and kicked my brother
out on his ear. Ben told me he was even secretly afraid for his
life. He said your father had a gun cabinet underneath the stairs
and kept the key handy in case of emergencies."
"Yeah, it wasn't until my mother suggested Daddy send Ben to
school to earn a degree that the man finally stopped ranting long
enough to actually consider the idea," Carrie smiled fondly. "And
the rest, as they say, is history."
"So, you're saying I should do what? Go back to school?" Mac
gave her sister-in-law an incredulous look. "I already have an AAS
in aviation and a Bachelor's in Equine Science from Wyoming State.
What more could her family want from me?"
"Well," Carrie shrugged. "Didn't you say she's a doctor? Maybe
you should use some of that GI Bill to go back and get your vet's
license."
"No offense, sis, but I don't really want to follow in my big
brother's footsteps," Mac scowled. "Besides, I don't know if
furthering my education is really the answer. Lacey and I fell for
each other without really knowing much about our educational
backgrounds."
"So, she doesn't know that you have an AAS, as well as a
Bachelor's degree?"
"Nope," Mac smirked. "And frankly I don't think she would care
if I was a beggar on the streets." She shrugged. "I was a Chief
Warrant Officer in the Army and she a captain, neither of which
made a difference in the least. We were just…" she shrugged
again. "We just fit and had some really good times
together."
"Then there's your answer, li'l bit," Carrie gave Mac a teasing
wink. "Life isn't always as complicated as we try to make it out to
be, Mackenzie. You just have to know what you want and how to get
it, then shove your fears down into the recesses of your mind while
you go after it."
Mac considered her sister-in-law's words, as she finished her
dinner. Carrie was right. Things really weren't all that
complicated. Mac just needed to do what she needed to do. It was as
simple as that.
"You look like you're ready to head up to bed," Carrie said.
"Why don't you go on up, take a nice hot bath, while I take care of
the cleanup down here?"
Carrie didn't wait for Mac to reply and grabbed up the empty
plate. Mac didn't hesitate as she left Carrie to clean up after
her.
As soon as she had the tub filled and was settled in for a long
soak, Mac thought back to her conversation with her sister-in-law.
Carrie really had a way with words and a way of weaseling her way
into someone's thoughts, until she could figure out what was
bothering a person. Mac smirked as she realized it had been easy to
explain everything to the woman. That's why she always sought
Carrie out when she needed someone to talk to. The woman just
seemed to know things and also had the most sensible answers to
Mac's questions.
Mac reclined in the tub and relaxed away the numerous aches and
pains of the day, especially the constant throbbing in her
shoulder. She rubbed the tight muscles around the wound and winced
at the pain there. Only a few more weeks more before she flew to
Dallas for the surgery that would rid her of the bullet that she'd
been carrying around for the better part of half a year. She sighed
as the hot water finally penetrated her sore muscles and relaxed
them.
A pair of green eyes danced in her mind's eye, as she closed her
own eyes and let herself finally relax completely.
Part 5?
Chapter 13
Lacey sat in the living room of her newly-refurbished, spacious
four-bedroom, three-bath condo. She was alone at the moment, but
her sister would soon be there to pick her up for a therapy session
with her shrink.
The large wall-mounted television screen was blank, but the soft
strains of Il Divo came from her new stereo system and through the
Bose speakers scattered strategically throughout the place. She sat
on an off-white sofa and stared unseeingly out the enormous bay
window in front of her. Across the expanse of green lawn a man-made
greenish-blue lake shimmered in the mid-afternoon sunlight. There
were several children playing near the water's edge, while two
adults navigated the middle of the lake in a small sail
boat.
She didn't care. She wasn't really watching the scene outside
her window, but was lost in her own thoughts. The morning had been
a long one for Lacey, who wasn't yet used to a great deal of
physical activity. It had taken the furniture delivery driver and
his assistant most of the morning to cart all of her brand new
furniture into the condo, while Lacey directed the men where to put
everything. Three nights spent sleeping on a mattress on the floor
of the empty condo had been more than enough for her. She was still
fighting the stiffness in her joints at the self-imposed
abuse.
Of course, she could have simply stayed with her sister in the
twelve-bedroom mansion Lily shared with her husband and
housekeeper. But Lacey couldn't imagine herself in the enormous and
lonely place while the painters and decorators finished her place.
So, she'd stayed with her parents for the duration and managed to
avoid both of them as much as possible. It wasn't hard to do when
she was constantly being carted to one doctor's and therapy
appointment after another.
Unfortunately, it took her far too long to find just the right
furniture and housewares to fill the spacious condo than she'd
originally hoped. She decided to turn one of the bedrooms into a
workout space, filling it with exercise equipment that her
therapist had recommended for her home physical therapy sessions. A
state-of-the-art treadmill graced one wall, while the rest of the
space was taken up by a free-weight bench, a stair climber, an
upper-body workout bench and a small open area with an aerobics
mat. She'd also hired a personal trainer to be there three days a
week and help her with the grueling workouts her physical therapist
assigned her to.
Lacey had turned one of the other bedrooms into an office that
was fully equipped with the latest technology. A Macintosh computer
with a 30-inch, flat-screened monitor sat on a mahogany corner
desk. The computer had the latest Apple software and included a
high-speed laser printer hidden in one of the cabinets of the desk.
A smaller wall-mounted flat-screen graced one wall and a set of
French doors took up the other. The French doors led to a small
patio on the twelfth green of a well-groomed eighteen-hole golf
course that she also had access to, but knew she would never use.
She was a doctor who didn't have the slightest urge to take up the
game of golf.
The master bedroom was decorated in cream, burgundy and hunter
green. It included a huge master bath equipped with a
handicap-accessible step-down whirlpool tub and a large glass
shower with eight strategically placed shower jets. The bathroom
was wired with state-of-the-art computer technology, as well. All
she had to do was program either the tub or the shower to the
temperature she wanted and the system would do the rest. The
control panel was hidden behind what appeared to be a small
medicine cabinet. The rest of the bedroom included a large walk-in
closet with built-in shelves and a four-poster bed with a burgundy
canopy that hung from the ceiling and draped over the
posts.
Lacey had yet to use the shower or tub and hadn't even walked
into her state-of-the-art kitchen. She'd purchased all the latest
appliances in fashionable stainless steel, including a fridge, a
flat-top stove with confection oven, a dishwasher, and a microwave.
The cabinets were done in white pine and several had glass doors
that showed off her brand new sixteen-place dinnerware set. There
was a center island with a small vegetable sink and a covered
indoor grill-her sister's suggestion. The exhaust hood above had
hooks around it to hold the stainless steel and copper cookery
she'd purchased from one of the high-end culinary shops in downtown
Houston. Actually, those had been her sister's idea, too, even
though Lacey had no desire to cook for herself and had had trouble
boiling water.
The doorbell rang bringing Lacey out of her
reverie.
"Come in!" She called.
"Hey, sis," Lily breezed into the place like a breath of fresh
air. She stood in the entryway for a moment, allowing her eyes to
adjust to the change. "Wow, looks much better than it did the other
day. I love the furniture. It really gives the place some class.
Very chique."
"It really doesn't fit my personality," Lacey frowned at the
off-white sofa, couch and chair in her living room.
A glass coffee table was set in the center of the space and
topped with a strange sculpture that Lacey couldn't really
identify. There were also several pieces of artwork on the
walls-canvas paintings of horses and what was supposed to pass for
tropical beaches. The artwork was bright and cheery, adding a bit
of color in the otherwise colorless space.
"No," Lily frowned, "but it gives the place an elegant
flare."
"Yeah, that's what I was shooting for," Lacey scoffed
sarcastically. "This room looks more like an art gallery than a
living room. I swear I should learn not to let you talk me into
things."
"Oh, you…" Lily moved to the center island and set her
purse on the countertop. "Are you ready to go?" she eyed her
sister's gray sweats and navy-blue sweatshirt. "You don't look like
you're dressed to go out."
Lacey sighed heavily, as she grabbed her cane and struggled to
her feet. "I don't feel like going out, to tell you the truth,
Lil." She maneuvered around the couch and limped over to the center
island. "It's been a really long morning, already, and I'm
beat."
Lily studied her sister and could see the dark circles under
Lacey's eyes. She reached out and pushed a stray lock of
strawberry-blond hair behind Lacey's ear.
"What's up, Lac?" Lily pressed. "You look like something the cat
dragged in."
"I'm just tired," Lacey leaned heavily against the counter. "I
didn't sleep well last night."
"Another nightmare?"
Lacey nodded. "A whopper." She cringed at the memory of all that
fire and smoke and the feeling of panic she felt at being trapped
beneath something heavy and unyielding. "Scared the shit out
me."
Lily nodded. "All the more reason to keep your appointment with
Dr. Gilchrist, sis."
Lacey ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair. "I'm really
tired of rehashing the same stuff over and over with her. We just
don't seem to be getting anywhere, and I still can't put the pieces
together enough to actually remember the last ten years of my life.
It's so…so fucking frustrating." She didn't even realize
she'd let the expletive slip, as a tear spilled from her eye and
she impatiently swiped it away.
"Don't give up, Lacey," Lily put a comforting arm around her
shorter sister's shoulders. "Dr. Gilchrist told you it might take a
while to delve through all those scattered images until something
clicks and you remember. She said it would be frustrating and that
you might want to just give up. But she also said you have to hang
in there."
"I'm sick of hanging in there," Lacey ground out between
clenched teeth. "I'm sick of waiting for it all to come back to me.
And I'm really sick of feeling like something incredibly terrible
happened to bring this all about." She looked up into her sister's
compassionate gray eyes. "Lily, I'm really scared that I'll
remember it all and it won't be…good. Gilchrist says my
subconscious has suppressed the memories in order to protect itself
from the impact of those memories. And last
night…"
"You remembered something?" Lily turned Lacey until they were
facing each other. She lifted her sister's chin until Lacey was
looking at her and saw tears swimming in the sea-green depths. "You
did remember something."
Lacey shut her eyes tightly and ignored the tears that slipped
down her cheeks. "I was trapped underneath something and there was
smoke and fire and…" She shook her head against the panic
that bubbled up inside her and pressed on the middle of her chest
like a heavy weight. "I don't know if I want to remember, if that's
what is going to come out of all this."
"You can't miss your appointment." Lily held her sister's
shoulders firmly. "Dr. Gilchrist needs to know about the dream,
Lacey. She's the only one who can help get you past this
roadblock." She eyed her sister's attire. "Now, are you going like
that? Or shall we get you dressed in something a little more
appropriate?"
Lacey sighed. "I don't want to change clothes just to go to my
shrink."
Lily gave her an appraising glare. "Are you sure? Karen
Gilchrist is quite attractive and I know for a
fact…"
"Just stop right there, Lily," Lacey held up a staying hand. "I
am not about to get into a relationship with my therapist. That
goes against every ethical rule in psychiatry, not to mention I'm
not ready for any kind of relationship at the moment.
Doctor/patient relationships are strictly forbidden and I'm not
about to cross that line."
"Okay, okay," Lily ceded the point. "Just as long as you don't
mind going out in public dressed like a vagabond. I don't mind
being seen with you dressed like that. I'll just tell people I'm
doing the charitable thing and taking in a stray off the
street."
"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Lily," Lacey blew out a frustrated
breath. "All right, already. I'll go change into something more
appropriate, so you won't have to been seen in public with a
cripple who has no sense of fashion. Jeez!" She stalked off toward
the master bedroom and disappeared, only to reappear a little while
later dressed in a button-down white blouse tucked into a pair of
denim jeans and tan loafers. "There, is that
better?"
"Much," Lily eyed her from top to bottom and nodded her
approval. "Now add that nice suede jacket to the ensemble and we'll
be all set to go."
Lacey rolled her eyes and merely grabbed the garment and put it
on.
***
The drive across town to the office of Dr. Karen Gilchrist was
fairly uneventful and soon they were pulling into the parking lot
in Lily's white BMW. Lacey waited patiently for her sister to find
just the right parking spot and then practically jumped from the
vehicle when it was parked.
"Looks like someone got her second wind," Lily commented as she
slid from the driver's side.
"I just want to get this over and done with," Lacey leaned
heavily on her cane and made her way to the two-story stucco
building.
They took the elevator to the second floor and emerged in the
silent-as-a-tomb receptionist's lobby. Lacey hobbled up to the
reception desk and waited for the dark-haired woman behind the
glass window to wait on her.
"Yes?" The woman slid the window aside. "May I help you
ladies?"
"I'm here for my 2 o'clock with Dr. Gilchrist," Lacey gave the
woman a brief smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Name?"
"Lacey Stephens," Lacey replied.
"Ah, yes. Please be seated and the doctor will be with you
shortly, Ms. Stephens," the woman flashed her a closed-lipped
half-smile.
"Thank you," Lacey walked over to one of the padded chairs and
took a seat. Lily sat down next to her and together they waited in
the silent room.
"You want me to come in there with you this time?" Lily broke
the silence, as she shook out her golden-blond hair and shifted her
designer sunglasses to the top of her head.
Lacey considered the offer for a moment. "No, I'll be fine," she
said and gave her sister a reassuring smile. "Thanks,
though."
"Anytime, Lac," Lily returned the smile. "You know I'm always
here for you."
"Yeah," Lacey nodded. "I know."
"Oh, did I mention Bill will be headed to Washington D.C. at the
end of the month?" Lily commented. "Congress reconvenes in a few
weeks, so he has to make an appearance. I'll be joining him, this
time." She looked almost giddy with excitement. "I can't wait to be
introduced to the President of the United States at the annual
Congressional gala. I've already chosen a new gown for the
occasion. It's an Armani."
Lacey was only half listening to her sister go on and on about
all the things she would be doing once she and her husband arrived
in the nation's capital. Her thoughts turned to the nightmare she'd
had the night before. She hadn't told her sister all the details,
including the fact that she remembered hearing a voice calling out
to her. The voice belonged to a woman, but for the life of her
Lacey couldn't remember whose voice it was.
"Lacey Stephens?" A woman dressed in an elegant business suit
waited expectantly in the doorway that led to the
back.
Dr. Karen Gilchrist was of medium height with wavy auburn hair
that she wore pulled back in a chignon. Her designer glasses
sported tiny diamonds on either side of the lenses, while gold and
diamonds graced her fingers and ears. She was the epitome of
elegance and style.
Lacey rose from her chair and used her cane to walk toward the
woman, who greeted her with a warm smile.
"Good to see you again, Lacey," the woman's rich voice matched
her elegant bearing.
"I really wish I could say the same, Dr. Gilchrist," Lacey
commented as she passed the woman and headed toward the room where
her session would take place.
As Lacey took a seat in one of the comfortable leather chairs in
the middle of the small room, Karen Gilchrist closed the door and
took a seat across from her.
"So, tell me what prompted your response to my greeting," Karen
set a yellow legal pad on her knees and leaned her arms on the pad.
"You're usually at least pleasant when you arrive."
Lacey sighed. "I just…" She swallowed with difficulty. "I
didn't really want to come today."
"Oh? Why's that?" Karen's warm brown eyes watched Lacey intently
behind the designer frames.
"I don't know," Lacey shrugged, as she absently fiddled with her
cane.
"Lacey, why don't you put the cane aside and tell me what's
bothering you," Karen clasped her hands together in front of her,
after glancing at her notes. "You were pretty frustrated during
last week's session, because you didn't feel we were making any
noticeable progress. Do you still feel that way?"
Lacey sat back in the chair and didn't meet the woman's gaze.
"I'm…I…" She sighed again. "I just don't think we're
getting anywhere with all this…" She waved a hand
impatiently.
"So," Karen sat back and crossed her legs. "You want things to
move forward and are impatient with what little progress we've made
so far."
"What progress?" Lacey snapped. "We haven't made any progress. I
still don't know what happened to me after I graduated college and
after medical school. All I know is I joined the Army and ended up
in Iraq-and even that much I had to learn from my sister." She
leaned an elbow on the chair arm and rested her head in her hand.
"I just don't see how any of this is helping me
remember."
"Well, let's go back to what you do know, then," Karen glanced
at her notes. "You remember your youth and growing up in your
parents' house, here in Houston. You remember graduating high
school and going off to college at-"
"Harvard," Lacey supplied when it appeared Karen wasn't going to
continue. "I completed my undergrads and was accepted to medical
school, right away. My father said he pulled a few
strings."
"Yes, Harvard," Karen made a few notes on the sheet. "Then you
joined the Army."
Lacey faltered. "I joined the Army, yes. Everything after that
is either fuzzy or non-existent."
"But you've had dreams."
"Dreams, nightmares, what's the difference?"
"Don't you know?" Karen's brow lifted, as she met Lacey's
gaze.
"I know the nightmares usually scare the crap out of me and
leave me feeling like I want to throw up," Lacey answered flatly.
"I really hate that."
"I can well imagine," Karen made several more notes on the pad
then turned the page. "Have you had any in the week since we last
met?"
Lacey shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to pull her legs up into
the chair and wrap her arms around them, but her bad leg prevented
her from doing that. She knew it was a childish wish, but that
didn't stop her from wanting to do it anyway.
"Lacey?"
Lacey's gaze finally met the woman's. "I had one last night,"
she answered barely above a whisper.
Karen made another note. "Tell me about it. Do you remember what
it was about?"
"I-I was trapped," Lacey swallowed down the panic that seized
her. "There was smoke and fire and…I couldn't
move."
Karen watched her patient closely. "Do you know where you
were?"
"I…I'm not sure," Lacey answered. "I think I was…"
Her eyes narrowed as she tried to remember the exact details of
that terrifyingly elusive moment. A shudder ran through her at the
overwhelming panic that continued to simmer and eat at her resolve.
Her breathing quickened and it was all she could do not to throw
up. "I don't…I can't…" She clamped her lips tightly
shut and tried to breathe through her nose, instead.
"It's all right, Lacey," Karen soothed, as she recognized the
signs that her patient was in the grip of a panic attack. "You're
safe here, Lacey. Whatever was in the dream can't hurt you
here."
"It was so real," Lacey lifted tear-filled eyes to the doctor's.
"I was there and the heat was…and I couldn't move and…I
tried to take a deep breath, but…Everything hurt so
much…" She wrapped her arms around herself and winced at a
painful twinge in her elbow. The twinge seemed to bring her back to
the present and ground her. "I was on the ground," she continued
after a shaky breath. "I was underneath something really heavy and
I couldn't move my arms…" She nodded to herself as the images
from her nightmare played out. "And there was someone there with
me…"
"Do you know who it was?"
Lacey closed her eyes and concentrated on the voice. "It was
a…a woman." Her eyes fluttered open and her shoulders
slumped. "I don't know who she is or why she was
there."
"Did you see her in the dream? Or did you only hear her voice?"
Karen made a few more notes, then checked back over her notes made
in previous sessions. "You mentioned a woman with blue
eyes…"
"Yeah," Lacey's expression turned thoughtful. "Dark hair and
amazing blue eyes."
Karen nodded. "Is it the same woman?"
Lacey closed her eyes again and tried to concentrate on the
images from her dream while keeping the panic at bay. "I don't
know," she shook her head. "Ugh! Why can't I
remember?"
Karen got up and moved her chair around until it was right next
to Lacey's. "I want to try something, now that we've had this small
breakthrough."
Lacey closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing until it
slowed enough for her to speak. "What?"
Karen set the notepad down on a nearby table and took a seat in
the chair. "I want to try hypnosis on you to help you relax and to
guide you through what little you've been able to
remember."
Lacey breathed out an exasperated breath. "Is that it? You want
to hypnotize me so I'll remember?"
Karen nodded. "It's a fairly simple process, but you have to be
open to it or it won't work."
Lacey leaned forward and rested her arms on her thighs. She
considered the doctor's request and combed the recesses of her mind
for the medical ramifications. Hypnosis wasn't exactly an uncommon
technique for delving into the deeper recesses of the mind. But
there were things that could go wrong, and she just wasn't sure she
wanted to be blindsided by something she couldn't
handle.
"And what if I remember too much?" Lacey lifted her eyes to meet
the doctor's. "What if, once you get the ball rolling-or the flood
gates to open, so to speak-it doesn't stop?"
"You're a doctor, Lacey," Karen answered. "You know there is
always a certain amount of risk involved in any treatment. You know
that your mind may have closed itself off in order to protect you
from the trauma you suffered while in Iraq. I also know from your
service record that there are things you may not ever want to
remember."
"You have my service record?" Lacey shot the woman a surprised
look.
"I put in a requisition for a copy of it shortly after you were
referred to me," Karen nodded. "I needed a little background
information on the time you spent in the Army. It has proved very
helpful, though rather vague on details."
"Can I see it?" Lacey asked hopefully.
Karen shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lacey.
Like I said, there are things in there that may be rather traumatic
for you right now. Seeing the contents of your service record
without actually allowing your mind to remember the actual events
may just put a bigger roadblock up that we won't ever be able to
breach."
Lacey groaned. "Or it could give me a clue as to who the mystery
woman is."
Karen nodded. "It could, yes. But don't you want to actually
remember who she is without reading it in some sterile military
file? I can tell you that you worked with a number of women during
your military career, so you may not be able to put a name to the
impressions you have of the woman."
Lacey considered the doctor's words. "Okay, fine," she conceded.
"We'll do it your way, doc. But I have to warn you, I may not be
able to go under easily. You and I both know how hard it is for
most doctors to simply allow their minds to be manipulated. We're
always the ones doing the manipulating."
Karen smirked. "At least you remember that much about being a
doctor." She sobered. "Shall we give it a try anyway?" Lacey nodded
curtly. "Okay, then, just sit back and relax."
"Wait," Lacey sat forward again. "What if things get
too…um…what if you need to bring me out of it right
away?"
"A valid concern," Karen said. "As I guide you through this I'll
give you a failsafe, a word that will bring you out of the hypnotic
trance in an instant. That way, if anything happens, I can bring
you back quickly and safely. Will that work for
you?"
Lacey reluctantly nodded and sat back in the chair again. "Okay,
I'm ready."
"I'm going to take you through several steps of progressive
relaxation until you're relaxed enough for me to guide you through
what we've talked about," Karen said. "Now, I want you to close
your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice. Imagine you are
floating…"
Lacey let Karen's words take her down into a place where she
actually felt quite safe and very relaxed. She let her mind wander
until Karen asked her to imagine she was in the desert. Lacey
was standing in the middle of the desert with hard-packed sand all
around her. The hot sun beat down on her and she actually felt it
burning her skin.
"Are you in the desert, Lacey?"
Lacey nodded.
"Good. Now, I want you to slowly walk to that place where you
were trapped."
Lacey imagined that she was walking toward something burning
in the distance. As she drew closer to the site of the smoke
billowing into the air, she could see that there were large pieces
of metal scattered on the ground. Her heart rate increased and her
breathing became shallow at the site that greeted
her.
"What do you see, Lacey?"
"Wreckage."
"What kind of wreckage?"
"M-metal," Lacey answered and never noticed when tears rolled
down her cheeks. "I…I think…"
Lacey walked closer to the wreckage and saw two propeller
blades sticking up at odd angles. She realized in that moment she
was looking at a military chopper. Part of the fuselage was buried
in the sand and the rest was smoldering, as thick, black smoke
continued billowing up into the clear blue sky.
"I…I can't…"
"Lacey, listen to me," Karen gently put a hand on the hands that
had a death-grip on the chair arms. "It's all right, Lacey. You're
all right. The crash happened months ago and you survived. You made
it home. Do you understand?" Lacey slowly nodded. "Okay, then. I
want you to walk right up to the wreckage and tell me what you see,
Lacey. Can you do that?" Lacey nodded again.
She took several tentative steps closer to the burning
wreckage, until she was just on the outskirts of it. She could see
several bodies littering the ground around the
area.
"I see them."
"Who do you see, Lacey?"
"The bodies of the men who died-O'Leary and Montgomery.
Montgomery wasn't our regular crew chief. Jimenez wasn't there
because of his leg. He'd been shot during another mission. Simmons
wasn't there, either. She wasn't allowed to go and it pissed her
off. But we just didn't have room for her with that gun they
mounted to our undercarriage." She took a shuddering breath and let
it out slowly in an attempt to calm her racing
heart.
"Okay, what else do you see, Lacey? Do you see anyone
else?"
Lacey stood there as the wreckage continued to burn. The
heat was so intense that she could barely stand it. The acrid smoke
was so thick that it billowed around her and burned her eyes. And
then she heard a small voice.
"I hear someone," she said out loud.
"Do you know who it is?"
"I…I don't…" Lacey shook her head, as she moved
closer until she was standing in front of a large metal door. She
listened carefully and heard someone cough. "Is anyone there?Hello?
Anyone?" Lacey's breath caught when she realized whose voice
she was hearing. "It's…it's me."
"Are you sure, Lacey?"
"Y-yes," Lacey nodded. "I was trapped under one of the doors. I
can see myself lying there. My arms…" She choked back a sob.
"I can't…I can't get out and it's so h-hot. The fire." She
shook her head against the overwhelming memory of that
moment.
"Lacey, listen to me," Karen increased the pressure on the hands
she was holding. "You're not there anymore, Lacey. You're here in
my office. Leave the wreckage behind and return to the office
now."
Lacey shook her head as tears streamed down her face. "They're
all dead. They're dead and there's no one left to help
me."
"Lacey, it's not real anymore. Do you understand what I'm
saying?" Karen put a hand on her patient's shoulder and gently
squeezed. "You're here in my office, Lacey." She could see that
Lacey wasn't responding to her guidance any longer. "Wildflowers!
Lacey, wildflowers!"
Lacey gasped, as the word penetrated the terrifying scene
playing out in her mind's eye. "What the…!"
"It's all right, Lacey. You're in my office," Karen got up from
her chair, quickly moved to the sideboard and poured a glass of
water that she carried back to the panting and shaking woman.
"Here, drink this."
Lacey grabbed the glass and downed half its contents, as the
psychiatrist sat back down across from her. Karen grabbed a box of
tissues and handed several to the still-crying woman. Lacey took
the tissues and wiped her face.
"Oh, shit! Oh shit oh shit, oh shit!" Lacey exclaimed as her
hands shook to the point that she could barely wipe her face. "Oh,
shit! Oh, shit!" She was still gasping from the overwhelming panic
that had crashed over her when she realized who was beneath the
detached door. "I remember."
Karen rubbed a hand up and down her patient's arm, as Lacey
tried to pull herself together. "Yes, you do."
Lacey clenched her eyes shut and tried to breathe more evenly.
"I…I saw them. They were dead."
"Not all of them died in the crash, Lacey," Karen reassured. "As
you told me, Corporal Simmons and Sergeant Jimenez weren't onboard
the helicopter when it went down."
"Mac!" Lacey turned surprised eyes to the psychiatrist. "Mac
survived!" A smile suddenly split her features and just as suddenly
turned into a frown.
"What is it, Lacey?" Karen saw the confusion in the woman's
expression.
"What happened to Mac?" Lacey looked down at her hands that were
fidgeting with the crumpled ball of tissues. "We were there,
but…"
"Lacey," Karen put her own hands on Lacey's and gently squeezed.
"Lacey, that's enough for today. You did a wonderful job
remembering the helicopter crash. But I think you need to take a
break to give your mind time to come to terms with all of it. We'll
take this a step further during next week's
session."
"Okay," Lacey's voice cracked, as she nodded.
"For now, I don't want you to dwell on what you don't remember,"
Karen continued. "Now that we've had this breakthrough, those
memories will eventually surface on their own. You may not even be
thinking about Iraq or the war or even the people you left behind
when a memory surfaces. Then again, you may feel very strongly
about a particular person who was in Iraq with you and just seeing
them may bring it all back." She straightened in the chair and
removed her hands from Lacey's. She waited for Lacey to finish
wiping her face, then looked her in the eye. "I want to caution you
about trying to push yourself to remember too much too quickly,
Lacey. We've made some wonderful progress today, and I don't want
you to jeopardize that by forcing yourself to remember things
you're just not ready for, yet. Do you understand?" Lacey nodded
and sniffed. "Good. Then I'll see you at out next session, same
time next week."
Lacey merely nodded, unwilling to trust her voice enough to
speak. She stood up and grabbed her cane, then hobbled toward the
door. As she pulled the door open, she stopped.
"And if I have another nightmare?" Lacey asked.
Karen got up and went to the desk tucked in one corner of the
room. She removed a card and quickly wrote something on the back of
it. Then she walked back over to Lacey and handed her the
card.
"Those are my private numbers," Karen indicated the two numbers
on the back of the card. "One is my home phone and the other is my
cell. Call me if you experience another nightmare or if something
else happens to jar your memory. If I'm unavailable, just leave me
a message and I'll call you back. Okay?"
Lacey glanced at the card before shoving into the back pocket of
her jeans with a curt nod. She made her way back to the waiting
room and over to her sister.
"All done?" Lily looked up from the magazine she was reading and
noticed her sister's puffy, red-rimmed eyes. She decided not to
comment Lacey's appearance until they were outside the office. "How
did it go in there?" She asked as they approached the white BMW and
she unlocked it with the keyless remote.
Lacey breathed out a heavy sigh, as she maneuvered around the
car door and took a seat on the passenger's side. Her right leg
hadn't improved enough for her to drive a car yet, so she relied
heavily on her sister to be her personal chauffeur. Lacey didn't
like having to rely on someone else for anything, but didn't see
any sense in complaining about it, either. She knew Lily enjoyed
the opportunity to get out of the enormous mansion she lived in.
Lily's husband, Bill, rarely stayed home during the day and when he
was at home he always closed himself away in his office to take
care of business.
And since there was an extensive staff to take care of the daily
cleaning and manicuring of the enormous estate, Lily had a great
deal of time on her hands. When she wasn't hosting or attending a
tea or garden party for Houston's social elite, she was shopping
for clothes or shoes or jewelry that would enhance her looks and
her status as a Senator's wife.
She divided her time as a member of the Rotary Club, the
Daughters of the American Revolution, the Propeller Club of the
United States: Port of Houston, the Garden Club of Houston and the
River Oaks Garden Club. She also sat on the boards of several
non-profit centers, including the Star of Hope Mission, the
DePelchin Children's Center, and Neighborhood Centers, Inc. But
none of those were as fulfilling and satisfying as playing
chauffeur to her older sister. Lily was grateful to have her only
sibling back in Houston after such a long time away, even if Lacey
lived by herself.
"Do you really want to know?" Lacey slumped in the seat and
rested her head in her hand with her elbow on the door. She felt
drained beyond belief at that moment and wanted nothing more than
to go home and sleep for days.
"Yes, I want to know. Why else would I ask?" Lily shot her
sister an annoyed scowl.
"Sorry," Lacey ran a tired hand through her hair. "It's been a
really long day, Lil. All I want to do is go home and crawl in
bed."
Lily's expression softened. "Bad session?"
Lacey considered the words. "Not bad, so much
as…difficult."
Lily started the car. "I had Pamela go to the grocery store and
pick up the staples for your kitchen, including a few gallons of
ice cream."
"What flavors?"
"I told her to get an assortment," Lily shrugged as she backed
out of the stall, maneuvered out of the parking lot into traffic
and drove toward Lacey's new condo. "I also told her to stock your
liquor cabinet." She glanced over to find her sister watching her
from beneath hooded eyes. "Hey, I thought you might need something
to settle your nerves."
"Speaking from experience, sis?" Lacey shot the woman a wry
smirk.
"I lived with Mother and Daddy longer than you did, Lacey," Lily
returned her attention to the street ahead. "At least you had the
grades to get into college and find out what life is like outside
in the real world."
Lacey shifted uncomfortably. "If only I could remember half of
what I experienced," she muttered.
Lily put a hand on her sister's shoulder and squeezed. "You'll
remember, Lacey. Just give it some time."
The rest of the drive back to the condo was completed in
silence, until Lily pulled up to the gate of the spacious
condominium grounds and was waved through by the uniformed
guard.
"Home sweet home," Lacey grumbled, as her sister maneuvered
through the narrow streets of elegant two-story
condominiums.
Lily pulled up in front of a tan and white triplex and cut the
engine. "You don't sound very happy to be home."
Lacey, who was just about to open the car door, stopped with her
hand on the door handle. "Please just ignore my sarcasm, Lil. I'm
not in a very good mood right now." She shoved the door open,
grabbed her cane and used it to lever herself out of the
vehicle.
"Then it's a good thing I had Pamela stock your liquor cabinet,
isn't it?" Lily repeated, as she alighted from the vehicle and
skirted around it to join her sister.
"I don't need help," Lacey groused, when Lily proceeded to hold
her free arm and guide her toward the front door to the
condo.
In actuality, though, Lacey wasn't sure she could actually make
it the entire distance without her leg giving out. How embarrassing
would it be to land in a heap at her sister's feet? She reluctantly
allowed Lily to guide her to the door, while leaning heavily on her
cane for support.
"Just a little farther, sis," Lily encouraged, as she unlocked
and opened the door and helped her sister inside. "That's
it."
Lacey made it to the puffy white armchair in time for her leg to
actually give out on her. She dropped into the chair with an
exhausted sigh and merely sat there catching her
breath.
"Here," a glass of water appeared in front of her and she took
it with a grateful smile. "And here are your pain pills and a
muscle relaxer." Lacey took the three tablets and downed them in
silence.
Her leg was throbbing painfully in time with her heartbeat and
her elbow was also giving her fits. The injuries to her extremities
that she had sustained in the helicopter crash still bothered her
more than she was willing to admit. The doctors had explained to
her that her leg would probably never be one hundred percent again,
even after they did their best to repair the broken bone and torn
ligaments and tendons. They were, however, optimistic that her
elbow and collarbone would eventually heal to the point that they
would not give her problems.
Lacey wasn't so sure about the elbow, anymore. Months of
physical therapy had only eased the ache that still plagued her
when the weather turned or when she kept it bent for too long.
She'd seen the ortho doc, who had told her she would probably
experience some arthritis in the join over time. At her age, she
wasn't really looking forward to getting any older, if this is what
she would have to deal with.
"Feeling better?" Lily's concern brought Lacey out of her short
reverie.
Lacey could feel the medication dulling the pain to a more
manageable level. "I think so," she said and watched as her sister
removed her loafers and set them aside. "You don't have to do that,
Lil."
Lily just smiled. "Ready for some ice cream?" She asked as she
stepped over to the open kitchen and rummaged inside the freezer
portion of the refrigerator.
"What kinds did your assistant put in there?" Lacey
asked.
"Let's see…" Lily set several pint-sized containers on the
center island. "There's raspberry sorbet, chocolate peanut
butter…mmm, butter pecan, my personal favorite. Strawberry
cheesecake and…" She stuck her head back in the freezer and
emerged with one last container. "Belgian dark
chocolate."
"Dibs on the Belgian dark chocolate," Lacey suddenly brightened.
"How the hell did she know that was my personal
favorite?"
Lily grabbed two spoons from a side drawer and carried the ice
cream containers to the living room. She handed one container and
spoon to her sister and took a seat on the sofa across from her. As
they delved into their ice cream and savored the first bites, Lily
kicked off her own sandals and tucked her legs underneath
her.
"Now, talk," she said as she licked her spoon. "Tell me what
happened at Dr. Gilchrist's that had you so upset."
Lacey took another bite of her ice cream and savored the rich
flavor of the smooth dark chocolate on her tongue. It was a
heavenly sensation that she somehow knew she hadn't been able to
experience very often over the missing years of her life. She let
the cold seep into her and reveled in the explosion of flavor on
her tongue as she considered the question.
"I told you I had that nightmare last night," she began, as she
kept her eyes on the container in her hands.
"Mmhmm," Lily responded with a mouthful of butter
pecan.
"So, I told Karen about the dream," Lacey continued and felt her
stomach tighten unexpectedly.
When her sister didn't immediately say more, Lily glanced up to
find Lacey staring out the picture window unseeingly.
"And?"
Lacey seemed to come back to herself. "And she used hypnosis to
help me remember…" Lacey answered absently as she set the
half-eaten pint on the glass coffee table.
Lily eyed, first her sister, and then the unfinished container
on the table. "Something wrong with the ice cream?"
Lacey shook her head. "No, I just…" She blew out a
frustrated sigh and tilted her head back to stare up at the
ceiling. "It's just really hard is all."
Lily had set her own ice cream on the table and was off the
couch and sitting on one of the puffy arms of the chair in an
instant. She pulled her sister against her side and wrapped
comforting arms around the smaller woman.
"Shhh, it's okay, Lacey," Lily stroked her sister's
hair.
Lacey couldn't stop the tears as they spilled down her cheeks.
"It's just so…so hard…" She felt the onrush of emotion
hit her for the second time that day and couldn't stop it this
time. Great sobs tore from deep within and shook her entire body,
as she cried over the loss of people she barely knew. "I
can…I can still see their faces."
"Whose?"
"The guys-O'Leary and Montgomery-" The sobs finally subsided
into a gentle trickle of steady tears. "They were in the helicopter
when it crashed. We'd just been playing cards and…" More
tears coursed down her cheeks. "What the fuck
happened?"
"Lacey, hon, you're not making any sense," Lily said and left
her sister's side long enough to grab a box of tissues from the
bathroom. She returned a moment later with a tissue held out to her
sister and resumed her seat on the arm of the chair. She set the
tissue box on the table next to her forgotten ice
cream.
Lacey sniffed loudly and used the tissue to wipe the tears from
her cheeks. She grabbed another tissue from the box and blew her
nose.
"Sorry," she shook her head.
"Nothing to be sorry about, honey," Lily gently pushed the hair
back from her sister's face. "Now just tell me what this is all
about. I'm sure it'll be good to get it off your
chest."
"I…I don't…" Lacey shook her head again and grabbed
a handful of tissues. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Last night I dreamed that I was trapped beneath a piece of
wreckage from the helicopter crash, but I couldn't remember any of
the details. So Karen used hypnosis…to take me back to what
happened." She glanced up and saw that Lily was following along.
"Through the guided hypnosis I walked up to the scene of the
crash." Her voice caught and she swallowed down the painful lump
that formed in her throat. "It was terrible. I saw the bodies of
two of our men…and the smoke was so thick that I could barely
breathe…and it was hot…" She felt her hands shaking,
but her sister's comforting presence worked to ground her. "I heard
myself cry for help, as I walked closer to the
scene."
"Are you sure it was you?"
"Yes," she answered with a nod. "I was trapped underneath one of
the doors and couldn't move." She let herself go back to that
moment, but this time there was no overwhelming sense of panic. She
raised her hand and immediately her sister took it in hers. That
helped. "I couldn't even see the other guys and the fuselage was
behind me. It was partially blocking the sun. I could see and smell
the smoke, but I didn't know where it was coming from. I tried to
move, but I realized my arms were useless."
"This was the same crash that put you in the coma?" Lily
clarified. "You regained consciousness after the
crash?"
Lacey nodded. "Yeah, I did." She wiped a few more tears from her
cheeks.
"So how did you see your men? How do you know they were dead?"
Lily prodded.
Lacey searched through the vivid memory and played it back in
her mind again. "Because I looked back and saw them lying there."
Her own brow furrowed in confusion.
"But if you were trapped beneath the door and couldn't move, how
did you look back and see them?"
"Because I was no longer trapped, at that point," Lacey answered
and shook her head in confusion. "I was…" She ran the memory
back again, but knew there was a piece missing. "Ugh! Why can't I
fucking remember what the hell happened between the time I woke up
under that goddamned door and the moment I saw the damned
wreckage?" She slammed a fist down on the other arm of the chair in
frustration. "Goddammit! This is so unbelievably fucking
frustrating!"
Lily's brow shot up into her hairline at her sister's sudden
outburst and the expletives interspersed throughout. She hadn't
heard her sister use such crude language in all the time Lacey had
been home from her ordeal. Needless to say, it took Lily by
surprise.
"Well, I'm sure you didn't have that potty mouth before you left
for college."
Lacey gave her sister a raised-brow look. "I
didn't?"
"No," Lily shook her head. "Daddy would have slapped the cuss
right out of you, if you'd said anything like that in his presence.
And Mother would most certainly give you that pinched look and say
'Proper young ladies do not use vulgar language in polite
conversation.'" She gave her sister a squeeze and then returned to
her place on the couch. "I'm sure it will come to you when the time
is right, Lacey. I'm just glad you remember
something."
"Yeah," Lacey breathed out a sigh of relief and blew her nose
one last time. "Karen said I shouldn't push it or try to remember
more than I'm ready to remember. She said doing so could cause a
setback."
Lily grabbed up her ice cream and dug in with renewed gusto.
"She's right, you know."
Lacey grabbed her own half-eaten container and stared down into
it for a moment. "I just…" she stabbed the melting glob in
the container. "I know there's something important that I'm
missing." She shook her head and lifted the spoon to her lips
thoughtfully. "How the hell did I get out from under that door with
a broken elbow and shattered collar bone. I couldn't move my arms
in the dream. I know it."
Lily studied her sister for a moment, noting the intense
confusion in the sea-green eyes. She knew Lacey was trying too hard
to remember what was so obviously eluding her. And she knew it was
time for a change of subject.
"What time is your appointment tomorrow?" Lily
asked.
"Hm?"
"What time is your appointment with the orthopedic surgeon
tomorrow?" Lily rephrased. "You're going to need to call a cab to
pick you up and take you to it. I have two board meetings in the
morning and a garden party in the afternoon, so I won't be
available to drive you."
"Oh," Lacey's face fell. "I think my appointment is at 10:30.
It's not a big deal, just a routine checkup. Dr. Slader wants to
make sure my knee is healing properly. He also wants to get me in
to a few swimming therapy sessions with the physical therapist. He
said it will do wonders on my other injuries, too."
Lily finished her ice cream and took the empty container to the
kitchen. "Then I'll see you Friday morning." She stopped at the
refrigerated and checked the freezer. "Oh, I also made sure Pamela
picked up some frozen dinners for you to just pop into the
microwave. I know how much you enjoy cooking…" She gave her
sister a wry grin. "I also had her stock your fridge with easy
stuff for you to make for breakfast and lunch-lunch meat, milk,
eggs, that kind of thing. If you need anything before Friday, just
call the store and have them deliver whatever you need. I already
set up an account for you." She quickly rinsed her spoon in the
sink and set it on the counter, then grabbed her
purse.
"Leaving so soon?" Lacey shot her sister a tired
smile.
Lily leaned down and gave her sister a peck on the cheek. "I
have an appointment with my trainer, sis." She held two fingers
against her ear and mouth. "Call me if you need anything else." And
then she was gone.
Lacey sighed heavily and absently stirred the melted ice cream
in its container. She glanced at the digital clock over the
stove.
"Four o'clock," she said out loud and rolled her eyes. "Why does
it feel like it's fucking midnight?"
She glanced out the window and saw that the sun was dipping
toward the man-made lake. She didn't really feel like eating
anything and walking around was pretty much out of the question.
She was exhausted. The day's emotional turmoil and physical
activity had taken their toll on her sorely depleted
reserves.
Lacey just sat there staring out the window for a long time. It
was quiet and peaceful in the empty condo, but she really didn't
care. Her thoughts turned to the breakthrough she'd had in therapy.
"Some breakthrough," she scoffed. "The damned session left me
with more questions than I had before all this."
She rubbed her head as a headache crept up behind her eyes.
Lacey knew she should get up from the chair and head to her
bedroom, maybe change out of her clothes into something more
comfortable. But she just couldn't muster the energy to make it
that far. She did, however, manage to move from the chair to the
couch. Once situated, she grabbed the remote and clicked the
wall-mounted flat-screen on. She ran through several channels until
she found one she could tolerate. An old black and white movie
played on the screen, as Lacey stretched out on the couch and
pulled an afghan over her. She lay with her head propped on an
off-white pillow and stared unseeingly at the screen across the
room, until her eyes finally closed and she drifted off to
sleep.
***
Mac sat up straighter in the saddle, as she surveyed the
countryside below her. Argo was busy munching prairie grass as her
tall mistress just sat there in silence. 6,000 acres of prime
grazing land was spread out below them, and Mac breathed in the
clean air. The smell of fresh rain and the coming winter touched
her nose and calmed her.
The final preparations for the coming winter were complete and
it was now time for her to leave. She'd done her best to avoid the
numerous guests who streamed in and out of the ranch on a weekly
basis. And she'd managed to avoid Maria for the better part of that
time. That also meant that she'd spent very little time with her
nephews, which she wasn't happy about.
At Mac's insistence, Carrie hadn't fired the Hispanic woman. But
Carrie had issued very strict orders to Maria to leave Mac alone.
Maria had only promised that she would do the job she was hired to
do, which meant taking care of the younger Papadopoulos boys while
their parents tended the ranch and B&B. The persistent woman
never agreed to leave Mac alone.
After Maria tried one last-ditch attempt at seduction, Mac moved
her belongings from the main house to one of the bunk houses
located elsewhere on the vast property. There were six log cabins
scattered throughout the property that allowed the ranch foreman or
anyone else to take shelter while out on the range. Mac settled her
things in one of the larger single cabins that hadn't been used all
summer, which meant she'd had some cleaning to do before she was
completely settled. She didn't mind, in the least, and even reveled
in the solitude as she got down and dirty. The place was spotless
by the time she was finished and sported fresh linens from the main
house.
Now she sat atop her trusted steed. The thought brought a
relaxed smile to her lips as she gazed out over the green fields of
her brother's ranch. She breathed in deeply again and let the light
breeze softly touch her skin. The breeze was like a warm caress
that once again reminded her of a certain strawberry blond she was
longing to hold. That thought made turned her smile into a frown.
God, how she missed the woman.
Every day that passed made it more difficult for her to
reconcile the loss of the woman she loved. But each day also
brought her closer to the trip that would bring her closer to Lacey
Stephens, at least geographically. Mac sighed and watched puffy
white clouds dance in the distance.
The herd was counted and the annual bookwork was complete. The
large animal veterinarian, Hank Shakley, had also spent three days
vaccinating every head of cattle on the ranch. Hay and other feed
had been gathered or purchased and was stored away in preparation
for the snow that would eventually blanket the landscape. And the
water troughs scattered throughout the property had been checked
and repaired in anticipation of the freezing
temperatures.
Mac had also submitted her name to the local ranger service and
let them know she would be available in a few months to do search
and rescue in one of their Huey choppers. The old birds were a
challenge to fly, but she was confident she could adapt quickly to
the archaic flight controls. She knew it wouldn't take long to
renew her private pilot's license and then get certified to fly the
chopper. She longed to climb into the sky and look down on the
mountains, hills and valleys of her home.
Ranger Steve Billingsley had reassured Mac that she would be
more than welcome to join their ranks once her shoulder healed and
she passed her medical. He showed her around the station and gave
her a guided tour of the hangar and the six Hueys parked on the
tarmac. She'd left the ranger station with a satisfied grin and was
looking forward to returning home after the surgery. Unfortunately,
she didn't have a clue when that would be.
Mac turned Argo towards her cabin and kicked the mare into a
steady gallop. She was tired after the long day out on the open
range. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in front of a warm
fire with the book she had borrowed from her brother's extensive
library.
The sun was already dipping behind the mountains when Mac pulled
Argo to a halt in front of the corral near the log cabin. The smell
of smoke caught her attention. She glanced toward the cabin as she
dismounted and noticed a pickup truck parked next to the small
building. Her brow furrowed as she wracked her brain and tried to
remember whose truck it belonged to. She led the mare into the
corral and unbuckled the saddle and bridle. She then quickly
removed both and carried them out of the corral, closing the gate
and latching it securely before heading toward the
house.
She dumped the saddle over the porch rail and hung the bridle on
a hook next to the door. As she grabbed for the screen door, the
inside door swung open and Maria stood there with a surprised look
that quickly turned into a welcome smile.
"Maria, what are you doing here?" Mac just stood there with the
screen door open.
"I brought you dinner," Maria beckoned Mac inside the dimly-lit
interior of the place Mac had begun to think of as home. "Your
sister-in-law thought you might be tired of beans and rice, so she
sent you a basket of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and cooked
carrots."
"Carrie sent you here?" Mac gave the shorter woman a skeptical
look as she stepped inside the interior and noticed the blazing
fire in the fireplace. Mac knew full well her sister-in-law
wouldn't tolerate any shenanigans from the woman and wondered how
Maria had weaseled her way into delivering the meal. "I really find
that hard to believe, Maria. You know how Carrie feels about your
feelings for me."
"Oh, she didn't send me," Maria took a step closer to Mac and
made her intentions perfectly clear, as she played with a button on
the front of Mac's shirt. "She sent Blackie, but I managed to
convince him that he should stay at the ranch and watch over the
horses."
Mac heard silent warning bells go off in her head, as Maria
moved even closer until her body was within inches of Mac's.
"Maria," Mac tried to side-step the woman, but only managed to
brush against her.
"What's the matter, chica?" Maria shifted until her
body was pressed against the taller woman. She looked up into eyes
the color of gray mist. "Tell me you don't feel something for me
and I'll go."
The firelight was flickering on the woman's face and casting
eerie shadows throughout the room, as Mac met Maria's intense gaze.
The smaller woman wrapped possessive arms around her and pressed
her body firmly against Mac's. It wasn't that Mac didn't think
Maria wasn't attractive, but…
"Look, Maria," Mac grabbed the smaller woman's upper arms and
moved back a step until they were at arm's length from each other.
"You're a really attractive woman and all,
but…"
"But?" Maria smiled seductively. "You know you want me,
chica." She reached up and placed her hands on Mac's
muscular arms, while taking a step closer. "Don't deny these
feelings we both share, chica," she leaned slightly
forward to allow Mac a good view of her amble bosom and exposed
cleavage. Her breathing quickened, causing her breasts to heave
enticingly.
Without waiting for a response from the taller woman, Maria
launched herself at Mac and pulled her into a firm embrace. Mac
wasn't quite prepared when a pair of soft, luscious lips met hers
and Maria's tongue probed insistently. She opened her mouth to
protest, only to have that tongue quickly invade and launch an
attack on her senses.
A sudden rush of desire shot through Mac with such intensity
that she was completely lost. Her eyes closed and she could only
imagine that it was Lacey who was pressed against her. Maria's
hands worked quickly to remove Mac's shirt and undershirt, then
found her cotton bra and expertly divested the taller woman of it,
as well.
Maria's gaze took in Mac's state of undress as the taller woman
stood there in the dancing firelight. Brown eyes surveyed every
curve, every inch of the beautiful site before her.
"What's that from?" Maria gently ran a finger over the small
round scar beneath Mac's left collarbone. "It looks like a bullet
hole."
Mac grabbed the hand and held it in a firm grip, the spell
quickly broken. She gazed into Maria's features for a moment, then
released the woman's hand. She reached down and grabbed her
discarded clothing, quickly donning both garments until she was
fully dressed again.
"Get out, Maria!" Mac's tone was cold and brooked no argument.
Mac planted her hands on the back of one of the wooden chairs set
around the small kitchen table she'd purchased only a few days
before. She sighed heavily and let her head hang. "Get the hell out
and don't ever come back here again."
Ice-blue eyes met brown in the dancing firelight and Maria
cringed at the open hostility in the other woman's
gaze.
"Y-you don't scare me," Maria said, as she took a step toward
Mac and stopped at the quick shake of Mac's head. "Fine. I'll leave
then." She stormed towards the door and stopped in the doorway.
"Don't say that I didn't give you the chance to sample this," she
ran a hand seductively down her body and up again.
"Out!!!" Mac shouted and swung a hand
impatiently.
The door slammed shut as Maria stormed out without another word.
Mac merely stood there for a few minutes while she regained her
equilibrium and allowed her breathing to slow to a normal level.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as she walked to the
wall and switched on the lights. She glanced around the small
kitchenette and noticed a paper bag sitting on the counter. She
then checked the oven and found her dinner stowed
inside.
"At least she didn't lie about dinner," she muttered as she took
the meal out and set it on the table.
Mac grabbed a glass from one of the few cabinets and removed a
gallon jug of milk. She poured into the glass and stood there
staring at it for a moment, then shook herself out of her reverie.
Once she was seated at the table, she dug into her meal with gusto.
Mid-chew she realized she really didn't enjoy eating alone. In that
moment she decided to do whatever it took to find Lacey Stephens
and rekindle their relationship.
***
Mac sat on the front porch swing of the family ranch house and
absently pushed herself back and forth. After a good night's sleep,
she had awakened with even more conviction for the decision she had
made the previous night. The encounter with Maria had prompted her
to close up the small cabin for the winter. At first light, she
stuffed her few meager belongings into a pair of saddlebags and
said goodbye to the small hideaway.
When she reached the main house, she called the local travel
agent and booked a flight to Dallas that was to leave the very next
day. Mac was ready to find the woman who held her heart, one way or
another. She needed closure on that chapter of her life before she
could move on to the next-whatever the next chapter proved to
be.
Just then, the screen door opened and her sister-in-law stepped
out onto the porch. The woman was wearing a light sweater and sat
next to Mac on the bench swing. Carrie's bobbed light-brown hair
was tucked behind one ear and her gray-green eyes held a touch of
gentle amusement in them.
"Hey, li'l bit," Carrie snickered at the dark scowl she
received. "Don't give me that look, Mac. It may have intimidated
your comrades in arms over in Iraq and Afghanistan, but it
certainly doesn't work on me."
"Hey," Mac turned her gaze to the lush green
landscape.
"Lunch is ready, if you're hungry," Carrie let her own eyes
wander over the green fields beyond. "I can feel winter comin'.
Snow will be here soon and it's gonna get downright cold. Time to
pull the winter gear out and get it aired. I hear you decided to
get a jump on your trip. Ben said you're leavin'
tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Mac sniffed the air and shivered unconsciously, despite
the heat still lingering in the fall air. "Won't be long before
we'll be shoveling the porch, rather than sitting here enjoying the
lazy sunshine."
"The rest of us will be shoveling," Carrie smirked. "I don't
expect you'll be doing much this winter with your arm in a
sling."
"No, probably not," Mac added with a wry grin. "I'm not really
looking forward to surgery, but I am anxious to get this bullet out
of my shoulder. I don't know how anyone could live with a piece of
metal in 'em for any length of time." She rubbed her shoulder.
"It's a real pain."
They sat there in silence for a little while, both women looking
out at the beautiful scenery beyond.
"When you're ready to talk, I'll be here to listen," Carrie said
out of the blue, causing a pair of startled blue eyes to meet hers.
"I know you've been pouring yourself into every job that comes
along here, Mac. I also know what Maria tried something again last
night." Her eyes hardened. "I fired her this
morning."
"You did?"
Carrie nodded. "I expect she'll be wantin' a reference or
something. Don't think I can do that after I warned her away from
you."
"No, I suppose not," Mac shook her head and smirked. "Wouldn't
put it past her, though."
Carried chuckled. "Let her try. I'll have Blackie chase her off
the property with one of the new riding crops. He's been itching to
use one, ever since Ben bought them off that traveling tack shop
during the last rodeo."
Mac chuckled, too, then sobered. "It's time," she said simply.
"I need to go find her."
"The woman you knew in the Army?" Carrie prodded.
Mac nodded. "I leave in the morning for Texas. I have an
appointment with the surgeon day after tomorrow."
"When's your surgery?" Carrie eyed her sister-in-law
speculatively.
"A week from Thursday," Mac answered.
"Do you want someone there with you?" Carrie asked, genuinely
concerned.
"No," Mac shook her head. "I'll be fine. Besides, you need to be
here with the boys and make sure Ben doesn't overdo it. He isn't as
young as he used to be."
"None of us are," Carrie patted Mac's knee. "We'll be praying
for you every night, Mackenzie." Carrie smiled.
Mac returned the smile. "I appreciate that, sis." She put a hand
over the one Carrie kept on her knee. "It's good to know I have
family that cares about me. I want Lacey to know what that feels
like. I'd like to…" She let the words hang
there.
"You're always in our hearts," Carrie confirmed. "Even when you
were far away in Afghanistan and Iraq, we always said a prayer at
the table that you'd come home safe to us." She smirked. "Our
prayers were answered, li'l bit."
Mac shook her head. "I just might decide to stay in Texas, if
you and Ben don't stop using that damned nickname on
me."
Carrie snickered. "You might just decide to stay there, anyway,
when you find that doctor lady of yours."
Mac's expression turned thoughtful. "I hope she's
okay."
"I'm sure she's fine," Carrie gave Mac a reassuring smile. "If
what you told Ben about her father is true, he's probably just
running interference for her while she recovers from her
ordeal."
"I hope you're right, sis," Mac returned the smile with one that
didn't quite reach her eyes. "I just can't help wondering why she
hasn't at least tried to call me."
Carrie gave Mac's knee one final pat and stood up. "Well, I
guess you'll find that out for yourself, soon enough. I know you
won't let anything stand in your way when it comes to this small
matter of the heart."
"Thanks, Carrie," Mac said. "I really appreciate
it."
"Just don't be late to lunch," Carrie shot back as she opened
the screen door. "Those nephews of yours are growing boys and are
starting to eat us out of house and home. No tellin' if there'll be
anything left once they dig in."
Mac sat pondering her sister-in-law's words for a few more
minutes. She knew her brother was worried about her. She was still
seeing a therapist once a week to talk through her experiences. At
least this therapist-Dr. Chadley-wasn't interested in converting
her back to the world of 'normal' heterosexuality.
Mac didn't know what she would do if she failed to find Lacey.
Thoughts whirled around in her head as she pondered the
possibilities. But then she shut them out. It wouldn't do to dwell
on things that might or could be. All she could do was try her best
to gain access into Lacey's life. She just hoped Lacey's father
didn't fight her and try to keep her from her goal. Mac wasn't sure
what would happen, knowing everything Lacey had told her about the
man. She just hoped it didn't turn into a nightmare.
Speaking of nightmares, hers had subsided considerably when
she'd returned home. She did, however, have the occasional whopper
that woke her in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and
gasping for breath. On those rare occasions when a nightmare
struck, it took the better part of the rest of the night for her to
be rid of the vivid images that plagued her.
She'd had one of those nightmares just last night and hadn't
been able to go back to sleep afterward. Images of the chopper
crash had flashed back to her as clearly as if she were still
there. Then Lacey was there, except that she hadn't survived the
crash. Mac had felt an overwhelming panic as the images in her head
of Lacey's twisted and broken body beneath the burning wreckage
continued to flash in vivid detail. Then the doctor's voice called
to her in a nightmarish whisper that the pilot just couldn't
shake.
"Damn it!" Mac jumped to her feet and shook herself of her
musings. She stomped her feet a few times to get the circulation
going in her right leg, then trudged into the house. When she
reached the kitchen, she hung her hat on a hook near the back
door.
"So, what's for lunch, sis?" She asked, standing next to the
kitchen table. Six settings sat on the table, as well as butter,
salt and pepper. Mac took her customary place on one side of the
table and watched as her brother stepped in the back door and shook
himself like a wet dog.
"I reheated the fried chicken from last night," Carrie answered,
pulling a covered dish from the oven and placing it on a pair of
hot pads lying in the center of the table. She smiled at Mac.
"Thought the boys finished it off, but they didn't." She went to
the doorway and leaned her head out. "Lunch is ready!" She shouted
into the interior of the house.
A rumble of stomping feet that sounded more like a herd of
stampeding cattle sounded from above and the three boys rushed into
the kitchen. Each boy took a seat at the table with a Cheshire
grin.
"Hey, boys," Mac greeted her nephews with a warm smile, as they
patiently waited for their father to finish washing his hands in
the tiny bathroom off the kitchen.
"Mama says you're leaving for Texas tomorrow," Jimmy piped in,
as he took a drink from his glass of milk. "She says you're gonna
have surgery to remove the bullet from your
shoulder."
"Yep," Mac nodded. "I have surgery scheduled for next
week."
"So, why're ya headin' there tomorrow?" DJ asked. "Don'tcha
wanna stay here with us no more?"
Mac reached over to the six-year-old sitting next to her and
affectionately ruffled his hair. "I would love to do that, Digger,
but I have to go in for a pre-surgery checkup, day after
tomorrow."
"Where are you having the surgery, Auntie Mac?" Tanner asked.
"Texas is a big place."
Mac nodded as she drank the milk in her glass. "It is a pretty
big state, Tanner. I'll be having the surgery at the VA hospital in
Dallas."
"Oh, where the Cowboys play?" Jimmy's otherwise serious
expression brightened.
"Yeah, where the Cowboys play. Why?" Mac eyed the youth
curiously.
"Can you bring me home a jersey, Auntie Mac? Please?" The youth
begged in childlike glee. "I really like the Cowboys and always
wanted a jersey to wear at school. Wyoming doesn't have a team, so
they guys all wear jerseys from their favorite teams in other
states."
Mac considered the request for a moment. "Well, I don't
know."
"Oh, come on, Auntie Mac. Please, please, please…" the
youth suddenly looked years younger.
"Yeah and can you bring me something back from The Dallas World
Aquarium?" Tanner got just as excited. "I've always wanted to go
there. They have a really cool rainforest exhibit called the
Orinoco - Secrets of the River with a real waterfall and Antillean
manatees. They also have some really rare fish."
It never ceased to amaze Mac how well-read ten-year-old Tanner
was. The boy would spend dusk to dawn with his nose buried in a
book if he could. He loved school and reveled in the opportunity to
surf the internet whenever possible. He was an encyclopedia of
valuable information, especially when it came to animals. If one of
the boys was going to follow in his father's footsteps as a
veterinarian, then Tanner fit the bill to a tee.
"You know, T-man," Mac considered his request thoughtfully. "I
think I might be able to take a day or two to visit some of the
sites in Dallas. I'll try to make the aquarium one of my stops."
She glanced at Jimmy, who was sitting there with a hopeful grin.
"And I'll see what they have at the Cowboys gift
shop."
"What about me? What about me?" DJ piped in.
"Hm, I don't know, little man," Mac ruffled his hair again.
"What would you like me to bring you from the Lone Star
State?"
DJ scrunched his face in concentration. "What else do they have
in Dallas besides fish and cowboys?"
Mac nearly choked on her milk, as the rest of the table erupted
in giggles and snickers. "Hey, you two," she gave Tanner and Jimmy
a warning glare and then turned her attention to the youngest of
the three. "Well, Digger, I'll take a tour around the place and see
what I come up with. It'll be a surprise, okay?" She then
considered something. "Maybe I can bring you something from
Houston."
"Houston?" Jimmy almost shot out of his chair with excitement.
"The Texans play there!"
"James Benjamin," Carrie shot her oldest son a warning glare
that put Mac's to shame. "Your aunt is not going to Texas on a
vacation to pick up souvenirs for y'all. She's there to have
surgery on her shoulder."
"Yes'm," Jimmy lowered his eyes to his plate. "Sorry, Auntie
Mac."
"No problem, Jimmy," Mac shot him a wink that put the smile back
on his face. "I'll see what I can fit in my
luggage."
That got a rousing cheer from all three boys and a another
warning glare from their mother. The mood quickly lightened, as
their father breezed into the room.
"Mm, somethin' smells great," Ben commented as he gave Carrie a
peck on the cheek and took the seat at the head of the table. "I'm
starving."
When Carrie was seated at the other end of the table from her
husband, they joined hands and Ben said a quick blessing. The
serving dishes were passed around and everyone helped themselves to
chicken, sweet corn cut fresh from the cob and mashed potatoes,
while conversation around the table turned to the mundane topics of
the ranch and the B&B.
"So, how are things in the west paddock, bro?" Mac asked, taking
the bowl of corn and spooning herself a generous helping, before
she spooned a helping onto DJ's plate and received a scowl and a
mumbled "thank you" from the boy.
"We got the fences repaired and Jimmy, Hank and the boys will
finish up the last vet checks on the herd this afternoon," he
answered between bites. He washed his food down with a swallow of
milk and set the glass back on the table. "Did you get everything
squared away with the VA? They ready for your
arrival?"
"Yeah," Mac answered. She ate a few more bites, then suddenly
stopped chewing and looked up, only to have five sets of eyes
staring at her. "What?"
"You don't sound very happy to be leaving," Ben prodded. "Are
you nervous?" He set his elbows on the table and clasped his hands
in front of him. "Did they get that mess with your benefits cleared
up yet?"
"Yeah," Mac answered. "It's all taken care of. I am a
fully-insured Iraqi War Veteran."
"And?" Her brother prodded further. "What about that other
matter we were talking about the other day. Did you find out
anything? Did you at least come up with an address?"
Mac folded her napkin and set it on the table. Her appetite was
suddenly gone, despite the fact she'd only eaten half her lunch.
She started to get up from the table, but a hand on her arm stopped
her.
"Well?" Her brother insisted.
"I have an address, yeah," she finally answered. "I'll pick up
the rental car when I get there and drive to Houston on Saturday.
It shouldn't take me more than three hours to get there. I picked
up a few maps at Triple A, so I have a pretty good idea where I'm
headed." She glanced at one of her nephews with a smirk. "Tanner
even helped me Google-map the exact address."
"That's good," Ben continued with a reassuring half-smile. "Will
you call before you show up on her parents' doorstep?" He stabbed
the mound of mashed potatoes on his plate. "What if she's not
there?"
"Then I'll ask them where she is," Mac answered with a shrug, as
she settled back down and resumed eating.
"And if her old man won't tell you?" Ben placed a hand on hers.
"I just don't want you to give up, Mac. Not if she's that special
to you."
Mac held his gaze for several seconds, then looked away and
caught the same gleam in her sister-in-law's eyes. Their mutual
concern warmed her heart, even if she knew it was in
vain.
"He's right, Mac," Carrie encouraged. "If you care about her,
you need to keep trying until you know for sure she's all right.
From what I know about the situation, I think you two had something
really special."
Mac knew Carrie was right. They were both right, of course. She
couldn't give up trying to find out how Lacey was doing, just
because the woman's father stood in the way.
"What I don't understand is why she hasn't tried to contact
you," Ben added, voicing Mac's earlier concern. "She has to know
you're still alive. You two talked about where we live, didn't
you?"
"We did, yeah," Mac set her elbows on either side of her plate
and rested her chin on her hands. "Could be her family again. Maybe
they've managed to insulate her from the outside world. Or
maybe…" She swallowed down the prospect that Lacey didn't
want to see her.
"Her family would do that?" Carrie added. "I can't believe she
doesn't have at least one ally she can turn to."
Mac shrugged. "Lacey made it sound like her father was a tyrant
who ran his household with an iron fist. Maybe he managed to cut
her off from the outside world once he got her back under his
roof." Mac frowned. "Or maybe she just doesn't want anything to do
with me," Mac gave her brother a dour look. "Maybe, once she got
home, everything changed and she decided life wasn't quite as bad
as she remembered it being before she left."
"You did say she had a privileged childhood," Carried added.
"Maybe her father is using his financial influence to keep her in
line."
"She also said she's wealthy in her own right," Mac added. "Even
if her father was trying to force her to live under his roof by
withholding her trust fund from her, I don't think Lacey would
care. It was never about the money with her. That's why she didn't
care when he cut her off after she joined the Army."
"Then there's something else going on and you have to find out
what it is," Ben gave his sister a pointed look. "It's possible she
didn't come through the ordeal as well as you did. Maybe she was
paralyzed or lost her memory or something. Stranger things have
happened to people after they go through that kind of traumatic
experience. Maybe she didn't wake up from the coma she slipped
into."
Mac considered her brother's words and cringed at his last
comment. Was it possible Lacey wasn't able to move? The possibility
that Lacey was still in a coma hit her like a brick and sent her
stomach plummeting. It was just too much to consider that Lacey was
in a vegetative state in some sterile hospital bed
somewhere.
"I have to know what happened to her, one way or the other," Mac
said with a determined gleam in her eye. She bolted from the table
and raced from the kitchen toward the stairs. "I'm going to show up
at the Stephens Family homestead and get some damned
answers!"
"Are you sure you don't want one of us to go with you?" Ben
called loud enough for her to hear him.
"No!" Mac called back. "I'll be fine!"
Ben and Carrie exchanged a confused glance before Ben turned his
attention to his beaming boys.
"Guess Auntie Mac's gonna go rope herself a filly." A grin split
his features as his boys giggled. "Finish your lunch, boys. It's
time to get the rest of our chores taken care of before the winter
snow sets in."
All three boys broke out in wide grins and a collective cheer
went up around the Papadopoulos family table.
***
The next morning dawned clear and crisp, a perfect autumn
morning. Mac woke up to find the sun just peeking over the eastern
horizon and quickly readied herself for her impending trip. She was
nervous about leaving the ranch, but not so much so that she was
willing to give up the chance to finally find out what happened to
Lacey Stephens. It was time. She'd finally come to terms with her
decision and was actually looking forward to the trip. She glanced
around the spacious room she occupied in the three-story house. It
wasn't much, but it was hers.
Mac carried her pea-green Army rucksack down the stairs of the
place she had finally come to think of as her home again. She
glanced at the family photos that graced one wall and stopped in
mid-step to look at the wedding photo of her parents. They were
such a young and hopeful pair in their formalwear. Her mother wore
a floor-length white satin dress edged in lace. Her father was tall
and handsome in a western tuxedo and black cowboy boots. She
noticed the happiness radiating from both her parents and knew that
was what she wanted for herself. She also knew who she wanted to
share her life with. Now she just had to find a way to breach the
barrier that had been erected in her path.
"Ready to go, li'l bit?" Ben charged down the stairs behind her
and grabbed her rucksack, as he passed by.
"Yeah," she absently answered in a tone that caused him to stop
on the landing and glance up at her.
Ben saw the photo she was standing next to and smiled. "Daddy
was so damned thrilled and happy to marry her," he said. "They
loved each other so much that wild horses couldn't keep them
apart."
"Death could," Mac sighed as she continued down the
stairs.
Ben gave her a sad smile, as he held onto the newel post at the
bottom of the stairs. "Not for very long, li'l bit." He hoisted her
rucksack onto his shoulder and made his way toward the front
door.
"The whole brood's coming with us?" Mac stepped out onto the
porch and saw the boys in the back seat of the cab and Carrie in
the passenger seat.
"Carrie wants to do some shopping in town and the boys deserve a
chance to see their aunt off," Ben answered as he threw her
rucksack into the bed of the truck.
Mac opened the driver's door and scooted to the middle of the
bench seat. She glanced at her sister-in-law and couldn't help but
return the woman's smile.
"You ready to give 'em hell down there in Tex-ass?" Carrie
snickered softly.
Mac snorted. "If you say so, sis."
"Are you sure you don't want us to drive you all the way to Salt
Lake City?" Ben asked as he climbed behind the wheel. "It's only a
two and a half hour drive."
"No," Mac answered with a shake of her head. "Bernie Olson still
owes me a favor for going to the spring dance with him, way back
when we were in high school. Now that he owns his own Cessna, he
offered to take me there in half the time."
"Aw, we wanted to see Salt Lake City!" DJ bounced in the seat
behind theirs. "Can't…(bounce) we…(bounce)
just…(bounce) drive…(bounce) her…(bounce)
to…(bounce) Salt…(bounce) Lake?"
"DeeeeJaaaaay!" Both his brothers shouted as he jarred them with
his antics.
"Settle down, boys," Ben shot over his shoulder as he started
the pickup, shifted into Drive and drove down the long driveway
toward the main road.
"Yeah, settle down or I won't bring anything back for you," Mac
turned in her seat and managed to tickle all three nephews
one-handed. The two younger boys giggled uncontrollably, while
Jimmy merely gave her a raised-browed scowl that reminded her so
much of her brother she nearly choked on her suppressed laughter.
"Okay, then…."
Mac turned back around and faced forward with a satisfied
smirk.
"Glad to see the sparkle back in those baby blues," Carrie
commented with an amused grin.
Mac crossed her arms over her chest to keep them out of her
brother's way and shot her sister-in-law a tolerant
half-smile.
The rest of the trip was made in relative silence and, soon
enough, they pulled into the small airport in Jackson. A big man in
denim overalls and a green flannel shirt stood next to a blue and
white Cessna 206. He spotted them and waved them through an opening
in the small chain link fence. Ben steered the pickup through the
gate and parked next to the four-seat airplane.
"Cool!" DJ said as he bounded from the cab of the pickup before
anyone could stop him.
His brothers were more subdued as they emerged behind him. The
adults also climbed from the pickup and walked over to greet the
cheery pilot.
"Hey there, Bernie," Ben greeted the big man with a firm
handshake. "Take care of my sister, will ya?"
"Yeah, sure, Ben," Bernie slapped the hand in his with his other
beefy hand. "Mac," he nodded to the taller of the two women. "You
haven't changed a bit in the last ten years. Still gorgeous, as
ever."
"Still the charmer, Bernie," Mac grinned at the man, as he
leaned toward Carrie and kissed her cheek.
"Miss Carrie," he smiled when she hugged him back. "I look
forward to comin' out for a piece of that award-winnin' cobbler of
yours."
"Any time, Bernie," Carrie said and gave him a quick pat on the
back. "Why don't you stop over when you get back from takin' Mac to
Salt Lake?"
Bernie's hazel eyes lit up. "You sure about that, Miss
Carrie?"
"She's sure," Mac answered as she tossed her duffle in the cargo
hold of the plane. "She's always looking for an excuse to feed
someone and brag about her cobbler."
"Oh, for the love of Pete, that's not so," Carrie slapped the
taller woman's arm.
"Ouch," Mac rubbed her arm in mock pain.
Ben stepped up to his sister and gave her a teary smile. "Hurry
back home, sis," he said and gave her a big bear
hug.
"Yeah," Mac groaned as her brother finally set her back on her
feet. "I'll do that."
"Don't be a stranger," Carrie gave Mac a warm hug and stepped
back to let the boys have a chance to say goodbye to their
aunt.
"We'll miss you, Auntie Mac," Jimmy gave her a manly hug and a
warm smile that lit his blue eyes.
"I'll miss you, too, Jimmy," Mac ruffled his hair just before he
could duck away from her reach. "Come here, Digger." The youngest
boy launched himself into her arms and hugged her tight. "You keep
an eye on your mama and daddy for me, ya hear?" He nodded. "And
don't let your brothers get into any trouble while I'm
gone."
Tanner waited patiently for his turn and, when it came, he gave
Mac a heartfelt hug. "I hope everything works out for you and your
friend, Auntie Mac," he said covertly into her ear.
Mac gave him a kiss on the cheek and let him go. "I hope so,
too, bud."
"We ready to go, then?" Bernie piped in, as he climbed into the
left side of the airplane.
Mac climbed into the co-pilot's seat of the roomy 206 and
grabbed the black headset hanging above her. She placed the headset
over her ears and adjusted the small microphone tightly against her
mouth. Then she glanced out the small side window and waved to her
family with tears swimming in her eyes. She was really going to
miss them.
"Let's get this show on the road," Bernie's tinny voice came
through her headset, loud and clear. "I got me some tasty cobbler
to return to."
Mac glanced at him and smirked, as he started the engine and
steered the plane toward the small runway. She returned her
attention to the small group still waving enthusiastically to her.
She waved one last time before the 206 raced down the runway and
climbed into the sky.
She settled back in her seat and resisted the urge to grab the
controls in front of her. Instead, she looked out the window and
marveled at the greenery below. Small lakes and rivers dotted the
landscape and cut through the terrain near the mountains. The 206
climbed higher, until Bernie turned it towards the majestic peaks
and cut a path through the sky along them.
***