Carly (25 page)

Then came the faint, echoing, unnerving sounds of distant battle and the earth actually vibrated beneath her feet. “What is
it, Bowie?”

“Must be artillery.”

“Theirs or ours?”

He shrugged but took up his weapon. He scanned the horizon to the east and then the west.

After another sleepless, chilly night, at dawn on the third day Carly heard motors. At first she doubted her ears, but then
the U.S. ground forces came over the west horizon and surrounded the supply train. Her relief drenched her in a cold sweat.
Quickly and efficiently, Carly’s company performed the duties it had been trained to do, filling gas and water tanks, unloading
new ammunition. As she and the others worked without a wasted motion, the combat troops told them the little bit of the war
they knew about. Then the resupplying job was done.

As the combat troops rolled forward in tanks and Jeeps, part of the supply train followed them at a distance. But Carly’s
platoon had empty trucks to drive back to base. They all watched until the rest of their company vanished over the eastern
horizon. Then they climbed into their trucks and turned west. Carly took her first easy breath in three days. Bowie said,
“Whoo-ee.” And Carly burst out laughing.
Thank you, Father. We made it
.

They reached the base in late afternoon and returned their trucks to the garage. The next day they’d be busy cleaning out
all the sand the
haboob
had gouged and packed into the HEMTTs. With light hearts, Joe, Sam, Bowie, and Carly—arm in arm—headed to the mess hall for
their first hot meal in three days.

With her meal tray full of hot, fragrant beef and noodles, Carly sat down and took a long drink of cold milk. She felt effervescent,
as if she could float to the ceiling of the tent and bob there like a stray balloon. She grinned across the table at Bowie.
He grinned back at her. He mouthed, “I love you.”

She beamed, she felt as if she were radiating light and warmth. She mouthed back, “I love you, too.”

A siren sounded. Everyone froze. Disgusted, Carly reached for her NBC gear pouch at her feet.
Can’t we have one meal in peace?

“Another Scud warning,” announced a soldier at the end of the table who had risen to suit up too. “Hey, where have you guys
been? You look like you’ve been through about ten sandstorms.”

Tugging on his mask, Bowie paused to grin. “You ever hear of a
haboob
?”

And then a shrill whistling, then screaming—an explosion devoured them alive.

C
arly opened her eyes to glittering, blinding sunlight, but she couldn’t seem to focus. She heard lots of loud voices. Footsteps
shook, pounded through her. She was lying on her back on the sand. She tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come.
I must be hurt
. She felt crumpled, but without pain. Her chest felt heavy and it was hard to breathe. What had happened . . . what was going
on?

Then a face she knew hovered inches above her own. She tried to say, “Lorelle,” but only garbled syllables came out of her
gritty throat.

“Carly, you’re going to be all right.” Lorelle repeated the words twice more.

Carly swallowed the sand in her mouth and throat, then forced out a question, “What?”

“Scud attack,” Lorelle said. “You’ve been injured—”

The voice of a stranger cut in, “We have to move her now. Triage deems her critical.”

Critical? What does that . . . ?
Carly felt herself being lifted. She tried to reach for Lorelle, but there was something wrong with her arm. It was tied
down. “No,” she whimpered. “Lorelle.”

“I can’t go with you, Carly.” Lorelle’s voice followed her. “I’m praying! You’ll be fine.”

Carly stared at the grim soldier carrying the foot of her stretcher. Her carriers weren’t walking—they were running with her,
rattling her, waking the pain. The sound of helicopter blades whooped nearer and nearer and then she felt their wind beating
against her face. She moaned. Agony began filtering in.

“Are you in pain?” the stretcher-bearer asked.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Please. . . .”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “We’ll get you on a morphine drip onboard.”

She felt herself lifted and the swirling wind from the helicopter was like hands slapping, flogging her. Sand whirled up into
her face. Choking, she moaned and closed her eyes. Her body tensed. Torture throbbed through her nerve endings. She moaned
again. The noise and the pressure around the helicopter overwhelmed her. Tears trickled from her eyes. Helpless as a child,
Carly silently said,
Mama, make it stop hurting
.

The helicopter lifted, and Carly couldn’t bear the motion and stress on her limp body. She moaned louder. Someone was beside
her, inserting a needle in her arm. Carly tried to focus on this, but the pain was eating her alive. Her head pounded, her
stomach lurched, and then the noise and motion ebbed. She felt the arms of darkness claiming her. “Jesus,” she whispered,
“Jesus.”

His tense hands gripping the steering wheel, Frank, with Cherise beside him, drove through the late winter Maryland countryside.
Ivy Manor’s many chimneys could be seen da> over the tall oaks and barren maples. He’d called Nate at work and found that
Leigh was staying with her grandmother and mother while Bette took chemo at the nearby hospital. He cursed silently. They
had enough to contend with.
Why did this have to happen?

“I didn’t know her mother had cancer,” Cherise said in a tight voice. “I’ve been so busy I haven’t called in two months—”

“Don’t start the guilt.” Frank controlled his tone. This wasn’t Cherise’s fault or his. But it was hard to shake that feeling
that he was responsible. “I’m the one who told Leigh to go da> and let Carly enlist.”
How did I know a war was going to start up?

“Frank, I feel guilty for being glad that Lorelle wasn’t with Carly.”

“Bad things happen in wars. Lorelle isn’t immune either. She’s still in a combat zone.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that,” his wife murmured.

“I just hope we get there before Leigh gets the news in an official telephone call.” He turned up the lane to Ivy Manor. For
a split second, it was August 1963 again and he was seeing—for the first time—his family’s ancestral home, the one his family
had shared with the Carlyles for centuries. He recalled how young and innocent Leigh had been that day.
Oh, Leigh, if only I could have spared you this
.

He parked by the back door. Hand in hand, he and Cherise ran to it and knocked. He took a deep breath and waited, his heart
still thudding.

His cousin, Rose, opened the door. “Frank? Cherise? What are you doin’ here?”

“Is Leigh home?” Cherise asked.

“Sure. Come on in. I’ll call for her.”

Inside, Frank touched Rose’s arm. “Don’t call her. Bring her to the kitchen. We have news from Saudi. I . . . we want to tell
her before Chloe or Bette.”

Rose’s smile slid from her face. “Oh, my, no.” She hurried from the room.

After hanging up their coats, Frank put his arm around Cherise, and she lifted her face in her way of asking for a kiss. He
kissed her and then tucked her closer. He couldn’t give in to the urge to curse loud and long. Leigh needed his support, not
his anguish.

Looking confused, Leigh walked into the kitchen. Rose hovered behind her. “Frank? Cherise? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Leigh,” Frank said, gathering his courage, “Lorelle called me about two hours ago. Carly has been wounded.”

Leigh stared at him, her mouth opening and closing without a sound.
Carly has been wounded
. The words didn’t sink in. “What?”

Cherise came to her and put her slender arms around Leigh. “Honey, it was a Scud attack. She’s alive but in critical condition.
She’s been helicoptered to the USNC
Comfort,
a hospital ship stationed in the Gulf, for treatment.”

“I’ve put a call through to the commander of the ship,” Frank said. “And he or one of the Navy physicians will call here with
Carly’s diagnosis.” Frank looked at his watch. “Anytime in the next few hours.”

Leigh felt the life and strength being sucked out of her. She staggered, and Cherise helped her to a chair. “This can’t be
happening.”
Frank, no. God, no
.

“We’re so sorry,” Cherise said as she stroked Leigh’s hair. “Lorelle said that Carly was conscious and spoke to her. She’s
not dead, Leigh.”

“And she’s getting the best medical care in the world,” Frank added.

Leigh’s mind seemed to be frozen.
This hasn’t happened. No
. “I thought the Patriot missiles were intercepting and destroying the Scuds.” She looked to him.

“A few still get through,” Frank admitted. “I talked to her sergeant after I spoke to the
Comfort
. Carly had just finished a dangerous supply mission and went to the mess tent for her first hot meal in three days. He said
she’d been in charge of navigating the company to their supply position. He couldn’t say enough about your girl.”

Leigh tried to process what he was saying.

Frank sat down in the chair close to Leigh and took her hand in his. “He sounded sick over this. There were casualties in
this attack, Leigh. He lost men and women. And Carly could have been killed. But she’s still alive. We have to cling to that.”

An unexpected moan sounded behind them. They all turned to see Chloe in the doorway sway and Rose caught her. “Frank!” she
urged. “Help me. I can’t hold her.”

Frank leaped forward and took Chloe into his arms. He lifted her and carried her through the dining room to the den. With
Leigh at his heels, he laid her on the sofa there.

Bette, who’d been watching TV, jumped up. “What’s wrong?”

Frank knelt beside Chloe, who lay silently upon the sofa. “Can you speak?”

Leigh sank to her knees at Frank’s side and took her grandmother’s hands in hers. “What are your symptoms, Grandma?”

Chloe’s eyes looked frightened and she was gasping. “My chest . . . hurts, can’t breathe.”

Leigh squeezed her hands, her own breathing tight with fear. “Grandma, do you have pain in your arms, jaw?”

Chloe nodded. “Heart skipping.”

Rising, Leigh rushed to the phone. “I’m calling 911,” she said over her shoulder, her temples pounding.
She could be having a heart attack
.

Frank chafed Chloe’s wrists trying to bring blood back into them. Bette looked to Cherise, who’d entered after Leigh. “What’s
happened?”

“Carly’s been wounded,” Cherise replied, coming to Bette’s side. “We didn’t know Chloe was listening. We were breaking it
to Leigh first.”

Bette sank down and put her hands over her face. “Oh, no, dear God, no. Not our little girl.” Cherise sat down beside her
and put an arm around her.

In a flurry of activity, the rescue squad came with the ambulance. Leigh watched helplessly as the medical personnel took
Chloe’s vitals. Announcing Chloe could be in cardiac distress, they said they were taking her to the hospital.

Following the ambulance, Frank drove Bette and Leigh to the hospital. Rose stayed behind to watch for Michael, who had been
at her daughter’s house playing with Rose’s grandson, and to be there to take the
Comfort
’s call about Carly’s condition.

Leigh watched the ambulance da> of them and tried to gather her scattered mind and put everything together.
Carly is wounded and Grandma Chloe may be having a heart attack. My mother is in the midst of her first round of chemo. Nate
had to go back to work earlier this week. What more, Lord? What next? If you’re trying to bring me to my knees, you’ve succeeded.
No more, please. Please
.

Don’t let Carly die. I haven’t done what I ought. At first I didn’t tell the truth about Trent being married and then when
I did, I told it cruelly and in anger. No matter how much I pursue success, I always fail when it comes to my daughter. Don’t
let her die. Give me a second chance
.

Groggy, Carly surfaced from oblivion. Airplane engines were idling nearby. She was being carried on another stretcher. She
realized she wasn’t in pain. “Where am I?”

Walking beside her, a nurse leaned close. “What?”

“Where am I?” Carly felt like she was talking with a mouth full of dried, brittle leaves.

“You’re being put onto a flight to Germany for further treatment. You’re stable. Don’t worry.”

“My mom—”

“Your family has been notified. They’ll be permitted to see you if they come.” The nurse patted her shoulder lightly. “Don’t
worry now. Everything is being done to help you. You’re going to recover.”

“Bowie?” Carly murmured, feeling the mindless fatigue roll over her again. She fought against it to ask her first clear thought.
“I was with my friend Bowie. What’s happened to him?”

“I really don’t know. We had a lot of wounded in your attack. Over forty people. I haven’t seen or spoken to all the nurses
and doctors who worked on them. They’ll tell you more in Germany.

“Are we keeping your pain level in check? We don’t want you to get too deep into pain. It’s harder to bring you back to relief
then. If the pain starts again, let someone know, okay?”

Carly nodded, and then she was being carried up a ramp into the bowels of a large airplane. The nurse waved to her, and Carly
closed her eyes.
Dear God, please let Bowie be okay. There were a lot more than forty people in that mess hall. Please let him know I’m going
to be okay
.

Then a thought niggled at her. Had the nurse been honest or was she protecting Carly from the truth?
I have to be pretty bad for them to fly me to Germany for treatment. Maybe I’m not going to be okay
. Stunned by this thought, her spirit, shocked into mute terror, reached out wordlessly for the Infinite. God would have to
pray for her. She closed her eyes, feeling a sob swell in her breast. A bump made her gasp and she lost consciousness.

Just past midnight, Leigh paced alone outside Chloe’s hospital room, wanting to go home, but fearful at the same time. Before
heading back to Washington, Frank and Cherise had driven Bette home to Ivy Manor to be with Michael and reassure him that
everything would be all right. Leigh had called Nate right after Chloe had been admitted, told him all the news, and asked
him to come. A doctor said that Chloe had suffered a mild heart attack. What else could go wrong? Would everything turn out
right? Or would there be three deaths—Kitty, Chloe, and Carly?