Phoenix (13 page)

“I didn’t say that. If you truly feel that way, your opinion of me must be much lower than I assumed. You know what I meant.”

“Those lower level positions are important. And they need to be filled by someone.”

He cocked his head at her. “That’s true. But they don’t have to be filled by someone who was a keynote speaker at a national political convention, who served three terms in Congress, who has chaired committees and served with distinction for a number of nonprofits. You excelled in your military training over the last few weeks. Your skills are wasted on anything other than a leadership position.”

“What about other people who deserve leadership positions, who’ve been left in the dust? What about them?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

If he was going to pander to her with some bullshit rank she didn’t deserve, she was going to call him out on his hypocrisy. “Boone runs the entire cafeteria,” she said. “He’s in charge of at least thirty different men. Do you know his rank?”

She’d caught him by surprise. He shifted in his chair. “No.”

Caroline found his feigned ignorance laughable. “He’s a sergeant,” she said. “A
sergeant
. And I can’t imagine why he’s not an officer. He’s not even a higher ranking NCO. Can you imagine why?”

Jack stood up so quickly it almost scared her. “Are you accusing me of being racist?”

“No,” she said. “Just misguided. You promote the people who look like you. Every single officer on this base is a white male with only a handful of exceptions.”

“Dr. Haddad is a captain,” he said.

“Oh, good for you,” Caroline said. “You’ve got three or four female officers, one of whom happens to be of Middle Eastern descent. What a rainbow coalition we are.”

He sat back down, probably because he was about to start yelling at her. “What would you like me to do?”

“I don’t want you to do anything,” she said. “I want you to think about why things are the way they are here. Why the enlisted ranks are heavily minority and they have absolutely no officers who look like them. Maybe ponder that for a while.”

He wrote something down on a legal pad. “I will.”

Jack sounded like he was going to listen to her. She had no idea if that was good or bad, so she stayed silent.

“Do you still want me to demote you?” he asked. “You stormed your way through training, your fellow officers and trainees respect you, the cafeteria staff adores you, and you get along well with the other troops. Enjoy it.”

Oh, yeah. Because she enjoyed so many things. Being a major sounded as decadent as chocolate cake. “I don’t want people to think I got this because of who I am.”

Jack shoved the legal pad into a drawer. “I assure you, no one is thinking that. Take this and run with it. Don’t worry about what anyone thinks. It hasn’t driven any of your behavior before now.”

“This has nothing to do with who I am?”

“No.”

“Nothing to do with anything I’ve done prior to arriving here.”

He smiled. “Maybe a little. You did start this whole thing.”

“Nothing to do with my relationships with any of the other people I came here with.”

The smile faded. “Of course not, but I should point out that you and Lieutenant Morton
are
in separate units. Although our rules about fraternization are pretty loose, it would be in poor taste for you to run around with a man whose rank is significantly lower than yours.”

The fog cleared. “That’s what this is about? Trying to keep me away from Gabe?”

“No. But it’s a nice ancillary benefit.”

Caroline bit her tongue. Conceited, arrogant, infuriating asshole. She knew if she said what she wanted to say to him, she’d end up in the cafeteria peeling potatoes all the damn time, high rank or not.

“Fine,” she said. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. It’s been enlightening.”

Jack resumed shuffling the papers on his desk. Smug bastard. He sat there for a minute before standing up and crossing his arms. “Good day,
Major
.”

Oh, that was how he was going to play it. He dictated the conversation and he decided when it was over. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t asked for it, but fuck him anyway. It seemed a little unnecessary to render a salute but what the hell. If he wanted her to defer to him, she’d play his little game. Maybe it would mess with his head a little. Sure enough, his expression led her to believe that her physical acknowledgment of his authority caught him off guard.

“Commander,” she nodded, turning around and leaving before he could return the gesture.

Just as Jack had pointed out during their conversation, Gabe and Caroline led separate units made up mostly of their fellow trainees. Despite her time in the cafeteria, Caroline led a combat unit, which was fine with her. Units were small and everyday duties proved rather boring. Most of the more stimulating activities had been demonstrated during their eight week initiation, and after that everyone sat around twiddling their fingers hoping something exciting would happen. When they were ordered to report to a meeting room after lunch one afternoon, Jones told Caroline he was convinced their time had come.

“Heard a rumor they’re planning some shit,” he said. “When that happens they hunt for volunteers.”

Well, that sounded obscure. “What kind of shit?”

He grinned. “Super secret squirrel shit, Princess. The kind we’ve been waiting for.”

She’d heard about the rebellion’s occasional forays into enemy territory to do little disruptive things here and there. Maybe they were planning something bigger. Being proactive did sound appealing. “Guerrilla warfare?”

Gig twirled his fork. Their days might have been slow but he always enjoyed when they got to blow stuff up and strategize. It was good to have him as her right hand man. “Is there any other kind?” he asked.

“Shit,” Caroline said. “What the fuck are we waiting for?” She grinned at Gabe and Crunch. It would be fun to see the show. “Let’s get our asses over there.”

*              *              *              *              *

It hadn’t taken long. The pushing and shoving as eager soldiers filtered into the room. The authoritative voice of a major followed by a smooth speech from a silver haired man. The call to action. Not too many details were given, but a rescue mission was described. One that was vitally important to the continuation of the rebellion. The mention of an operative in need of assistance. The possibility of a journey across the border. The request for a brave unit to undertake a risky venture without any real explanation of the danger.

Caroline had expected all of that. But she hadn’t expected Lieutenant Gabriel Morton to immediately raise his hand and offer his team to the task. And for the commander to accept said offer with only the briefest of hesitations. Gabe’s unit cheered and clapped each other on the back. The room let out a collective whoop.

Caroline remained silent, sitting in a chair in the corner until the other soldiers filtered out. Gabe said his goodbyes to the well-wishers and came over to her when he was finished.

“Walk you back to your place?” he asked.

She nodded and he followed her lead, not speaking again until she opened the door to her apartment.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I know you’re itching to say something.”

Where should she start? “Gabe, you don’t have to do this. We just got here.”

“I have to,” he said. “When that door opens you gotta walk through it. I’ve fooled around my entire life and now I can make up for it.”

“You could have waited a little longer.” A few weeks. Months. Years, even. Why did it have to be him?

“How many times have you risked your neck for something that was important to you?” he demanded. “This is my time now.”

She shook off that statement. She’d done a very good job of blocking things out lately and was determined to keep it that way. “This is a bad idea, Gabe. You’re not – this is dangerous.”

“When has anything any of us has done lately been something other than dangerous?”

Point taken. “It’s so soon. We’ve only been here a few months. We’re barely out of training.”

“You can’t train for guts, Caroline. There’s no real timetable for these things. When decisions need to be made and shit goes down, you have to be ready. Right?”

He wanted to go. She saw it in his eyes. He hadn’t felt obligated, hadn’t felt he needed to prove anything. He was willing to take whatever came his way and she had the sinking feeling it would be nothing good. Missions that came with few details were usually high risk. Caroline squeezed his hand. “I don’t want you to do this.”

“I know. But if you were in my shoes, you’d do the same thing.”

Without question. But she wasn’t nearly as rational as he was. “Probably.”

Gabe kissed the back of her hand. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

He’d never done that before, initiate affection. Not aside from that one misguided attempt at a kiss. She must have done a shitty job of hiding her fear. Caroline pulled away from him. “I’m not naïve enough to listen to promises that can’t be kept.”

Gabe took her hand again. “But you’re smart enough to realize that whatever life gives you, you take it. Whether you want it or not. You’ll be fine, Caroline. All of us will. No matter how this turns out.”

He made it sound like there was no way he was coming back. Did he know something she didn’t? Unwelcome tears poked at her eyes. “Gabe, I-”

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

“I have to,” she said. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. And I don’t-”

“Stop. You don’t have to tell me the things you think I want to hear. I just want to spend time with you before I leave. Is that okay?”

Caroline smiled unsteadily. She’d give him every spare minute she had for as long as she could. She owed him that much. “Okay.”

*              *              *              *              *

Jack liked to see the troops off before every mission. It was hard to think of them as his. He never thought he’d be in a position to command soldiers. The Pennsylvania National Guard didn’t count, for that position was purely ceremonial. He was no military man; he had no background in strategy or troop formation or anything else that mattered in the armed forces. He knew what he was and accepted his limitations. The men and women who served below him had far more courage than he and enough tact not to say it out loud.

He didn’t like Gabe Morton but the man had courage. Or stupidity, depending on perspective. And he knew how to lead if the feedback from Jack’s advisors was any indication. Though Morton never could keep eye contact with him, like he was keeping a secret he was dying to tell. Jack wasn’t surprised that the lieutenant was the first to raise his hand when he called for volunteers. Truth be told, he was mostly glad the man did it before his wife got the same idea.

Morton’s unit was small like most of the others. Six troops. Half a dozen. A handful of men being sent off on an assignment that was as quick as it was hazardous. In and out, as they said. Jack hoped to hell they made it out.

He didn’t send soldiers into enemy territory often. Too risky to cross the border unless there was a damn good reason. And he had a damn good reason. But there were always holes in the plan. Possibilities that couldn’t be anticipated. One day some of those men would get on a transport and never return. He hoped it wouldn’t be today.

Jack walked past the soldiers lined up near the runway where their pilot was waiting. He nodded to each of them in turn, stopping short when Morton pulled an envelope out of his BDUs and handed it to him. It would be rude not to accept it.

“What is this?” Jack asked.

The lieutenant averted his eyes. “It’s for Caroline.”

That seemed a little personal. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“I trust you to get it to her or destroy it if necessary. I knew she wouldn’t take it if I gave it to her directly.”

And why would that be? Was there trouble in paradise? Jack had the urge to rip open the envelope as soon as Morton got on the helicopter. He
would
have the mentality of a thirteen year old gossip monger when it came to anything having to do with his wife. But he was stronger than that. Especially since it was such an earnest request. “I’ll do that,” he said, raising his arm in a crisp salute. “Good luck, Lieutenant.”

Caroline knew what was coming when she heard the knock shortly after midnight. Jack was standing in the hallway when she opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said. No preamble, no explanation. He knew she wouldn’t want him to fluff it up.

“What happened?”

“The helicopter crashed. We don’t know if it was pilot error or an equipment malfunction.”

She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than being shot, maimed, or tortured. Hopefully it had been quick. “Everyone’s gone?”

Jack shook his head. “Yes.”

She could have yelled at him. Could have placed blame where none could be assigned. But that was too arduous. Caroline pushed all of her pesky emotions to the side, as far away from her heart as possible. “Thanks for stopping by to tell me.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ve learned not to get too attached to people.”

“Caroline-”

He was really going to start now? “Is that the only reason you came to see me?”

“I gave your friends a couple of bottles of whiskey. Please make sure they drink it responsibly.”

“Is that how we respond to tragedy around here? By getting blasted out of our minds?”

“It’s how I do it.” Jack pulled a crumpled envelope out of his back pocket. “Lieutenant Morton asked me to give this to you if anything happened to him.”

She took it out of his hand. “He gave this to you? Why?”

“He said that he knew he could trust me to do what needed to be done with it, depending on the outcome of the mission.”

“I see.” Caroline stared down at the envelope. She had no desire to open it, especially in front of Jack. “Is that all?”

“Are you okay?”

What an astoundingly simple and totally loaded question. “I’m fine,” she said.

He sighed. “You say that and I’m never sure that I can believe you. I can stay with you for a while. If you need me to.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated. Which was pretty much the truth; although she was upset at Gabe’s passing, she wasn’t going to fall apart. Even though she did feel a disturbing lump growing in her throat. Maybe she needed to go see the guys. But she had to convince Jack to leave first. “I assume casualties are part of the cost of doing business around here.”

A subtle reference to his days as a ruthless young man prone to takeovers and buyouts, and he didn’t miss it.

“I don’t like when soldiers don’t come back,” he said.

Yeah, he seemed really broken up about it. “Sure you don’t.”

“Would it make you feel better if I’d been the one on that helicopter?” he asked. “Would it?”

“No,” she whispered. Quickly enough that she’d given him too much, so she had to add something. “I don’t want anyone to die.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll take your objective concern for my well-being for what it’s worth, which is probably next to nothing.”

He talked a good game. Could sling it back as well as she could dish it out. And he still wasn’t leaving. “I’m fine,” she said again. “You can go do whatever it is you do at night when no one else is watching.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Caroline-”

It hurt so much when he said her name. Even if he was frustrated, or angry, or detached. More so than when anyone else did it. “It’s Major Gerard,” she said coldly.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “That routine is getting incredibly old. Stop it.”

“You can leave.”             

“You’re upset. I’m not going to leave when you’re upset.”

She tossed the envelope aside and it fluttered to the floor. “You’re the reason I’m upset. Your presence is unnecessary. Get out of here before I do more than throw paper around.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to yell at me a little more? May as well take it out on someone, right?” He spread his arms open. “I’m here.”

Was he being sarcastic or serious? She couldn’t read him anymore. “Go away.”

Jack backed toward the door. “You know where I am if you change your mind.”

“Not going to happen.”

He sighed again. “Your friends are at Mr. Gigowski’s apartment if you care to join them. Although they may not want your company if you’re in this kind of mood.”

“I’m sorry my behavior doesn’t meet your expectations,” Caroline said. “And I’m sure my friends are fine.”

“You may take a few days leave if you so desire,” he said. “Up to a week. We’ll have a memorial tomorrow afternoon.”

He was getting better at evading her jabs. He’d ignored that one entirely. “I’ll pass the message along.”

Jack reached toward her before pulling back. Like he always did. A tiring routine.

“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he said quietly. “I don’t anticipate getting much sleep tonight.”

Neither did she.

*              *              *              *              *

She waited a while before heading to Gig’s. Pondered whether she wanted to go at all. She wanted to be alone. Like she always was. It was better when she wasn’t forced to interact with people. Staying by herself meant she was less likely to hurt anyone, and she could feel the restraint she’d so carefully cultivated over the past few months slipping away with each minute that passed.

She could have stopped Gabe. Could have talked him out of going. It wouldn’t have taken much. A clever lie, a false reassurance that he had something to come back to, something to fight for other than a foolish revolutionary act. It didn’t matter that her words would have been misleading; she could have put on enough of a performance to get him to stay and send some other unsuspecting unit to its inevitable demise.

It took her a good hour before she left. She almost turned around and went back to her apartment. The guys would be looking to her for guidance and she had none. She was sad but not devastated, which made her feel more guilty than anything.

The guilt increased when she knocked on Gig’s door and Jones greeted her, fresh tears in his eyes. He pulled her into a hug before she could say anything.

“Sorry, Princess,” he mumbled.

Was he sorry about Gabe or about crying on her shoulder? Or did he feel sorry for her? She hoped it wasn’t the last one; she didn’t deserve that kind of recognition. She and Gabe had been friends, nothing more. She wasn’t a spouse, fiancée, or even a girlfriend. Her grief or lack thereof didn’t warrant any special acknowledgment.

Based on his outward behavior, Jones had been drinking. A lot. She hugged him back. “How are you doing?”

He pulled away, wiping his eyes. “Been better.” He gestured toward the coffee table. “Plenty of booze left.”

Gig poured her a glass. “You could use a few of these, I think.”

Yeah, no doubt. When was the last time she’d had hard liquor? Even if her tolerance was for shit, she might need more than a few. Caroline grabbed the glass out of his hand and gulped the whiskey down in one shot. “Fantastic idea,” she rasped.

Gig chuckled and poured another. “Slow down, Gerard. That shit burns. And you’re so delicate and all.”

She resisted the urge to take a swipe at him. “Fuck you,” she said, dramatically tipping the glass back and finishing it off.

Crunch grabbed the glass out of her hand. “Gig wasn’t kidding. You gotta take that slow. We’ve been nursing our drinks all night.”

Caroline poured another round for all of them. “Nurse faster.”

Copious amounts of whiskey were consumed. They made quick work of the two bottles Jack had given them. Few words were spoken but more than a few tears were shed. None of them knew what to say, Caroline chief among them.

“Someone’s gotta clean out his apartment,” Jones slurred. “I ain’t doing it.”

Her mind was fuzzy but she knew she’d be put to the task whether she wanted it or not. Caroline thought of the letter Gabe had written her. She’d let it drop to the floor in her living room and hadn’t bothered picking it up. How fucking disrespectful was she? “We have a week’s leave,” she said. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

Crunch smiled at her. “It should be you anyway.”

Was now the time to correct their misperceptions about her relationship with Gabe? They were waiting for her to have an emotional breakdown. She felt one coming but not with regard to her manufactured romantic entanglement. “You’re probably right,” she said. “He did a lot for me.”

Gig patted her on the back. “He did a lot for all of us.”

Did he know? She felt like Gig always knew much more than he let on. But he’d never said anything. She had to come clean. “Guys, I – Gabe and I weren’t, uh-”

Jones gave her another hug. “It’s okay. We know.”

Knew what? She’d had a few too many and had to clarify. “About-?”

Crunch laughed. “We know you weren’t fucking Gabe. Jesus.”

Caroline laughed too, fueled by the alcohol in her veins. “Did I fool you at all?”

Jones kept his arms around her. “He set us straight right after we got here.”

Yet he kept up the charade because she wanted him to. Laughter turned to sorrow and the ugly truth sprouted forth. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“We know.” Gig looked at his watch. “I think we should call it a night. Or a morning, since it’s almost dawn.”

Caroline was in no position to disagree. “Lunch later?”

Crunch turned a shade of green. “How about dinner?”

Jones and Crunch helped her stumble back to her apartment and she passed out in a haze. Booze hadn’t been a bad idea. Maybe there was something to Jack’s preferred method of self-medication. But Caroline couldn’t feed that urge. Adding an addiction to her myriad problems wasn’t all that wise.

The memorial the next day was subdued. Tasteful. Somber. Announcements were made that there would be no further proactive efforts until every piece of equipment was triple checked and every strategic move was plotted and planned a thousand times. It didn’t matter. It was another setback, another reminder that the rebellion was a small, ineffective group of people railing against a force so powerful that they would never stand a chance.

Caroline went to Gabe’s apartment after the service. It didn’t take long for her to pack up his things; like the rest of them, he hadn’t had much to begin with. Some clothes, a few tokens here and there, personal items. She couldn’t bear to do much more than pack up his clothes and books, and when she was done she sat on his couch and let herself have a good cry.

She’d told him to be careful. Told him to stay safe. They’d spent several hours together the night before he left, not even talking all that much. She said what she needed to say, or so she thought. He’d always wanted more than she’d been able to give. Thinking back on their conversation wasn’t making her feel much better about it.

Racked with guilt, she returned to her apartment and shoved the letter he’d written her into the box of his things. She had no intention of ever reading it. Opening it seemed as discourteous as throwing it away. She was lousy at gratitude. At thankfulness. At being a considerate human being. Whatever apologies she made in her head seemed insufficient, but they kept resounding between her ears anyway.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed. I never deserved your friendship.

She took full advantage of the week of leave she was given. But she couldn’t stay holed away forever. She had responsibilities. Rules to follow. Commitments to keep. She had to get back in the swing eventually, whether she liked it or not. But her nightmares returned. The intensity increased. She still had her nightlights but had to start leaving the lamp on the side table lit in order to stay calm. They’d been poking out occasionally during the past few months but with Gabe gone whoever was guarding the door made a hasty exit, leaving her behemoth of a psyche to torment her again. She started staying up as late as she could.

It worked. Caroline didn’t sleep at all the night before she returned to duty. When she got ready for work the next morning, she took a good, hard look at herself in the mirror. A rare moment of introspection. When she’d been in Congress and helping Jack run for governor she’d been almost obsessed with her appearance. Not vain or narcissistic, but fanatical about making sure that she looked okay. That her hair was perfect and her suit was tailored. All the things she never really worried about before she got to Washington.

She learned rather quickly that politicians, particularly women, were judged by how their outfits hung, whether their hair was maintained, whether their makeup or jewelry or other accoutrements were done up properly. The lines between celebrity and public policy were constantly blurred by pundits, bloggers, and irreverent websites.

It had been frustrating at first, but it was nice to have pretty things. To have anyone and everyone at her disposal. To have people doing things for her that she used to do for herself. A makeup artist for photo shoots and campaign ads. A personal shopper for when her wardrobe needed updating. A social secretary to keep her many personal appearances straight. All for the sake of image. She placed limits on what she allowed staffers to do but always had someone at her beck and call. Despite her down to earth nature, she remained conscientious about how she presented herself to the public.