True Valor (3 page)

Her birthday party would be disrupted, her vacation plans forced to change as she had been planning to come down to see the house he was remodeling. And he’d have to reschedule the date he could come up and help her fix up the new offices she was in the process of leasing.
Lord, how do I tell her?
He wished he had the right words. She didn’t adjust too well to the long absences. And Bruce knew part of that was his fault for how he’d handled the past ones.

She’d be busy while he was gone. Her business was thriving—Stateside Support, Inc., had over a hundred clients. While the sailors were deployed overseas defending U.S. interests, Jill would be doing everything that needed to be done back on the home front from watering plants and caring for pets to paying bills and supervising yard work. Those lucky enough to be a Stateside, Inc., client got gold-plated care. Grace and Wolf were both clients. He’d be one just as soon as his sister opened an office in Pensacola.

Bruce could send Jill roses for her birthday, tickets to a concert, something he could arrange before he left. For Jill, being remembered on the correct date mattered as much as the gift. The options were depressing. He needed to have the day with Jill as much as she did.

Bruce jolted as a hand slid across the top of his right shoulder. Grace moved past him and leaned over the back of Wolf’s chair. “We need more ice.”

Tom tipped his head back to look up at her. “I brought four bags.”

She smiled down at him. “Cougar wants to make homemade ice cream. He’s found the hand turn freezer and the rock salt, and he’s got some concoction on the stove. Go corral your partner before he gets in over his head.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wolf got to his feet and towered above her. They were cousins but closer than most.

Gracie handed him her empty glass. “And Jill is getting lonely.”

“Is she?”

“Shoo.”

“You want your favorite chair back.”

“And you normally catch on faster. My feet are killing me. We’ve got too many friends.”

Wolf laughed. “I’ll bring you some ice cream if it turns out to be edible.”

“Appreciate it.” Grace settled with a comfortable sigh in the chair Wolf had vacated. “I’m glad you could make it, Bruce.”

An odd tension settled in his gut to replace the relaxation of moments before. Early thirties, brunette, a smile that flirted with the camera, and blue eyes that were alive—she was a photogenic dream. He’d borrowed one of Wolf’s wallet pictures months ago. “Good party.”

“Enjoying yourself?” She held down her hand and his dog emerged to say hello.

“I always do,” he replied truthfully.

“Jill mentioned you had acquired a pet. She’s beautiful.”

“Timid.”

“She’s old,” Grace corrected, smiling at the animal.

Bruce watched her focus on his dog, her voice softening as she murmured a welcome. It shouldn’t be so hard to get to know her. He’d worked around pilots for over a decade. Everything he knew about her suggested he was talking with the person likely to become the first female squadron commander. The problem was basic—just under that smile and friendly welcome was an impenetrable wall guarding her thoughts. What went on behind those blue eyes? Was she content with her life? lonely? having a good year? a hard one? She tended to deflect questions and it suggested a deep reservoir inside. Finding answers was a challenge, but he liked a challenge.

“So where are you going?” she asked as she scanned the crowd.

She’d kept her ear to the ground, or else she cornered his partner Rich, who was wandering around this party somewhere. “Turkey.” Operation Northern Watch over northern Iraq had its headquarters at Incirlik Air Base, Turkey, and the no-fly zone had been a low-grade constant conflict for years. The Twenty-third Special Tactics Squadron would be replacing PJs who were stationed there for the last three months.

She turned to give him her full attention. “The
GW
is heading to the Med for part of this deployment.”

“I know.” The USS
George Washington
would be handling some of Operation Northern Watch’s flight assignments. “I’ll be playing catch on the ground if you get in trouble,” he teased her. He had been pulling pilots and Special Forces soldiers from behind enemy lines for twelve years. If she got in trouble, his unit would be the one getting the call.

“It’s interesting flying, but please,” she teased back, “antiaircraft artillery and surface-to-air missiles? I can fly my way through that clutter in my sleep. I’m more curious about what Wolf will be doing over there.”

There were only 313 PJs and a few thousand SEALs on active duty. They trained in similar ways: to fight behind enemy lines, to be experts in night insertions by air or water, to be the best at unconventional warfare. But in roles they were very different. The SEALs went out to accomplish their mission at all costs, were often sent into situations where military muscle had to be exercised just short of war. The PJs deployed for only one mission: rescue. Bruce knew his friend. Wolf would downplay the assignment, but a rotation to Turkey meant the SEALs would probably be doing some work inside Iraq.

“Getting into trouble,” he predicted.

“I think he was just born to do difficult things,” she agreed. “I saw you on the news.” The lightness in her voice had turned to subtle concern.

Bruce didn’t have to ask what the clip had shown; it had been running in the national news spot. The rescue in the Gulf last week had been interesting but not as much of a crisis as the media made it out to be. A sudden storm had floundered more than a few boats; the PJs routinely helped out the Coast Guard in such situations. Bruce reached over and patted Grace’s arm. If he let her worry about him, it would change the entire tenor of their relationship. He was the one who got to worry about her. The Air Force paid him to do so. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”

“You were limping. And you’ve been keeping station in that chair all day.”

Trust her to notice. He had a bruise on his thigh the size of a melon where the sailboat mast had struck him. “I’m old. I get tired now,” he replied with a slight laugh.

“I should have told Wolf to get you the ice.”

“Let it be, Grace. Jill will just hover.”

“How’s the boy you rescued?”

“They sent him home from the hospital this morning.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Silence settled between them. Bruce didn’t try to break it. Words were at times overrated. Life was a gift and he was done rushing through it. Shoot at him a few times, make him realize still being alive was a blessing, and his perspective changed. There was no hurry. Besides, he liked looking at her. She was easy on the eyes.

This party had been a lot of work, and behind the smile were signs of her tiredness. The wind had been blowing her hair. The short haircut was new, a practical step given fresh water on an aircraft carrier was one of the most carefully conserved resources: showers were short. He recognized the necklace; he’d bought the gold pendant of an opening rosebud when he’d been in France. Grace and Jill had been sharing jewelry again. It looked good on her.

“I just realized I set the Bear Cubs loose in the kitchen. I suppose I should go supervise,” Grace remarked but made no move to do so.

“I can’t believe they let you get away with that handle.” Wolf’s boss was Navy SEAL Joe “Bear” Baker. Grace had long ago tagged Wolf and his partner as the Bear Cubs.

“Joe thinks it’s cute. He’s taken to calling them that.”

Cute
. Bruce winced. The call sign had stuck. He sympathized with Wolf, but it was a pretty good tag to have considering what it implied. Bear was a legend among the SEALs.

Grace shifted and ran her hand through her hair. “I got your letter.”

He stilled.

“Did you think it had been lost?”

He forced himself to breathe. “Hoped it.”

“It trailed me around the world for eight months and showed up two weeks ago.”

Two weeks ago. It coincided with his weekend remodeling his house and his long talk with the Lord about his future. He was a man who made plans and executed them. It was hard to wait indefinitely for open doors and new directions. He’d been hurting because the answer to his prayer had been silence, but the resurrection of the letter written when he expected to be dead by nightfall—
Lord, this is not the answer I had in mind.

He’d sent it from the jungle of Ecuador, handing it to a fellow PJ leaving the area. “The helicopter went down. I didn’t realize the letter had been recovered and sent on.” He’d buried a friend when he thought he would be the one in that coffin.

“The letter for Jill is still sealed.”

Left unsaid was that the letter to her wasn’t. “I didn’t have anyone else to deliver it since Wolf was with me, and I wasn’t in a position to call up and ask if you would be willing to handle it.”

“Bruce. I understand.”

Letters were words that could haunt a man when written under stress. Had those fatal two words been in it or had he marked them out? He’d changed his mind so many times on what to say, grabbing moments to write the letter under utterly chaotic circumstances. He felt a bone deep weariness settle inside as he looked at her. “Do you?”

She just looked at him. Wise eyes. He’d started to think of them as that ages ago. “You write a nice letter. It’s a lost art.”

“Grace—”

“You had few regrets when you looked back on your life. If I ever tried to write that letter, I couldn’t say the same.”

His eyes narrowed. When she swung open a door, she swung open a big one. “What regrets?”

She shook her head and focused her attention on his dog, stroking the warm fur. “It looks like you’ve been correcting the few regrets you had. You got your dog; Jill said you were remodeling a house.”

She didn’t mention the third item in the list. He wondered if he’d crossed the words out or if she was just being kind. “I’m trying to.” His life had reoriented itself since Ecuador. There had been only one focus in his life before then; now there were four priorities.

“The letter to your sister is at my place. I’ll get it back to you.”

“Thanks.”

“Gracie, we need an opinion.”

She turned around in her chair at Wolf’s call. “Coming!”

Bruce touched her hand as she rose, pausing her. “If I don’t see you again before I have to head out—be sure to catch the third wire.”

She turned her hand around and tightened it on his. “I will.” Her smile was kind. “I’ll pray you have a boring deployment.” She slipped her hand from his and turned toward the house.

“Hey, Grace.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“You like getting letters?”

She turned to walk backward toward the house. “Wolf writes me what turns out to be dated weather reports—faithfully—every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Maybe I’ll write you sometime.”

“Maybe the military mail will find me.”

“Can you read my handwriting?”

She laughed. “It’s awful. But mine is worse.” She disappeared into the house.

Bruce pulled a peppermint from his pocket and unwrapped it.

Six months. He was going to miss her. A six-month deployment was 27 weeks, 182 days, an exhausting 4,368 hours. He’d figured it up on the back of an envelope during the trip here. He closed his eyes and every bruise from the recent rescue was suddenly and forcibly felt.

Grace was the first lady he had met who he thought could handle his profession. She just kept heading halfway around the world. Service came first. Duty. Honor. Country. He watched Jill and Wolf struggle to make a civilian and military relationship work. A relationship where both were military— He’d been doing hard things all his life, but this one was definitely going to be a challenge.

The Ecuador letter was a serious problem. He couldn’t change that first impression; he could only try to recover from it. She’d had the letter for two weeks. His profession taught him to know the terrain, to eliminate variables, to minimize surprises. Bruce sighed, feeling his emotions that had knotted at the news unwrap.

Lord, was it really necessary to hand her that letter first? It was raw emotion from a foxhole, meant to be read only if I died there. If I died, it meant Wolf would likely also die there, and Grace needed to hear what Wolf had done. He was a hero that day. Now—the letter just confuses the situation and enormously complicates it.

But the letter had been delivered. It was going to take some time to figure out how to adjust his plan. It established a first impression far different than the one he had desired to convey.

Bruce reached for his empty glass and got up. It was time to find his sister, time to break his bad news. He owed it to Wolf to be the one to do it. The way things stood, he was going to need Wolf’s help with Grace.

ECUADOR

Grace ~

Wolf’s with me. We’ve been pinned down about six hours and ammo is low. We came in after a downed helicopter only to get caught by weather and rebels. Only one more rescue flight can be attempted before nightfall. I’ve watched Wolf save three Marines. He’s a hero. It’s going to come down to one of us going out with the injured while the other covers in order for any of us to make it out alive. I’m sending out Wolf. Force him to get over the grief.

I apologize for asking this of you. Jill’s letter is enclosed. Tell her I love her. She needs words in person, not writing. It hurts to think of leaving her with no family left. But there’s not much I can change about that now. On the whole, I’ve got few regrets. Not having a dog. A house. A wife.

I want to live.

I may not get what I want.

God bless, Gracie. I’ll see you in heaven.

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