The Price of Valor

by Susan May Warren

  Orion sat down at the motor. “Nori, did you see a blonde American woman in the hotel this morning?”

  “I did,” interjected the older man. “She spoke to me when she left the hotel. Asked me where a coffee shop was.”

  Coffee.

  Orion couldn’t breathe.

  “Can you tell me where it is?”

  He pointed toward the end of the street. “I can take you there.”

  Keith was grinning at him under his shiny, silly light. “Do you believe in miracles?”

  They needed help, right now.

  Marcello was in trouble, his chest still tight, and with everything inside her Jenny wished she had her roommate Aria’s training as a heart surgeon.

  But even then, what was Jenny going to do here on a roof, in the darkness, the temperature dropping, the stink of death rising around them as the water lapped the buildings?

  At least the air had cleared, slightly. She couldn’t make out stars, but in the distance, the terrible glow of Mordor testified to the angry mountain.

  She sat next to Gio, who sat next to Marcello.

  Harley and his group had made a sort of circle of comfort not far away, sharing the meager rations from Angie’s orange backpack. A Snickers bar. A pack of gum. A packet of airplane peanuts.

  “Why did you come to Italy?” Gio asked.

  The answer didn’t seem to matter anymore. “To meet a friend. Actually, no, for our friend to meet a friend. Sort of.”

  In the face of all the tragedy, she had barely thought of Ham, or his contact, but now, staring out at the place the hotel had been, she let herself give in to the ache inside.

  Ham was a good man. He’d believed in her, given her a job, although she guessed that job offer had more to do with getting Orion out of Alaska and down to Minnesota.

  A move she’d been entirely in favor of.

  Wow, she was selfish. She hadn’t even thought about Orion’s feelings, the way he’d uprooted his entire life for her. Because he loved her.

  Wanted to marry her.

  She pressed her hand to her mouth.

  “I hope my mama is okay,” Gio said. He pointed into the darkness, away from the city, to the southwest of the mountain. “She lives out there, near the military base.”

  The military base. Right. Fifty miles away was a small city filled with American servicemen. Maybe that’s who had arrived in the harbor an hour ago, with boats and searchlights. She and the others had wasted their voices shouting for help, but they were a good three blocks from the harbor, so probably no one would find them.

  They had to find help themselves.

  Jenny looked at Gio. “I’m going to get your grandfather to a hospital.”

  She walked over to Harley. “We need to get off this roof. It’s getting cold out, and Marcello is not doing well.”

  Harley hadn’t said a word about her breakdown and now he looked past her, to Marcello. “How? The water hasn’t receded, and it’s dark out. Angie does have a flashlight, but the batteries got wet.”

  “The water is probably not terribly deep—maybe we walk him out.”

  “It’s like a cesspool down there. And where are we going to take him? We have no idea where the hospital is.”

  “Maybe someone here knows.”

  She turned. “Gio, where’s the nearest hospital?”

  “We go to the base, or to Catania,” he said.

  The base. But that was forty, maybe fifty miles away. “What we need is to get the attention of one of those boats,” she said and pointed out to sea.

  And maybe it was there before—she hadn’t seen it, but she might have missed it—but a light flickered on the building near where her hotel had been. She ran to the side of the roof. Too far to see, but maybe they could hear her. “Help!” She waved her arms.

  Which was silly, because it was too dark out to see. Still, the light panned as if searching for her voice. And the crazy, desperate woman in her added, “Orion!”

  No. She couldn’t let her hope stir, find footing.

  The light stopped, turned toward them. “Help!” She jumped up and down, and now Angie joined her. “Over here!”

  The light moved down, then away.

  “No! Come back!”

  It disappeared off the roof.

  A rock fell through Jenny’s chest. Okay. What had she learned climbing Denali last summer? That God showed up, even when things felt impossible.

  “I’m going to get help,” Jenny said.

  “Oh no, not this again.” Harley shook his head. “Really?”

  “Yes. There are a ton of boats out there. I just need to find something to float on, find a paddle and get out to one of those lights.”

  “Jenny—”

  “I can’t sit here one more second!” She schooled her voice. “Listen, Harley, if you want, you can come with me—”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “But if not—”

  “I’m going. Sheesh.” He followed her to the stairwell, but she stopped at the top.

  “Yikes, that’s dark. Once we’re down in the coffee shop—”

  “We were there. We remember what it looks like, right?” Harley said. “A bar to our left, the door in the center—”

  “And lots of broken glass.”

  “What about this?” Angie ran up to them, holding her phone. “There’s not a lot of juice left, but maybe enough to get you out of the building.”

  The light shone from the tiny spot on her phone.

  Jenny took it. “Are you sure? What if you need it to call home, or—”

  “This is more important. When I need to call, I’ll find something. Go get help.”

  Jenny shined it down the stairwell. The light scattered the darkness.

  “Let’s go,” she said and started down, Harley behind her. “Where are you guys from, anyway?”

  “All over. We go to a Bible college in Amsterdam, but we’re taking the fall semester off to tour Europe and share the gospel.”

  “And climb volcanoes.”

  “We’re rethinking that day trip,” Harley said.

  “So, Mr. Bible, where is God in all this mess?” Jenny rounded the second floor and shined her light onto the water.

  “Right here. In this stairwell.”

  She glanced at him. “I mean—”

  “I know what you meant. Can’t he stop the volcanoes, the earthquakes, the tsunamis? Yes. But this is also the natural order of the world. Tragedies happen. People get hurt. People hurt other people. But it’s in suffering—as well as joy—that we find our faith. In times of trouble, we either draw near, or we run.”

  She reached the bottom, shining light across the darkness. No boats. “And if we run?”

  “Then God chases after us. That’s the thing about God. We might give up on him, but he never gives up on us.”

  Harley pointed to a door floating in the water near the entrance.

  “You remember the Titanic, right?” she said.

  “Jack could have totally gotten on that door,” he said and plunged into the water.

  She held the light on him, and he rolled onto the door. It wobbled but held him. “C’mon.”

  Jenny hid a gasp as she stepped out into the cold water and waded over to him. On the way, she picked up a couple floating serving trays. She put the phone in her mouth as he helped her onto the door.

  She crawled to the front and handed him one of the serving trays.

  He dug in on his side and nearly swamped them.

  She pulled the phone from her mouth. “Stop! We need to be coordinated!”

  He waited. “Ready?”

  She flicked off the phone, and the night settled around them, the smells of the dank water ripe and rancid.

  “You hold the light. I’ll paddle,” Harley said.

  She flicked it back on. “Just don’t swamp us.”

  He leaned over the side and began to move them through the water. They bumped past cars and wood and wreckage of boats. The current
played with them, moving the door around in circles.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” she said. “I’m getting out and swimming.”

  “Have you lost your mind? The water is full of disease and wreckage and—”

  She just stared at him, and maybe it was something on her face because he stopped paddling. “What if that was your boyfriend on the roof?”

  She shook her head.

  “What if he’s still alive?”

  “Stop.”

  “You don’t know for sure, Jenny. And risking your life to prove something to—who?—isn’t going to make you feel better.”

  “It might! Maybe I help rescue Marcello and somehow I live with myself instead of regretting not banging down Orion’s door and telling him I loved him. That yes, I would marry him! That I was a fool to believe that . . . that . . .”

  “That he couldn’t forgive you.”

  She swallowed.

  “He, as in Orion? Or he, as in God?” Harley said.

  Her breath caught.

  “He can, and he does, you know. In fact, he grieves for you and your pain. He can do that—forgive you and hurt for you.”

  “What if he’s punishing me?”

  “Well, thank you very much, then, because I didn’t do anything to deserve being in a tsunami-slash-volcano eruption.”

  She stared at him.

  “God isn’t punishing any of us, Jenny. But he does want you to trust him when he says he loves you. That he has a good plan for you. That there is therefore no condemnation for you, if you’ve been forgiven.” He put down his serving platter, his face half in shadow. “Have you asked for forgiveness?”

  “Too many times to count.”

  “Once is enough. Leave it behind. He has.”

  She drew in a long breath.

  “God doesn’t write tragedies. He’s all about the happy ending. We just have to stick with him through the story, right?”

  A motor sounded in the darkness. Harley heard it too.

  She shined her light down the street and realized the current had taken them way past the coffee shop, to a flattened area.

  Tugging them out to sea.

  “We have to paddle back!” She tucked the phone in her shirt and picked up a serving platter. Harley turned around, and the door nearly went over.

  “Harley!”

  “Sorry!”

  They paddled together. A spotlight shone at the end of the street, near the coffee shop entrance, and she didn’t have to say anything to Harley to have him speed up.

  “We’re leaking here, Jenny.” Harley pointed to a spot under him. “I think my knee went through.”

  “Keep paddling.”

  The spotlight grew larger, and then, just like that, it winked out.

  What?

  “No—no—they have to stay. They have to get Marcello!”

  “Jenny!”

  But they were only thirty yards away, and with her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could make out a dinghy, with people.

  “I’m going in—”

  “No, you’re not!” Then, just like that, Harley was in the water. He grabbed the edge of the door and started to drag it along. She paddled with him, the door sinking fast.

  Oh, this was stupid. They were so close she could see two people sitting in the dinghy, and one wore a life jacket.

  “Hey!” She waved.

  The door tipped.

  In a second she was under the water, the chill closing in over her. But she kicked, and her feet touched something solid, and in a second she surfaced.

  Harley grabbed her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Swim!”

  The dinghy was tied to the entrance, too big to get through the door, and as she came up to it, she recognized the concierge.

  “Jacopo!”

  He reached out for her. And something inside her gave a hard tug.

  Hope.

  “God chases after us.”

  She let go of Jacopo and swam through the coffee shop, hit the stairs, and slogged her way out of the water.

  Then, sprinted.

  Please, please—

  He was standing in the middle of the roof, his back to her, with a bigger man who turned at her shout and blinded her with his headlamp.

  She threw her hand up to shield her eyes.

  But she heard his voice. Orion’s sweet, thunderous voice that could find its way under her skin to turn her entire body from frigid to hot.

  “Jenny!”

  The light moved away just in time for her to see Orion, his clothes sodden, his handsome face grimy, his eyes gritty and red, sprint toward her.

  Then she was in his arms. Caught up, her breath lost as he held her. As he wept.

  She wrapped her arms around his amazing shoulders, her legs around his hips, her entire body clinging to him, unable to let go, unable, really, to restart her heart.

  “Oh, oh—” She pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed.

  So, yes, they were a mess. Orion finally set her down, took her face in his hands, and glued her with those beautiful green eyes. “I thought you were dead. I couldn’t even find the hotel—”

  “I thought you were in the hotel—I went out for coffee. I wanted to get you one, and I was going to tell you I’m sorry—”

  “No. I’m sorry. I was such a jerk to you. I love you and I don’t have to marry you—we can just . . . whatever you want.”

  Oh, Ry. “I want you. Yes, I will marry you—we just have to talk and then, maybe you ask me again—”

  “Yes. Whenever, always.” Then he kissed her. He was reining it in for their audience, but she could still taste his desperation, the all-out passion that was Orion. He dug his hands into her hair, pressed his forehead to hers. “Yes, I believe in miracles.”

  She frowned, but he grinned, nodding.

  “And that ends tonight’s edition of Survivor,” Harley said, breathing hard, sopping wet. “Jenny and Orion are voted off the island.”

  Jenny looked over at him. Harley winked at her. “Happy endings.”

  She closed her eyes and listened to Orion’s beating heart.

  Oh, she hoped so.

  She finally pushed away from him. “We have to get Marcello to a hospital. And then . . . have you heard from Ham?”

  Orion shook his head. “Last time I saw him . . . he was on the roof.”

  No.

  “But so was Nori, and she made it off, so . . .”

  “Nori?”

  Orion took her hand. “The waitress at the terrace cafe. She’s in the dinghy.”

  “With Jacopo.”

  Harley and the others had started to gather around Marcello, maybe to lift him.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Orion said, letting go of her hand.

  “I think he’s having a mild heart attack.” She walked over to Gio. “This is Gio, his grandson.”

  “Hey, kid,” Orion said, and tousled his hair.

  Oh, he’d make such a great father. She’d have to figure out how to drop her bombshell into his life.

  No condemnation.

  “Oh my!” Angie’s voice made Orion look up, and in his eyes, Jenny could see the reflection.

  Flames fractured the darkness from a building down the street. Just one more in the many that flanked the horizon, but this one was close enough to hear it roar.

  Then, as they watched, a terrible boom shook the air and a fireball burst from inside the inferno, rolling out into the sky. Gasps, and a couple people ducked.

  “Wowza,” Gio said. “I think that was Angelis Pizza Parlor.”

  “I hope it was empty,” Orion said. “C’mon, let’s get Marcello into the boat. We’ll send help for the rest of you.”

  Then he turned to Jenny. “But not you, sweetheart. You’re coming with me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  OH, WHAT WAS SHE DOING?

  Because she was clearly in over her head.

  Signe sat shoulder to shoulder with Ham, his leg against he
rs, his body warm as they finished off the cold pizza.

  She could still taste him on her lips, the familiarity, the spark, the way he made her feel at once out of control and safe.

  So much for her ability to walk away.

  “Now that I found you, I am bringing you home.”

  She’d nodded. As if she’d agreed with him. As if she wasn’t going to break his beautiful heart and flee.

  Oh, she shouldn’t have kissed him. But they were here, and it might be the last time they were together. She’d simply surrendered to the terrible impulse to let herself be in his arms.

  Even if it couldn’t last.

  He reached out and nudged her hand, and she let him weave his fingers with hers.

  Oh Ham. Heat poured up her arm and through her entire body.

  “Why did you leave the SEALs?” she asked quietly. “I know you started a chain of athletic clubs around the nation.”

  “You do?” He glanced down at her. “Of course you do. Best research partner ever.”

  She laughed. “Only because you were busy playing football.”

  “I was busy because I hated doing homework.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But we were a good team. Hamburglar and Shorty.”

  The old nicknames found their way to her heart. “Yeah, until your evil stepmother shipped you off to military school.”

  “Just for my last semester. I came home in time to take you to prom.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Now, that was some fun.”

  Oh, how was she going to walk away from this man?

  “Tell me why you’re so scared, Sig,” Ham said quietly.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Why did you leave the SEALs?”

  Ham drew in a breath. “An op-gone-south. Teammates were taken. I broke a few rules going after them.”

  Her breath hitched. And then he said it—

  “I wasn’t going to sit around and let the enemy take the people I cared about. Not again.”

  Right. Because watching her disappear was enough.

  “Were you court-martialed?”

  “No. The Navy let me go with an honorable discharge. But it wasn’t optional.”

  “Oh Ham, you worked so hard—”

  “It’s okay, Sig.” He squeezed her hand. “If I were still on the Teams, I couldn’t take care of Aggie.”

  He always did that—found the positive spin. “You were a great operator. I am sure you’re missed.”