A glance at her watch had her pushing back her chair. “Emily, ready to go?” The dog was under the kitchen table, never one to move far afield.
Jill carried out the kitchen trash. The sack tore as she tried to force it into the metal can. The phone rang in the house. She looked with frustration at what had to be picked up, at the distance to the house. She left it and hurried up the stairs hoping the dog wouldn’t get curious, eat some of it, and get sick.
“Hello?” She was out of breath and didn’t hear a reply; she heard only static. “Hello?”
“Jill?”
There was an echo, but it was Wolf’s voice. “Wolf. Hello!” The nearest chairs in reach were full. She sank to the floor leaning against the wall, holding the phone tight. “Where are—”
“Jill, it’s Wolf.”
There was a delay to the words; they were speaking on top of each other. She bit her lip as she waited for him to take the lead in the conversation.
“I missed you last time. I was worried.”
Always be honest, Grace counseled, but this was a lousy time to try and explain there had been three burglaries. She didn’t want him worrying about her; even more she didn’t want to lose precious moments in a phone call over the issue. “I was late getting back from a client.” It wasn’t a good answer, but it wasn’t a lie either. She hated the fact the answer suggested he hadn’t been a high enough priority in her day to make sure she was there for his call.
“Did—see the news?”
“Something’s happened.” She scrambled to reach the remote on the counter.
“Bruce is fine. Grace is fine. They hit—radar in—”
She was losing him and it wasn’t fair. “What happened?” The TV clicked on and she muted it. CNN showed breaking news at the bottom and a Pentagon spokesman on the screen.
“Everybody is fine. B— connection. I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she raised her voice to promise.
She was listening to only static again. After a minute she accepted reality and hung up the phone. She waited ten minutes and it didn’t ring again. The Pentagon spokesman was talking about strikes over Iraq to suppress antiaircraft artillery sites. She shut it off, finding it distressing to watch. It was after 2 a.m. in Turkey. Wolf had been calling her after the completion of his mission.
Lord, I hate living with the constant uncertainty of what might happen to them. It’s making me a stressed-out wreck. She wiped angrily at tears that had formed. Her sense of having today under control was gone. Thank You for keeping them safe. She was kidding herself to suggest she could handle this kind of relationship.
A strike in Iraq meant Terri would be swamped at the office today with calls from relatives wanting to send special messages to those on the GW. Jill had her own set of messages to send, some of which could go over by e-mail and others by mail, a note to wish them well and let them know how the news was playing at home. Some of the kids in Grace’s flying club were so uptight about her being gone that they called Jill every week to see if she had heard anything. She’d need to call them today. Unfortunately she had executed this contingency plan before.
She wanted them home. She so desperately wanted them home. She wished they were civilians.
She picked up her purse and keys. The dog had stretched out on the top step of the porch. There was salsa on her muzzle. Jill sat down beside the dog and buried her face in the warm coat.
I want to be confident and solid. It’s not fair that they can handle it and I’m the weak link. I just want some security. I’m tired of getting scared.
She pushed herself to her feet and went to clean up the trash.
INCIRLIK AIR BASE, TURKEY
Bruce stepped back when he realized Wolf was talking with Jill. He walked over to the bench across from the kiosk and sat down to wait. Wolf eventually hung up the phone and walked over.
“How is she?”
“The connection was lousy.”
Bruce waited but Wolf didn’t say anything more. “Think I could get through?”
“I tried calling back several times and just got dead air. I’d suggest you try in the morning before we leave. Do we go look at Gracie’s plane?”
Bruce looked at Wolf, trying to figure out why he was changing the subject. The man was uptight, and it had been his sister at the other end of the phone call. “No, I don’t know that I could handle seeing the plane tonight.” He didn’t think Wolf could handle it.
Wolf sat down beside him. “We should find that dorm room and call it a night. I’m beat.”
“Jill okay?”
“She hadn’t heard the news about the strike yet.”
“Oh.”
Wolf stared at his boots and shook his head. “Now she’ll worry.”
“She’ll handle it.” It wasn’t much of a consolation. She wouldn’t have a choice about the matter. Bruce felt for his sister, knowing how difficult this would be for her. CNN would probably stay on this story for the better part of the next couple days, and Stateside Support, Inc., would have to handle a deluge of inquiries.
“She missed my earlier call because she was late getting back from a client.”
“It was probably unavoidable.”
“She suggested the time.”
Bruce blinked. Wolf was ticked. Mad at himself, mad at the situation, mad he hadn’t been able to talk to Jill before the strike happened. Bruce sighed, understanding entirely. Jill was half a world away, and there was nothing Wolf could do to help reassure her. “Not the conversation you were expecting.”
“No.”
Something had to be done. Bruce rubbed his sore hand. “Are you going to marry her?” He caught Wolf off guard with the question. He was ready to turn Wolf’s life upside down a bit. It was time.
Wolf gave a rueful smile. “I didn’t figure you’d be too thrilled about the idea.”
“I’m not sure that I am. But limbo isn’t working too well for either one of you. She’s going to be thirty next week,” Bruce pointed out. “It might be easier to handle the separations if she knew you were hers when you were home.”
“Her biggest problem isn’t the separations, but accepting we would probably be moving every few years. She’s got bitter memories from her childhood about all the friends she lost over the years.”
“She’s snowing you. Everyone moves. She’s better equipped now than she ever was before to be able to plug herself into the military communities quickly and to keep friendships strong. She’s still just not sure about accepting military life.”
“At least she let me take her window-shopping for rings.”
“Did she?” He wanted to push things along, but he didn’t like finding he was out of the loop.
“She’s thinking about it.” Wolf looked at him. “Tonight obviously shook you up. Anything else?”
“Yes.” Bruce stepped out on a limb of his own. “Tell me what happened with Grace and Ben.”
* * *
The early morning was humid warm. Where was Jill? Bruce stewed about it as he walked down to the flight line, frustrated that he had not been able to get ahold of her. She hadn’t been at her office and she hadn’t answered her cell phone. He dumped his gear in the back of the Pave Low helicopter. He was the first crewman to arrive; he’d left the other PJs finishing breakfast.
His helmet and vest were on the side bench. There was an envelope tucked in his helmet. Surprised, he took a seat and pulled it out. Grace’s handwriting. She’d gotten someone to deliver it? He had wanted to see her this morning but knew she’d be occupied with the maintenance chief and hustling to make her flight back to the GW. Wisdom had said it was better not to interrupt her job.
He opened the letter, curious to know what she had written early this morning. He read and his smile faded. Last night’s close call had caused ripples in his own life, in Wolf’s. It had also caused ripples in hers.
Bruce ~
You write a wonderful letter.
This will be a short
note because I think I may be able to get it to you before you leave in the morning. I want to say at the start that I’ve learned a lot of things about life from the guys in my life—my dad, Wolf, Ben. I learned something from you tonight.
Ben—he taught me how to handle the danger, to understand it and minimize it, to train for every contingency, and to take a great deal of care so that those chains of failure that lead to a crisis get broken early.
Wolf—he taught me to love being in the military. He taught me to love being part of a bigger whole, to love being part of a team. Thank you for being part of that safety net. He can do his job because you are there to do yours. Thank you for giving me back Wolf.
John 14:27. What a great verse. I needed to hear it tonight. There hasn’t been much peace inside over the last couple years.
You mentioned the air show. Ben and I had our first fight on the trip out there. He wanted to get married and I didn’t see how it was possible. He worked and trained in Houston, launched from Cape Canaveral, Florida, and was coming up on a nine-month-long tour at the Russian training facility. I was based in Virginia and went to sea for six months at a time. It wouldn’t work. It was the only decision I could see at the time. Now it’s the one decision I deeply regret.
What’s your secret, Bruce? How do you make the pieces work? You have shown in the quiet way you play down Ecuador and the relaxed way you handled tonight that you are at peace. You’ve shown me it’s possible. I have a full life while at sea and an incomplete one stateside. But I don’t see how to have both when this job requires everything I feel I have to give. I can’t do it all.
Okay, I’ve whined. Only when I’m really tired . . .
I think Jill and Wolf are heading to a decision point sooner versus later. They have a good relationship, and the emotions cut both ways and run deep. Wolf has grown up since Ecuador. He’s ready for something permanent. Jill’s a wise lady. She’s thinking about what it means to sign up, for the first time to voluntarily accept the implications of what it means to be the wife of a military man. She’ll make the right decision.
God bless, Grace
2 Samuel 22:1–4, 32–33
And David spoke to the Lord the words of this song on the day when the Lord delivered him from the hand of all his enemies, and from the hand of Saul. He said, “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge, my savior; thou savest me from violence. I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies . . . . For who is God, but the Lord? And who is a rock, except our God? This God is my strong refuge, and has made my way safe.”
Bruce closed his eyes, feeling an overwhelming surge of emotions at the words she wrote. And he finally understood the entrance to that deep reservoir that made up Grace. Jill thought in emotions. Until now he’d missed seeing what fit Grace. She thought in questions. The key to that reservoir was the questions.
She was a pilot—trained as a pilot and she thought like a pilot. Anticipating events, staying ahead of the curve, that was where she felt comfortable. He understood the emotions she felt about her past with Ben. In a way he was pleased she had that burden, for it showed the depth she let relationships touch her life. They mattered and a tragedy tore deep.
He thought about it and tugged out his notebook. He wrote back only one question.
Grace, did you love him?
Fourteen
* * *
MAY 19
USS GEORGE WASHINGTON (CVN 73)
MEDITERRANEAN SEA SOUTH OF CRETE
“Did you get my birthday present?” Grace asked, pressing the phone tight and covering her other ear in order to hear Jill. The bank of satellite phones on the third deck near the post office was a recent addition. They were popular and it was necessary to sign up for ten-minute blocks or else queue up in line and hope someone missed his or her slot.
“It’s gorgeous! Thank you.” Jill’s voice sounded hollow, and there was an echo because it was storming out and it was distorting the transmissions from the ship. “I’ve already got my figurines moved into the display case. They look great under the lights.”
“What did Wolf get you?”
“A gorgeous jewelry box. And he and Bruce stunned me—they went together to get me a new dining room table.”
“Yes! I hoped they would be able to get it arranged.”
“Terri from the office was in on it. I got home and I had a new table waiting with a huge sheet cake on it and forty people crowding the living room. There was a huge card with hundreds of signatures. Was that your doing at the deployment party?”
“Yes. It was a good day?”
“Excellent,” Jill reassured.
“Are either Bruce or Wolf going to be able to call?”
“They just did,” Jill said, sounding more excited about that than the gift. “They tag teamed on a satellite phone borrowed from some British unit. I have no idea what that means, but it sounds like something they would arrange.”
“Yes, it does.” Grace leaned against the metal passageway wall, pleased to hear the guys had been able to call. “Have you sent Wolf that mushy greeting card yet?” She’d been reading between the lines of Wolf’s letters and Jill’s. Something good was brewing. It was about time.
“Grace, I can’t. What if he doesn’t like it?”
“Come on; it’s got Wolf written all over it.”
“What if someone reads over his shoulder? He’ll kill me.”
“Making guys blush is good for them.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Her time was running out but she didn’t want to let Jill go. Grace missed her. She was looking forward to a girls’ night catching up on news while they shared nail polish and hair curlers and clothes catalogs. “My time is up; I’m going to have to go. Happy birthday, Jill. And many more.”
“Thank you; your birthday present was stupendous. It’s great to hear your voice. Fly safe!”
“I’ll write,” Grace promised, saying good-bye. She hung up and turned the phone over to the next sailor waiting. Everyone on this ship was missing someone at home.
The ship didn’t take weekends off but there was a sense of it being Friday. Duty shifts were entering the weekend recovery phase where time was allocated to completing paperwork from the week’s training, maintenance teams could catch up on the inevitable list of needed repairs, and supply ships could replenish the stores. The mess was doing a special meal of barbecued ribs tonight, and the morale and welfare officers had arranged new movies.
They were south of Crete, sailing toward the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf. The storm had limited flight operations, a defensive air protection blanket for the carrier battle group being the only planes sent up. If Operation Northern Watch had been tense, they were heading into trouble. Covering Kuwait meant heavy flight schedules.
Grace began the long trek back to her stateroom. This far down in the bowels of the ship was the home of the sailors who kept the ship running, and there were very few familiar landmarks. She started stepping over the watertight hatches that interrupted every corridor at regular intervals.
Off corridors on this third deck were the ship’s laundry, machine shops, the ship’s store, and a mess that could seat five hundred sailors for a meal. Another deck below were the nuclear reactors and the turbines. She was very willing to leave this side of the Navy to the men who had sailor in generations of their blood.
The first thing she taught a nugget: find the squadron ready room, find your stateroom, and find the dirty-shirt wardroom where you could get a meal while still wearing your flight suit. It was possible to work, sleep, and eat for weeks without ever venturing this deep into the bowels of the ship.
There was a huge air-conditioning plant aboard, but it existed first to cool the electronic warfare equipment that was jammed into the heart of the aircraft carrier nerve center, and second to cool the ship for comfort. W
hen they reached the warm waters of the Gulf, these lower levels of the ship would turn into a sauna.
She climbed her first ladder, ascending to the second deck. She took a short corridor jog and climbed again. Now she was starting to see familiar sites. She reached the hangar deck. An expanse over two football fields’ long cut into the heart of the ship; it was an area that could hold as many as sixty aircraft inside. About thirty were below at the moment, the rest riding out the rainstorm tied down by chains on the deck.
Murky storm-darkened daylight filtered in from the stern of the ship where the hangar bay was open to the elements. The storm was not severe enough to close the massive blast doors. Crews were busy, planes opened up and showing their guts. This ship sailed with the machinery to fix anything that broke aboard the ship or a plane. The platforms on the fantail even allowed the maintenance crews to test a rebuilt engine at full power.
Thunder ripped the air and rolled through the open hangar, echoing and adding to the noise. Grace looked one last time at the open air and turned to continue to work her way back to her stateroom.
The rain was a mixed blessing. She’d been praying for it, but it was falling at the wrong place. The rain was at sea and was not reaching shore. This storm would actually result in making the drought inland worse as it would exhaust what built-up energy there was in the atmosphere.
She reached her stateroom an hour after she had left to make her phone call to Jill. Since two people being on their feet at the same time was crowded and three was the limit without slowing each other down, Grace skirted the hanging ironed shirts and slid onto her bunk. She had another thirty minutes before she would begin her six-hour shift standing as the squadron duty officer.
True Valor Page 10