Holiday Op

by Lori Avocato

  The goggles were barely in place when he caught sight of a movement in the distance high on the far bank. A quick adjustment zoomed in on the area. From this distance, he couldn’t get a fix on what they were doing, but he sensed it wasn’t good. A spark and a trail of smoke widened his eyes.

  “Incoming,” he yelled, causing Lou to counter the attack with an evasive maneuver. The grenade landed several hundred feet short, sending a wave of water hustling after them. The wave hit with a solid force. Lou’s skill had them riding it with the ease of a surfboarder.

  “The border’s in sight,” Dean called out, pointing at the lighted compound.

  Twin guard towers stood on either side of the waterway entrance. The sudden flash of strong beams of light on the river lit up their position as if it were daylight. Damn, might as well draw a bull’s-eye on their backs. They just had to cross under the fence and they’d be safe. A shrill whistling in the air snapped his head around to see another missile-fired grenade headed their way. This had more stamina and seemed like it wouldn’t miss. Must’ve been shot from an RPG-7, he mused right before it hit the water within ten feet of them.

  “Brace yourselves,” Mitch screamed as he turned, dove, and wrapped himself around Allie.

  A solid wall of water lifted the boat six feet into the air, tossing it end over end like a toy. As the boat flipped, so did the well-prepared Marines. Lou, Eric, and Dean entered at angles, landing them closer to the safety zone. Mitch and Allie hit the water curled in a ball of bodies. Seconds passed with no sight of them. Mitch hit bottom, twisted, loosening his legs from around Allie, then shoved off propelling them upward. He guided them to the surface. The sound of her gasp when they broke the top sent relief crashing through his system. They hit the water and went under so fast, he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her to take a deep breath and hold it. But she was smarter than that, he laughed at himself. Common sense made a person hold their breath before going under. It was a natural reflex to prevent drowning.

  “You okay,” he gasped over the roar of the river as he held her in the rescue swimmer position. Her back pressed to his chest, his arm under hers around her chest while he maintained buoyancy for them both.

  “Yeah.” She tilted her chin trying to see his face. “You okay?”

  Mitch wrapped around her equaled ecstasy in her book. The cold water gave her a momentary shock when they first hit, but she managed to capture enough air in her lungs to survive. Sinking deeper and deeper, her heart raced, but she refused to succumb to fear. He had a hold on her and she believed he wouldn’t let her drown, although it seemed like forever before he brought them to the surface. They’d been fired upon and nearly killed, but he’d saved her again. Cradled in those strong arms gave her the confidence to relax in the water even though she didn’t know how to swim.

  In her position, she spotted the others frantically searching the powerful currents for them before Mitch did. Unable to do anything else for fear of causing an issue in their progress, she gave a loud sharp whistle, hoping to catch their attention. Lou spotted them and motioned to the others. Once they regrouped, they swam for the border. Allie kicked her legs in an effort to help speed the motion.

  Cold seeped into her bones and she prayed she’d never be this wet again. Powerful strokes brought them closer and closer. Bright lights shone on them. Voices called out in foreign tongues. It surprised her when Mitch replied. He spoke Korean. Lou, Eric, and Dean crossed through the fenced gate that the border patrol opened. They lifted from the water and stood on the dock while she and Mitch brought up the rear. They were a few feet away from crossing the line when water exploded behind them.

  Mitch curled in a ball gloving around her as if forming another layer of skin for her protection. He tucked her head under his as they tumbled over and over through the giant wave. They bounced from one object to another like a ball in a pinball game. The mound of muscle that was Mitch softened the repercussion of the blows. Several feet inside the safety zone, they washed up on shore just past the docks.

  Lou reached them first. The sound of his voice called to her from somewhere far off, tugging her back to consciousness.

  “Miss Summers, Mitch can you hear me?”

  Seconds ticked away before she pried her eyes open. On a hefty bout of coughing, she cleared the water from her lungs and grappled for air. Mitch didn’t move. His eyes were closed.

  “Mitch,” she gasped.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Mitch, man can you hear me?” Lou tried to pry him from around her.

  Even unconscious he still protected her. His breathing seemed almost nonexistent. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Over and over, she called his name to no avail. Eric, Dean, and several medics for the Marine Corps ran to their aid. It took three men to unwrap Mitch’s arms and legs from around her.

  On hands and knees she crawled to his outstretched body. Please, God. Please let him live.

  “His vitals are weak,” one of the medics stated.

  “Let’s get him inside,” the other replied.

  Allie struggled to her feet as they placed him on a stretcher. Lou grasped her elbow and wrapped an arm around her waist right before her knees buckled. Lifting her gaze to his, she commanded on a graveled breath, “He’s got to live.”

  “Mitch is strong. He’ll make it.”

  “He has to.”

  Exhaustion controlled her system as her legs weakened and her eyes closed. Nothing mattered to her but Mitch.

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  Chapter Four

  Six weeks later Stateside

  Sergeant Lou Randle entered the hospital room. As she’d done every day for the past six weeks, Allie sat at Mitch’s side. She shot a weak smile across her shoulder at Lou and stood. He nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Any progress?” Lou asked.

  “No, but I’m sure he’ll come around any day now.”

  She leaned over the man in the bed, kissed his brow and then whispered in his ear. Turning on her heels, she gathered her things and headed for the door.

  “You do that every time.” Lou smiled. “What do you tell him?”

  “My Christmas wish,” Allie said. “I won’t be here tomorrow, Sergeant Randle. It’s Christmas Eve and I promised to share the time with my father. But, I will return to spend Christmas Day with Mitch.”

  Lou touched her elbow. “He’s a lucky man to have a woman like you.”

  Allie looked over her shoulder at her wounded soldier. Medical tests showed no definitive answer to why he lay unconscious. The doctor claimed his body had taken such an extreme beating it seemed his system had gone into some sort of dormant state to recuperate. Broken ribs and a bruised lung would heal in time. Would the rest of him? She swallowed hard, hoping for the best. Sadness filled her soul. She’d met the perfect man and didn’t know what she’d do if she lost him before they got the chance to explore the feelings ignited between them.

  “It doesn’t look like he’s got anyone else. No one has come to visit him except us and the other Marines in your group. Doesn’t he have family?”

  “No, ma’am.” Lou shook his head. “Mitch grew up an orphan. He entered the Marines right out of high school. We’re the closest to family he’s ever known.”

  Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them back. Mitch was alone. She glanced at him and smiled. Not anymore. No matter what happened, he had her.

  “Watch over him for me.” Allie stared at Lou. “Merry Christmas, Sergeant Randle.”

  “Merry Christmas, Miss Summers.” Lou paused, then added as she stepped into the hallway, “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m at your beck and call, anytime of night or day.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Lou stood and watched her walk down the hall, then turned back toward the bed. As soon as he reached the bedside, a gravelly voice grabbed and held his attention in awe.

  “You hitting on my woman, Sergeant?”
>
  “OhmyGod, you’re awake. Let me catch her.”

  Mitch caught his wrist before Lou could move. It took great effort, but Mitch managed to turn his head, open his eyes, and continue.

  “I’ve got a better idea.” He took a deep breath, licked his lips then added, “But I’m going to need your help to pull it off.”

  Allie took the last tray of cookies from the oven and placed them on the cooling racks. It was the third batch of gingerbread men she’d made that resembled Marines. Oh God, who did she have on her mind? This was the first time in five weeks she hadn’t sat at his side, talking to him, reading a book or newspaper to him, praying he’d wake. With a shake of her head, she truly didn’t need an answer. Only one Marine—Sergeant Mitch Sinclair—had won her heart and soul.

  The ring of the doorbell snapped her from another daydream of the hunky Marine. She issued a silent prayer for his safekeeping and wellbeing as she exited the kitchen and crossed the living room. Her father descended the stairs as she reached the front door.

  Swinging it open, her heart skipped a beat and her jaw dropped. Dress blues never looked so good. From his head to his toes, he stood regal and strong. One would never have known he’d lain in a dormant state for the past weeks. Sword at his side, gold buttons shined, and his white hat positioned jauntily, shadowing what she knew were a set of gorgeous brilliant blue eyes. She couldn’t speak for fear she may be suffering from some sort of delusion and he’d disappear the moment she opened her mouth.

  His words came loud and clear on his thick southern drawl touching her heart and sealing her fate.

  “I understand someone in this house asked for a special gift for Christmas.”

  Allie’s voice shook. “How … how are you here? When I left you last night, you were unconscious.”

  She wanted to touch him, but kept her hands knotted in her apron. Yet, if she reached for him, would he dissipate and this turn out to be a mere dream? She wasn’t sure she could handle such a grand disappointment. The last few weeks were tough, between trekking to the hospital daily, to taking care of her father, to dealing with loving an unconscious man and not knowing if she would ever see the wondrous shade of blue again. Everything weighed heavy on her spirit and soul, but a sliver of hope had kept her going. If this was a dream, God, she prayed she’d never wake.

  “I had a little help getting here.” Following the direction of his nod, she noticed Sergeant Randle leaning against a car in the driveway. Odd, she hadn’t seen him earlier, but her eyesight had been narrowed by a vision from heaven that filled her doorway.

  “Oh, my God, it is you.” Allie fell into his arms, crying and laughing at the same time. Her prayers were answered. “This isn’t a dream.”

  Mitch cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. “I’m here because of you. Everyday, a sweet voice whispered to my tired soul. It was you who guided me back and gave me the strength to heal.”

  He ran his thumb across her trembling lip and brushed the hair from her eyes.

  “Allie, it was your Christmas wish that touched my heart and led me to you. I heard your voice every day. You were there for me when I needed someone in my life the most. I couldn’t let you down.”

  Allie swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and stated on a shaky whisper, “All I want for Christmas is a Marine.”

  Mitch leaned in close, gathered her in his arms, and smiled. Hovering within millimeters of her lips, he stated right before he captured her mouth in a passionate embrace …

  “Wish granted.”

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  Mission Mistletoe

  Lori Avocato

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  After working thirteen years as a registered nurse, four of which she felt like ‘Hot Lips Houlihan’ while serving in the United States Air Force, Lori Avocato picked up a book and said, “Hm. I can write one of these.” Yeah right!

  Now as an award-winning author, Lori is multi-published with fifteen books currently sold in which her humor lends itself to her comedic voice. She writes contemporary novels and often uses her military, medical, or a combination of both backgrounds in her plots.

  As an Air Force veteran, Lori belongs to RomVets and The Nathan Hale Chapter of Military Officers Association. As a writer, she belongs to The Author’s Guild, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and Romance Writers of America along with several local chapters.

  Lori lives in the New England area, raising two teenage sons (Heaven help her!), and, of course, continuing to write novels. She’d love to hear from you via email at LAvocato@cox.net

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  This story is dedicated to all the men and women in the military both past and present.

  Thanks to my mom, who was in the WACS during WWII, for encouraging me to follow in her military footsteps.

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  Chapter One

  “Good Lord! Please don’t make me get in one of those flying coffins so close to Christmas! I’d really rather not take the helicopter runs this week—or ever.” Prue leaned forward as if her chief nurse, Colonel Fisher, would agree to her plea—merely by the subordinate officer’s body language—even though she was on the medical/surgical unit’s telephone. Somehow she felt the gesture would help through the phone lines.

  Come on, lady, those helos don’t make me feel very safe. I mean, one ‘Jesus’ bolt holding on the blades. Blades? Does that tell you something? “Ma’am, the Air Force regulation says the fire truck has to be at the helipad every time a chopper lands. That reg … well, it doesn’t make me feel very safe.”

  “I’m well aware of Air Force regs. As a matter of fact, I have a few years on you in that department, Captain, and I certainly wouldn’t want you not to feel safe. My goodness. No. I mean, I’m sure you joined the military in wartime to sit on a fluffy chair eating bonbons.”

  Wow. Suddenly it dawned on Prue that the colonel’s voice wasn’t at all very motherly. Made her homesick for Connecticut. Ah, Connecticut. Where Christmas was made. Holiday cards always had Currier and Ives pictures of New England. Not, New Mexico—even in December. No wonder she didn’t care if she spent Christmas on duty.

  No family around.

  No snow.

  No man.

  And she wasn’t about to count the horny paratrooper who trailed after her around the base the last few months. Slick she’d called him since he thought he was so cool, jumping out of airplanes to save the injured. Well, she sure didn’t want him jumping after her … or her bones! Those PJ, no matter how hot and hunky, were a breed of their own as were the fighter pilots. They should all be forced to have a ‘beware of your heart’ emblem on their sleeves.

  The colonel cleared her throat. Whoa boy. That always came before the woman spewed out a direct order. So, in her usual rebellious military nature, Prudence hurriedly said, “I know, ma’am! Here’s a thought. I can cover the OB unit while Lieutenant Foster takes the chopper run. She loves flying. Doesn’t even vomit! Wait! Oh, you’ll love this. I’ll do an extra shift on Christmas for you! What a deal! Like an early Christmas present, ma’am.”

  “I’m Jewish, Captain Hamlin, and you will take the chopper run calls for the entire week. All seven days. Merry Christmas.”

  “You gonna get some sleep or just sit there waiting for the phone to ring, Prue?”

  Prue looked at her roommate, Captain Annie Hallstead, and shut her eyes. “You know if I fall into a deep sleep I’ll never hear the phone ring and even if you do and tell me it’s for me, you also know I’ll be very confused upon waking up and probably say I’ll be right at the hospital ASAP—and then fall back to sleep.” She leaned back and let her head fall against the couch. “I’m doomed. If I get called, I’ll be tired and still have to take the run and then go to duty tomorrow. Colonel sure as hell won’t give me the time off.” She looked at her friend. “Did you know she was Jewish?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Yes, I kn
ew that and what does it have to do with anything? Go get some sleep, girl, or your ass will be grass with the lady tomorrow when you fall asleep mid medication pour.”

  “Nothing as far as the Jewish part goes except I’d already bought her a Christmas present.”

  Annie looked at her and they started to laugh, which soon could be classified as hysterically, bordering on cackling, since they were talking about Colonel Queen of the Witches. When they calmed down, Prue said, “I’m goin’ for a walk.”

  Waving her hand toward the door, Annie said, “No, you’re not. Liar. You’re going to the commissary to buy something sweet. I’m guessing chocolate.”

  “You’re guessing right.”

  Annie shook her head. “Get me a six pack of Coors. Not the light crap either.” She flopped onto the recliner, grabbed the remote from the nearby table and started clicking away.

  Prue went into her room, stuck on her socks and sneakers, grabbed a twenty from her wallet and decided a nice early evening jog would be just the thing to get her to fall asleep later—and not be listening for the phone. Phone. Rats. Had to take it with her at all times. She stuck her hand into her uniform pocket and pulled out her cell. Sure as heck didn’t want to miss a call saying she had to fly with a patient to the nearby Army hospital trauma center—on the flying coffin—lest she end up in Leavenworth.

  Whose ridiculous idea was it for her to join the Air Force anyway? If she didn’t border on getting seasick on a raft in a swimming pool, she’d have joined the Navy. If she looked better in khaki, she’d have joined the Army. And if she—hell, she didn’t have the guts to be a Marine.