Graham was quickly taking notes, grunting every now and then. Once, he turned, winking in her direction. Callie felt her shoulders relax and let the tension bleed out of her. She knew then that Beau had survived the surgery and was all right, but it was so hard to sit and wait. She wanted to grab the phone out of his hand and ask the surgeon a hundred questions, even though she knew her grandfather would ask every question she had in mind.
The call took ten minutes, and then Callie got her turn to talk to Dr. Westover, the surgeon. Afterwards, the doctor said he wanted to speak to Graham again. When they were finished, Graham hung up the phone and the whole family gathered around the couch, that same tension and worry in their expression.
He turned to Callie. “Beau is going to make it.”
“Thank God,” Callie whispered, her voice cracking.
“That’s the best of news!” Maisy said, giving her a warm smile.
Callie saw the anxiety in her parents’ faces begin to recede.
“Now,” Graham cautioned the family, “the surgeon said they had to remove the lower one-third of Beau’s right lung. There was no more damage from the gunshot and that’s really good news. He’ll be on a flight out of Germany tomorrow morning. He’ll arrive at Walter Reed Medical Center and the doc said he’ll instruct a nurse on board that flight to text you Beau’s information and where he’ll be assigned at the medical center. Also, there’s a phone at the nurse’s station on the floor where he’ll be assigned a ward and bed number. He said he knows the doctor assigned to Beau, Major Terry Benson, a pulmonary specialist, a Marine.” He grinned slightly. “He’s got the best possible doc. He’s a Marine and he’ll take good care of Beau, no question.”
“That’s even better news, Grandpa,” Callie agreed.
Nodding, Graham said, “When Maisy gets that flour off her fingers, maybe she’ll make flight reservations for you and me to go to Maryland. By that time, Beau will be in his ward, settled in, and ready to see visitors. How does that sound?”
Swallowing convulsively, Callie whispered, “That’s more than fine, Grandpa … thank you … so much.” She gripped his hand, tears trailing down her face.
“You heard me ask if you could speak to Beau after he’s out of recovery and the doc said ‘no?’ He felt it would be best if you do that when we see him stateside.”
Giving a jerky nod, Callie said, “Okay … I want so badly to hear his voice, to tell him how much I love him.”
“I know,” her mother said, giving her daughter a watery smile, “but he’s probably barely conscious and in shock with all that’s happened to him.”
“Not to mention,” Maisy added, “that he is still coming out from under anesthesia and that messes with a person’s memory and thought processes. He might not even know you yet, Callie, so I think the surgeon is right about this.”
“Will he be conscious at Bethesda?” she asked, looking at her grandfather.
“I’m sure he will be,” Graham said. “You just have to be a little more patient for a bit longer.”
“Patience is the one thing I’m short on, Grandpa.”
He chuckled. “All youngsters your age are like that.” He gave his wife, Maisy, a fond look. “We’re in our sixties. Patience is something we’ve learned to practice, haven’t we, darlin’.”
Maisy smiled, “Indeed.” She gave Callie an amused look. “Raising children teaches you patience.”
Callie felt lightness in her heart for the first time. Beau was wounded, he had survived surgery and now, he was coming home! Home to her, to his family, to her family. Everyone loved him and she knew everyone was praying for him.
Callie had felt the electric charge that went through the air when the phone rang, and now, it had begun to dissipate. She wondered how Beau was doing. Was he in pain? How badly she wanted to wrap her arms around him and just hold him, tell him how much she loved him.
Two days.
Could she hold herself together for that long? What made it bearable was that her grandfather was coming along. He’d been in the military and he knew the customs, had good contacts, and could negotiate to get information. And he had that Marine pride and calm centeredness that was always with him, a silent introduction to anyone. She couldn’t see anyone telling him ‘no.’ He would find a way around it.
Beau had told her one night, as he held her in bed, that her grandfather was a man everyone instantly respected because he reflected the best of the military. And people recognized his automatic authority, trusted him, and did what he requested. She hoped he would bring all that to bear so that she could be with Beau in two days. She was on his military record as being his fiancée; therefore, she would be his wife. That was why they had called her first to inform her that he’d been wounded. She was so glad that Beau had put that special paperwork through when he got back to Bagram. Otherwise, she’d not have known he was wounded. Only his family would know. Although, she knew Amber and Cletus Gardner would have instantly called her as soon as they’d found out.
Waiting. She had to wait. She struggled to put her fears away, the PTSD that held her in its grip was awake and pacing through her. Beau had told her that any time there was another crisis in her life, it would return. Well, it had.
CHAPTER 4
April 5
Beau’s heart leapt when he saw Callie enter his hospital ward. He saw her worried expression turn to melting love for him as she hurried down the aisle, beds on either side of the ward. Nurses and other medical personnel flitted back and forth between the wounded Army and Air Force personnel.
His throat tightened, raw from the tube that had been placed inside him for surgery at Landstuhl two days earlier. He was sitting up in Fowler’s position, a comfortable angle, to help aid his breathing. He tried to smile but failed, feeling weak from the opiate dripping into one of two IVs that were going into his arms.
Beau had a drain tube where the third lobe of his right lung had been removed and every time he moved or tried to breathe deeply, he felt a sharp, cutting pain in the area.
Callie was a vision, an angel now. As he’d lost consciousness in that mud and snow covered playground, feeling his breath being stolen out of him, feeling as if he were suffocating, he pictured Callie in his mind, between his tightly shut eyes.
And now she was here, wearing a springtime pink dress just above her knees, those sweet legs of hers smooth and bare. Her red hair was loose and thick around her shoulders, the colors shining copper, gold, and crimson beneath the overhead lights. She was beautiful, and he ached to hold her in his arms once more because he thought he was going to die of his wound.
Tears jammed in his eyes as she drew near and halted at the railing on the left side of his bed, opposite his wound. She leaned over and gently kissed him full on his mouth. His lips were chapped, but hers felt warm, welcoming, and soft against his. Her sweet scent encircled him and he weakly lifted his arms, sliding them around her shoulders as she moaned with joy. Her soft hands framed his face and she kissed him carefully, treating him as if he were fragile. Eyes closing, Beau dealt with the pain of his movement to slide his fingers into her rich, silky long hair, drowning in the heat of her mouth loving his.
Slowly, Callie eased up, opening her eyes that gleamed with unshed tears. “Beau … oh, God, you’re alive. Thank God! I love you so much.”
His voice was rough with emotion as Callie straightened, her hands still entwined in his. “I love you, Callie. I’m gonna be fine, so wipe that frown away, okay?” She tasted of peppermint, and her light, feminine scent was a welcome change to the odor of bleach used to clean the floors nightly.
Callie pulled up a chair and then released the rail, pushing it down carefully so as not to jolt him. She sat down, facing him. “How are you really doing? Are you in pain, Beau?”
He rolled his head just a bit. “Nah, just gripping pain where they cut into me. The drain on my right side makes any movement painful, even breathing. The nurse asked me about the level of pain and I lied. I fo
und out if I give it a number above five, they twirl that button on the IV and it knocks me out for three or four hours at a time, which I hate.” He squeezed her damp, cool fingers. “I want my head screwed on straight, Callie, so now I lie and tell them it’s a three. That way, the opiate doesn’t knock me on my butt and I’m conscious longer. I’d rather be awake and alert, despite the pain.”
“I understand.” Callie anxiously looked at the dressing across the lower third of his torso. Beau wasn’t wearing any shirt, his dark-haired chest beautiful to her. He had all kinds of monitors taped on his chest. “How is your breathing?” she asked.
“They say my oxygen level and lung volume are improving by the hour, so that’s good news. They make me breathe hourly into that contraption on my rolling tray over there. It helps me expand my lungs, and that’s important. They’ve gotten me up four times a day to walk since I got here.”
He took in another careful breath through the cannula that fitted into his nostrils, feeding him a hundred percent pure oxygen. It was an effort to breathe sometimes, and less oxygen meant less energy. He struggled to do as the nurses asked, because that damn drainage tube made every breath feel like a knife slicing into his side.
“You look so tired,” she whispered, enclosing his roughened hand within hers.
“I’ll bounce back. It’s hard to keep a good man down. Don’t you know that?” he teased, his voice hoarse.
“Can I get you some water, Beau? Anything?”
He closed his eyes, giving her a slight smile. “No … I’m okay. Everything I’ve ever wanted is sitting right here next to me …” and as she watched, he drifted off to sleep.
Callie swallowed hard, watching Beau sleep. The nurse in charge of the ward had warned her and her grandpa that he was still coming out of the shock and trauma, that the surgery had been long and hard on him. She slowly rose, placing his one arm on the bed, being careful not to touch the large dressing on the side of his ribs. She saw bruises on his face and wondered how he’d gotten them. There were scratches along his one arm. He looked pasty, and his gray eyes had been dark with what she realized now was pain.
Leaning down, she slowly raised the rail so he wouldn’t accidentally roll over and fall out of bed. Although, Callie doubted Beau would because that wound dressing looked ominous to her.
“He’s sleeping again,” the nurse said, coming up beside her. “They sleep a lot right after surgery. It’s like a roller coaster of wake and sleep for them the first couple of days afterward.”
Callie recognized Nurse Evans, an Army captain and RN. “Is he okay? He just suddenly dropped off.”
Nodding, Evans looked at all the equipment surrounding the head of the bed and checked all the monitors. “Yes. As long as his blood pressure is steady,” she motioned to one instrument, “and it is, he’s doing well. But I think he’s in more pain than he’s admitting,” she said, adjusting the opiate on the IV. “What Sergeant Gardner doesn’t realize is that the more pain he’s in, the slower he’ll heal. Since you’re his fiancée, you might talk him into sleeping more now, not less.” Satisfied, she patted Callie’s shoulder. “He’s black ops. Those guys are always on the go. They hate being tied to a bed for any reason.”
“Can my grandpa come in now to see him?”
“Sure, it’s still visiting hours.” The nurse pulled over another chair. “You can both sit here with him if you want. Even though he’s sleeping, he’ll be aware of your presence.”
“How can that be?”
Evans looked at the monitors once more. “Because before you arrived, his blood pressure was higher than normal. Now, it’s within normal limits. And it’s staying there. You’re good for him, Ms. McKinley.”
Grateful for the nurse’s information, she said, “I’ll go get my grandpa. How long can we stay?”
“An hour. Then we close it down because the men here need to be fed.”
“Is there any way I can talk to his doctor?”
“He’ll be making rounds tomorrow morning beginning at 0600, but visitors aren’t allowed in until 1000, when he’s finished. He’ll see you at that time. I understand the patient’s parents are arriving tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“That will do him good, too.” She smiled a little. “When family and loved ones can visit, these men get better faster. There’s less depression, too. It’s a huge morale boost for them.”
Callie touched Beau’s hand. “He feels chilly.”
“I’ll get one of my orderlies to bring him in another two blankets. It’s normal, so don’t worry. Keep holding his hand and I’ll let Mr. McKinley know you’d like to have him come in.”
“Thank you,” Callie said, giving her a grateful look. So much of her anxiety and fear were dissolving as she sat there holding Beau’s hand, warming it between her own. Soon, a male orderly brought two more blankets, and together they gently placed them around Beau, leaving the dressing over the wound undisturbed. Her grandfather was right behind him, his face unreadable. He was wearing a black Stetson, a white, long-sleeved shirt, a black leather vest, well-worn Levi’s, and his ancient boots. He took off his hat as he approached.
“Well,” he murmured, coming and sitting down next to her, “he looks a lot better than I thought he would. He’s young. He’ll bounce back fast,” he added, scanning Beau’s sleeping features.
“He looks awful,” Callie whispered, giving Graham a quick look.
“He’s been through a lot,” he told her gently. “Getting shot, nearly dying, changes you. I’m sure he’s happy to see you, though. Was he conscious when you came in?”
Nodding, she said, “We had a few minutes together. He was so happy to see me.”
“Just as much as you were to see him. I betcha it was hard to keep your hands off him.”
Laughing softly, Callie said, “I did get to kiss him. That’s all I wanted to do, Grandpa. I needed to tell him I love him so much.”
Graham slid his hand across her shoulders. “And he loves you.”
“I was so worried before he went back to Afghanistan. I had a horrible feeling about it …” and she chewed on her lower lip for a moment.
Patting her shoulder, he said, “That was woman’s intuition. When I had to go over to Iraq, Maisy went crazy with worry. She had a dream the night before I got wounded. It came true. Luckily, it wasn’t anything like the wound that Beau got.”
“Military people and their families go through so much hell.”
“Yeah, they do.”
Shaking her head, she asked, “Did you find out anything about Beau’s prognosis?”
Graham roused himself. “Yes, I snagged his surgeon by sheer luck. He said if there aren’t complications, he’ll be out of here in about a week. Beau has been here two days. He said they make him get up and walk around because the exercise is key to his bouncing back. Then, they want to keep him here until the wound is closed. They’ll take out that drain the day before he leaves. And he’ll be released to go home. There’s a VA hospital down in Dunmore, south of Black Mountain where his folks live. It’s about forty minutes away from their home, so they’ll send him home and he’ll have a doc assigned to him at the VA hospital to follow his progress.”
“I want to go with him, Grandpa. I mean … if Beau’s parents don’t mind.”
“I don’t think they will. They’re due in here later this evening. I was on the phone with Mr. Gardner out there while you were in here with Beau.”
“And you gave him directions to that hotel we’re at near the medical center?”
“Yep, sure did. He called me from a pay phone,” Graham said. “They don’t own a cell phone.”
“Beau said they aren’t in the computer age. That’s okay. There are days when I wish we didn’t have cell phones, but mostly I like them because I can talk to Beau and see his face on Skype. That means so much to me.”
“I’m sure it meant a lot to him, too.”
She placed her hand on her grandfather’s arm. “Thanks for
coming with me. You really know how to cut through military tape. And you’re great at finding places!”
“Once a sniper, always a sniper,” he teased gruffly, squeezing her hand. He watched Beau sleeping, observing how his chest rose and fell. “He’s breathing easier since that nurse gave him more of his IV meds. Right now, he needs to sleep a lot. And he will.”
“Visiting hours are at ten tomorrow morning.”
Graham nodded. “Yes, and I think we should go soon, honey. Cletus and Amber will be arriving pretty soon at our hotel and I’d like us to be there to greet them. I’m sure they’re worn out and stressed to the max because of all that’s happened to Beau. We’ll shepherd them around because the D.C. area is a nightmare to drive in.”
*
Callie had a hotel room with a door between it and her grandfather’s room. It was near evening when someone knocked at her main door. Hurrying to it, she opened it up. A huge man in coveralls and a worn brown felt hat stood there. He had a fuzzy black beard and kind blue eyes. Beside him was a woman about three inches shorter, her light brown hair hanging straight to her shoulders, her gray eyes showing stress and exhaustion. She was wearing a blue calico dress that hung on her lean body and fell to her slender ankles, and a pair of simple brown leather shoes.
“Hi, I’m Callie McKinley,” she said to the couple.
“We’re Cletus and Amber Gardner,” he rumbled. He brought his arm around his wife. “It’s right nice to meet you, Callie,” and he smiled wearily. “I’m sorry we didn’t arrive on time. D.C. traffic is all snarled up.”
“Don’t worry,” Callie murmured, “and please, come in.” She stood aside, giving them a warm look of hello.
Luckily, her room was a suite and had a comfy couch and three other chairs in the outer area. Callie shut the door and turned.
Hold Me: Delos Series, 5B1 Page 5