Magnolia Sky

by Susan Crandall

  He swallowed. “Calvin didn’t die in a helicopter crash.” He couldn’t see the harm to national security by telling a dying woman that her son was a hero. He could do it without giving away any of the details. Not that it mattered—Olivia wasn’t going to get out of this room until her last breath had been drawn.

  Closing her eyes for the briefest of moments, she nodded once. “I know.”

  “It was a very politically volatile mission—one of those that no one ever mentions again. I was ranking officer on the team. It was my responsibility to get everyone out safely. Our objective was to retrieve a package—a hostage.”

  As Luke closed his eyes and held her hand tightly, the whole thing came crashing over him again. The darkness of that night covered him like a suffocating blanket. He could taste the blood in his mouth, smell the gunpowder, hear the chaos on the ground that was nearly drowned out by the helicopter waiting to lift off.

  For the ten-thousandth time, Luke relived the events of that night: They’d been dropped a safe distance from the target, during a dark phase of the moon. Luke and his three soldiers moved without detection to the rural building where the hostage was being held. Neither Luke nor his men knew the identity of the top-secret captive—they’d been given a photo and a description. This person had been deemed essential to national security. That was all his team needed to know in order to perform their task.

  Luke signaled two of his men to circle around and approach the entrance from the other side. The building was a small single-story structure. The hostage was being held in the basement “interrogation room.” Luke checked his watch. Right on schedule.

  They moved cautiously forward. Luke silently dispatched the single guard on duty on the first floor of the building. There was no other resistance. The hostage was right where their directive said he would be, held only by a locked door and a pair of handcuffs. Neither presented an unanticipated problem. The man was in his thirties, probably had been physically fit when he’d been brought here. Now he was weak. He leaned heavily on Luke as they hurried up the stairs and back out into the night.

  A surprisingly clean recovery.

  They signaled for the chopper.

  It moved in quickly. Just as it was hovering close to the ground, with its ghost ship remaining a safe distance above, the four soldiers and their recovered hostage broke cover and ran across the wide courtyard. Calvin was three steps ahead, Luke following with the hostage, and two other team members bringing up the rear.

  That’s when it let loose.

  Luckily his team was well trained and quickly returned fire. The ghost ship took immediate action, releasing an ear-splitting round of fire, driving the enemy back into cover.

  Calvin leapt into the chopper. Then he reached out and pulled in the hostage. Luke could hear the men behind him firing as he shoved the man from the rear. Within two seconds, all five were inside the chopper and it was starting to lift off.

  The ghost ship continued protective fire.

  They’d made it. Mission complete.

  Suddenly a teenage boy ran out of the darkness, flailing his arms, screaming for them to wait.

  The hostage they’d just rescued grabbed Luke’s arm and shouted, “He’s with me. He’s dead if you leave him!”

  Luke had a millisecond to make a decision. They had completed their mission—retrieved the package. Once that was done, it was time to get the hell out.

  The pilot looked back at him. All he had to do was give the signal and they were gone.

  The hostage scrabbled on his hands and knees, trying to get back out the door. Calvin knocked him flat on the floor of the craft.

  Luke looked at the boy. He was close.

  Luke jumped out, waving the kid forward.

  Just thirty feet from the chopper, the boy fell to the ground, shot in the leg. He continued to try to pull himself along.

  “No one leave this craft!” Luke shouted, then sprinted for the boy.

  Bullets continued to streak through the air, strike the ground, splinter into trees. Just as he reached the boy, he felt a hot poker against his neck. He’d been hit, but was still moving. He grabbed the back of the kid’s shirt and started to drag him along.

  Three strides later, his knee was shot out from under him and he spun to the ground.

  Rolling on his back, he fought the pain and signaled for the chopper to take off—leave them.

  The kid on the ground next to him was screaming.

  Then suddenly Calvin was there, firing like a madman. The other two soldiers grabbed Luke and the boy, dragging them to the chopper.

  From the corner of his eye, Luke saw the boy’s body jerk with the impact of several bullets. He stopped screaming.

  Luke was shoved into the chopper.

  Calvin was fifteen feet behind them, still firing. He was backing toward the chopper when a grenade hit near his feet.

  The concussion knocked Luke flat on the floor and the two other soldiers off their feet. Almost before the debris stopped falling, his two uninjured men were moving toward Calvin, abandoning the dead kid’s body.

  They scrambled to pick up what was left of Calvin Abbott.

  Luke finished telling his cleaned-up version of the event to Olivia, trembling as he spoke. “I broke protocol. The kid died anyway. I killed Calvin—and could very easily have cost the entire mission.”

  He didn’t realize he was crying until Olivia took the back of her hand to wipe his tears. “Luke, the only thing you did was to be human. You wanted to save that boy.”

  Drawing in a shuddering breath, he said, “I’m a soldier. I had orders. It was not my choice to make.” Then he added, “I should have been the one to die.”

  “I would say that I forgive you”—she took a breath that said she was rapidly tiring—“but there’s nothing to forgive.”

  “But I came to your family—”

  “And I thank God every day for that.” She couldn’t muster much volume, but there was plenty of force behind her words.

  Luke grasped her hand in both of his and laid his forehead against it. His shoulders shook as he cried. It was as if a dark part of him left his body with those tears. He’d held them for so long, let them poison his soul. Maybe now he’d find some peace.

  He was grateful that Olivia didn’t say more, allowing him privacy in her company.

  A gentle knock sounded at the door. Reverend Hammond returned and said, “I just noticed Analise pulling into the parking lot.”

  Luke drew in a breath and straightened up. He kept Olivia’s hand in one of his and wiped his face with the back of the other. “You are an incredible woman.”

  She pulled his hand close, pressing it against her cheek. “You’re a good man. I see it in all you’ve done for us. Calvin defied your order. The choice was his. I have a feeling if he had known the outcome he’d still have done the same thing.”

  Luke clenched his teeth together to keep his chin from quivering. There was so much he wanted to say, but no words would come.

  Olivia said, softly, “I wish . . . Ana . . .” Fatigue was taking its toll. Her words were barely audible as she finished, “. . . could find . . . peace. Talk . . . to . . . her . . .”

  Her eyes closed. After a moment, Luke laid her hand on the bed beside her. Then he kissed her on the forehead and left the room.

  He took the stairs instead of the elevator to the first floor. He simply wasn’t strong enough to see Analise right now.

  The lights had been dimmed in the hospital’s corridors. The night staff sat bathed in a tiny island of light at the nurses’ station. Somewhere down the hall, a television droned quietly. There was the soft squeak of rubber soles on the tile floor as a nurse made her rounds. What must it be like, to come into this atmosphere every night as your employment rather than to face a deathbed vigil? Would the low lights and quiet halls bring a sense of calm instead of the gut-clenching fear that death would sneak in during the night and steal away a loved one?

  Analise shif
ted in the recliner, adjusting her pillow and pulling the blanket over her shoulders. Cole hadn’t wanted to go home. She couldn’t blame him. That huge empty house echoing memories all night long would be enough to keep anyone unsettled and awake. Right now he was sleeping down the hall in an unoccupied room—which was probably against hospital regulations, but that was the great thing about a small hospital like this, the bureaucracy hadn’t yet squeezed all humanity out of it.

  Today they’d made a pact, she and Cole: Either they both stayed, or they both went home. There was a certain comfort in knowing that no matter what, you wouldn’t be alone—either they’d both see Olivia out of this world, or they’d both bear the guilt of being somewhere else when it happened.

  It seemed horrible, sitting around waiting for someone to die. But more horrible was the prospect that Olivia would meet her end alone, without the loving presence of her family to steady her soul. So they stayed.

  Shortly after she’d made certain that Olivia was resting comfortably and that Cole had finally fallen to exhaustion in the other room, Analise had stretched out in the recliner. It had quickly become apparent, it didn’t matter if she was here or at home, tonight sleep was going to be impossible. It wasn’t that she feared Olivia would suddenly stop breathing; there was something else, something vague and nameless, bothering Analise. She tried not to fidget and make noise; Olivia seemed to be resting more comfortably than she had for a week.

  She glanced at her watch. Three A.M. The darkness seemed to drag on the hands of the clock, making minutes stretch far beyond what was natural.

  Olivia began to stir. Analise waited to see if she would settle back into sleep, as she had done many times over the course of the night.

  Olivia’s eyes opened. She looked around the room for a second, as if she didn’t remember where she was.

  Then she looked at Analise and frowned. “You should be home in bed.”

  “I want to be here.”

  “I promise not to sneak out in the night. I’m ready, I’ll face it headlong in the light of day.”

  Analise got up and moved to the chair next to the bed. “I don’t doubt that for one minute. You’ve never backed away from anything.” She adjusted Olivia’s sheets. “Do you need anything?” Looking at the IV monitor, she said, “You can give yourself another dose of pain medication if you need it.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I want to talk with a clear head for a few minutes. It seems like there’s always someone else. . . .” She pointed to her glass and Ana gave her a drink. “Better, thanks. I should have said this to you months ago—”

  “Liv . . .”

  “Don’t make me waste my breath arguing with you, just listen.”

  Analise bit her lip and nodded for Olivia to continue.

  “When Luke first came to us . . . and I told you not to do something you’d regret . . . I knew you misunderstood me. But I let it be.”

  A cascade of cold pricks ran down Analise’s body.

  Olivia shook her head slightly. “Your marriage to Calvin was difficult . . . a disappointment for you. I knew that.”

  Analise wanted to make her stop. “Liv—”

  Olivia held up a pale hand. “Listen. I need you to listen.” She took a shuddering breath. “I know the shortcomings in my son. It was selfish of me not to have admitted it to you years ago, released you from this family, let you find a real marriage, the married life you deserve, with someone else. But I didn’t want you to leave—I love you like my own child.”

  Hot tears burned their way down Analise’s face. She put a hand on Olivia’s cheek. “I have the life I want. I chose it.”

  “You deserve a good husband.”

  Around the lump in her throat, Analise said, “Calvin wasn’t a good husband—but I wasn’t a good wife, either.”

  Olivia gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Don’t make the same mistake again. That’s what I meant when I said not to do something you’ll regret. You need to be sure of the man, of your feelings. Luke’s a good man. I saw that right away. But I wanted you to see it. Maybe I should have taken a different avenue. . . .”

  Analise whispered, “I sent him away.”

  Olivia’s brow creased in question.

  “I was so afraid,” Analise said. “I wanted you to get treatment . . . Cole was angry . . . I couldn’t deal with Luke, too. I didn’t want to love him. Oh, Liv, I can’t love him.”

  Much to Analise’s surprise, Olivia chuckled; it was a dry, papery sound, so unlike Olivia. “Why?”

  “Luke only came because Calvin died. If I love him, it’s because Calvin died . . . don’t you see?”

  “Ana, it isn’t as if you chose which one of them would live. Stop acting so foolish.”

  A little sob caught in Analise’s throat. “You don’t understand. I was too cowardly to step out on my own, leave this family. F-for a long time, I wished Calvin just . . . just wouldn’t come home. And then, he didn’t. . . .”

  “And you think your wish killed Calvin?”

  Covering her face in shame, Analise cried.

  “Good Lord, if your wishes are so powerful, I should have had you wishing for me to win the lottery.” She laid a hand on Analise’s bowed head. “I think maybe you’ve overestimated your powers.”

  Analise raised her face. “Can’t you see? If I love Luke, it’s like saying I’m glad Calvin is gone.”

  “I lost two husbands. The only reason I had the second one was because the first died. That didn’t mean I was glad that Jimmy didn’t come home from the war. You see, it doesn’t matter who the next love is—they’re always there because the first one is gone. Life takes people away from us. We have to live on. It’s all right to love again. That’s what keeps us alive.”

  Analise took Olivia’s hand into hers and pressed a kiss on her fingers. “I appreciate what you’ve said.” Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “But it doesn’t matter now, he’s gone.”

  “No,” Olivia whispered back, with the faintest of smiles on her lips.

  Analise’s gaze locked with hers. Hope and fear fought for control, creating a tangle of emotion in her throat that held her silent.

  “He was here, tonight. Between the two of you, I swear you have enough guilt to sink an entire continent.” She squeezed Analise’s hand. “I think both you and Luke have let Calvin stand between you long enough.”

  After a moment, Olivia continued, “You need to talk to him.” When Analise didn’t immediately agree, Olivia said, “Think about it.”

  Analise nodded and laid her head on the bed. She fell asleep with Olivia’s hand stroking her hair.

  In the morning, Olivia slept quietly. Analise was left alone with her thoughts. Olivia forgave her. Even on her own deathbed, Olivia had found the grace to think of someone else.

  Could Analise forgive herself? Could she ever look at Luke, accept what was in her heart and not feel the burden of guilt?

  She stood before the hospital room window and closed her eyes. She wanted to. God, she wanted to.

  Two days later, with Cole and Analise at her bedside and Richard Hammond saying a quiet prayer, Olivia slipped quietly away in her sleep. As she had promised, she left this world at ten in the morning, under a blazing summer sun.

  It seemed odd, leaving the hospital in the middle of the day. How quickly life waiting for death had formed a routine. Now that hateful routine was broken. It left a mingling of relief and unbearable sadness that sat on the soul like a cold stone. Analise put her arm around Cole as they approached the double glass doors for the last time.

  The heat hit her with a physical force as she stepped outside, making her realize just how exhausted she was. Neither she nor Cole had left the hospital in the past thirty-six hours.

  The heat rose in waves off the pavement. She had to pause and look for her Explorer, as she’d forgotten exactly where she’d parked it last. As she squinted against the bright sun, she saw him, leaning against the rear gate of her car with his arms crossed over
his chest.

  Luke saw her at the same moment and stood, letting his arms fall to his sides. He didn’t move forward, but stood waiting, as if giving her the opportunity to come to him, or turn around and walk away.

  Cole said quietly, “He’s back.” His voice held relief, not anger.

  Olivia’s words had been replaying in her mind for two days. Analise still feared trusting her own feelings. This time if she was wrong, Cole would suffer, too. Still, she took Cole’s hand and stepped forward, not away.

  When they reached Luke, she saw he had tears in his eyes. After the briefest hesitation, he enfolded both her and Cole in his arms and drew them to his chest. She felt his tears fall on her head and heard Cole sob against his shoulder.

  In a bit, when Cole’s sobs quieted, they broke apart. Luke kept his hand on Cole’s shoulder.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  Luke said, “Reverend Hammond and I keep in touch.”

  In that second, she saw the true man Luke was. She’d cast him out of their lives, but he cared enough to make sure he knew of Olivia’s condition. And he’d done it in a way that respected her wishes.

  Looking in his eyes, she said, “Liv wants us to talk. Let’s go home.”

  It was nearly ten o’clock that evening when the casseroles and cakes stopped arriving at Magnolia Mile. With each food offering came warm remembrances and heartfelt condolences. Analise thought it almost as exhausting as the past days at the hospital.

  Now Becca Reynolds and Luke were the only two people left. Cole and Becca sat on the living room sofa, holding hands and talking softly. Analise suggested to Luke they go out on the porch for a while.

  They sat next to one another on the wicker swing. Analise sighed and rotated her neck, trying to get some of the kinks out of her shoulders. She welcomed the comfort when Luke started to massage the stiff muscles there.

  “Have you been in Indiana?” she finally asked.

  “No. Memphis.”

  Her gaze snapped to his face. “Why Memphis?”