Family taught him to keep people at arm’s length and the one time he ignored his own rule, he was back to square one.
“Damn!” He entered his apartment and threw his keys and shoes across the room. Neither action abated his anger or frustration so he looked around and found more things to throw. After a few minutes of this behavior, the walls and door pounded around him from his neighbors.
“Yo! Keep it down in there,” a chorus of men demanded. “People are trying to get some sleep!”
“Go to hell,” Jett roared unconcerned about pissing people off. In fact, a good fistfight was probably what he needed. He could bare pain anywhere on his body...except in his heart.
Heartbreak left damage to the soul. Being honest with himself, he didn’t know how he would recover from this. If he ever could.
Giving up his tyrant, Jett collapsed on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. For the first time in a long while, he felt like crying, but he fought the tears as vigorously as an enemy combatant. It was a fight he wasn’t confident he’d win.
At long last when he calmed his pounding heart, his thoughts obsessed how he could fix this situation. However, every plan he came up with screeched to a halt when he remembered the pain and hurt in his wife’s eyes.
Eyes-that could never forgive.
He stood from the bed and headed toward the shower like a man’s last walk toward lethal injection. Even a long shower failed to make him feel any cleaner. Returning to bed, Jett slipped beneath the covers with only one thought looping in his head.
Tomorrow Sydney will dissolve the marriage.
Sleep eluded him.
Shutting off the alarm clock before it had the chance to go off, Jett was not excited to face a new day—especially one that was the beginning to an end. “I have to talk to her again,” he mumbled under his breath. Yet, he was clueless of what to say.
He had two hours before the graduation ceremony. Should he talk to her before or after? Jett warred with that decision for thirty minutes and then cursed himself for wasting time.
He pulled out his uniform blues and dressed. When he was finished he still didn’t have a prepared speech. Jett could only think of one request. “Can you ever forgive me?” he asked his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He held his own gaze and wavered with his own answer.
After a long while, he lowered his eyes and leaned his weight against the counter. What did it mean if he couldn’t even forgive himself?
Jett’s shoulders deflated as he came to a decision. “To hell with it.” He clenched his jaw and hardened his resolve. Even as he did so, the pain in his heart intensified.
He lifted his chin, met his gaze, and took a deep breath. He would not beg for love again.
A knock hammered at the front door. It’s her. Hope surged through his veins like a jolt of adrenaline through the heart. In four quick, long strides he made it from the bathroom to the front door. Jett didn’t know what he was doing or that he was holding his breath until he snatched open the door. Surprise and disappointment hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Xavier?”
Jett’s tall and handsome brother, dressed in a pristine naval uniform nodded and waited.
Jett tensed. Something had to be wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. He didn’t tell his brother about his training at Nellis. He couldn’t have—he didn’t know where the hell he was so the chances of his brother showing up for graduation were odds a mathematician would have trouble calculating.
He did, however, mail checks to his father from Nellis. Had Xavier finally return home and reclaim his rightful place as the golden child?
Xavier drew a deep breath and glanced around. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Jett kept his gaze leveled as he stepped back and allowed his brother entry. The moment he did so the temperature in the room spiked.
“Sorry to drop in on you like this,” Xavier began in a thick voice. “I’m sure my visit is sort of a shock.”
Jett closed the door and turned toward the spitting image of his father. “You could say that.”
The brothers stared at one another in an awkward checkmate for what seemed like an eternity.
“It’s good to see you again, Little Bro.” Xavier flashed his first smile but it soon cracked under pressure.
“What are you doing here?” Jett asked, wanting him to get to the point. This sort of surprise made him nervous. “How did you find me?”
“The checks to the old man,” Xavier replied, sliding his large hands into his pockets. “There were like four of them stuffed in his mailbox.”
Jett flinched at the painful squeeze to his already bruised heart while dread seeped into his bones. “He didn’t cash them?”
Xavier shook his head and then dropped his gaze to stare at his feet. “I finally go home...only it’s too late.”
Jett reached for a chair, trying to prepare himself for what he knew was coming, but Xavier said the words before he got chance to sit down.
“Dad passed away. I need you to come home.”
Sydney climbed out of bed without having slept a wink. All she had after a night of racing thoughts was a massive migraine. She toasted a bagel and swallowed four Tylenols instead of the recommended two. Before the pills had the chance to work their magic, she donned her sweat clothes and hit the track for an early morning run.
Maybe she could sweat Jett out of her system.
“I’ll race you.”
Startled by the gravelly baritone, Sydney let out a small yelp and then toward an equally surprised Lt. Johnson with his hands up in the air.
“You scared me,” she admitted and then relaxed with a smile. “I didn’t see you come up.”
“Sorry. I guess you were in your own little world.”
“I guess so.” She resumed her light jog.
Johnson ran beside with her. “Are you all right?”
Hell no. My husband married me in order to win a bet. “Never better.” She smiled and read in his eyes the truth. She stopped running.
Johnson also stopped.
“You know, don’t you?” she asked.
He hesitated.
Embarrassment, shame, and humiliation fused within her body and became a boiling anger. “So what do you want? Is there another pool to see who can make a bigger fool out of me?”
Johnson held up his hands again. “You beating up the wrong guy.”
She glared, but Johnson’s sincerity unraveled her anger like a loose thread. “Was the whole squad in on it?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t.”
Their gazes remained locked until her head began to pound again and new wave of tears stung her eyes. For someone who didn’t like crying, she was doing an awful lot of it since Jett Colton came into her life.
Jett pounded on his wife’s apartment door for twenty minutes, begging for entry. He wasn’t going to be able to attend graduation. He and his brother were booked on the next flight out to Georgia, which gave he less than an hour to settle things with his wife.
“She’s not there.” Maj. Post grumbled as she walked down the hallway and slipped her key into the lock two doors down.
“Where is she?” he asked, bracing himself for verbal combat.
Niecy opened her door as a sly smile slithered across her lips. “Down at the track...with Lt. Johnson.”
“You married him?” Johnson asked thunderstruck. “Are you kidding me?”
“What? Wasn’t that also part of the pool?” Sydney responded sarcastically, but secretly wanted an answer.
Johnson blinked as if he was unable to process the information.
“It really doesn’t matter.” She shrugged and began walking. “The marriage is over.”
After a few minutes lapsed, Johnson found his voice again. “Are you sure?”
Sydney hiked her shoulders. “How can it not be?”
“Well,” he sighed. “I guess that depends on whether or not you love him.”
She
fell silent.
“Do you?” he asked.
“More than one person has to be in love for a marriage to work.”
Johnson stopped walking. “How does he feel?”
He says he loves me.
“Have you asked him?”
Jett raced toward the tracks in his polished dress shoes fast enough to qualify for the Olympics. His heart and his head knew that Lt. Johnson was bad news. Mainly because a person would have to blind or stupid not to know Johnson had feelings for Sydney. Secretly, he feared the lieutenant was more of love match for Sydney than he was—he just hoped she didn’t come to the same conclusion.
But that hope died when the track came into view and he spotted Lt. Johnson and his wife locked in each other’s arms.
Jett stopped running and simply stared at the couple. He waited for the long hug to end or rather for Sydney to push Johnson away.
That didn’t happen.
What he saw instead was Johnson’s head descending and his lips land on Sydney’s upturned face.
So much for love.
Jett turned around and strolled back to his apartment with his head down and his heart shattered.
Sydney stood still as Lt. Johnson kissed her—more from shock than anything else. When he realized she wasn’t kissing him back, Johnson pulled away and smiled awkwardly at her.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
“Because I may never get another chance.” He smiled. “I hope things work out for you. If not—who knows?” It was a statement and a question.
Sydney couldn’t bring herself to answer. Not because she felt there was a possibility but because she didn’t want to hurt a friend.
He nodded, understanding her silence. “Good luck, Captain.” He winked. “See you at graduation.”
Major Charles Maxwell stood before the graduating class with his shoulders squared and his chin thrust high. Everyone at the sound of his voice knew his speech was a well-crafted work of art.
“I am proud of each and everyone of you. The course you have just completed was designed to expose you to real world situations our forces have faced in recent conflicts. In completing the exercises you are now Combat Air Force experts in tactical integration.”
Sydney tuned out again and cast another glance around, searching for Jett. Her game plan was to approach him calmly and request that they go somewhere they could talk. In fact, she’d rehearsed a speech. She even promised herself to be calm, cool, and collected; but with Jett’s noticeable absence, her calm was morphing into panic.
Had he skipped graduation as a way to avoid her?
What other explanation could there be?
Lt. Colonel Bryant replaced Major Maxwell and another rehearsed speech was underway. An hour later, Sydney’s patience for the whole proceedings was wearing thin. For the first time in her military life, Sydney found it hard to remain in perfect formation.
So absorbed in Jett’s disappearance, she didn’t hear her name called from the podium as the class Top Gun.
“Syd.” Niecy elbowed her sharply. “They’re calling for you.”
Sydney blinked and heard the surrounding applause for the first time. It was enough to snap her back to reality and march her way to the podium to accept her plaque and shake hands with the Lt. Colonel.
A speech wasn’t expected so she felt better for not having one. From the podium, she scanned the crowd and confirmed what she already knew.
Her husband was not there.
It was probably all for the best, she told herself in repetition. The ceremony finally drew to a close and an endless line of congratulatory handshakes ensued. Sydney moved through the sea of people on automatic pilot until her whole body felt numb.
“There’s our girl,” Steven’s voice rang out seconds before he enveloped his sister into his arms.
“As always we’re so proud of you,” her mother announced entering the fold.
Sydney had completely forgotten she’d invited her family to the graduation. It was just another sign of her not being herself lately.
“What’s this?” Her mother lifted Sydney’s left hand to stare at the simple silver band around her finger.
Sydney glanced at her brother who promptly averted his gaze by pretending to be fascinated by the weather.
“It’s nothing,” Sydney lied. “It’s just a ring I found at an antique shop I fell in love with.”
Steven’s attention snapped back to her, but this time she ignored him.
“Sweetheart, you have it on the wrong finger.” Her mother laughed. “For a minute you scared me. I thought you’d ran off and got married or something.”
Sydney laughed awkwardly but shot her brother a narrowed glare. “What would ever give you that idea?”
“Well, this is Vegas,” he mother tittered. “Capital of the drive thru wedding ceremonies.”
Sydney smiled. Should she search for Jett or wait for him to come to her? Should she file for the annulment or wait to see what fate handed out? Maybe this was one of those times when you love someone you set them free. If he comes back then it was meant to be.
“Why I hear in some places an Elvis Presley impersonator will perform the honors. Can you imagine?”
Sydney slipped off the silver band still unsure of her next move. “Actually, Mom. I can.”
Escape
Chapter 25
Tuesday July 4th, 2006 Somewhere in North Korea 2200 hours
Sydney lowered her Beretta and stared down at the dead body of the lone Korean soldier. He’d spotted and aimed his weapon at her. Before she had time to think, she pulled the trigger. She expected the gunfire to echo through the woods and possibly draw more soldiers to the area; but instead the forest fell eerily quiet.
She waited for hours with a dead man at her feet. Then slowly her tense body began to relax. Get up! She struggled to heed the command; her bad left trembled like the last fall leaf on the first day of winter. Miraculously, she climbed to her feet and inched deeper into the forest. The further she went, the thicker the trees. She didn’t select the place she would sleep for the night; more like, she collapsed when she couldn’t walk anymore. She curled behind a thick bush and then extracted her radio.
“Anyone, this Delta 6-6.” She reverted to her handle, her identity still protected from enemy forces.
No response.
In fact, Sydney began to wonder if the damn radio even worked.
Sleep hit her like an explosion, but the night was entirely too short as the unmistakable sound of F-16 jets filled the sky.
Wednesday July 5, 2006 Osan Air Base 1000 hours
Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR) program is directed from the top by an organization called the Joint Personnel Recovery Agency (JPRA). The “Personnel Recovery” is the aggregation of military, civil, and political efforts to recover captured, detained, evading, isolated or missing personnel from uncertain or hostile environments and denied areas. The moment Maj. Garrett’s plane went down the recovery operation automatically became a Joint Operation. Assets from any service can be asked to assist.
Vice Commander Colonel Mickelson spent all night and most of the morning working with JPRA and both parties came to the decision to cross ten miles into the DMZ for a signal for their missing pilot. Working from estimated coordinates from last contact with Major Garrett and Captain Johnson eyewitness account, Mickelson was confident his team would be able to make contact or locate any signal from Major Garrett.
Captain Johnson made it clear that he wanted the assignment, but Mickelson chose to send the Black Knights back in. However, the carefully calculated chess move was apparently expected.
“Missiles in the air. Missiles in the air,” Captain Colton transmitted before they lost contact with four more fighter pilots.
An explosion shook the ground around Sydney and her heart immediately leapt into her throat. Once the earth settled, another explosion followed and then another. As frighten as she was, hope managed to penetrate her veins. T
hey’re here. They haven’t forgotten about me.
But then the world went silent again.
She glanced up at the sky, awed by the majesty of the trees surrounding her. Sydney turned the radio back on and scanned the lifeless channel for what seemed an eternity before despair evicted her hope.
I’m going to die out here.
The morning passed and the radio remained dead. She was exhausted, starved, and dehydrated. By afternoon, she made a feast off of leaves and figs—pretty much anything she could find. She stayed put, not wanting to come across anymore Korean soldiers. The plan was to only move at night in the cover of darkness.
Sleep descended again before sunset. It was the same deep sleep that had claimed her before. When she woke this time, it wasn’t to the resonance of jets or explosion, but to the sound of crunching leaves.
Sydney had another visitor.
Her brain instantly cleared and her weapon was back in her hand as she squinted into the silver streams of moonlight.
What she saw stunned her.
Sydney blinked, certain the image before her was a wild hallucination. The only problem was that each time she opened her eyes, the man before her remained the same. Her grip on the Beretta loosened but she remain crouched and hidden behind the bushes.
Jett, however, doubled over and gasped for breath as if he’d just narrowly escaped the hounds of hell. When he finally brought his labored breathing under control, he made a quick scan of the perimeter and hunched down to pull out his radio from his vest.
Blue Skies Page 15