“Nebraska.”
“What happened?”
“He was already badly injured, and I had been stitching him up but didn’t realize he’d been hit again until I saw the pool of blood seeping out from beneath his flak jacket.”
“He was their leader?”
Jack nodded. “He insisted that I help the others first. One of the marines was probably going to lose a leg, but I did the best I could, applying the tourniquet. I don’t know what ever happened to him.”
“You worked hard to save them.”
Joe’s statement eased the tight knot forming in Jack’s throat. He swallowed and answered, “Yes.”
“Then what?”
“I was stitching our squad leader back together when I heard someone shout, ‘Incoming.’”
“And?”
“I reacted.”
Joe placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “What did you do?”
“I threw myself over two of the guys.”
While Jack stared off into space reliving that horrible instant in time, Joe nodded. “You saved their lives.”
Jack shook his head sadly. “Our squad leader died.”
“What about the others?”
“They survived.”
“And you?”
“Three operations and my leg’s almost straight again. Removing most of the shrapnel was hell.”
Joe nodded. “Caught some myself years back. Still think there’s a piece floating around in my side. So the powers that be gave you a Purple Heart for being wounded in action.”
Jack nodded. “Didn’t seem right, what with Nappy dead.”
“Nappy?”
“Napolitano.”
“When are you going to tell Cait?”
“Tell her what, that I’m a failure?”
“How did you fail?”
“I didn’t work fast enough. I should have saved him.”
“With all of your years in the navy, he couldn’t have been the first or only one you weren’t able to save.”
Jack’s shoulders slumped again. “Nappy was my friend.”
“As a doctor, you know you can’t save everyone—that’s up to a much higher power than yours. That IED didn’t have Napolitano’s name, or yours, on it. Did it?”
“No, but—”
“Don’t let it be personal, Jack…it was war.”
“War is hell.”
“I know.” Joe leaned forward. “Talk to Cait.”
“I will. Thanks, Joe.”
“Glad to help.”
“You’re pretty sharp, Joe.”
“Had to be,” Joe said. “I had to raise three daughters through their toughest years with only one oar, and without a rudder…my Maureen.”
“Salty talk,” Jack chuckled. “That’s what my mom always said when Dad and I started to talk like sailors.”
“Hell, you were both in the navy.”
“And you were in the coast guard.”
Joe grinned. “Best time of my life…aside from meeting Maureen and having three beautiful daughters.”
Jack watched his eyes and noticed they weren’t quite as sad as they’d been a year or so ago. “How did you cope when…” Jack couldn’t finish the question, remembering how horrible that time had been in Meg’s family’s life.
“At first, one breath at a time,” he told Jack. “And then it was one step at a time, and finally, with your dad’s help, one day at a time.”
“Smart man, my dad,” Jack said.
“Talk to him,” Joe urged, “then talk to my girl. Life’s too short to throw away what you two have because of your misplaced sense of pride.”
“It’s not pride,” Jack told him.
“What is it then?”
He hesitated. “Guilt.”
Joe added, “Ah, your mother raised you to be a good Irish son, then?”
Jack’s lips twitched at Joe’s exaggerated brogue. He nodded.
“So, you were raised with Irish Catholic guilt?” Jack shrugged, and Joe said, “The worst kind.”
Jack felt his lips twitching again, this time he gave in and smiled. “Thanks, Joe.”
“No problem,” Joe said, turning to go.
“I thought you needed to see me about something.”
Joe stopped in the doorway and grinned. “I did.”
Jack watched him leave, surprised to discover he was still smiling when he got the text from his mom that they’d made it home and were being lavished with puppy kisses.
He told them he had a stop to make on the way home, packed up, and drove to the Mulcahys’ place.
When he showed up at the back door, it was Grace and not Cait who stood there smiling. “She’s upstairs, go on up.”
Jack took the stairs two at a time and walked down the hallway. It felt good, he realized. He had a mission in life; he had a purpose—unburden the whole of his demons to Cait and move forward with their relationship from there. He was keeping her.
He was smiling when he pounded on her bedroom door.
“Be down in a minute, Grace.”
“It’s not Grace.”
When she didn’t immediately open the door, he knocked again, “Open up, Cait. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m half-dressed and my dad and sister are downstairs, which is where you should be. I’ll be right down.”
“But you’ve been after me to talk to you for days.”
“I changed my mind. Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought if it’s taken you this long to open up. I don’t want to scare you away if I don’t react the way you expect me to. I can’t take the chance of letting you down. Please, just go downstairs.”
“I can’t. I need to talk to you now, and I need to see your face when I tell you what happened.”
“Can’t you come back in an hour?”
“No! I’ve waited long enough. Open the door.”
“Not yet—”
“I have your father’s permission to break it down,” he lied, because if he didn’t spill his guts right now, he might not be able to for months!
There was a moment of silence before she told him, “Go ahead.”
God, why was she hiding from him? Was she really that scared? He felt like the Big Bad Wolf, but if that was the way she wanted to play it, so be it. He took a few steps back and shouted, “Stand back, you ornery Irishwoman!”
He got a running start and was about to bash into the door with his shoulder when it opened up. At the last second, he twisted his body and rammed his shoulder—instead of his head—into the plaster wall, cracking it.
Gasping for breath, certain that he’d dislocated his shoulder, he groaned as she demanded, “What did you call me?”
“Ornery,” he rasped, holding on to his aching shoulder while he struggled to stand. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, digging deep to get past the pain. “You badger me for days and tell me to talk to you…and now that I am—”
Her face paled. “Please just give me a little more time. This is too important to you—to us—for me to hear what you have to say and react instinctively—and take a chance of losing you forever. I love you too much to risk it.”
How could he refuse? He let her pass. “I love you, Caitlin.” He reached for her. She looked up at him with fear and tears in her eyes. The emotions tumbling through her humbled him. “I love you, Cait, and I’ll wait. Come over when you’re ready to listen—oh and one more thing.” He locked gazes with her. “I’ll come looking for you if you don’t.”
She squeezed his hand and nodded. “I’ll be there, I just need time to clear my head.”
Watching her walk away, knowing what he had to do, preferring to do it himself, he slammed his shoulder into the doorway and felt it shift back into place in the socket.
“God that hurts.” When he walked into the kitchen, Grace handed him a glass of water and two aspirins. “She’s probably going to talk to Peggy.”
He nodded, took them, and handed her the glass. “Thanks, Gracie.”
“She’s crazy about you, Doc.”
He slowly smiled. “I’m crazy right back.”
“I think you’re both certifiable,” Grace told him.
He drove home with a dull ache in his shoulder and a much sharper one in his leg. After all of his worry, damned if her car wasn’t parked next to his folks. “Guess she sorted it out quicker than I thought she would.”
The door opened, but instead of the woman he wanted to talk to, Jamie ran out and jumped on his bad leg. Jack went down hard, landing on the shoulder he had just put back into place. He saw stars and then he saw Caitlin—two of her—standing over him, begging him to speak to her.
“Speak to you?” he grumbled. “I’ve been trying to do that since you opened that damn door and I dislocated my damn shoulder.”
“Hmmm,” his mother said from where she stood behind Caitlin. “That’s two damns in one sentence. Our darling boy is upset about something.” Instead of offering Jack any sympathy, she put her arm through Cait’s. “Why don’t I make us a nice cup of tea?”
“John, dear,” his mother called out as she walked into the house. “Jack might need your help getting up.”
Jamie couldn’t understand why Jack wasn’t moving, so he jumped on Jack’s chest with his two front paws and started to lick Jack’s face. “At least you aren’t leaving me.”
“What’s all this about, Cora—Son!” His father knelt down by Jack’s side. “What happened to you?”
Jack cleared his throat, and told him, “It all started with this little dog.”
His father helped him to his feet and checked his eyes and the back of his head for lumps and bumps. “Where does it hurt the most?”
Jack grimaced. “My shoulder. Dislocated it when I hit the wall in Cait’s bedroom.”
His father’s eyes widened, then he said, “I’m having trouble wrapping my thoughts around that one, Jack. What exactly were you doing at the Mulcahys’ house?”
Jack sighed; he’d have to fess up sooner or later. Joe might stop by and it would be better if his father knew the truth before he had to bury his son. “Breaking her door down.”
“Then how did you hit the wall?” his dad asked, helping Jack to stand.
“She opened the door.”
“But I thought you said—”
“I told her to stand back because I didn’t want her to get hurt, but does the stubborn woman listen to me?”
“I was afraid, Jack,” Cait said from where she stood on the other side of the screen door.
“I know,” he said. “Are you ready yet?”
Her eyes filled and she walked outside to stand in front of him. “I’m listening.”
“I’m sorry about this morning, Cait. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”
His father handed him the ice bag first and then held the bottle of pain relievers and water.
“Grace already gave me some aspirin.”
“All right. Here,” his dad said, urging him toward a deck chair. “Sit down, son. I can tell your leg pains you.”
Looking at Cait and only Cait, Jack said, “I’ve been to the VA but wasn’t due for more therapy for a few weeks. There are times when I’m there again—in Iraq and it’s happening all over again.” He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart. When he opened his eyes, Cait squeezed his hand. “Sometimes,” he whispered, “it seems like a dream.”
His father and mother stood off to the side, but he motioned for them to come over. When they all sat down, Cait pulled her deck chair closer to Jack’s, so she could keep holding his hand.
“I need to tell you,” he said to Cait, “and my parents need to hear this too.”
His mother was sitting on the edge of her seat until his dad took her hand and patted the back of it. His mom scooted back in the chair but didn’t let go of his dad. Jamie laid down on Jack’s feet and looked up at him. The warmth and unconditional love surrounding him and shining in Jamie’s dark brown eyes gave Jack the courage to start.
“I was caring for the wounded in our battalion when an IED struck.”
“We know you were, Son,” his father said. “That’s why they gave you that medal.”
Cait looked over at his father and then back at Jack. “Yeah,” he said to Cait, “the one you found this morning.”
Drawing in a calming breath, he rasped, “Cait’s dad got me started talking today. It’s better if I just get it all out at once, and then I won’t have to talk about it again.”
“There’s where you’d be wrong,” Cait told him. “You need to acknowledge it and not bury it, so it won’t sneak up on you again.”
He shook his head. “I’m OK now and have my focus back. For a while, little things used to set me off—but therapy’s helped and the imagery the doctor suggested has been working.
“We weren’t even supposed to be there…wrong place, wrong time. Napolitano was my friend—the squad leader. I was stitching him back together, but once the IED hit, he insisted that I take care of his men first. I didn’t know he’d been hit again…if only I had just worked faster.”
He locked gazes with Cait and didn’t look away while he told the story. When he was finished, he grabbed both of her hands in his. “Can you understand why I felt so guilty?”
Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Honestly? No.”
“Dad? Mom?” he asked, knowing his parents had heard every detail.
When they looked at him as if he were crazy, Cait pulled him to his feet and into her arms. “Face it, Gannon, you’re a hero.”
He wanted to say something, but the warmth of her embrace filled the empty spots he’d exposed in his soul. Her love seeped in, binding the wounds, healing the hurt. Humbled, he buried his face in her hair and said a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn’t walked away from him.
“Why don’t you and I start supper?” his mother said, tugging on her husband’s arm to get him moving.
“Cora, wait,” he said, but she shook her head.
“They need more time to sort this out, John. You come on inside.” Reluctantly, he went.
“I’ve really missed them,” Jack said, listening to the snippets of conversation and his father’s grumbling as it drifted out through the screen door.
“They love you.”
He looked into Cait’s eyes, encouraged by the love reflected back at him. “Cait, I know I’ve made a mess of what we’d started, but can you find it in your heart to give me another chance?”
“You don’t need one.”
“Don’t I?”
“You haven’t used up the first one yet.” She waited a moment before adding, “Thank you for giving me a chance to gather my wits and courage to hear the rest of your story.”
“So you still love me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
“How can you make light of this, Caitlin?”
“Because I want you to understand that while it is huge for you, I don’t see it the same way.” She cupped his face in her hands and brushed her lips against his. “I remember the look on your face at graduation, when they announced you were headed to the Great Lakes A School and that you were going to be a navy corpsman.”
She let her hands glide down his neck to his chest and then around his back. “You were so handsome, standing there so straight and so tall. I never thought you’d look twice at me. You were Meg’s age…I was just a kid.”
“I still think you don’t understand.”
“Then I saw the distant look in your eyes when you came home on leave. You weren’t the same. I couldn’t imagine the things you’d seen
and done for our country, but my dad could. He reminded us that war is hell and that some men are scarred by it physically, some mentally, and then there are some who quietly do their duty, never asking to be recognized, just wanting to do what they’d been trained to do—some of them patching the wounded back together—like you.
“And I see you as the auburn-haired doctor who came home to fill his father’s shoes and take over his practice when your dad retired and your parents announced they were moving to Florida.”
She watched his eyes as she added, “You didn’t have to do that, but otherwise everyone in Apple Grove would have had to drive nearly an hour to get to the next closest doctor in Newark. Do you realize how important you are to this community? Mr. Weatherbee, Mrs. Winter, all of our older residents who can’t always drive into town when they’re sick? You continue your dad’s practice of making house calls. Who the heck does that these days?”
He shook his head. Far be it from him to interrupt Caitlin Mulcahy when she was on a roll.
She laid her head on his chest and whispered, “You didn’t have to throw yourself on top of those marines. But you did. You didn’t even think twice. You just did.”
Easing back, she let her gaze meet his. “If I could take away the horrors that you’ve seen, the pain you’ve suffered, I would,” she told him. “But it’s all part of who and what you are…the man I fell in love with.”
She kissed him, pouring all of the love inside of her into him, to help him heal. “So yeah, I’m not seeing things from your perspective, but I think I get it.”
Everything inside of Jack felt too big to put into words, but he had to let her know what her words meant to him. So he ignored the pain shooting through his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet and kissing her while he spun them around in a circle.
“You’re making me dizzy!” she squealed until he stopped spinning. With a hand to her head, she motioned toward the back door. “Should we tell them about us?” He eased Cait out of his arms, but he kept a hold of her hand.
Walking inside, he said, “Mom, Dad.” He paused until they were both looking at him, “Cait and I are seeing each other.” He brought Cait’s hand to his lips and brushed the back of it with a kiss. “We’re in love.”
One Day in Apple Grove Page 23