“I got permission to fly in ahead of the team.” Angel smiled, but his lips were tight and his eyes dull. “You OK, honey?”
“I am now,” she said, her eyes glistening. “I thought—” Her voice hitched. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”
Angel took Amanda’s head between his large hands and looked deep into her eyes. He closed his own tightly for a few seconds. Opening them, he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Did they—” He cleared his throat. “Did they . . . hurt you?”
“Oh, Angel.” Amanda placed her hands over the top of his. “Don’t do that to yourself.” She held his gaze. “No, they didn’t hurt me. Not physically.”
They kissed. Angel holding Amanda close to him, with one hand on the back of her head, the other around her body.
Amanda caught the eye of a passer-by who smiled at her. I suppose you’re looking at this happy scene thinking, ‘Here’s a Marine lucky to be home to his family, just in time for the Holiday Season.’
Angel let Amanda rest silently on his shoulder for a while before he spoke. “Commander Gant wants you to get some rest tonight and asked that I bring you straight to him in the morning. He wants to make sure you’re really OK.”
“Do I have to?” Amanda mumbled into Angel’s shirt. “I just want to be with you.”
“Yeah, I think you should. He’s a good guy, honey. He will be able to help you.” He paused. “I spoke with him a few times during my rehab.”
Amanda pushed herself away from Angel’s embrace. “You mean, psych talk?”
“Yeah, but off the record; friend-to-friend. Tchibowsky reckons I had PTSD.” He shook his head.
“I never thought so.”
“Gant said a mild TBI can present like PTSD because of the overlap of symptoms.” He curled his lip. “Like depression.”
“Are you saying you’re suffering from depression?”
“Not now. Gant thought I was, but he said that’s normal for my type of injury too.” He laughed. “He told me to lay off the coffee and alcohol to see if that helped. I didn’t have much of either for a while and I gotta say, I felt way better for it. I could think more clearly. That’s what was getting me down.”
She stared into his green-brown eyes. “But you’re fine now, right?”
He gave a curt nod. “Yep. Firing on all cylinders again.” Angel took Amanda’s hand. “But now it’s time for you to quit worrying about others and think about yourself for a while.” He kissed her palm. “Let’s go home, cariño.”
40
Amanda checked her appearance in a window before approaching Gant’s office. Cooper looked up from his paperwork and told her it was OK to go right in. She paused to pick a piece of imaginary lint from her slacks, took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Good morning, Amanda,” said Gant with a warm smile. “I was about to have a coffee. Can I get one for you?”
She politely declined.
“Take a seat,” he said, pouring his drink.
She sat in the visitor’s chair at his desk.
“No, over there.” He indicated a leather couch and armchair on the other side of the room. “A little less formal.”
Gant ushered her toward the comfortable seating. She chose the armchair. He placed a tray holding a bottle of water and two tumblers next to a box of tissues on the low table between the chairs. He fetched his coffee and settled himself on the couch. “You know what this is, don’t you?” His steady gaze held Amanda’s twitchy one.
She struggled to keep the boredom out of her voice. “Another Critical Incident Stress Debriefing?”
“You can think of it along those lines if you like.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Do you think I need it?”
“Only you can answer that.”
“Don’t you have a report on me? I’ve answered all these questions already.”
“This is an off-the-record, no rank, chat. But if you would be more comfortable talking to a woman about what happened?”
Amanda folded her arms across her chest and sagged back in the chair. “No. To be honest, I think I’d rather talk to you.”
Gant sat back.
“Aren’t you going to take notes?”
“I’m not psychoanalyzing you. I’m just offering you another chance to talk about what happened out there. You don’t have to.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How did you sleep on your first night back?”
“It’s great to be back in a real bed.”
“I see.” Gant gave a wry grin. “And how would you say you are feeling now?”
Amanda bowed her head. “Relieved that it’s all over.”
“Do you regret that you went on this trip?”
Her head snapped up, eyes blazing. “What kind of question is that!”
“One that doesn’t require a pat answer from your playbook of responses. I’m not looking for textbook answers. I’m asking you about your experience.”
“OK. Then yes, of course, I bloody well regret going. If I hadn’t been there none of those people would have been killed.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were after me, a civilian. If I hadn’t been there it wouldn’t have happened.”
“What makes you think they were after you?”
“Because they always target civilians; journalists, aid workers . . . that kind of thing.”
Gant’s face remained expressionless and his voice calm. “They didn’t even know you were coming. You were literally a last minute addition to that medical outreach mission. Do you think that attack was not already planned?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was.”
Amanda plucked at her sleeve. ”Maybe they got wind I was there.”
“When? Captain Washington asked you the night before if you wanted to go and at daybreak you departed. When did they get the word to set up an ambush?”
“From the interpreter?”
“He wasn’t given any intel on how many, let alone who were in the group. When do you think he had chance to get word to anyone?”
Amanda shrugged.
“These questions are not really that difficult. Yes, part of you wishes you hadn’t gone—”
Amanda looked Gant in the eye. “So, you’re saying I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He nodded. “Like I said, it is natural that a part of you wishes you had never gone—that you had been spared the ordeal—but the truth is if you had not been there the attack would have happened anyway and there may not have been any survivors.”
“Oh.”
Gant sat forward. “People died; fact. There was not a damn thing you could have done to prevent that, but because you happened to be there, Logan and Washington lived.” He lifted his chin. “And before we go any further, I don’t want my presence to make you feel in any way embarrassed or uncomfortable. So if you would prefer to talk to a woman about any of this, just say so and we’ll stop.”
Amanda sighed. “I’m OK talking to you, Will.”
He poured two glasses of water and placed one in front of Amanda but left the other glass on the tray. “Did you resist your captors in any way?”
She took a small sip before replying. “No, I was treated very well. Too well, all things considered.”
“You didn’t show defiance? Make demands?”
Amanda ran her finger around the rim of her tumbler. “No. I only asked for some water to wash in and some extra blankets, which I got . . . oh, and a lantern.”
Gant’s voice stayed neutral and soft. “You’re saying that you were not sexually assaulted in any way?”
“No, I wasn’t? But after what they did to Tonya and Jared, why didn’t they do anything to me?”
Gant leaned back and draped his arm along the back of the couch. “Your non-aggressive attitude may have spared you. Being openly hostile often incurs a harsh retaliation.”
Almost under her breath, Amanda said, “
I suspected from the look on the corpsman’s face . . . Tonya was raped, wasn’t she?”
Gant’s pale blue eyes held her gaze. “I can’t discuss that with you.”
“That’s a yes, then. Is she OK? Oh, that’s a stupid thing to say, of course, she isn’t.” Amanda set her glass down, then kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her. She wrapped her arms around her body. “No,” she said, first staring down at the table and then meeting Gant’s steady gaze. “I know what saved me. It wasn’t only my non-aggressive attitude. If that ever had anything to do with it.” She reached for a tissue but changed her mind. “What saved me was the need to have me minister to Jarhead—Jared—so they could continue to have their fun with him.”
Gant took his time picking up his tumbler and taking a drink from it. “Do you feel guilty that Jared and Tonya were harmed while you were not?”
Amanda glanced around Gant’s office before she spoke again, her voice rising as she did. “Guilty? No, I don’t think so. I am disgusted at what they did to Jared . . . and appalled at what happened to Tonya.” She teased some tissues from the box. “Do you think I should talk to her?”
“Would it help you, if you did?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so . . . I just feel—” She twisted the tissues in her hands until they fell apart.
He gently prompted her. “You feel what, Amanda?”
She banged her fists on the arms of the chair. “Anger! I feel anger! Anger that they took us. Anger that they violated Tonya. Anger that they did what they did to Jarhead. Anger that anyone could behave like that.” She rolled the shredded tissues into a tidy ball and dropped it on the tumbler tray. She placed her feet back on the floor and sat on the edge of the chair. “How many times was she raped?”
Gant shook his head.
“You don’t know or you’re not telling me?”
“Ama—”
She threw up her hands. “You’re right. What does it matter if it was one or twenty-one? It was wrong and doesn’t get any less wrong.” She swallowed hard. “It was the same with Jared, it never got any less painful seeing him come back night after night.” She covered her eyes. “Why did he do what he did?” Getting no reply from Gant, she peeked between her fingers.
“The answer to that question, the ‘why’, you already answered in your official debrief.” He raised a hand to stop Amanda’s interruption. “He did what he was trained to do. He surrendered only when he had no viable option. The threat they made to kill you lured him out. However, you saved his life with your plea.”
“But what they did to him. How did he endure all that?”
“That’s down to the individual, but it looks like he had an effective way of blocking it out. He had an incredible will to live.”
“He has a young son.” Amanda’s brows knitted, her lip quivered and all the emotion she had been bottling up spilled out.
Gant observed her breakdown in poker-faced silence.
When she could cry no more, she composed herself with a large sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
“You said this was in an unofficial capacity.”
He nodded. “You have something else to say?”
She shook her head. “No, I think I’ve said all I need to now,” she said in a voice that still shook a little.
“Then permit me this as a friend.” Gant came around the table and offered his hand to help Amanda to her feet.
She let him envelop her in a gentle, protective embrace. She kept her head bowed and he rested his chin lightly on the top of it, offering the quiet solace that one good friend can provide for another with no words needed. Gant squeezed her shoulder and Amanda’s tears fell again—this time unaccompanied by all the other jumbled emotions—just quiet tears of relief. He tightened his hug and swayed gently with her from side-to-side.
Amanda’s deep breath signaled that her tears were done, but she remained snuggled into his chest, guarded against the outside world by the security of Gant’s muscular arms. She listened to the strong, slow beat of his heart, letting that lull her for a moment before finally speaking. “Angel thinks I should take some time off.”
“Your choice. Some people feel they need a break; some prefer to throw themselves straight back into work.” He patted her back. “You know you have a great support network here. And I’m not just talking about all the medical and psychological help that is, of course, at your disposal, should you feel the need.”
Amanda broke from Gant’s arms, and her eyes widened in dismay. “Will, I am so sorry. I have made such a mess of your shirt! Please tell me you have a spare?”
The corner of Gant’s eyes wrinkled from his smile. “Yes, I do. You know my door is always open if you want to talk.”
“Thank you.” Amanda reached for a fresh tissue and blew her nose. “I’m sorry, but I think I really needed that cry. I feel a lot better for it. And for talking to you.”
Gant held open an inner door. “Would you like to use my bathroom to freshen up?”
Amanda held her wrists under the cold water for a moment before splashing some on her tired eyes. “I heard Jared is in San Diego. Can I visit him tomorrow?” She said, patting her face dry with a towel.
“Tomorrow he’s heading back home to Texas and The Brooke Medical Center.”
“Oh,” she said, rejoining Gant in the office. “I’d hoped to see him again, but it’s great for him to be back with his family. He will have all the help I’ve received, won’t he? The psychological after effect of all this on him must be—”
“Yes, he will have all the psych help he wants. Plus, I know Ski, the corpsman, used ketamine as an analgesic. It disassociates the patient from the scene making the event less psychologically damaging.”
“Is it too late to take some?”
“Amanda, give yourself permission to do whatever you need to do to take care of yourself. Your body and mind will let you know what that is.” He sat on the edge of his desk. “Get plenty of rest and don’t force yourself to be active if you’re not feeling like it. Talk to people—as much as you need to. Some people need to talk through a traumatic event over and over . . . and what you did here today, is fine too. If you feel the need to let it out, do so. It’s not a sign of weakness.”
“Thank you, Will,” Amanda said, slipping her feet into her shoes “for all of this. I truly appreciate it.”
Gant escorted her to the door. “Like I said, it’s not just me you can count on. Talk to Angel. Include him in your healing. Let him help you the way you helped him. And if he’s not around, any one of those men on the team will be there for you.”
41
Zanna asked Amanda if she’d like to go to the team’s homecoming, but after citing a string of excuses—Noa Lana, the early arrival time, and even the weather—she confessed that although filled with deep gratitude for them saving her life, she might not be able to hold it together now she had first-hand knowledge of exactly what it was Angel did for a living. Zanna hugged her and told her she completely understood. Despite being a critical care nurse and witnessing the horrific injuries sustained in combat, Amanda had always managed to somehow distance herself from the realities of war.
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