by Karen Rock
An image of Mark flashed in Cassie’s mind and the space he’d vacated rose empty and dark inside her. She shoved down the sensation. Time to focus on herself. Her life. Her rules. “Who shared that information?”
“Lieutenant Commander Sampson when he stopped by yesterday. Shoot.” A drop of coffee spilled on the counter and she dabbed at it.
“And—” Cassie cleared her throat, astonished. She began again. “What did he say?”
Nurse Little tossed out the damp napkin. “He said you conducted yourself professionally. I also learned that you boarded the ship?”
Cassie’s chin rose and her heart swelled. So Mark had complimented her. Thought well of her skills... If only that translated into real action. Faith in her.
“I did. One of the rescue swimmers became injured and I was needed to triage as well as treat a critical patient.”
“Vincent Jameson.” They both looked up when the field hospital’s air filter hummed to life overhead. “You saved his life.”
Cassie nodded slowly. Saving Vincent had felt like rescuing her brother in a way. The sense of accomplishment had finally replaced the impotent, helpless feeling that’d gripped her since Jeff’s disappearance.
“I’d like to do more, but I’m not sure about my next steps. My plan is to join the Coast Guard. I know it’s not the Red Cross, but I hoped you might have some advice to share with me.”
Reaching into her uniform pocket, her superior produced a postcard with a picture of a cat holding an SOS sign. “Before I left for Saint Thomas, a nurse I mentored sent me this. She’s with the Coast Guard and mentioned that the paramedic training program she teaches is open again. It only happens about once every couple of years, and they’re always interested in recruiting from the Red Cross.”
Her eyes glinted. She rose and crossed to the sink, her now empty mug in hand. “The program starts next week, though. You’d need to be able to fly straight to Petaluma, California, from here.”
“How would I be approved that quickly?” Cassie gasped, thinking how fast things were lining up now that she’d finally figured them out...all except Mark.
“I can pull a few strings when I need to.” Nurse Little’s mouth curved slightly and her eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “You already have your Certified Flight Registered Nurse designation, so that makes you attractive, as well as your Certified Emergency Nurse and Basic Trauma Life Support training. I believe you’ll need ninety flight hours, training in Prehospital Advanced Life Support, and Advanced Trauma Life Support certification. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re assigned straight out of the program.”
Suddenly light-headed, Cassie gripped the back of her chair and blew out a shaky breath.
The senior nurse ran the tap and glanced over her shoulder. “Too much?”
“No. No. It’s what I want.”
“Good. I’d be glad to give you a recommendation, as would Lieutenant Commander Sampson, I’m certain.”
Cassie frowned. A conundrum if there ever was one. “I’m not so sure he’d be willing to do that.”
After returning the washed mug to the rack, Nurse Little dried her hands and turned. “It’d be no problem at all, and I’m happy to speak to him or another member of the crew...his copilot, perhaps, if that’s preferable.”
Her heart began to thump. “I would appreciate that. It’s been an honor to work with you and the Red Cross. It—ah—actually inspired me to do this.”
To Cassie’s surprise, Nurse Little pulled Cassie to her feet and enfolded her in a quick, Dial-soap-infused hug. “We were lucky to have you. I’ll be watching what’s sure to be a distinguished career.”
Cassie smiled back. “Thanks. I’ll keep in touch.” Speaking of which... “Would I be able to call home?” She pictured her mother. Heard the conversation in her mind and realized that as far as she’d come, she still had one last battle to fight to complete her transformation.
Nurse Little handed her a large cordless phone. “Dial 811 for command center and they’ll connect you to the right number. You can use my office for privacy.” She gestured to the small cubby to the left of the nurses station. Cassie looked up when her supervisor squeezed her shoulder. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
Slightly out of breath, Cassie scooted into the space, closed the curtains for privacy and stared at the phone.
If she went through with this, she was as good as throwing in the towel with Mark. Grief overwhelmed her. It tore at her heart and her stomach and her head and it pulled her under, and she honestly didn’t think she could bear it. A life minus the man she loved... Would she come to resent her dream career without him?
Was this all an impulsive mistake?
Cassie’s thoughts spun as they always had in the past, refusing to settle. For a moment, her familiar indecisiveness returned and she worried she’d end up doing nothing at all. Then like a roulette ball falling into a slot, everything clicked.
No. She wouldn’t have walked away from Mark, or broached the subject with her supervisor, unless deep down she knew this was the right choice, tough as it was.
Her mother would be shocked.
She might have a breakdown.
Cassie’s hand tightened on the receiver. Yes, both of those things might happen. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t, live her life to make others happy. And deep down, wasn’t that really just an excuse not to make decisions at all? As long as she was accountable to everyone else, she never had to be accountable to herself.
No one—not even Mark—could shape her destiny. Her body felt pummeled from the inside out over how sad, hurt and disappointed she felt, but she had to move on. Time to take ownership of her life.
A moment later, a distant ringing sounded in Cassie’s ear.
“Hello?” At her mother’s familiar voice, tears rushed to Cassie’s eyes, along with a longing for home. And she wouldn’t see it for some time if Nurse Little’s confidence proved reliable.
“Mom.” Cassie opened her mouth to continue, but her mother interrupted her.
“Cassie! I’ve been waiting by the phone all week. Are you coming home soon? I baked and froze chocolate chip, peanut butter and shortbread cookies.”
“Don’t forget the snickerdoodles,” Cassie’s father broke in after a click sounded, heralding another line being picked up.
“Wow. You’ve been busy,” Cassie said, faintly. She dumped all of the paper clips out of their dispenser and began sorting them into two piles by size.
“I had to keep my mind off...well... I’ll feel better when you’re home.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Cassie dropped a large paper clip on her growing pile and closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. “I’m not coming home because I’ve decided to join the Coast Guard as a nurse. A training program begins on Monday in California.”
“S-say that again?” her mother murmured. Cassie pressed the phone to her warm ear.
“I want to be a flight nurse.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the small desk, lowering her voice when the sounds of nurses changing shifts filtered through the curtain. “I filled in for one of the Jayhawk crew’s flight medics. It was incredible.”
“Incredible?” Her mother’s voice rose.
“Joyce,” warned Cassie’s father. “Hear her out. Does this have to do with Jeff?”
A long silence descended. Because of her mother’s fragile mental health, they’d mostly avoided talking about him since the memorial.
“Yes,” Cassie admitted. She scooped the large paper clips and dropped them into the holder. “At first. But now I want this for myself.”
“You don’t have to prove anything,” insisted her father.
“Yes, I do.” The last of the small paper clips slipped through her fingertips into a bowl. “All my life I�
��ve tried making everyone happy. I thought I was doing something good, the right thing. But I wasn’t noble. I was a coward.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious.” Cassie heard the splash of liquid hitting the bottom of a glass. The image of her mother pouring the juice she took with her pills rose.
Scooching farther back in the wooden chair, she sat up straighter. “I want to make a difference. Help people in desperate situations. I can’t do that in my old job.”
“It used to make you happy.”
“No, it didn’t” came her father’s firm reply and Cassie’s mouth dropped open. “She was miserable there, Joyce. We both saw it. Why do you think she took all those extra courses? She wanted more. We just didn’t want to admit it.”
“You weren’t happy living here, honey?” The sadness in her mother’s voice made Cassie’s eyes sting.
“I was. But I want more. I can do more. I helped to save people from a sinking ship.”
“Oh, my good Lord,” gasped Cassie’s mother. “You could have died yourself.”
“Yes.” No sugarcoating it. Not anymore. She picked up a pen and began doodling to get rid of her nervous energy. “But I’ve never felt more alive.”
“You’re lucky you got out of there,” observed her father, his voice deep with concern.
“Jeff’s old crew manned the Jayhawk that carried me. The pilot, Mark, he’s uh—not such a bad guy.”
“He left Jeff.”
“He saved Cassie.”
Her parents spoke at the same time and then a long silence descended.
“And is it this Mark that convinced you to join the Coast Guard?” Joyce asked after what sounded like a hefty swallow.
If it wasn’t so sad, Cassie would have laughed. “Hardly. He doesn’t want me anywhere near it.”
Her heart squeezed.
“He sounds like a sensible fellow.”
“And controlling. He doesn’t understand how important this is to me.” Her pencil’s tip broke on the paper.
Another lengthy quiet descended, and then her mother said, “I’ve got to go.”
“Mom. Mom?” Cassie’s stomach ached when she didn’t get a response. She hated to hurt her mother. “Dad, I should let you go so you can comfort her.”
“I will, but there’s something I want to say first.”
Cassie braced herself.
“I’m proud of you, honey. We only get one shot at life and you need to do what makes you happy.”
Without Mark, would she be happy? “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”
“You’re going to help a lot of people,” her father said. “Jeff would be proud, too.”
“I love you, Dad.” Cassie’s voice broke. “Tell Mom I love her, too.”
“I will. Once she’s had time to process this, she’ll come around.” Her father’s reassuring tone settled Cassie’s rising fear before they disconnected.
Cassie stared at the phone she’d set on the desk. Gratitude for her father’s understanding swelled. It’d gone better that she’d expected. Still, the victory felt hollow since Mark would never celebrate it with her.
Needing to clear her head, Cassie stepped outside for a few minutes before her shift started. At the distant thrum of a motorboat, she studied the rippling water, the strings of buoys that marked the boating channels and, on the far side, the tree-covered hills stretching up to the blue sky.
The familiar sound of a helicopter erupted overhead and she blinked into the rising sun at a Jayhawk whirring out to sea.
Mark. She couldn’t know for sure, but deep down it felt like him leaving her, even though they weren’t scheduled to leave until tomorrow.
A child tore down the beach with a dog at her heels. Their delighted howls pinged inside the empty cavity Mark had left inside her. Everything felt wrong with her body.
Overwhelming tiredness weighted her bones, and a heaviness in her lungs made it hard to breathe. An extreme emotion erupted inside her and it was all she could do not to roar.
Instead, her mouth worked silently before one word emerged at last. “Goodbye.”
13
One month later
MARK STARED OUT the window of the Elizabeth City Coast Guard station’s commissary, absently chewing a dry turkey sandwich. Service personnel wearing dress blues, more casual trops or flight suits surrounded him. Occasional bursts of laughter punctuated the steady babble that filled the house-size room. The whine of an engine sounded through the glass and he tracked a rolling Herc as it taxied to its distant runway, the bright sunlight glinting off its white-and-orange sides. How many missions had he flown since he’d last seen Cassie?
Fifty-seven and a half hours, twenty days of flying, three SAR cases, six training flights, ten law enforcement missions, six combo flights, twenty basket/RS hoists and four night flights. Twelve lives saved, four assisted.
Still not enough to banish her from his thoughts. Sometimes he woke up speaking her name. He dropped his mostly uneaten sandwich and picked up his spoon. Tomato-scented steam rose from the bowl but it didn’t tempt him. Nothing did, unless it was dreams of Cassie, hot and eager beneath him, her body offering him the peace of mind he couldn’t find when awake.
He’d volunteered for everything possible since completing the Saint Thomas mission. Had even taken part in some of the training academy’s drills, flying for them as he’d once done earlier in his career. Anything to keep his mind occupied, though none of it worked. His final conversation with Cassie ran through his brain on a permanent loop. Her crestfallen face was always before him.
The thing that haunted him, that left his stomach in toxic knots, his food like ashes on his tongue, was the way they’d left things. That they hadn’t even said goodbye.
Sending his recommendation to Petaluma should have helped. Given him closure. Stopped him from picturing her in the air, dropping down to ships, in danger. She wasn’t his responsibility anymore. Yet somewhere along the line she’d become much more than that.
“Commander.” Dylan stopped at Mark’s table, his usual smile missing. He wore an olive green flight suit peppered with zippers that held just about anything. It looked like he’d stowed his good humor in one of them. Mark angled his head to meet the tall swimmer’s eyes.
“Taking off soon? Kodiak, right?”
Dylan nodded slowly and held out his ACE-wrapped arm. “Homeward bound.”
“Maybe they’ll have a parade.”
One side of Dylan’s mouth jerked up. “Run me out of town is more like it.”
“Broken laws, broken hearts?”
Dylan shot him a sideways glance. “Something like that.”
Interesting. Ian had mentioned a woman there... Still, he knew better than to pry. He stuck out a hand and Dylan shook it firmly. “Good luck. Keep in touch.”
“Will do. So Cassie’s doing well, huh?”
Mark’s heart added an extra beat or three at her name. “What do you mean?”
Dylan’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t kept in touch?”
He shook his head.
“Idiot.” A couple of passing guys clapped Dylan on the back. He nodded at them then frowned down at Mark. “A friend of mine at Cape Cod said she’s working with his crew now.” When another man waved from the door, Dylan returned the gesture. “Look. I gotta go. But call her, man. Don’t be an ass.”
“Words to live by.”
Dylan snorted. “True enough.”
He watched his straight-backed friend disappear and silently wished him well. He’d miss his workout buddy, who also had the good grace to let someone else win at poker once
in a while.
“Sampson?”
Mark glanced up to see his old mentor, Frank Gilford, in a bravo jacket, the navy color broken up with ribbons and a name tag with a new designation: Captain. Mark stared. A full bird, O-6. Big-time. It’d been—what—three years since he’d seen the legendary pilot? One of the most decorated aviators in the Coast Guard’s history.
In a flash, he stood and saluted. “Congratulations, sir.”
Captain Gilford waved away the gesture and sat heavily in the seat opposite. “Appreciated. Though I think it’s their way of saying I’m too old for the cockpit. Time for a desk job.”
“Hardly, sir.”
The ruddy man squinted at Mark. With his thick brush of gray hair and craggy face, he looked ageless. Not too old to fly. Not by a long shot.
“What brings you here?” Last Mark heard, he’d been stationed in San Diego.
Frank’s lips thinned and the skin around them turned white. He drummed thick fingers on the tabletop and looked out the window at the Jayhawks and Dolphins.
“Lost Marie,” he said at last. “A year ago. Our kids wanted to get together here with her parents. Hold a memorial...” His voice trailed off and Mark wished he could smack himself upside the head for digging. The poor guy. He’d loved his wife with the kind of devotion Mark had never known himself...before Cassie.
“I’m sorry, Frank.”
His gray eyes swerved to Mark. The steely expression Frank usually wore was gone. Instead, he looked...lost, a terrifying feeling for a navigator, Mark knew.
“Brain aneurysm. Just like that.” Frank’s jaw stiffened and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened. “Doctor said she didn’t...she didn’t even feel it.”
Mark nodded, straining to keep his face neutral. Not overly sympathetic the way he felt. Frank wouldn’t want to get weepy in the mess hall. “That’s a hell of a thing.”