Beyond Valor

by Lindsay McKenna

  “I’d like that.” Megan turned and saw Khalid coming out of the HQ. Luke was with him and so was Sergeant Payne. Her heart skipped a beat as she gazed a bit longer at Luke. To everyone else, he looked like just another Marine in the company. But he wasn’t. He was a true hero. And her hero. Overwhelmed by her emotions, her love, Megan felt her heart open wide to this man. She admired his broad shoulders and how he walked with confidence born from experience. His face was ruggedly handsome and she vibrantly recalled the unexpected kiss they’d shared earlier. She had to look away. No one could know how she felt. He couldn’t know she was falling in love with him. Not now. Gently, Megan tucked those secrets away. She had a job to do here and she was going to make General Stevenson proud of her.

  Sacrifice was something Megan understood by being in the military. And now she was going to put her love on hold. No matter what happened, she had to treat him like she would anyone else. A new strength flowed through her as she stood and watched the CH-47 hover and begin to land within the compound. Grateful for Emma’s presence, words and experiences, Megan knew she was strong enough to handle anything that this valley could throw at her. Anything.

  Chapter 10

  Megan stood back as Captain Aylin Sahin stepped out of the CH-47. It was an hour before sunset, the sun dipping behind the western mountains. Emma had been right about the Turkish Apache combat pilot: she was not only beautiful, but formidable. There wasn’t much time. Her red-haired cousin slipped into the pilot’s seat of the massive transport helicopter.

  For a moment, Megan appreciated the tall foreign pilot. Most combat pilots were under six feet, and Sahin fit those guidelines—just barely. The olive-green one-piece Army flight suit and Kevlar did little to hide her statuesque figure. Most of all, the Turkish pilot exuded confidence. Megan couldn’t get close enough to see much else as more supplies and boxes were swiftly unloaded from the rear opening of the CH-47 by two loadmasters. Tension thrummed through the air.

  Luke came up beside Megan. “Who is that?”

  “Captain Aylin Sahin. She’s the Turkish pilot who flies with the Black Jaguar Squadron. It’s an all-woman squadron formed by General Maya Stevenson.”

  Nodding, Luke tried to ignore Megan’s nearness. “She looks powerful.”

  “Right on. I wouldn’t want to meet her up in the air, would you?”

  Chuckling, Luke watched the pilot reenter the rear of the helo after the last pallet had been removed. “No, she looks like an eagle.”

  “Emma was telling me her last name in Turkish means ‘falcon.’” She gave him a warm look. “You’re pretty astute, Collier.” She saw him grin.

  “Sometimes.”

  “How are your hands doing? Are you in much pain?”

  He lifted his bandaged hands encased with latex gloves. “I take ibuprofen and they’re fine. I’d like to get rid of the dressings, though. The grunts are giving me hell about wearing them.”

  “Hey, you’re cannon fodder on that one.” She laughed. “Do they call you Mittens, I wonder?”

  “Yeah,” he said as he chortled, “and worse. Things I would never repeat to you.”

  “Well,” she said drily, “tell them you’re lucky you’re not pulling an exam to check their prostate today.”

  He doubled over with laughter, hands on his knees for a moment. Straightening, he said, “You have a wicked sense of humor.” He felt his heart expand with joy as she smiled wide. Her eyes sparkled. It was one more reason to like her.

  “Yeah, I think it comes with the territory, don’t you? We see so much suffering, deal with so many traumatized men, women and children, we have to blow it off somehow.”

  “You’re right. You picked that philosophy up real fast in Iraq, I bet?”

  “Yes.” Megan glanced over at him. Every time she met his warm gaze, an ache began in her lower body. Luke affected her deeply, though he couldn’t know it. Still, Megan allowed herself to feel the pleasure and happiness he stirred within her.

  “They’re taking off,” Luke warned her.

  Both of them quickly walked away as the rotors whirled faster and faster, stirring up the dust clouds once again. They headed for the clinic. A number of Marines were carrying boxes of supplies into the clinic’s open door.

  “What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?” he asked.

  “Being company medic. You can’t work with those hands. At least, not for twenty-four hours.”

  Grimacing, Luke nodded. “You’re right. I feel helpless and I don’t like it at all.” He brightened. “Hey, I just heard from some of the grunts who came to your clinic this morning. They had nothing but praise for you.”

  “That’s nice. Do you think they said that because I’m a woman?” Giving him a slight grin, she added, “I don’t think they go around talking about you in the same way.”

  Luke chuckled. “The guys like having a woman around. It reminds them of home, their spouses. And you have to admit, a woman’s touch is nice in a grungy, godforsaken place like this.”

  Megan couldn’t argue. “Well, looks like we got about six Marines waiting to see us.” She slowed her stride as they reached the door. The Marines had brought in all the boxes from the helicopter. Megan thanked each of them. Some were bashful. Others grinned. Some blushed. It might be odd for Marine companies not to have women in their ranks, but over in Iraq, she was used to having men and women working around her at the forward medical facility.

  Luke did what he could to help Megan. His wrapped hands felt like bulky oven mitts. It was frustrating in one way, but in another, he got to see the young Marines react to her beauty and kindness. When he held clinic, the Marines were coarse and macho. Today, as he moved some medicine around in the cabinet, he witnessed them being docile, smiling and even hesitant. Megan’s natural beauty, her sweet smile and gentle touch turned these warriors into plowshares right before his eyes. Luke enjoyed watching the interactions. He knew the power of touch. And when someone was sick, that touch could make all the difference in the world. The rough-and-tumble Marines were on their best behavior toward Megan, even though she was completely professional.

  Within an hour, the clinic was empty. Luke came over and sat at the desk where she stood. “Any serious ailments today?”

  “No, little stuff. Allergies, upset tummy and a migraine.”

  “I like days like this,” he said wistfully, looking toward the opened door. “Nothing critical.”

  “I know what you mean. When I was in the forward medical base, we always got Marines and Army soldiers who were horribly wounded. It was insane and stressful. I liked it, but some of the other nurses and doctors didn’t. I think best when all hell is breaking loose around me.”

  Luke gave her an admiring look. “That’s why you’re a field medic. We operate under fire—under life-and-death situations.”

  “It’s different being out here,” Megan said, turning and sitting on the gurney opposite Luke. For a few minutes, she just wanted to share time and space with him. That much they could do. As she saw the desire banked in his eyes, she knew he was remembering their earlier kiss. So was she. Megan had to keep moving her gaze from his strong mouth up to his eyes. That mouth had sent bolts of heat through her. He knew how to kiss. He knew how to pleasure a woman.

  “Are you unhappy that Captain Hall isn’t allowing you to go out with the squads?”

  She shrugged. “Not really. I think I can help hold down the fort here when you go on patrol. I mean,” she said, gesturing around the quiet hut, “we’re short two medics. You’re working triple duty and there’s no one to go out on patrol except you. And I really worry for you out there. You’re exposed every day to firefights.” It upped his chances of being wounded or killed, but she bit back that logic.

  “Listen, you can’t worry about me. I was here in Afghanistan for two years before this
. I was going out on Humvee patrols and foot patrols in Helmand Province every third or fourth day. None of the Marine companies has enough medics. So many of them have been wounded or killed in the line of duty. He smiled at her. “I’ve survived two tours without any wounds.” And then added sourly, “Except for these mitts on my hands. Really, can’t you remove them?”

  “No way,” she growled. “I’ll remove the dressings tomorrow morning and see how they’re doing. You know all those cuts have to be protected from the dust and dirt around here. You’ll wear the dressing until those cuts close. Sanitation isn’t lost on you, Collier.”

  “You’re such a spunky little thing,” he teased, melting beneath her gaze.

  “Wimps don’t join the military.” Megan sat up and rolled her shoulders to get rid of the tension in them. “I’m a Trayhern. And just because I didn’t elect to become an officer in the Navy after graduation doesn’t mean I’m wimpy.”

  “No, you’re courageous,” Luke told her, giving her a long, hard look. “If you were a nurse officer, you could have had a cushy, safe job in a hospital or medical unit far behind the lines. Instead, you chose to become a field medic and get out there on the front lines where combat is guaranteed.”

  “I wanted my time to count. I wanted to do something to help others.” Slipping off the gurney, she pulled the stethoscope from around her neck and set it on the desk. There were plenty of boxes to be opened and supplies to be put away. Luke could assist, but with his hands bandaged, he would need her help.

  When they were done putting away the supplies, they walked over to the chow hall. Dusk was deep on the horizon and Megan saw the last of a pink watercolor wash outlining the massive peaks west of the valley. It was a beautiful but deadly scene. Inside, they got their food and found a table with several other Marines. Luke sat opposite her at the end of the table.

  “Hey,” she said, buttering the roll, “I need your help on another project.”

  “What’s up?” Luke treasured the moments with Megan. He didn’t care where the time was spent. Getting to be with her was what counted.

  Megan told Luke about the idea of teaching the widows of the village and any other women who wanted to learn how to knit and crochet. She filled him in on Emma and their project. Megan stirred the spaghetti on her aluminum tray with her fork as she talked between bites. The noise in the chow hall was always loud. She noticed the Marines nearest to them were politely listening. Megan didn’t care if they overheard the conversation. After all, Luke was the company scrounger.

  Shrugging, Luke said between bites, “I’ve been asked to get a lot of things, but never knitting and crocheting needles.” Grinning, he saw her face scrunch up with worry, so he said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “What about yarn?”

  “I don’t know yet, but let me scout out some possibilities.”

  “You can really do this?”

  His heart expanded beneath the hope in her husky voice. More than anything, he absorbed her respect of him. “No promises, Megan, but I’ll make some calls from HQ and see what I can find.”

  “I don’t think there are many knitting needles to be found in Afghanistan,” she said.

  Chuckling, Luke said, “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Hey,” the Marine private next to Luke said, “my sister is a knitter. She makes all kinds of things. And she’s the president of her local knitting club.”

  “Good to know,” Luke said. “But I think I have to go after bigger fish than your sister, Bates.”

  The young Marine with short brown hair grinned lopsidedly. “Well, if you’re going to scrounge that kind of stuff, how about a Nintendo 3DS for me?”

  “In your dreams, Bates,” Luke growled. “You know they aren’t allowed here.”

  Shrugging, the blue-eyed Marine grinned. “I can ask.”

  “That you can,” Luke agreed, then smiled over at Megan. He saw the tenderness in her eyes—toward him. He’d give anything to kiss her once more. But that just couldn’t happen.

  “Hey,” Bates said, “we’re holding a Texas Hold’em tournament over at my hut. You coming over to play?”

  “No,” Luke said. “Got some calls to make.”

  Megan knew Luke was well liked in the company. Most medics were seen as demigods among the Marines. They saved lives. She had seen Bates yesterday for a fever. He looked normal tonight. “Luke is going to show me how to play Scrabble.”

  Bates rolled his eyes. “Scrabble?” He stared over at the medic as if he’d suddenly grown two horns in his head. “You’d trade that kids’ game for poker, Collier? What’s got into you?”

  “Now, you know I hold Scrabble tournaments, Bates. Just because there’s no money involved doesn’t mean it isn’t a good competition.” Luke patted the young Marine on his thick shoulder. “Just think, you could improve your language skills in English.”

  “I’ll take a poker game and let the aces talk to me.” Bates turned to Megan. “You’re in trouble,” he warned her. “This dude thinks a monthly Scrabble game lifts our company’s language skills and our spirits.”

  Brightening, Luke said, “Well, I’m changing some of the rules, Bates. At the end of this month, I’m going to hold another tournament. And there’s no money involved, but I managed to get my hands on an iPod that has a thousand songs in it.” The Marine’s eyes lit up in response. “So, if you’re the winner, you get the iPod. How about that?”

  Bates was clearly excited about the possibility. His face glowed with the idea of winning the iPod. “Can anyone enter?”

  “Of course.” Luke preened. “Captain Hall likes the idea. He says it improves everyone’s English because Scrabble is about words and word building.”

  “I like your giving away an iPod. I’ll tell the guys tonight at the poker tournament.”

  “Bet you don’t have an iPod to give away, do you?”

  Grinning, Bates slapped Luke on the back. “No, I don’t. But we use pennies. You’re still invited.” And then he looked over at Megan. “Do you play poker?”

  Megan shook her head. “No. Not one of my strong suits, Bates.”

  “Well, you’re invited.”

  “Thanks, that’s very sweet of you, but I think with an iPod for a prize, I’m going to let Luke show me the finer points of Scrabble tonight. I could use a thousand songs.” If Megan could read the Marine correctly, he’d finally decided to offer her an invitation out of duty. No need. She was sure if she showed up in a crowded hut with forty Marines, they would bristle. Such tournaments were a way for the men to blow off stress, and their cursing would turn the air blue. If present, she would have a decidedly dampening effect on them. Poker had unique healing abilities.

  Bates nodded. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and eased up to his feet. “I’ll tell the guys, Doc.”

  “You do that,” Luke said, grinning.

  Megan watched the lanky Marine leave. She smiled fondly over at Luke. “How did you get an iPod?”

  “Trade secret,” he murmured, digging into the green beans on his tray. “Scroungers never give up their sources.”

  Laughing, Megan said, “So, you’re really are going to teach me Scrabble after you make your secret phone calls over at HQ?”

  “Sure. Want to?”

  “You bet. I want to win the iPod. I lost mine in transit between Iraq and here. I love music and really wouldn’t mind having one.”

  * * *

  Luke set the Scrabble board on the table. There were no windows in the hut, so he used a small battery-powered lantern with just enough light to shed upon the immediate area. Megan sat down on one side of the table and he on the other. “Now, you have to draw seven square tiles from this black bag.” He held it up for her. “Place those squares toward you on the wooden rack so you see the alphabet letter on it. Don’t ever show
them to anyone else.”

  Megan loved the glimmer of competition in his eyes. If anyone came back from the poker game, they would find them playing a harmless game. That would not arouse suspicion. “Okay.” She took the bag and pulled out the tiles. Setting them on the rack, she asked, “Do you think your contacts can get the knitting needles or yarn?”

  “Maybe,” he said, frowning. “I don’t normally get orders like yours.” He picked his tiles from the bag and set it aside.

  “I think you’re amazing, Luke. Everyone loves you.”

  “Oh, I think love is a little strong,” he protested with a chuckle. “The guys know I can usually come up with what they need. And I like doing it. Anything to make this year survivable.”

  Megan nodded. “Now what?”

  Luke handed her the bag. “Pick a tile. Then lay it faceup on the board. Whoever has drawn a letter closer to A gets to go first.”

  Their fingers touched as Luke handed her the bag. Megan felt like a thirsty sponge, absorbing the unexpected and momentary touch. “Okay,” she said, choosing one.

  Luke chose a tile. “Let’s turn them up.” He laid his on the table. In the lantern light, Megan’s face was shadowed. When she’d come back to the hut, she’d released her ponytail, her hair falling softly around her features. The light emphasized her large eyes, which were filled with intensity. As his gaze fell to her mouth, he felt himself go tight with longing.

  “Ah, I got a C!” she crowed, pointing to his tile that had an R on it. “I go first?”

  “Indeed you do,” Luke said. “Create a word with your tiles and lay it here, in the center.” He pointed to the many squares on the colorful board.

  Luke watched Megan’s brow furrow as she studied her tiles. The way her mouth compressed for a moment sent another wave of longing through him. He’d never felt as he did for Megan, and it stymied him. What was love? He thought he knew because of his love for Hope. But this was different. Very different. He saw her give him a triumphant look and she laid down four letters.