Navy Rescue

* * *

“You’re free to leave, Gwen. No one’s going to ask any more of you than you want them to.” He glanced over at the commodore, Ro and Miles. They were huddled in a group several feet away, trying to look as though they weren’t studying every aspect of their reunion.

Some reunion. He hoped they hadn’t expected a passionate embrace. He and Gwen hadn’t kissed that way since they were both younger, still married, still in love.

God help them both get through the next few days.

* * *

THEY DIDN’T TALK on the drive to the house. Gwen couldn’t get past the weight of exhaustion that pressed on her bones, and thankfully Drew didn’t attempt conversation.

You’re going home. You’re almost home!

As much as she told herself the house would never be home again, not with Drew, it was how she felt as he pulled into their driveway. As if she were returning from a regular deployment, home to the safety of their marriage. She’d always felt safe with Drew, regardless of how ugly it got between them.

“Here, I’ve got your bags.”

Drew grabbed the two small overnight bags—one she had from the embassy in Manila and the one Ro had sent stuffed with new clothes and cosmetics.

“Ro went overboard—she bought me so many outfits and girly stuff. I need to thank her and pay her back.”

“You know she’ll never take any money from you. She was worried that you were living in Madigan Army Hospital gowns and sweatpants from the embassy store in Manila.”

Gwen laughed as she climbed the wooden steps to the front door. “It was pretty bad, at first, but the embassy staff found clothes that fit me, and as you know, there are some wonderful markets in the PI. They outfitted me with all kinds of summer clothing.”

“It’s a little too chilly for that here.”

“Yes.” Actually, she hadn’t paid much attention to the weather or the temperature—she’d been focused on Drew. Early spring on Whidbey was typically windy and chilly. Today the air was still and the sun shone, making the grass sparkle. She’d missed the deep emerald-green unique of the Pacific Northwest. Gwen soaked up the scenery, let it lift her spirits.

“The door’s unlocked.”

Of course it was. Drew didn’t see the need to lock the door, ever. It’d always bothered her, his view that if thieves wanted in, they’d get in.

“So Nappie’s still guarding the place?” They’d shared the dog, a hound mix, along with the parrot, when she’d moved out.

“Rosie’s helping. Nappie’s hearing isn’t as good as it used to be when she was a pup.”

Sure enough, as soon as Gwen stepped foot inside, the bird belted out “Mommy’s home!”

Rosie said “Mommy’s home!” whenever anyone came into the house, male or female, acquaintance or stranger. Still, it made Gwen smile and she had to wipe away a few tears of gratitude.

“You all right?” Drew’s hand was on her shoulder and no, she wasn’t all right—not considering the way she’d reacted to his touch.

“Fine, fine. Like you said, I’m going to be overly emotional for a bit. The docs told me the same thing. It’s not personal, just part of my recovery process.”

Drew dropped his arm and motioned for her to go up the stairs.

“Let’s get you settled.”

“Wait—I need to say hi to my girls.” She bent down and accepted wet sloppy kisses from Nappie, the long-eared rescue who’d been their first pet. After she was certain Nappie had received enough affection, she walked over to Rosie, the Indian Ring-Necked parrot who hadn’t stopped talking.

“Whatcha doing?” Rosie cocked her head at the angle that always made Gwen laugh.

“Rosie’s a pretty bird, aren’t you, girl?” Gwen crooned. Rosie bent her head forward, exposing her nape for Gwen to scratch. It was the ultimate show of trust from a winged creature. More burning tears pushed at Gwen’s eyes.

Was she going to see everything through a lens of grateful tears from now on?

“Good bird.” She gave Rosie a kiss on her beak and turned back to Drew.

“Where to?”

She thought he’d take her to the guest room, where she’d lived for months before she’d moved out, but followed him to the master bedroom.

“I made this up for you. I wasn’t sure how you felt about coming back. Wait—let me rephrase that. I know you didn’t want to come back here, that you’d want your apartment. I’m sorry it got rented out from underneath you, Gwen.”

Gwen watched Drew put her small travel case on their bed. What had been their bed, in the master bedroom, which was oddly devoid of any hint of Drew’s presence. Neat stacks of her clothes and favorite books were on the bureaus, where Drew had placed them; she never folded her clothes so meticulously.

That was why he’d always done the laundry.

“Losing an apartment is part of the deal when you’re considered dead, I suppose.” Her attempt at humor was weak, and she knew it.

“This is not going to be easy for you, Gwen, and I want you to promise you’ll tell me immediately if you think you’re down too far.”

They both knew what the down too far could lead to. Friends had attempted suicide at such points in their post-war return to “normal” life.

“I’m not one of your PT clients, Drew.” She held up her hand. “Wait, that came out way too harsh. Can you tell I haven’t had regular conversations for a long time?” She referred to not having to use gestures the way she had with Mia, the woman who gave her and Pax shelter in a remote village, or using the very few words of Tagalog she knew.

He smiled. “Does it seem weird to be talking to people who all speak English again? Other than doctors and navy personnel, I mean.”

“Yes and no. I had to communicate with Pax, of course, but that was mommy-baby stuff. All physical. Hugs, kisses, tickles. When I settled in with a village woman, Mia, she and I communicated mostly through sign language. It’s not like I was in solitary confinement or anything.”

Except in her thoughts of him...and the mental and emotional review of her life those months away from civilization had granted her.

“Like I said, you need anything, you tell me.”

“Sure.”

“I’m in the guest room. As you can see, I’ve brought in some of your stuff—the rest is in the garage.” The gruff edge of apology surprised her. It wasn’t his fault she was here, that he’d had to go through her household goods.

She tried to smile, tried to look as if she knew how to handle a multisentence conversation anymore. He was right; she hadn’t talked to a lot of people for the past six months, not until the past two weeks during which she’d been quizzed and downright interrogated by every embassy and military official who needed information from her.

How did you survive, Commander? Were you raped? Were you hungry much of the time? Where is the baby from? Why did you decide to take a baby with you? Do you really think you can leave the country with that child? How can you prove you didn’t kidnap him?

“Gwen? You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She couldn’t, wouldn’t, have him waiting for her to explode with PTSD symptoms. “Don’t worry, Drew, I haven’t shown any signs of PTSD yet. I’ve had one or two nightmares, but that’s to be expected.”

His expression softened. “Of course it is. It’s like being downrange, Gwen, but probably worse. You were without your crew, your team. You were all alone out there for a lot of the time, weren’t you?”

“Yes, at least the first month and a half. Shortly after I found Pax I made some friends I could trust among the locals.” Heat rushed to her face. “You’ve heard all this, haven’t you?”

“Not all of it.” He shifted on his feet. “I know you’re not ready to talk about it. Once you decide you are, I’m probably not the person you’ll want to share everything with. But I’m here, Gwen. Ro’s here. You’re not alone. And your mother wanted to be here with her husband when you landed, but I convinced them to wait at least a week or two. She’d appreciate a call that you’re here—later, when you’re ready.”

* * *

“I AM SO sorry you got saddled with taking me in, Drew.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a problem.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “You never changed that Page Two, you know.”

Ah, her Page Two—the second page in any sailor’s service record, but the most important in the event of his or her death. It listed next of kin and who their Service Group Life Insurance was going to.

“No, I didn’t change it.”

“You’ve had a busy few years. Your Page Two was an easy thing to forget, although I’m surprised your admin chief didn’t ask you about it.”

Admin had reminded her, but she’d purposefully kept Drew as the primary beneficiary on her policy after the divorce. She would never have made it this far in her career without him. He deserved it all if she was killed in the line of duty, legal husband or not. Her mother and stepfather were financially secure; they wouldn’t need the money.

And even if they had, she would’ve kept Drew as her beneficiary. It wasn’t his fault he’d married a woman who was never meant to be married.

They’d been so young.

She couldn’t say it. Not again. Not now.

“If anything happened to me, it would take care of my share of the house. Plus, it’d keep Nappie and Rosie fed and in great toys for the rest of their lives.”

Drew’s silence proved how crazy she sounded.

“I’ve changed, Drew. I’m not who I was six months ago.”

Should she tell him about those thoughts? The visions of them when they’d been in love? Making love.

Oh, no.

“You’ve been through a lot, Gwen, and yes, it’s changed you, changed your outlook on things. But trust me, it’s like life on Whidbey. New restaurants pop up, coffee shops switch owners, but the water, the mountains—all the fundamentals are still there. Same as always.”

“The snow cap on Mt. Baker is shrinking.”

He grinned. “Well, yeah, there’s that.”

Standing next to Drew, feeling his warmth, smelling that familiar scent...her head was so heavy and his shoulders would feel so good to lean on.

It wouldn’t be fair to either of them if she took advantage of the situation.

“Yeah.” Her voice cracked.

She couldn’t find the words, didn’t have the energy to explain that she’d changed from the inside out. She’d forfeited any right to accept comfort from Drew the day she’d signed their divorce papers. The things she’d found boring before her ordeal—a safe home, a good meal, time to simply relax—meant the world to her now. She wished she could explain this to him without the risk that he’d think it was PTSD or related emotional upset.

You’re the only one who needs to know you’ve changed.

Why did she care whether or not Drew understood she’d turned into a mother, a family woman?

“I’ll leave you for a while. Take your time. Have a long hot shower if you need it. When you’re ready, I’ll put together some dinner.” He left the room and shut the door behind him.

The instant quiet scared her. After the incessant humming of bugs, birds and animals she never identified, the silence of the bedroom made her uneasy. At least the hospital had a constant whirr of activity and air systems serving as white noise.

You’re safe.

As she’d done these past two weeks of freedom, she forced herself to focus on the next obvious task.

A hot shower.

The novelty of readily available water hadn’t worn off yet. She’d never take hot running water for granted again.

Before she walked into the master bathroom, she tiptoed to the bedroom door and silently turned the handle to open it. Just a crack.

It was silly and stupid and maybe superstitious, but it made her feel connected to Drew.

An invisible link could save your life.

* * *

DREW FIRED UP the gas grill and used the few minutes outside on the deck to calm down.

“Damn it.” He spoke under his breath to the trees, the earth, the fates that had blessed him with Gwen’s survival while cursing him with her nearness.

He really needed a cold shower. Gwen had never stopped turning him on, difficult though it’d been that last year they’d lived together. As the friends they’d become, he knew she was off-limits. That didn’t change his initial reaction to her each time she came over to see the pets, or whenever he ran into her in town. Sexual compatibility had never been a problem for them.

It was emotional maturity they’d lacked. Apparently, he still hadn’t grown up. He felt lower than a caterpillar, getting turned on by her when she was clearly so fragile. When they both knew where it would all end.

They’d still be divorced.

If he was going to be the friend she needed right now, he had to ignore the sexual thoughts that had started the minute he saw her again.

He had to let go of the way his arms ached to haul her against him. The way he wanted to kiss her. To make love to her until she forgot about the world and everything she’d endured.

Double damn it.

When he went back in, he found her sitting at the long kitchen counter that divided the great room. She looked so waifish, all bundled in sweats and perched on the bar stool.

“You’ve kept the place clean, I’ll give you that.” Wet hair and chapped lips, and she still had her sense of humor.

“I have help. After you left on deployment my business picked up. I couldn’t keep the house anything close to hygienic on my own.” He offered her a grin. “My talents are limited to folding clean laundry.”

“You, Mr. I-Can-Do-It-All, hired a housecleaner?”

“It was a long fall, but I’m tough that way. I can handle it.”

She giggled, and it was like a blast of tropical wind as his ego reacted to her small sign of pleasure.

He needed to make sure he kept his distance over these next few weeks or he’d start misinterpreting every little thing she did.

Gwen had often told him that his sarcasm and arrogance had endeared him to her at first, but grown tedious as the years went by.

His self-recrimination had passed, though. There was no point in wondering why the heck he’d waited so long to grow up.

“I’m grilling veggies and chicken—that sound good?”

“Wonderful.” She gazed around the kitchen as she absentmindedly rubbed the top of Nappie’s head. “I don’t expect you to wait on me, Drew. Let me do something.”

“I’m not going to be your slave, believe me. But today’s your big day. You’re finally back from deployment.”

“Yes, I am. Only two months late, right?”

Her squadron had returned two months ago, after six months in Japan. She’d deployed with them, but gone missing during their second month, on her ill-fated mission.

“Your XO has been acting as the CO since the change of command. He’s kept me informed.”

“How much did he know?”

“Not much, at least not based on what he shared with me. Like I said, Ro filled in the holes, plus she learned stuff ahead of the squadron. She didn’t keep anything from me, even though I’m a mere civilian.” He stopped himself from adding “and an ex-husband.” He’d been read out of his clearances over seven years ago when he’d resigned his commission.

He watched her while he sliced zucchini and red onions for the grilling basket. To his immense relief, he could still recognize the real Gwen beneath her pallor and extreme thinness. But the shadows in her eyes worried him. What horrors had she faced?

“Look, let’s save this conversation for later. For now, we’ll eat and celebrate that you’re back.”

And I’ll do my best to keep my hands to myself.

* * *

DETECTIVE COLE RAMSEY knew this wasn’t the time to bother Anita Perez. It was the end of her workday, and her twelve-hour night shifts at Coupeville General Hospital left her tired and needing to sleep while her kids were in school. Her parents had moved in with her after her husband died, enabling her to take the graveyard shift. She had a boy and a girl, both in elementary school, two years apart.

They were adorable, like their mother.

Anita would be tired and in no mood to deal with the likes of him.

Too bad.

He’d read the island paper this morning and the news of his good friend Drew’s ex-wife, Navy Commander Gwendolyn Brett, coming back from the dead was the big headline. The feel-good ending to what everyone had assumed would be a tragic story was the kick in the pants he needed.

It reminded him that miracles happened, even on Whidbey where he saw the worst of the community up close and personal each day.

Ramsey balanced the paper coffee carrier that held two steaming-hot cups of local brew, and a bag of fresh cinnamon donuts. If Anita wouldn’t talk to him, he’d bribe her. When he’d conducted the investigation into her estranged husband’s murder last year he’d discovered she had a wicked sweet tooth.

Her tall, slim figure exited the side door of the hospital and she made a beeline for her old station wagon. He pushed back the uncertainty that tightened his chest.

“Good morning, Anita.”

She abruptly paused and her cool blue eyes sparked recognition before her professional nurse’s mask fell back in place.

“Ramsey.”

They studied each other for a full minute. He’d bet his paycheck, admittedly never enough, that she felt the attraction, too.

“Coffee?”

Anita was at eye level with him, but only because she wore flat working shoes. In the slightest of heels, she’d be taller than him.

He didn’t care. In fact, it turned him on.

“Thanks.” She reluctantly took the paper cup he offered. “I have to get home, Ramsey.”

She started walking toward her car.

“I know you do. And this isn’t a date.” She’d declined the two other times he’d asked her.

She had the longest stride. He almost had to jog to keep up with her.

“Who said anything about a date?” she asked. She stopped at her car and looked up at the sky. He saw the raindrops hit her skin before he felt the splats on his sleeves.

She sighed, looking back at him. Resignation, maybe an acceptance that they should give it a try?

She nodded at the passenger side. “Get in.”

Ramsey wasn’t going to argue. If a beautiful woman told him to get in her car, he did it.

The interior smelled of sugar, coffee, her. Crumpled snack wrappers littered the back with its two booster seats. They sat in the comfortable quiet of the rainfall, the companionable silence completely different from the manner in which they’d met and their encounters until now.

“Mmm.” The froth of her cappuccino stuck to her upper lip and he watched her tongue lick it off, her eyes closed.

“How was your shift?”

She sent Cole a sidelong glance, giving him a quick glimpse of arctic blue, before she returned her gaze to the windshield.

“The usual, but not as busy. Quiet.” She sipped. “I prefer to have more to do. Not that I wish anyone ill. It’s just that when it’s quiet, I have too much time to...think.”

“I know.” Ramsey felt the same way when his days held nothing but paperwork.

“Yes, I suppose you do. Our jobs aren’t really that different.”

He took a gulp of his black coffee. He hadn’t come here to talk about himself.

“How are your kids doing?”

“Fine.” Which meant she wasn’t going to allow him to step one inch into her life, much less her children’s. She hadn’t in the year since her husband was murdered by an overzealous senior naval officer who had stopped at nothing to secure his own career success. Why would she let him in now?

“Eventually you have to open up to somebody, Anita.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

“I saw enough of you last year to see that we operate in much the same way. You’re not going to let anyone in who wasn’t already there, who doesn’t already know your story, at least that part of it. It’s too much to put on anyone else.”

“You haven’t answered my question, Detective. For all you know, I took a lover and confided in him. But for the sake of argument, let’s say I didn’t. Why do you think I’d ever want to open up to anyone else again? To risk changing the family life I’ve built with my kids by bringing in someone new?”

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