Navy Rescue. Geri Krotow
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“I can’t tell you how great it is to be able to pull weeds again, Drew. The brambles had taken over my rose garden!”
“As long as you keep doing the exercises we’ve gone over, you’ll be fine—but take it easy on the tennis court, okay?”
Helen grunted and walked over to the chair, where she waited while Drew got an ice gel pack out of the chiller.
He arranged the pillow under her arm to make her more comfortable before he placed the gel pack over her injured shoulder.
Helen groaned in pleasure. “Oh, that always feels so good after all the work you make me do.”
“Sit tight and enjoy. You’re free to go in fifteen minutes.” He set the timer near Helen’s chair and went to see his other client, Tom, who was doing leg exercises for his knee on a wheeled office chair.
Drew relished the modern layout of his clinic. One large room held the equipment and therapy tables for up to six clients at a time.
“How’s it going, Tom?”
“Fine, doc. But I feel like a crab on the beach, walking around while I’m sitting on this stool.”
“It’s going to help your knees, trust me.”
“Drew?” Serena Delgado, his receptionist, interrupted him.
Drew looked at her sharply, but his annoyance dissipated at the stunned expression on her beautiful face. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t express it in front of his clients. Serena didn’t normally interrupt his consultations. The last time she’d burst in like this—
Gwen’s plane had gone down.
That was well over six months ago, but damned if he didn’t tense up and expect Serena to give him more bad news.
There isn’t anything worse than knowing Gwen’s never coming home.
“You have some visitors. It’s very important.”
The dread that had simmered in his gut since the minute he’d learned Gwen was missing erupted into an all-out boil.
They’ve found her body.
As much as every piece of naval intelligence that he’d been told about, not to mention logic, indicated that Gwen had perished in the South Pacific six months ago, he’d held out hope. That she’d survived—that she’d come back. That, somehow, against all the odds, she’d made it.
He shook off the fantasy.
If she’d lived, if she came back, they’d only be the friends they’d become since the divorce.
“Drew?” Serena stared at him. He swung his gaze to Helen, his rotator cuff patient. She hadn’t said a word, but she wasn’t deaf. Her eyes sparked with knowing. Hell, the whole town knew what he’d been through. The P-3 ditch. Gwen’s role in it—she’d saved her crew. The entire damned crew had returned safely to Whidbey Island. To their families.
Except Gwen.
Gwen didn’t have a family to return to anymore. Only him, her ex-husband, and their shared pets. The island newspaper had detailed Gwen’s naval career as well as her personal bio, including their divorce. Her MIA status had been picked up by the national news, as well.
While locals like Helen knew an awful lot more about his personal life than he’d choose, they didn’t know the half of it.
“Go ahead, Drew. You’re done with me.” Helen’s eyes didn’t twinkle any longer, and her expression was gentle. Motherly. “We’re all praying for you.”
“Thanks.”
After a quick nod at Helen, he followed Serena to the back office, behind the therapy room.
He stopped at the threshold when he saw the occupants.
“Ro.”
Lieutenant Commander Roanna Mikowski, his wife’s best friend since they’d been midshipmen at the Naval Academy, stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She was still on active duty, but had put in her resignation so she could remain in the same place as her husband, Chief Warrant Officer Miles Mikowski. A stab of envy broke through his shock as he saw the obviously happy couple.
Why couldn’t Gwen have resigned, too?
It wouldn’t change who we both are. We’d still be divorced.
Miles stood next to Ro and offered Drew a slight smile. “Drew.”
“Miles.”
Silence stretched between them. They’d shared an awful lot of grief these past several months. Tension seemed to crackle off Ro and Miles. They were going to confirm his worst fears, the news they’d all dreaded.
“Do I need to sit down?” His voice sounded sane, steady, but he couldn’t feel his mouth move with the words.
“Yes.” They spoke in unison, then glanced at each other. It was the kind of look that only a couple who knew and deeply loved each other exchanged. Drew missed that kind of intimacy.
He sank into the leather office chair, unable to relax.
“Spit it out.” He wanted to run away, leave the office, leave Oak Harbor, charter a flight off Whidbey Island. Destination: Anywhere But Here.
It wouldn’t change the truth.
“Drew, they’ve found Gwen.” Ro’s voice was low and steady. He gave her credit for being so strong.
He couldn’t stop the tears that squeezed past his closed eyes. “Where?”
“Drew, look at me. You don’t understand.”
He opened his eyes and saw that Ro’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, too.
“She’s alive, Drew. She made it.”
“She—” His voice crapped out on him. Miles nodded in affirmation. Relief bloomed in his chest. And then common sense shut it down.
“That’s impossible.”
“Ro’s not kidding, Drew. She’s alive! She was caught by insurgents but escaped from their prison camp after two weeks.”
Gwen. Alive.
Drew jumped out of the chair and grabbed the edge of his desk. “Where was she for the past five months? Where is she now?”
“Apparently, she found a small village where she hid out until she had a chance to walk out of the jungle. She got to our embassy in Manila via the Philippine government, once she was able to reach them. She saved a baby’s life while she was out there.” Ro paused. “That, of course, is classified.”
He blinked, grateful that Ro was willing to risk telling him something she probably shouldn’t have.
“I appreciate it, Ro.” He turned to each of them. “Thanks for sharing this with me. I’ll call her mother.”
Ro shook her head. “She’s probably already called her. It’s going to hit the news any moment.”
“Got it.” Drew was grateful they’d come and told him in person, so he wouldn’t hear it first on the radio or see it on TV. Now he needed them out of here. They were waiting for a reaction he couldn’t give them. No matter what he’d told them when Gwen had gone missing, it didn’t change who he and Gwen were. They were friends. Exes who’d outgrown their youthful first love.
“She’ll be coming home in about a week. She’s being flown from Manila to Seattle, and examined down at Madigan for several days.” Madigan Army Hospital was three hours away, south of Seattle.
“I’m sure they’ll take good care of her,” he said. “She’s tough, we all know that.” He stood up as if to go into the therapy room. It had to be enough of a hint for them.
“No, Drew, stop.”