Page 5 of Operation Rescue
I guess I’m a coward.
I hate you!
That had been their final argument, because the next day when, after he didn’t get up on time for school, she went to wake him, he was gone.
I guess I’m a coward.
That final admission rang in her head now, as she sat in the garden that today brought her no pleasure or comfort, until she thought it would drive her mad. Because she couldn’t deny the truth in it. She had been a coward; she hadn’t been strong enough or tough enough to be a military wife. She’d coped with the moving from base to base, she’d coped with Blaine being away during important events in their son’s life, she’d coped with their only communication often being via video calls or emails, she’d coped with the apprehension of being married to a helicopter pilot, she’d even coped with the fear—okay, terror—when he’d been in a combat zone.
But when it finally happened, when he’d finally come back so hurt, so broken, she’d gone almost numb. She’d done what had to be done—she’d supported him, she’d taken care of him, she’d pushed him through therapy and rehab until he was back on his feet again. The doctors had even told her she’d worked a miracle, getting him nearly back to his old self, apart from the occasional aches and stiffness.
And then she had told Blaine what was nothing less than the truth. She simply could not go through this again, seeing him like this. Or live in fear of him coming home in a flag-draped box. She could not do it, and she wasn’t even going to try.
She thought the career he’d chosen had destroyed their marriage, although she knew others thought she had done it. But Blaine had never accused her of anything. He’d even said he understood, that last time they’d met before she went back to their housing, packed up and ran for home. Funny how her first and overwhelming instinct had been to return to where it had all begun, not the same tight-knit neighborhood but the same environs in the California county where she’d grown up.
She hadn’t anticipated how hard that, too, would hit her, seeing the familiar places again, places she and Blaine had gone, from their favorite pizza parlor to their favorite hidden spot on the beach due west of their small apartment. The only way she could quash the fierce, fiery longing that erupted in her every time one of those memories hit was to summon up other memories, the ugly, bloody ones, of Blaine lying in that hospital bed, of him being readied for yet another surgery he dreaded, of him waking in the night in a cold sweat, a heart-wrenching shout ripping from his throat.
If not being able to risk seeing him like that again or, worse, having to sit at a funeral and be presented the carefully folded flag that had covered his casket, made her a coward then so be it.
And if nobody understood it wasn’t because she didn’t love him but because she loved him too much, then so be that, too.
Blaine Everett had been her center, her rock, her reason for being for so long it had taken her a year simply to get used to the idea that he would no longer be there. To try and fill that gaping empty spot with something, anything.
She found trying to rebuild around the hole his absence left so much harder than she’d ever imagined.
But easier than having to get used to the idea that he’s dead.
She’d had some tangled idea that if she got used to being without him while he was alive, then it might be easier to deal with if that awful, final news ever came. Of course, now she wouldn’t know, would she? Did the Marine Corps have a policy of notifying exes? Or…was there someone else to be notified?
He probably moved on long ago. If you want to prepare for something, prepare for him showing up with someone else’s ring on his finger.
“Oh, stop it,” she muttered aloud.
She knew that wasn’t true, that he hadn’t remarried, because he would have told Ethan and her son would not have been able to resist throwing that in her face. She could picture it perfectly. “Happy now, Mom? You got what you wanted. Dad will never be in my life again, not like a real dad.”
And his anger had driven him so far from her. Far enough that he’d fallen in with a group of kids who seemed to idolize some sort of gang she’d heard about in the news. He’d narrowly escaped getting arrested with a couple of the rowdier ones, and she’d hoped that would rein him in a little, but it had only seemed to make him even more defiant. Made him hate her even more.
And now he’d vanished.
She walked down the short hallway to where the door to his room stood open. How many times had she walked back here, thinking it was all a mistake and when she went there she’d find him burrowed into his blankets as usual, just oversleeping after a night probably full of furtive online activity or gaming. She’d told herself more than once she should shut down the internet overnight, but it would only infuriate him more. Besides, more than once she herself had spent some hours in the dark looking for solace or distraction via that means.
She’d done all the things you were supposed to do—called the police, who dutifully took a report, but the questions they asked about Ethan’s life only made her feel worse. Because when it came down to it, she knew so little about his friends, enemies, his interests, any trouble he might be in or anything else relevant, and what she did know she’d learned from essentially spying on her son, since he barely spoke to her anymore.
After three days with no word, three days of hounding the police for any news, three days of her haunting everyplace she knew that Ethan went, contacting every friend that she knew about, she had no more idea where he was than when she’d started.
So she’d called his father. Because she had no other choice. His father, who would stand strong where she crumbled, because he always had. Blaine had always had the courage she lacked.
She started to tremble, then her knees got weak. She slid down along the doorjamb to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself in an effort to stop shaking. It didn’t work.
She sat there, useless, helpless, not even able to fight the tears that began again.
She truly was a coward.
Chapter 4
“Who are these people you work for?” Blaine asked as he tried to orient himself amid all the changes to what had once been his stomping grounds since he’d last been here.
“They’re the best,” Rafe said simply. Then, with a crooked smile he added, “Even if Quinn Foxworth is a former Ranger.”
