Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9(9)
And this guy had the balls to say he was lucky? Jack felt the bowl pushed into his hands. He gripped it with clumsy, almost-useless fingers covered in more bandages and flung it into the black space. A second later, he heard the dull splat and thwack as it hit the heavy canvas wall of the medic tent, then another as it hit the ground.
A host of emotions swarmed around him, suffocating him. Anger. Rage. Guilt. Remorse. Grief. Questions whirled through his splitting head, but they all started with the same word. Why? Why did they have to die? Why hadn’t they been more alert? Why hadn’t they sensed the trap? Why hadn’t he been the one in front instead of Fitz?
When those had run their dizzying course, another set followed closely behind. How bad were his injuries? Did he still have all of his limbs? Would he be able to see again, and if so, how was he going to look into Fitz’s mother’s, father’s, and sisters’ eyes and tell them? How was he going to live with himself?
And then Kathleen’s voice whispered in his ear. “You promised me, Jack.”
Jack reached beneath the sheet, fumbling for his pocket, but he wasn’t wearing pants.
“Looking for this?”
Jack felt something pressed into his hand. He recognized the smooth feel of the photo paper, though it was significantly smaller than it had been, and the edges were no longer clean and straight. He held it between his fingers, rubbing his thumb over an image he couldn’t see. That was okay; he didn’t need his eyes to see the soft, smooth skin, the perfect rose-colored lips curved into a mischievous grin, or the glittering desire in the pair of clear, emerald eyes. He had stared at those pictures so often, each frame was indelibly burned into his mind; if he had an ounce of artistic talent he would have been able to recreate each one down to the small detail.
Just thinking about her helped. It didn’t dull the pain, it didn’t take away the ache, but it helped him pull back just enough to get him through the next minute. And the minute after that. It wouldn’t be the first time. This place was hell on earth, and Kathleen was the glimpse of heaven he needed to keep going. Her letters reminded him that there was a world outside this hellhole, waiting for him.
“Your girl?”
“Yeah.”
“Good reason to make it home.”
Yeah. Yeah she was. He couldn’t explain it, but a tendril of peace snaked its way into his aching chest and he was able to draw breath. She was the reason he was still here, still alive. Jack hadn’t broken a vow yet, and he wasn’t about to start now. He would make it back to her.
But first he had to get the hell out of here.
“What’s your name?”
“Travis.”
“Well, Travis, do you think you can scrounge up another bowl of sludge for my ungrateful ass?”
“I think that can be arranged.”
Chapter Five
September 2015
Pine Ridge
“Dad. Dad, can you hear me?”
That voice; he knew it well. Not Travis, though. And while the antiseptic smell was somewhat familiar, this didn’t feel like a field hospital.
Jack pried open his eyes, wincing against the bright light.
Definitely not Vietnam. Definitely not Travis. And he wasn’t twenty years old anymore, though the heavy pressure in his chest did remind him of that hidden mine blast so long ago.
He looked up into familiar blue eyes, into the handsome, compassionate face of his third-born son, Michael. The doctor. That was good. That meant he wasn’t dead yet.
“You had a heart attack, and we had to perform emergency bypass surgery. Do you understand?”
Jack tried to answer, but his mouth didn’t seem to be working properly. He blinked in acknowledgment.
Michael smiled down at him. “You did well, Dad. Came through with flying colors. Keep it up and we’ll be moving you out of Recovery and into the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit soon. I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of these lovely nurses for a few minutes while I talk to the others and give them the good news. No flirting, though,” he winked.
Unable to move, Jack followed his son’s retreating form with his eyes. Such a good lad, he thought. Michael had always been the one fixing up the others when they got into it, as boys often did. Kathleen had said early on the boy would be a doctor someday. She had known each of her sons so well, predicting their personalities with eerie accuracy within minutes of their birth.
She would be so proud of them. Of the fine men they had become. Of what they had accomplished.
His eyes were already closing again, but not before he caught a glimpse of clear, emerald eyes flashing above the mask. “Just relax, Mr. Callaghan,” said a kind, feminine voice. “We’ll take good care of you. Just leave it to us.”
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July 1972
Pine Ridge
“Just leave it to us,” the National Guardsman assured him. Jack’s heart lodged somewhere in his throat when he looked down from the chopper at the devastation of his beloved hometown. Hurricane Agnes had ripped through a week earlier, dumping anywhere from six to sixteen inches of rain across the area, leaving thousands homeless.
Local rivers and creeks overflowed, turning the lower level regions into a vast, temporary lake. Centuries-old homes were destroyed, ripped from their foundations and carried away. Cemeteries gave up their ghastly treasures; bodies in various states of decomposition were found floating in attics and yards and upon rooftops. The flood waters were receding, leaving a sticky, pungent muck in their wake. The stench hung in the heavy, humid air.