Her dad was able to confirm that Zack had been killed during a combat advisory mission with Afghan National Army Commandos, and that a car bomb had detonated near his convoy.
All they knew now was that Zack’s body would be repatriated back to the United States as soon as possible. What they were hearing was that he’d be flown to Dover, in Delaware, but they had no idea when.
“What can I do?” Blythe asked.
“Bree will need your support when she gets here. Or when we go there; we don’t know what she wants to do yet.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Of course you can, baby. Call her.”
Blythe went upstairs to make the call. Renie went with her and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I just want everyone to leave,” her sister said, explaining that soon after the commander of the base came to the door, asked if he could come in, and told her the horrible news, women she barely knew surrounded her.
“Who are they?”
“Air Force wives, and I don’t want them here.”
“I think it’s better if you have someone with you.”
“I don’t even know them. They’re making me uncomfortable.”
Bree and Zack had only been at the base a couple of months before he was deployed. She’d met several people, as was customary as an Air Force officer’s wife, but—as she told Blythe when they talked at Christmas—she hadn’t gotten to know any of them well.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Blythe said, not knowing how she’d manage it, but she would.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m flying out first thing in the morning. I’ll be there before noon.”
Renie had stepped out of the room and met Blythe on her way down the stairs.
“I’ll take you to the airport tomorrow morning,” Renie told her. “We’ll meet Ben there, and he and his dad will fly you to California.” Ben and his father were both pilots and owned a plane they shared.
“That’s a lot to ask.”
“Blythe, let them do this.”
Traveling by private plane meant the journey from Centennial airport to the one in Sacramento, which would’ve taken her all day if she’d taken a commercial flight, took only a little over two hours.
Shortly after they landed, Ben rented a car and drove Blythe to her sister’s house on the base.
The next few days were a blur. Bree slept intermittently, and when she did, she had nightmares. Blythe slept with her so she’d be there when the bad dreams woke her sister.
The Air Force made arrangements to fly Bree to Dover, and Blythe went with her. After they arrived, they sat at the airport for several more hours, waiting for word on when the plane carrying Zach’s body would arrive.
“I’m so sorry,” she told Lyric when she had a minute to check in with her new boss.
“Please, don’t be sorry. You have to do this, and I understand.”
“But you just hired me.” Blythe figured this would be another in a long list of jobs she lost.
“Blythe, listen to me. I need your help, but I don’t need it this week. Your sister does.”
“I’m sorry,” Blythe said again, her voice cracking. “I can’t stop crying. Thank you, Lyric.”
“I’m here if you need me, Blythe. I’m not your boss, I’m your friend. That comes first. Let me know what I can do, and I’ll do it.” Renie had said the same thing.