She shook her head. “Ruby slippers so that I could click my heels three times and disappear.”
“Dorothy went home. She didn’t vanish,” he pointed out. “And the loss would follow you.”
Her brow drew together as she studied him for the first time since he’d helped her run away from the burial. Like so many of the other men, Mark wore his dress blues. The maroon beret on his head set him apart from the others, denoting that he was a member of the Air Force Pararescuemen. But beneath his uniform and his elite status, she saw her friend, the man who’d been a part of her life from the moment she’d met Darren.
“There’s no escape?” If anyone would give her the truth, it was Mark.
“From grief?” He took her hand and held it tight. “No.”
“But you look so calm and in control. You know Darren’s gone, right? He’s never coming back.”
“I know, Amy. Trust me, I understand what it feels like to face the irrefutable fact that someone you love is gone.”
This time when she examined his expression, she saw the sadness, swirling in his brown eyes. “Your mom,” she said quietly. “How did you get past it?”
“I tried to escape. Moving away, joining the air force, pushing myself to complete the courses and become a pararescue jumper. But it stayed with me.”
“Nothing helped?”
“Time.” He stared out at the scenery. “And I started a list.”
“Of what?”
“Memories. I wrote down the little moments, the pieces I didn’t want to forget.”
“A list,” she said as if she didn’t understand the meaning of the words. How could something so simple, so banal, ease this monstrous ache?
Mark shrugged. “It might not work for you. But I can tell you ruby slippers won’t do the trick, either.”
“I’ll give it a shot.” She couldn’t stay here forever, unable to eat and sleep, feeling lost in her own life. If she didn’t do something...
Tears started flowing again. She hiccuped, struggling to control the sobs as her chin shook.
Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. “I’ll tell you what, write down your memories and send them to me. Write a letter or email. Send a carrier pigeon if you want. Whatever you need to share. Every small memory matters. And I’ll do the same, send my favorite Darren moments to you.”
“Do you have a memory at the top of your list?” Her voice sounded foreign, still trembling from her latest bout of crying.
“Not yet,” he said, and for the first time she heard his calm and collected tone waver.
Amy looped her arm around his waist, holding him tight as they stared out at the mountains, both thinking about the man they’d loved and lost.
“Mark,” she said softly. “Not all of my memories are good ones.”
“That’s okay, Amy. That’s okay.”
1
One year later
“SCRAMBLE. SCRAMBLE.”
The commander’s voice echoed through the tactical operations center’s loudspeakers. Mark Rhodes leaned over the intel officer’s shoulder and scanned the details on the computer screen. IED blast. Double amputee. American. Special Forces. He ran for the door.
When he’d first joined the PJs, if he’d heard a mission drop, fear would have settled in his gut. What if their helicopter got hit? What if they landed on a mine? Sure, they touched down in swept areas, but shit happened. In Kandahar Province, Afghanistan, it happened every day.
But now, on his fourth deployment, he wanted to get out there and do his job. Save a life. Send a soldier home to his loved ones.
Mark reached the helicopter and started pulling on his gear. “One Alpha,” he shouted to his teammates over the bird’s roar. “This guy needs a hospital within the hour. And we’re going in hot. We’re picking him up outside the wire.”