Away From You (Back To You Book 2) (12 page)

Catherine.
It suddenly occurred to me that I
should call Catherine. Matt and Brooks were attached at the hip from what I
could tell, so maybe she knew something. I searched through my contacts for her
number and selected it. On the first ring, she answered.

“Hey,”
Catherine greeted me. Her voice was heavy and full of meaning. “Did you get a
phone call?”

I closed my
eyes. I didn’t think about the fact that if she knew anything, that could mean
that Brooks was injured, or worse. I said a silent prayer for them both. “Yes.
I did.”

“They told
me that he ‘may have been injured.’ What about you?”

“Same
thing.” I answered her with a sigh. “They didn’t give you any more information
than that?”

“Nothing.”

I groaned.
“Me neither.”

“Where are
you?”

“I’m at my
school. Do you want to meet up?”

“Yeah, I
think we should stick together while we wait for them to call us.”

“I think so,
too. Do you want to meet at the park on base?”

“We live in base
housing, so yeah, that’s cool. I’ll see you there.”

I hung up
the phone and looked at bright blue sky peaking through the branches of the
tree above me. It looked too sunny and cheerful for my mood. Feeling steadier
now that I had a destination, I dragged myself up from the bench and headed to
my car to meet Catherine. My heart ached. Not knowing if Matt was okay was
torturous. He had to be okay. There was nothing in the whole world I wanted
more.

*

When I
approached the bench that Catherine sat on, she immediately rose to give me a
hug. I didn’t bother to be startled by her gesture, since nothing felt right in
the world right now anyway. I hugged her back, remembering that she was going
through the exact same thing I was at the moment. It was selfish to be grateful
for that, but I was.

“How are you
holding up?” I asked as we sat.

“I’m just
frustrated. I want my phone to ring with more info, but I’m also scared that
when it does it’ll be bad news.”

I put my
hand on her knee. “You can’t think like that.”

“You can’t
tell me that you’re
not
thinking like
that.” She didn’t say it maliciously, but a hint of her sarcasm was finally
back.

“Touché.” I
replied with a small smile.

My phone vibrated
in my pocket and I jumped, eyes wide. I pulled it out and saw the same thing on
my caller ID as last time. “It’s them.”

Catherine
pursed her lips and waited silently while I took the call.

“Hello?”

“Is this
Mrs. Olivia Mills?”

“This is
she.” I looked up to see Catherine pulling out her phone and gesturing to me
that she was getting a call. I nodded at her and she got up from the bench to
answer the phone.

“Can you
please verify the name of your sponsor?”

I sighed at
the protocol that seemed like such a waste of time at the moment. “Matthew
Mills.”

“Good
afternoon, ma’am. Did you receive a call this morning regarding the possibility
of your spouse being wounded in combat?”

I squeezed
my eyes shut at the sound of the term he used. “Yes, I did.”

“We have
indeed identified your spouse as one of the Marines involved in an incident on
Kandahar Airfield. His casualty status is Seriously Injured, and he is en route
to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany via medevac. He suffered a
gunshot wound to the left bicep and needs surgery to repair the damage.”

I brought my
hand up to cover my mouth. “Oh, God.”

“As the
Primary Next of Kin, you may be issued Invitational Travel Orders if the
attending physician determines it to be essential for your spouse’s recovery.
If that happens, the Service will provide transportation for up to three family
members. Lodging is provided in two-week increments. A case manager will be
assigned to your spouse for his recovery, so that person will be your point of
contact at that time. They will contact you. I will contact you as soon as
possible to let you know if you rate ITOs. Do you have any questions?”

“What’s
ITO?” I asked, numbly. My head was swimming with all of the information that
he’d just dumped on me.

“The
Invitational Travel Orders, ma’am.” The man answered patiently.

“Oh, right.”

“Do you have
any other questions?”

I tried to
make sense of my jumbled thoughts, coming up empty. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Feel free
to call this number back at any time if questions should arise. However, I want
to make it known that we will call you as soon as we have new information, so
calling to ask for an update is not recommended.”

“Okay, thank
you.”

“Again, I’ll
let you know if you rate the ITOs as soon as we know.”

“Thank you.”

I ended the
call and looked at Catherine. She was still on the phone. She was pacing back
and forth while she talked, but the pattern of her steps seemed to be random
and without purpose. I wondered if she was getting more information than I had.
I went over the call in my mind as I watched her. The man had said that Matt
had definitely been injured in combat. He was shot in the arm, and needed
surgery. He was on the way to Germany, and I might be able to go, too. Part of
me desperately wanted to fly straight to Germany to be with my husband. But a
bigger part of me hoped that they would call me back and say that it wasn’t
necessary to his recovery. That would mean that he was in less danger if they
didn’t request the presence of family.

I was deep
in my own thoughts when Catherine hung up the phone and came back to the bench.
She waved a hand in front of my face. “Olivia?”

I jumped.
“Sorry. How did it go?”

“They said
that his status is Very Seriously Injured. He’s on the way to the hospital in
Germany and they’re flying me out there. His parents are coming, too, of
course. I’m seriously in shock right now. They said he was shot in the side and
that they had to do surgery to stabilize him before they could even send him to
Germany for more surgeries.”

My heart
sank for Catherine and my earlier suspicions were confirmed. It was definitely
worse if you got to go to Germany. “I’m so sorry.”

“What did
they say about yours?”

“His status
is Seriously Injured. He was shot in the arm and also needs surgery in Germany.
They don’t know yet if I can fly out there because they have to see if his attending
physician says it’s necessary. How do they already know that you can go if he’s
still on the way there?”

Catherine
shrugged. “I’m not sure. He was stabilized at the medical center on Kandahar,
so maybe that doctor said I could go?”

“Maybe. I
need to call Matt’s parents. They don’t know yet.”

She nodded.
“My in-laws live on the East Coast or else I’d go tell them in person. If
Matt’s family is local, maybe you should do that.”

Catherine
was right. I was just terrified that I wouldn’t be able to do it if I had to
look his mom in the face. She was going to panic and ask questions that I
couldn’t answer. I did feel better that I had more information that I had an
hour ago, though. The breeze picked up and I shivered, though it wasn’t really
cold out.

I nodded at
Catherine. “I’m going to head over there. Are you going to be okay? What are
you going to do?”

“They said
they were going to call me with more information about my travel plans. He
recommended that I start packing now so that I’m ready to leave whenever I can.
So, I guess I’ll go call his parents and then pack.”

“Okay, let
me know if you need a ride to the airport. I can be back here in twenty.”

She smiled.
“Thank you.”

We both
stood from the bench and I pulled her in for another hug. It was amazing how something
like this could make you feel connected to someone you weren’t close to at all.
I had no idea what was happening with my husband and she was just as clueless
about hers. Either way, we were in it together. No catty drama could overshadow
every military wife’s worst nightmare.

Chapter
Twelve
 

Matt

I opened my eyes. There were
popcorn-ceiling tiles above me. It was a strange sight, since my tent was made
of canvas and steel. In fact, my tent wasn’t this bright, either. I looked down
at my hands and found my left arm in a sling, and an IV in my right. Slowly,
realization dawned on me. The shooting. My arm.
Brooks.

“Hey!” I
called out into the hallway, while simultaneously pushing the Call button on my
hospital bed. “Nurse? Anybody out there?”

A short, round
nurse came bustling into the room. “What’s wrong, dear?”

My friend, I
need to know what happened to him. Where am I?” I frantically looked around the
room searching for a clue. The shades were drawn and everything else looked
like every other hospital room in the world.

“Okay, sir?”
the nurse cautiously approached me with her arms extended in front of her. “You
need to relax. Do you hear me?”

My chest
hurt, so I pressed my right palm over my heart. I was breathing way too fast
and my heartbeat was a mile a minute. Was I having a panic attack? What the
hell? I ordered myself to breath, not fully understanding my reaction. The
nurse gave me a minute as I tried to calm myself down. She kept a watchful eye
on my heart rate monitor, and I kept a watchful eye on her. Last thing I needed
was a sedative before I found out what was going on or where I was.

“Okay,” the
nurse smiled kindly at me. “Can you tell me your name?”

I sighed.
“Matthew Mills.”

“Hi,
Matthew. I’m June. Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“You’re a
patient at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.”

I sucked in
a breath.
Germany.
Holy shit. “Has
anyone called my wife?”

The nurse
nodded. “She’s been notified that you were injured in an incident on Kandahar
Airfield. They’ve been keeping her apprised of your condition.”

“Is she
coming here?” I asked, feeling hopeful. I wanted nothing more than to see
Olivia’s face.

“No, I’m
sorry, honey. Your surgery went really well and you’re leaving for America
tonight. You’ll see her at Walter Reed in Washington, D.C. when you get there.”

I laid my
head back on the pillow. “How long have I been here?”

A clipboard
by my bed must have had my chart on it since the nurse referenced it before
answering. “You were brought in roughly 34 hours ago. Your first surgery was
right when you arrived and the second one finished about six hours ago. You’ve
been asleep for the most part, but they woke you between surgeries and you did
just fine.”

I could feel
my eyes bulging out of my head. “Oh. I don’t remember.”

“That’s not
uncommon, sweetie.”

“I had two
surgeries?”

She nodded
again. “Your arm was pretty bad when you came in. You’d lost a lot of blood.
I’ll let the doctor know that you’re awake so he can give you a more detailed
summary of your care, okay?

“Thanks.
Hey, my friend that I mentioned. Can you give me any information on Lance
Corporal Travis Brooks?”

The nurse
looked over her shoulder. “I can’t tell you anything about another patient.
That’s confidential.”

I perked up.
“So, he is a patient, then? He’s here, receiving treatment?” I didn’t even want
to think about the alternative.

She made a
face that looked quite similar to the one my mom made whenever I was being a
smart-ass. “I really shouldn’t.”

“Can you at
least tell me if he’s alive? We were fighting side-by-side out there. Please.
He’s a good friend.” I made sure that I had on my best puppy dog expression. It
usually worked with Olivia.

With another
glace over her shoulder, the nurse gave me a reassuring smile. “He’s had a lot
more surgery than you in the last couple of days, but so far he’s hanging in
there. That’s all I can say. Now, get some rest and I’ll have the doctor come
talk to you in a little while.”

I watched
her head towards the door. I may have just woken up, but I still felt like I
could sleep for another several days. There was just one more thing I needed to
do. “Ma’am?”

My nurse
turned back around and gave me a questioning look. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry,
I don’t remember your name.”

She pointed
to the white board on the wall and said, “June.”

“Thanks, June.
Is there any chance I could get a phone to call my wife?”

“Sure thing,
be right back.”

I must have
fallen asleep again because when I blinked my cell phone was sitting on the
bedside table. I reached across my body with my right hand, wincing at the pain
it caused from my wound. Once the phone was securely in my hand, I turned it on
and prayed that it wasn’t dead. Thankfully, someone must have turned it off when
I got here to save the battery.

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