The Knitting Diaries (20 page)

“You want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m just a statistic, the kind that comes when you put a bad driver with faulty brakes on a crowded street. I’d rather focus on tomorrow than yesterday. Maybe that does make me a fighter.” Caro smiled as the cat stood up and stretched on her lap, then licked Caro’s fingers. “And…about lunch. You don’t want to leave these two guys out here in the truck while we eat. I’ve got a better idea.”

It took them less than ten minutes to gather everything they needed. Caro knew the perfect spot to go after that. Gage followed her directions and parked near a big meadow on the hill, where granite ridges overlooked the lighthouse and the restless sea.

“I never would have thought of this. It’s been years since I’ve had a picnic.” Gage took the blanket that Caro had borrowed from the owner of the Harbor Café and spread it over the soft grass beneath a dense willow tree. “I’m not sure if I remember how.”

“Simple. Leave the details to me.”

While he straightened the blanket, Caro slowly opened small take-out boxes. “Close your eyes,” she ordered.

“Is this going to hurt?” Eyes closed, he leaned back against the tree.

“You’ll have to take a chance. Ready?” When he nodded, Caro held a fully cooked hamburger to his mouth. “Well, what do you think?” She watched him bite into the hamburger, savoring every bit.

“You have no idea.” He took another slow, almost reverent bite. “Not that I’m complaining. Uncle Sam does a darn good job for us over there. But it’s just not the same as fresh, locally made food like this. So why aren’t you eating?” He looked down and frowned. “Are you in pain? I know how hard it can be to recover from a wound.” He didn’t wait for her answer, locating a plastic fork and giving her a bite of the food on her plate.

Caro’s face flushed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. Now be quiet and eat.”

She took the bite of potato salad, seeing the determined look in his eyes. There was no point in arguing, especially since she had done too much that day and her hand was feeling cramped and weak.

Acutely aware of every old bruise and healing scar, Caro made a mental note to knit herself a pair of gloves, the cute fingerless kind that was so popular right now. At least they would cover the worst of her scars. But for the moment she had to be satisfied with tugging her sleeves down as low as they would reach.

When they were finished, Gage lay back on the grass and tucked his hands behind his head, watching the clouds race along the horizon. Across the meadow a red-tailed hawk circled high and returned. Sometimes it was good just to sit in the sunlight and let life unfold, Caro thought.
Right now it was a relief not to worry about tomorrow or next week. Sitting here beside Gage filled her with a sense of peace.

As she leaned back, Caro saw the old dragon cottage through the trees. Its beautiful thatched roof and stained-glass windows seemed to glow golden in the afternoon light. As a girl Caro had dreamed the house was haunted.

If so, it was haunted by beauty, she decided.

Gage’s golden retriever dashed by her, nearly overturning a bottle of apple cider, and Gage lunged forward to prevent a mishap. He caught the bottle in one hand, and in the process his arm slid along Caro’s waist. The air felt hot and heavy as the retriever barked and then put his paws on Gage’s shoulders, knocking him back onto the blanket in excited demand for more play.

“They’re going to miss you. Will they be staying with your sister?”

Once Gage managed to struggle out from under Bogart, he ran a hand over the dog’s ears, calming him. “No, it would be too much for her. An old friend is going to keep them until I get back.”

Until I get back.

The words hung between them, pressing at Caro’s chest. There was a chance that he
wouldn’t
come back and they both knew it. In war, loss and death were grim and ever-present possibilities.

Gage glanced at Caro, his fingers smoothing Bogart’s fur. The movement was slow and careful, and Caro found herself imagining the pleasure of that touch. The images made heat skim over her skin, and something shimmered to life, growing between them, restless and
hungry. Awareness seemed to snap between them like a hot electric wire.

Neither one moved.

Gage looked down at Caro’s mouth, then down at her hands. He cleared his throat and pushed onto one elbow. “Would you mind—that is, I’d like to write to you. It would be nice to have news, nice to know how you’re doing. It always helps to remember that somewhere there’s a normal world and normal people going about their lives,” he said quietly. “But maybe…you won’t have time for that.”

“I’ll be happy to give you my email address. How long do you expect to be gone?”

“It’s better not to focus on time. I’ll be back when I’m back. If I’m counting minutes, living in a world of
what if,
I can’t focus or do my job.” He took out a little notebook, tore out a sheet of paper and waited while Caro wrote down her email address. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to answer quickly, if I’m out in the field…”

“That’s fine. I’ll keep writing, Gage. Just drop me a line and tell me how you are.”

A rabbit appeared in the bushes beside the meadow and Bogie tore across the grass in hot pursuit. Unconcerned, Bacall simply yawned and curled up on top of Gage’s leg, purring in the sunshine. The sense of peace on the hillside was deep and almost tangible. Caro closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face, gathering these layers of peace like a soft alpaca shawl around her shoulders.

Suddenly a shrill ring made Gage shoot up and dig at his pocket. His eyes darkened as he glanced at the screen of his cell phone. “Excuse me, Caro. I need to take this.” He stood up and walked away, speaking quietly into the
phone. Caro couldn’t hear the words, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

When he came back, the calm had left his face and his eyes were bottomless. She felt as if she was looking into the face of a different person. A professional soldier’s face.

“Is everything okay?”

“I have to go. My transport time has been pushed up. I’m sorry, Caro. This last hour…it was more than I expected to have. I thank you for that, and for making a stranger feel at home here for a little while.”

Caro’s throat burned. She reached out without thinking, using her injured right hand to close over his. Ignoring the pain it caused, she pressed his calloused palm. “I enjoyed it, Gage. I wish you had more time. I wish—” She stopped, then glanced at Bogie and Bacall. “How far do you have to take them?”

“My friend lives about an hour north of here. They’ll be fine with Jonas. He loves animals. But I need to get going. I’ll take you home, get that painting and then move out.” Methodically he collected their food and plates and stowed everything in the back of his truck. “Take care of yourself, Caro. Remember, you can fight your way through this. I’m counting on you.” He smiled suddenly. “I’ll write to my friend’s wife and ask her to send you some of her knitting designs. She was pretty badly messed up several years ago in a car accident and it took her about fifteen months to get back to knitting. My friend said she was really surly for most of that time. Dreaming up her own patterns kept her going.”

“Fifteen months without knitting?” Caro rolled her eyes. “If that happens, I’m going to need heavier medication.”

Gage chuckled as he herded his animals back into the truck. Then he and Caro stood in the sunlight with the wind off the sea and the sun on their shoulders. “Be sure you write to me,” Caro said softly. “I want to know…”

He cut her off with one finger against her mouth. “I’ll write. Count on it. Meanwhile, you take care of yourself. I know we only met this morning, but being here with you feels…” He didn’t finish. Instead Gage leaned down and kissed her very gently. His thumb traced the line of her cheek and he sighed. Caro leaned into him, feeling the strength of his arm against her shoulder.

Just for a moment, the world was at peace. Everything slid into place and felt right.

Then Gage straightened. He brushed a strand of hair out of Caro’s eyes and stepped back. Emotion churned in his eyes.

“Come back here,” she said quietly. Surprise filled his face but he bent down, and she rose to kiss him back, this time not so lightly.

The meadow was very still, and Caro could almost hear the pounding of her heart. She wanted more time. She wanted lazy Saturday mornings by the harbor and long walks in the rain. She wanted to know everything about him.

But Gage had to go. This was no time for questions or flights of fancy. She felt his hand close over her cheek one last time, as if he needed to remember the curves of her face, holding the image close as support for darker times.

Then he stepped back. “We’d better go,” he said gruffly.

Caro was suddenly aware how impossibly sad three simple words could be.

They said nothing else. He was clearly distracted by the change in his travel plans and they rode in silence to Caro’s house. Her grandmother was back when they arrived and she confirmed the painting for his friend. Gage was clearly becoming restless, so Caro said goodbye, cutting off her grandmother’s questions. The last thing Caro saw was his hand raised in farewell from the window of his truck as he leaned over to smooth Bogart’s head, which was pressed against his side.

The big hawk glided over the ridge.

The world seemed to tilt as the truck vanished around a bend in the road.

Caro felt her grandmother’s hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Of course, Gran.” But the truth was, she missed him painfully already. How was it possible to feel so connected with a man she’d known for only an hour?

It wasn’t until she turned to go inside that Caro glanced down and saw a folded piece of paper near her foot. She realized it was the sheet with her email address. Gage must have dropped it when he helped her out of the truck. How would he contact her now?

“He seemed like a nice man.” Morgan stood beside Caro at the front porch, watching the last rays of sunshine burn above the trees on the ridge.

“Yes, he was.”

“Is everything all right? You look pale.”

No,
Caro wanted to say.
I wanted him to stay. I wanted to feel the careful way his fingers moved through my hair when I kissed him. For once in my life I wanted to be dizzy and reckless and I have no idea why.

But dreams like that were pointless. He was gone. So she shrugged and managed a smile. “I think I’ll go work
on my exercises, Gran. Then I’ll help you organize the rest of those packages to be mailed.”

All so normal.

Yet
nothing
seemed normal now. Caro sensed that her world had changed irrevocably in the past hour.

All because of a tall, quiet stranger whose smile would haunt her dreams.

G
age glanced at his watch and felt his shoulders knot with tension. It was going to be tight. Too darned tight. Military transports were never firm, and he had known he would have a narrow window on this trip.

But then his friend Jonas had called. What he’d thought was a bout of flu had mushroomed into full-blown pneumonia, and Jonas was on his way to the hospital. Now Gage had no one to care for his animals and he had a military flight to catch in a few hours.

He gripped the wheel, thinking frantically. For a moment he was tempted to turn back and ask for Caro’s help, but he remembered her saying that her grandmother was allergic to animals. So that was not an option. He had no friends and no family in the area. No help and no options left.

But he couldn’t dump his two best friends.

Bacall pressed against his arm, purring loudly, and Gage fought to lock down his emotions. “I’ll find a place for you two.” His voice was raw. “I swear it. I only have two hours, but there
must
be something.” Memories of Caro’s slow smile and dark, intense eyes kept intruding as
he fought to force them away. Maybe he should go back to her house after all. Maybe she knew a friend who could help. Maybe…

Night was falling as the beam of his headlights outlined a row of pine trees along the road. In front of the trees Gage could see a neat white building with a handmade wooden sign. Gage rubbed his eyes, feeling hope surge through him.

The sign read: Summer Island Pet Clinic And Animal Shelter.

The distinguished older man at the front desk looked Gage over thoroughly as he walked inside. “What can I do for you, young man?”

“Do you…?” Gage’s mouth was dry. He couldn’t believe that he was in this situation, not after all his careful planning. What was he going to do if this failed? “Do you take in stray animals?”

“Definitely, when it’s possible. Right now we’re full, I’m afraid. Why don’t you come back next week?”

Next week.

Gage felt his hope crumbling. “I won’t be here next week.” He might not even be alive next week, but Gage didn’t mention that brutal truth. Instead he focused on his duty and the task at hand. “So you see, coming back won’t be possible, sir.” He held Bacall against his chest and stroked the cat’s back. “I’m deploying at dawn. The person who was going to take them can’t do it because of illness. I need—well, I hoped that…”

The man put down the file he was holding and crossed the room. “I see. Come in, son. Let’s go back to my office and discuss this. I think there’s something we can do to
help,” the older man said quietly. “But first, tell me the name of that handsome cat you’re holding?”

Gage took a hard breath. “This is Bacall, sir. And my retriever sitting at the door is called Bogart.”

“To Have and Have Not?”

Gage nodded. “Best movie ever made. But about my animals—I need to know they will be with a good family. I have to be sure they’re safe, sir. I owe them that.”

“I’m glad you’re so responsible, son. And I’m going to see to their care. I’ll take them myself—Mr….”

“Grayson. First Lieutenant Gage Grayson.”

“Navy?”

“Marines, sir. I’m heading back to Afghanistan in the morning.”

“Well, Lieutenant, that is a fine and well-trained dog waiting for you at the door. He’ll be in good hands here. So will your cat. Count on it.”

“Thank you, sir. You don’t know how much that means to me.” Gage ran a hand across his face and then looked up at the clock. “I was afraid—well, how could I just drive away and abandon them? What kind of person could do that?”

“I’m Peter Lindstrom, Summer Island’s vet. And believe me, Lieutenant, I’ve been trying to answer that same question for almost fifty years. Can I get you something, Lieutenant? Some coffee? I think we have a box of doughnuts in the back.”

“No, thank you, Dr. Lindstrom. And I really do appreciate this.”

“I’m glad I could help. I guess you have a plane to catch.”

“Yes, sir. If you don’t mind, I’d like a little time with these two before I go.”

Peter Lindstrom tried to suppress a pang of sadness as the big dog pressed uneasily at his owner’s side, sensing the change of mood. Pets were smart that way. As he walked back into his office, he saw the tall Marine bend down in front of the retriever. He stroked the dog’s head gently. “Well, I guess this is it, Bogie. Time for me to hit the road.”

The vet closed the door to his office, feeling a lump in his throat.

Gage knew that his time was gone. Yet some kind of miracle seemed to have brought him to this shelter and a safe haven for his pets. Gage trusted his instincts, and this Dr. Lindstrom seemed like a good person who would stand by his word. He was buoyed by relief that his two pets would be safe. And they would be close to Caro, he realized. Maybe he could ask her to check on them occasionally.

Bogart bumped at his chest, whining, and Gage scratched behind the dog’s ears, just where he liked it. “Now you listen, Bogart. I won’t be gone forever, but while I’m away I expect you to do everything that the nice vet says. No getting up and roughhousing in the middle of the night. No whining or turning up your nose at the food. I gave him your ball and I’ll be sure he has all the rest of your toys that I packed.”

Then Gage reached down and scooped up his cat. “Bacall, you take good care of Bogie when he feels bad. I’ll expect you to keep a good eye on things. Both of you know that I love you, whatever happens. This place will be a good home until I get back. Now, we’ve all got our work to do, and I have to go do mine.” Gage knelt,
grabbed the two and held them tight, burying his face in their soft fur.

And then Gage Grayson lost it. He had too many memories of fallen comrades—most recently of the young son whose family Gage had seen this week. The mother had looked back at him from a dark place, as if there were no words for what she was feeling.

How did you deal with so much pain and hold it all together? Because there was one thing that he knew without question. He did have to stay strong for himself and for his men, bunkered in a dusty outpost on a dusty hill in Afghanistan.

So Gage didn’t whine or curse. He forced his fingers to let go of his two beloved pets and then stood up slowly. His eyes felt gritty as he took a step back. He didn’t have any family except his sister. These two were all he had.

Saying goodbye was going to be about the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He took a deep breath. “So that’s it. You know I love you. And I’ll be back, you two.” Gage managed a crooked smile. “One day I’ll come rattling back here in my truck and my pockets will be full of treats, all for you rascals. That’s a promise.”

After Gage left, Peter Lindstrom reached down and scratched the retriever’s head.

“Nothing’s going to happen to him.” Peter made his voice firm and confident. “He’ll come home safe and sound.”

But the dog and cat stayed at the window staring out at the road, looking listless and anxious. An hour later the cat gave a low meow and began to groom the dog’s ears carefully. The dog curled up with his paws held
protectively around the cat. Both gave each other the only comfort they knew. They stayed together that way all night, curled up close, wary and alert.

Waiting for Gage to come back for them.

Dusk
Northern Afghanistan

Gage had lost track of the hours he’d traveled, shuffling from airport to airport and country to country. Night turned into day, and then into night again.

When he finally stepped onto the crowded runway in Afghanistan, he caught the distinctive smell of cordite, diesel oil and burned mutton from clay cooking ovens. Men ran and walked past him, pushing weapons and luggage and heavy equipment containers. He nodded to a dusty trio who had passed through his camp a month before, on their way to disrupt insurgent bases in the south. The whole scene was oddly familiar yet also surreal, as if he had stepped out of one life and dropped hard into another.

“Lieutenant Grayson, your chopper is ready to leave, sir.” A lanky corpsman with a sunburned face pointed behind a row of stacked crates where a personnel helicopter was being readied for takeoff.

“But first you need an updated set of vaccinations, sir. There’s some new strain up north, maybe a cholera variant. It’ll just take a minute.”

Gage took off his camo jacket and unbuttoned his sleeve. He had dropped Morgan McNeal’s painting with his friend’s wife on the way to the airport in Oregon. The reception had been ecstatic. In return, he had a gift packed carefully in his mess kit. Those homemade double
chocolate brownies were going to be a nice treat later that night.

But thinking of food made Gage remember ham burgers and apple cider in a meadow overlooking the sea. From there it was just a short jump to thoughts of Caro’s husky laughter and her extraordinary strength under difficult circumstances. He had thought about her during all the long hours of his travel.

As he received his injections, Gage used his other hand to pull out his wallet to retrieve the inevitable paperwork needed to record his updated status.

“Thank you, sir. And now I’ll need your medical card and your form CD-492A to stamp.”

“Right here, Sergeant.” Gage pulled out the papers and then frowned at the empty space in his wallet. He had tucked the sheet with Caro’s email address in that spot for safekeeping. He was sure of it. How could he have lost it?

“Something wrong, sir?”

Gage rubbed his neck, watching wind kick sand over his boots. How was he going to write to her
now?

“Sir, they’re waiting for you.”

Frowning, Gage shouldered his gear and ran through the dust toward his ride.