Fire and Rain: A Wildest Alaska Novel Read online

  I guess God needed a very brave angel for some special purpose.

  She didn’t realize she was crying again until Sean spoke.

  “I can come back later if this is too much and you’d like to be alone.”

  She reached for another tissue, shaking her head. He was always so considerate, and he’d done so much for her already. “No. Sorry. I just… I just miss him.”

  “So do I.”

  Of course, Sean missed him, too. Sean had known Justin longer than Eden had, and the two had been inseparable. Sean had eaten dinner at their place as often as not. He’d gone camping, skiing, hunting, and fishing with them. She’d seen tears on his cheeks at Justin’s memorial service.

  She cleared her throat, got up to toss the two tissues in the trash, doing her best to put the broken, hurting pieces of herself together. “More coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  She sat once again and focused on his neat handwriting. “Let’s try this again.”

  “It’s smart to set that five-hundred thousand aside for emergencies or a house or Maverick’s future. You’ll be getting monthly DIC, plus Social Security, plus his SBP money. Together, that’s a little more than thirty-five hundred a month pre-tax. You have to pay taxes on the Social Security and the SBP, but not the DIC. I’m not a tax person, but my guess is that you’ll have a net of about twenty-six hundred each month. It’s not a lot, but you get to remain in base housing for now, right?”

  Government housing was free, and she was allowed to remain here for a year from the date of Justin’s death. But did she want to stay?

  “I can stay for now, but I’m not sure I want to.”

  His brow furrowed, and he cocked his head as if curious to hear her reasons.

  She tried to explain. “Everywhere I look, I see Justin. His shaving stuff. His uniforms. His kayak. His clothes. His fishing gear. I still have his toothbrush. Sometimes having him all around me is comforting. Sometimes it’s torture. Being so close to base, I can hear rescue helicopters take off, and it makes me think of that night, of hearing him fly away, not knowing he would never come back.”

  “I’m so sorry, Eden. That must be hell.”

  She nodded, her grief so heavy it threatened to sink her.

  “I understand if you’d rather move.”

  “I don’t know what I want. When I think about finding a place in town, I get completely overwhelmed. Moving with a toddler. Going back to work. Leaving our home and so many memories behind. I was happy here.” She reached for another tissue. “I know I’m contradicting myself. I probably sound crazy. Whether I stay here or move, it all feels impossible.”

  Sean leaned closer, met her gaze. “You don’t sound crazy at all. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do. Whatever you decide, you won’t face it alone.”

  She sniffed, nodded. “Thank you. You’ve been so good to us.”

  His eyes filled with shadows, but he smiled. “Hey, you’re family, right?”

  Sean chopped the tomato and tossed it into the salad while Eden washed Maverick’s hands, a job that seemed to require loud protests from Maverick. She’d asked Sean to stay for supper and then confessed she would have to order pizza—again. Something in the way she’d said it told him she was sick of fast food. So, he’d run to the store and come back with a roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and salad fixings.

  It wasn’t five-star gourmet, but it was better for them than pizza.

  Maverick was the first to reappear, the indignity of having his hands washed forgotten as he ran on tiny bare feet through the house like a knee-high escaped convict.

  Eden followed, carrying a small towel, a look of mixed annoyance and humor on her face. “Let me dry your hands, Mavie, and then we’ll have supper with Uncle Sean.”

  Sean set the salad on the table with the rest of the meal, laughing to himself as Eden caught the little rascal around the waist and did her best to dry his hands. “You’re good at this toddler wrangling business.”

  “Practice.” Eden scooped up her son and carried him to his highchair. “I’m not sure why he hates to have his face and hands washed. You’d think it was torture.”

  Then she saw the table. “You set the table, too.”

  “Don’t look impressed. I’ve eaten here often enough to know where things are.”

  “True.” She sat next to Maverick, while Sean sat across from her where he’d usually sat, leaving Justin’s chair empty. “Thanks so much for everything today.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They talked about small things while they ate. The recent eruption of the Shevaluch volcano in Russia that had grounded aircraft in the Aleutians for a day. The beginning of tourist season and the stream of yellow school buses that ferried them around town. The latest bear sighting on base.

  Sean looked at Maverick and had to laugh. “Hey, little man, are you going to eat the mashed potatoes or just wear them? You know when you get messy like that, your mommy has to wash your face again.”

  Maverick laughed as if Sean had just said something hilarious.

  Eden shook her head, a smile on her pretty face. “I used to worry that he was going to starve to death unless I put the food into his mouth. But he keeps growing and gaining weight, so some of it must be getting into his tummy.”

  Parenting was outside Sean’s wheelhouse, but that made sense to him. “If he keeps going through the diapers, he ought to be okay, right?”

  Eden laughed. “And he does. I’ve been reading about potty-training. I had hoped to have him out of diapers before the next baby…”

  The smile fled her face. There would be no next baby—not with Justin as the father.

  “There are no words, Eden. I’m so sorry.” That reminded Sean. “I just remembered. I need to get that box of Justin’s things from my car. I keep forgetting to bring them in.”

  Those hazel-green eyes went wide for a moment. “Oh. Right.”

  Sean wished he knew how to make this easier for her, but he didn’t. “You deal with Mr. Potato Face, while I do the dishes. Then I’ll get the box.”

  “Okay.” She seemed to swallow her grief as she stood and got Maverick out of his highchair. “Let’s get you in the tub and then into your pajamas.”

  “My bwankie.”

  “No, you can’t have your blankie in the tub. It will get wet. But you’ve got your whale and your duckie, right?”

  “Duckie!” Maverick darted toward the bathroom.

  Sean could only imagine what it had been like for Justin to watch these little domestic moments unfold on his nights at home. He had loved Eden so much and been so proud to be her husband and Maverick’s father. But he would never see the ending of the story he’d begun with Eden, and she and Maverick had no choice but to go on without him.

  Shifting his thoughts, he made short work of the dishes and then went to wipe down the table. But when he came to the highchair, he wasn’t about to spend an hour cleaning mashed potatoes out of every crack and crevice. God, kids were messy!

  He grabbed the highchair, carried it outside, and set it down on the driveway. Then he hooked up the garden hose, turned it on, and sprayed off the highchair. He left it to sit on the porch while he went inside to grab a towel.

  He had almost finished drying it when Eden stepped outside, Maverick in her arms, drinking from a bottle and wearing fuzzy yellow pajamas with feet.

  She gaped at him, clearly amused. “Did you spray that down with the hose?”

  Was that so strange? “Hey, it worked.”

  Just then, an H-60 Coast Guard helicopter passed overhead. They both looked up and watched it fly by in silence.

  Sean carried the highchair back inside. “I’ll get that box.”

  They spent the next hour going through the things from Justin’s locker. Eden pulled out a slightly bent photo from the night Maverick had been born. In the image, she smiled at the camera, newborn Maverick in a blanket on her bare chest, Justin bending low so that hi
s face was next to hers. “He was so happy that night.”

  “It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.” Sean had been in the waiting room, pacing the floor. “He kept that taped to the inside of his locker. He said it reminded him of his reason for being a rescue swimmer. He wanted to save lives so families could stay together.”

  The tragic irony hung in the air between them, Eden’s eyes filling with tears.

  Then Sean had to tell her. “You’re the last thing he talked about before we got on the helicopter. He said you wanted another baby, and there was a big smile on his face. He loved you, Eden, you and Maverick. You two were his entire world.”

  Eden smiled through her tears. “Thanks for telling me that. And thanks for bringing me his things—and for helping with the money stuff and dinner.”

  “You got it.” But Sean thought he might choke on her gratitude.

  If he’d done a better job, her husband would be here tonight instead of him.

  Chapter Two

  April 25

  Sean lowered the litter, holding fast to the hoist line so the helo’s rotor wash wouldn’t send it into a spin. Then he saw it—smoke. It wafted out of the small boat’s cabin, and there was a strange odor to it. He wasn’t sure how he knew the smell was meth, but he did.

  He warned the others. “The cabin is in flames. They’re cooking meth, and it’s going to blow. Aborting the hoist.”

  But Justin hadn’t noticed. He continued to administer first aid to the unconscious patient then turned to talk to the passengers. Was his radio malfunctioning?

  Sean shouted into his mic. “Justin, abandon the rescue! The boat is on fire. It’s going to blow. We’ll retrieve you from the water.”

  The helo’s rotor fanned the flames, black smoke rising high into the air now.

  “I’m putting some distance between us and that blaze.” James veered off, adding another twenty feet to the helo’s altitude.

  Below, Justin was still talking to the passengers.

  “Abandon ship!” Sean shouted again. “Jump! Get out of there!”

  Justin glanced upward, the TrakkaBeam bathing him in light and reflecting off his helmet. Somehow, Sean could see his features clearly despite the distance and the glare.

  Then the ship exploded just as Sean had feared it would, surprise on Justin’s face as flames consumed him.

  “Justin!” Sean sat upright, covered in cold sweat, unsure whether he’d shouted the name or whether that had been part of his dream.

  Fuck.

  He threw back the covers, got up from his bunk, and walked to his bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face, the sound of the blast still ringing in his ears.

  Damn it.

  He reached for a hand towel and met his gaze in the mirror, hating the haunted look he saw in his eyes. The dream hadn’t been accurate. That’s not how it had gone down that night.

  In reality, the boat hadn’t been on fire, and he’d only shouted at Justin to get off the boat once. Justin had been dragging the patient toward the railing and talking with the other passengers before the explosion. Sean had never made eye contact with him, not even for a moment, a thought that filled him with desolation.

  No chance to say goodbye.

  Back on his bedside table, his alarm sounded.

  Good fucking morning.

  He walked back to his bed, turned off the alarm, then hit the shower, wishing the hot water could wash the lingering emotions of the dream down the drain. It was bad enough dealing with those memories during his waking hours. Now, he was getting twisted versions of that night in his nightmares. That was the third time he’d dreamed about the explosion this week. And no matter how the scene played out, Justin died.

  Post-traumatic stress.

  The Coast Guard required its members to get counseling after incidents involving injuries or fatalities. He, James, Wade, and even Lt. Yamada had been required to go through a few evaluation sessions and be cleared before they returned to active duty. If they knew he was having nightmares now…

  He dried off and put on his ODUs—operational dress uniform—and walked over to the galley for breakfast. A thick fog lay over land and water, the scent of rain mingled with the reek of rotting seaweed.

  Life in Kodiak.

  Inside the galley, he saw Wade sitting with Trey. James Spurrier ate breakfast with a few other pilots, all lieutenants or lieutenants junior grade. Lt. Yamada sat alone, reading a newspaper. Some of the newer enlisted guys from the shop crew were seated together—Chris, Samantha, Matt, Amanda, Rock, and Kai.

  No one had noticed him yet, so Sean filled up a plate with scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, and sliced fruit and carried it with a cup of hot coffee toward an empty table, preferring to eat alone. But before he could sit, Trey and Wade motioned to him to join them.

  Shit.

  He didn’t feel like talking with anyone, but he couldn’t ignore them. He walked to their table and took a seat. “Hey.”

  “Must be nice to have the use of your hand again.” Wade passed him the salt and pepper.

  “Thanks. It is.”

  “I saw you’ve got your fitness eval later today.” Trey stirred sugar into his coffee. “Do you think you’re up for it?”

  “I doubt I’ll be able to finish the upper-body portion.” Fifty pushups followed by chin-ups and pull-ups was going to be hard for his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure this is just to see how far I still have to go.”

  “If anyone can do it, you can. You’ve come a long way already. When we lifted you out of the water, I thought you might be looking at a medical discharge, but…” Trey’s words trailed off, as if he realized this might not be Sean’s idea of great breakfast conversation.

  “The Medical Evaluation Board is sure I’ll be back on active duty soon.” Sean took a drink of coffee, then started on his breakfast.

  Wade changed the subject. “What’s Crab Fest about? Is it a good time?”

  He’d arrived in Kodiak last summer.

  Trey answered. “You’re going to love it, man. The whole town turns out—not to mention tourists. It’s like a county fair meets a celebration of everything that is awesome about Kodiak. It’s a great place to meet women.”

  “Are you going?” Wade asked Sean.

  “I went once. I’ve been on duty most years and couldn’t.” Sean didn’t want to hang out with crowds right now. He felt like an outsider these days, as if some part of him was no longer in sync with everyone else.

  Apparently, realizing he didn’t feel much like talking, Trey and Wade moved on and began planning a day of mountain biking for their next shared day off, talking about the best trails and looking at maps on Trey’s phone.

  Sean finished his breakfast. “See you guys later.”

  He carried his tray with its dishes to the bins, then left the galley and made his way toward the rec center. He wanted to stretch and do some PT before the fitness test. It wouldn’t change the outcome, but it might keep him from reinjuring his arm.

  Eden dragged through the morning, doing her best to be cheerful around Maverick. He deserved a mother who was focused on his needs rather than lost in her grief. She didn’t want him to see her in tears all the time. But today was hard.

  Last night, she’d dreamed about Justin. He’d been here, alive and happy, with her and Maverick. They’d sat in the kitchen talking and laughing the way they had so many other days. So many precious days. And for the brief time of that dream, the shadows around Eden’s heart had lifted. She’d been indescribably happy to be with him, so relieved to see him alive again—only to be slammed by loss the moment the dream had ended and she’d opened her eyes.

  It had felt like losing Justin again.

  She had struggled to get through breakfast without crying. She’d called her mother and asked her to please come and help with Maverick for a few hours. Eden needed a shower. Maybe the three of them could go for a short hike on Old Woman Trail to forage—anything to dull the ache in her chest.
br />   She settled Maverick on the floor with his little Lego Duplo blocks. “Want to build a dump truck?”

  “Copta.”

  Justin had gotten this Lego set for Maverick because the pieces could be used to make a helicopter. Naturally, that’s what Maverick wanted to build first.

  “Show me how to make the helicopter.” Eden willed herself to focus only on her son.

  Maverick took the block she offered and put it together with the one he held in his left hand. “Got it.”

  She smiled. “Yep. You got it.”

  He knew what he was doing, and slowly the helicopter came together. But what fun was a helicopter unless you made it fly? When it was done, Maverick stood and held it up, blowing raspberries to make the whir of the rotors.

  “Look at it go.” Eden had been twenty when her father was killed in a car crash, and she couldn’t imagine growing up without him. She’d give anything to know how much Maverick understood. Had he noticed that his father no longer came home, no longer ate meals with them, no longer read to him, played with him, or gave him baths?

  Stop. Don’t do this to yourself.

  Eden heard a car engine and saw her mother turn into the driveway. She got to her feet and groaned to see that her cousin Mila Crane had come, too. She’d asked her mother not to bring Mila again, not after the way she had behaved last time she was here. She’d had the audacity to tell Eden that she was wallowing in grief rather than trying to heal.

  Eden couldn’t handle Mila—not today.

  She got to her feet. “Baba is here, Mavie.”

  But Maverick’s attention was riveted on the little helicopter.

  Eden opened her front door. While Mila finished a phone call next to the car, Eden’s mother hurried up the steps and walked inside.

  “Why did you bring her?” Eden whispered. “I can’t deal with her today.”

  “I told your Aunt Evelyn that I was coming, and I guess she told Mila. What was I supposed to do? Tell her you don’t want her here?”

  “Yes!” Eden loved her mother, but she didn’t have much of a backbone when it came to her sisters. “Mom, I can’t do this. Damn it.”