Patty once and I thought she’d deck him.”
Trisha coughed out a little laugh. “My parents didn’t give anyone the option.”
“Smart.” Grace checked Trisha’s pulse first and then used her stethoscope to check heart and lung sounds. “My advice? Get as much mileage out of that sexy voice as possible,” Grace Ann teased while she noted the vital signs in the chart. “How is your knee feeling?”
“Like an overstuffed sausage,” Trisha replied.
“That sounds about right for the first day after an ACL repair.” She assessed the dressing and anti-inflammation protocol. Satisfied, she gave her patient a rundown of what to expect through the day. “The surgeon, or one of his associates, will probably come by in another hour or so. Physical therapy should be here by ten,” she explained. “Getting up will be an adventure, but worth it.”
“Adventure as in a water park vacation or adventure as in training to become a paratrooper at airborne school?” Trisha asked.
“Well, I suppose that depends on whether you’re more afraid of water or heights.” Hearing the raspy chuckle, she knew this soldier would be back on duty sooner rather than later. “Keep in mind, Rome wasn’t rebuilt in a day.”
“Got it.”
Grace Ann double-checked Trisha’s pain levels and medications. She listed the names of the care team for the day and encouraged Trisha to press the call button if she needed anything. At the sound of the cafeteria cart rattling down the hallway, Grace Ann stepped out to collect Trisha’s breakfast tray.
On a normal shift, concerns ran the gamut from pain management to mind-set and soothing anxious family members. Some patients pushed the envelope of recovery, getting up and out of bed too soon. She preferred that kind of trouble over the challenges of those emotionally crippled by their injuries. She put a little tag on Trisha’s chart so the team would watch out for the too-much-too-soon sort of problems there.
Continuing with her rounds, Grace Ann kept one eye on the clock, along with everyone else on duty. The orthopedic ward wasn’t the easiest of assignments and burnout was real. The wounded warriors they cared for put specific faces on the concepts of sacrifice and risks of a military career. But her sense of drive and commitment to helping others helped her, too. Whenever she saw hope or courage chase despair from the faces of recovering patients, it gave her positive ammunition against the ugly memories haunting her after her last deployment overseas.
Having one of their own in surgery for injuries sustained during a training exercise made each minute feel like an hour. There were risks in training, of course, but precautions as well. Drills and exercises weren’t supposed to be career-ending. Sure, accidents happened, but rarely enough in the current environment that most of them took fitness and wellness for granted.
Not anymore.
Like her, Kevin was a registered nurse; he was also currently a captain within their unit and a good friend. By some miracle, he’d survived a crash when the helicopter went down a few days ago in a crisis rescue training exercise staged in a remote part of Texas. His back broken, he’d somehow also managed to survive the transport to a local hospital for stabilization and another transport for reconstructive surgery here at the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Maryland.
Grace Ann believed—had to believe—he’d come through the operation with flying colors and eventually be cleared to get back on duty. Any other outcome was unthinkable.
Kevin wasn’t just a friend or an extended part of her army family. He was the younger brother of Derek Sayer, the man she’d been sleeping with for the past couple of years whenever their crazy schedules allowed. They’d kept their friends-with-benefits relationship a secret, but if Keven didn’t pull through, if this surgery ended his career, how would she ever look Derek in the eye again?
Guilt prickled at the back of her neck and she blinked away tears she couldn’t let fall. She’d been on the roster for that training exercise. At the last minute, her orders had been changed. She’d remained at the hospital and Kevin had been sent her place. Although she had zero evidence, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the crash had been an attempt on her own life rather than an unfortunate accident.
She passed the nurses’ station again for another glimpse at the screen that showed statuses for all orthopedic surgery patients. Kevin had not yet been moved to recovery.
“What do you think it means?” an aide asked, worrying her ID between her fingertips.
Grace Ann thought of Kevin’s irreverent sense of humor and managed a smile. “He probably asked for a little liposuction or a tummy tuck while they were in there.”
The aide chuckled in agreement as a patient call signal sounded at the desk, and they parted ways to return to their respective duties.
Grace Ann was grateful for the full roster of patients and demands today. Whenever she stopped moving, the stinging regret threatened to paralyze her. Kevin had only been on that helicopter because she’d been passed over due to security concerns. Someone from her father’s past had decided to target the Riley children in what investigators believed was a revenge effort designed to cause the general the most pain.
A few months ago, her oldest brother Matt, an army major currently stationed at the Pentagon, had barely escaped the elusive madman’s efforts. What had started with a vague “you will pay” threat had escalated as the man set out to expose and embarrass the family. His plans had nearly killed Matt. At the same time, her car had even been vandalized with the now-familiar “you will pay” message the jerk favored. Investigators had dubbed him the Riley Hunter and were scrambling to unravel more about his real identity, why he’d gone on the attack and how he hired the mercenaries who carried out his orders.
In light of the ongoing investigation and the aggressive nature of the man calling the shots, the military was keeping a close eye on the locations and assignments of Matt, Grace Ann and their three younger siblings who also served.
No matter how the five of them protested, the decision had been made by those higher up the chain of command. Training exercises and deployments had been frozen. Communications were monitored for any mention of the general, Grace Ann or her siblings. Extra eyes, electronic and human, were tasked with keeping tabs on all of them.
Wallowing in the frustration after the fact wouldn’t change a thing. It would ease her mind and the fraying edges of her soul if she knew that those higher-ups were looking for clues that would prove the helo accident had more sinister origins, but it wasn’t her place to ask.
“Woolgathering, Major Riley?”
Grace Ann flinched at the nasal voice of Hanson Bartles, their current executive officer and assistant to the commander. Everyone called him H.B. when they could get away with it. Basically a decent guy, his talents ran to administration rather than hands-on nursing care. She supposed someone needed to have admin skills. Although they would never be friends and frequently butted heads on the priorities and how-to of running a field hospital, they got the job done.
She pulled herself together before facing him. “Good morning, Major Bartles.” He preferred proper titles to friendliness. A slender man, edging toward skinny, he had stiff posture, which always reminded her of the rigors of basic training. Never a comforting thought. The discomfort was only compounded by his precise military haircut, deep-set mud-brown eyes and razor-thin nose.
“If you don’t have enough to do, I could
