Navy Rescue. Geri Krotow

reunion. He hoped they hadn’t expected a passionate embrace. He and Gwen hadn’t kissed that way since they were both younger, still married, still in love.

      God help them both get through the next few days.

      * * *

      THEY DIDN’T TALK on the drive to the house. Gwen couldn’t get past the weight of exhaustion that pressed on her bones, and thankfully Drew didn’t attempt conversation.

      You’re going home. You’re almost home!

      As much as she told herself the house would never be home again, not with Drew, it was how she felt as he pulled into their driveway. As if she were returning from a regular deployment, home to the safety of their marriage. She’d always felt safe with Drew, regardless of how ugly it got between them.

      “Here, I’ve got your bags.”

      Drew grabbed the two small overnight bags—one she had from the embassy in Manila and the one Ro had sent stuffed with new clothes and cosmetics.

      “Ro went overboard—she bought me so many outfits and girly stuff. I need to thank her and pay her back.”

      “You know she’ll never take any money from you. She was worried that you were living in Madigan Army Hospital gowns and sweatpants from the embassy store in Manila.”

      Gwen laughed as she climbed the wooden steps to the front door. “It was pretty bad, at first, but the embassy staff found clothes that fit me, and as you know, there are some wonderful markets in the PI. They outfitted me with all kinds of summer clothing.”

      “It’s a little too chilly for that here.”

      “Yes.” Actually, she hadn’t paid much attention to the weather or the temperature—she’d been focused on Drew. Early spring on Whidbey was typically windy and chilly. Today the air was still and the sun shone, making the grass sparkle. She’d missed the deep emerald-green unique of the Pacific Northwest. Gwen soaked up the scenery, let it lift her spirits.

      “The door’s unlocked.”

      Of course it was. Drew didn’t see the need to lock the door, ever. It’d always bothered her, his view that if thieves wanted in, they’d get in.

      “So Nappie’s still guarding the place?” They’d shared the dog, a hound mix, along with the parrot, when she’d moved out.

      “Rosie’s helping. Nappie’s hearing isn’t as good as it used to be when she was a pup.”

      Sure enough, as soon as Gwen stepped foot inside, the bird belted out “Mommy’s home!”

      Rosie said “Mommy’s home!” whenever anyone came into the house, male or female, acquaintance or stranger. Still, it made Gwen smile and she had to wipe away a few tears of gratitude.

      “You all right?” Drew’s hand was on her shoulder and no, she wasn’t all right—not considering the way she’d reacted to his touch.

      “Fine, fine. Like you said, I’m going to be overly emotional for a bit. The docs told me the same thing. It’s not personal, just part of my recovery process.”

      Drew dropped his arm and motioned for her to go up the stairs.

      “Let’s get you settled.”

      “Wait—I need to say hi to my girls.” She bent down and accepted wet sloppy kisses from Nappie, the long-eared rescue who’d been their first pet. After she was certain Nappie had received enough affection, she walked over to Rosie, the Indian Ring-Necked parrot who hadn’t stopped talking.

      “Whatcha doing?” Rosie cocked her head at the angle that always made Gwen laugh.

      “Rosie’s a pretty bird, aren’t you, girl?” Gwen crooned. Rosie bent her head forward, exposing her nape for Gwen to scratch. It was the ultimate show of trust from a winged creature. More burning tears pushed at Gwen’s eyes.

      Was she going to see everything through a lens of grateful tears from now on?

      “Good bird.” She gave Rosie a kiss on her beak and turned back to Drew.

      “Where to?”

      She thought he’d take her to the guest room, where she’d lived for months before she’d moved out, but followed him to the master bedroom.

      “I made this up for you. I wasn’t sure how you felt about coming back. Wait—let me rephrase that. I know you didn’t want to come back here, that you’d want your apartment. I’m sorry it got rented out from underneath you, Gwen.”

      Gwen watched Drew put her small travel case on their bed. What had been their bed, in the master bedroom, which was oddly devoid of any hint of Drew’s presence. Neat stacks of her clothes and favorite books were on the bureaus, where Drew had placed them; she never folded her clothes so meticulously.

      That was why he’d always done the laundry.

      “Losing an apartment is part of the deal when you’re considered dead, I suppose.” Her attempt at humor was weak, and she knew it.

      “This is not going to be easy for you, Gwen, and I want you to promise you’ll tell me immediately if you think you’re down too far.”

      They both knew what the down too far could lead to. Friends had attempted suicide at such points in their post-war return to “normal” life.

      “I’m not one of your PT clients, Drew.” She held up her hand. “Wait, that came out way too harsh. Can you tell I haven’t had regular conversations for a long time?” She referred to not having to use gestures the way she had with Mia, the woman who gave her and Pax shelter in a remote village, or using the very few words of Tagalog she knew.

      He smiled. “Does it seem weird to be talking to people who all speak English again? Other than doctors and navy personnel, I mean.”

      “Yes and no. I had to communicate with Pax, of course, but that was mommy-baby stuff. All physical. Hugs, kisses, tickles. When I settled in with a village woman, Mia, she and I communicated mostly through sign language. It’s not like I was in solitary confinement or anything.”

      Except in her thoughts of him...and the mental and emotional review of her life those months away from civilization had granted her.

      “Like I said, you need anything, you tell me.”

      “Sure.”

      “I’m in the guest room. As you can see, I’ve brought in some of your stuff—the rest is in the garage.” The gruff edge of apology surprised her. It wasn’t his fault she was here, that he’d had to go through her household goods.

      She tried to smile, tried to look as if she knew how to handle a multisentence conversation anymore. He was right; she hadn’t talked to a lot of people for the past six months, not until the past two weeks during which she’d been quizzed and downright interrogated by every embassy and military official who needed information from her.

      How did you survive, Commander? Were you raped? Were you hungry much of the time? Where is the baby from? Why did you decide to take a baby with you? Do you really think you can leave the country with that child? How can you prove you didn’t kidnap him?

      “Gwen? You okay?”

      “I’m fine.” She couldn’t, wouldn’t, have him waiting for her to explode with PTSD symptoms. “Don’t worry, Drew, I haven’t shown any signs of PTSD yet. I’ve had one or two nightmares, but that’s to be expected.”

      His expression softened. “Of course it is. It’s like being downrange, Gwen, but probably worse. You were without your crew, your team. You were all alone out there for a lot of the time, weren’t you?”

      “Yes, at least the first month and a half. Shortly after I found Pax I made some friends I could trust among the locals.” Heat rushed to her face. “You’ve heard all this, haven’t you?”

      “Not