Jolene hadn’t read these words in years.
I am an American Soldier.
I am a warrior and a member of a team.
I serve the people of the United States, and live the Army Values.
I will always place the mission first.
I will never accept defeat. （This had been underlined.）
I will never quit.
I will never leave a fallen comrade.
I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior task and drills.
I always maintain my arms, my equipment and myself.
I am an expert and I am a professional.
I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies of the United States of America in close combat.
I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life.
I am an American Soldier.
Jolene swallowed hard.
The nurse opened the door and wheeled her into the small high-tech room. Carl sat by the bed, his hands in his lap.
“Jolene,” Carl said, getting to his feet. She could tell by the way he moved that he’d been sitting a long time. “I’ll take her from here,” Carl said to the nurse, who placed a hand on Jolene’s shoulder, left it there long enough to make a point, then left the room.
Carl bent down and lightly kissed Jolene’s bruised cheek. She reached up with her good hand and held his hand. “How is she, Carl?”
He shrugged. “Apparently no one can say anything for certain when it comes to brain injuries. She’s in a coma. We’ll know more when she wakes up.”
He wheeled her to the bedside. Jolene hated how low she was, like a kid looking up. Already she’d learned how different the world looked from a seated position. Still, she saw Tami’s profile. Her friend’s face was black and blue and misshapen. She looked like she’d gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. A gash split her swollen upper lip. Bandages covered her head, the gauze darkened here and there by blood soaking through. “Help me stand,” Jolene said quietly.
Carl helped her out of the chair, positioned himself beside her, holding her upright.
“Hey, flygirl,” Jolene said. She wanted to touch Tami’s hand, but it took all her strength and concentration to hold herself upright. She clutched the bedrail with her one good hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“She would be pissed to hear you say that,” Carl said quietly.
Jolene nodded. It was true. Tami would have hated to hear that Jolene felt guilty about the crash, but how could she not? “I wonder if she knows we’re here?”
“She knows.”
Jolene wanted to believe that. She felt a sudden rush of loss, of grief. They had been best friends for more than twenty years. Tami was as rooted in Jolene’s soul as Michael and the girls. The thought of losing her …
No. She wouldn’t think that way. “You’ll come back to us, Tam. I know you will. You’re probably just doing this for attention.”
She told Tami about her own injury, and about Smitty, and about Jamie, who was recovering in a room just one floor down, and who asked about Tami every day. She talked about home, and the beach, and the summer they would spend collecting sand dollars and flying kites.
“We’ll run along the beach again, both of us.” She heard her own words and lost steam. Tears scalded her eyes, fell, and all she could do was plead. “Come back, Tam.”
“What if—”
“No. She’s not going to die,” she said softly. “You hear me, flygirl? No dying allowed. If I have to live with one leg and one arm, I will need you.” At that, she realized the gravity of it all, the looming loss, and she closed her eyes, thinking, come back.
She held on to the slick metal rail. Her leg was starting to ache, but she didn’t move. She wanted to stand here until Tami woke up.
She stared down at her best friend, seeing the whole of their lives in a second—the girls they’d been together, in uniforms, in cockpits, wanting so desperately to prove themselves … and the women they’d become and the battles they’d weathered together, the jokes they’d shared. They’d been together forever, side by side, listening to everything from Madonna to Tim McGraw, keeping each other strong. Army strong.
“They’re sending me home soon,” she said to Carl.
“That’s great news,” he said.
Jolene looked at him. The thought of going home, of leaving Tami behind, was more than she could bear. “How can I leave her?”
“You have to,” he said gently. “She would want you to. Go home to your kids, Jolene.”