“It’s a party now that the nurses have arrived,” he said, giving her a strained smile.
She met his gaze. The weeks she’d spent studying comatose patients had sharpened her observation skills. “Are you okay?”
The music changed. Percy Sledge’s soulful “When a Man Loves a Woman” filled the room.
“Dance with me, McGrath,” he said. It wasn’t a cocky, I’m-so-cool-and-you’ll-be-swept-away request, not what she would have expected. That kind of thing she would have laughed at.
This was a man’s plea, tinged with desperation and loneliness.
She knew that feeling well. She felt it during every shift as she moved among her comatose patients, hoping for miracles.
She reached for his hand. He led her out onto the dance floor. She fit up against him, felt the solid strength of him, and realized suddenly, sharply, how lonely she was, too. And not just here in Vietnam, but ever since Finley’s death.
She rested her cheek on his collarbone. They moved in an easy, familiar rhythm, changing their steps only when the music changed.
Finally, she looked up, found him looking down at her. She reached up slowly, eased the hair out of his eyes. “You look tired.”
“Rough day.”
He tried to smile, and the effort touched her. She knew how hard that particular camouflage could be.
“They’re so young,” he said.
“Tell me something good,” she said.
He thought for a minute, smiled. “My seven-year-old niece, Kaylee, lost a tooth. The tooth fairy left her fifty cents and she bought a goldfish. Her brother, Braden, made the soccer team.”
Frankie smiled at the sweetness of it. She was about to ask him something about his life back in the world when the door to the O Club burst open, letting in the sound of a distant mortar attack. A trio of men walked in.
Strode, really. They were noticeable, loud, laughing. They didn’t look military, let alone like officers. All three had hair that was too long to be regulation. Two had mustaches. One wore a cowboy hat and a Warlocks T-shirt. Only one wore the blue fatigues of the Navy. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders and were singing what sounded like a fight song.
They pushed through the crowd and sat at a table that bore a RESERVED sign. One of them raised a hand and a Vietnamese waitress wearing an ao dai rushed over with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and three shot glasses on a tray. A smaller guy with reddish hair and a sparse mustache threw his head back and howled like a wolf.
“Who are they?” Frankie asked. They looked more like Berkeley students or cowboys than naval officers.
“New squadron. The Seawolves. Naval helicopter combat support. The Navy needed bird pilots, so last year they chose a few jet jockeys, asked for volunteers, and taught them to fly choppers. They may look arrogant and unchecked with their hair and clothing, but they’re workhorses. They’ve flown a lot of medevacs for us in their off-hours. You call on one of the Seawolves, and if they aren’t fighting Victor Charlie, they show up.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “I’ve been thinking about you, McGrath.”
Now he sounded and looked like any other on-the-make surgeon. This man she could laugh at. “Really?”
“You’ve been hiding long enough.”
“Hiding?”
“In Neuro. Your girl squad—Ethel and Barb—tell me you’re ready to move up.”
“Oh.”
“Captain Smith says you did exceptional work. Fastest learner he’s ever had, he said.”
Frankie didn’t quite know how to respond. Captain Smith had never said that to her.
“He also says you are compassionate, which I already knew.”
“Well…”
“The point is this. Did you come to this hellhole to change bandages or to save lives?”
“Well. I don’t think that’s quite fair, sir.”
“Jamie,” he said. “For God’s sake, McGrath. Jamie.”
“So. Jamie. I don’t think that’s quite fair. An opportunistic infection can—”
“Come work in surgery with me. Patty Perkins is a short-timer. I need someone good to replace her.”
“I’m not good enough,” she said. “Take Sara from the burn unit.”
“I want you, McGrath.”
She heard more in that sentence than belonged there, enough heat to set off warning bells. “If this is just a way to sleep with me—”
He gave her an easy smile. “Oh, I’d love to sleep with you, McGrath, but that’s not what this is about.”