Chapter 22
Damon: Just thought I'd send a quick message while I have internet access. I'd call, but it's three in the morning there, and I really don't have much time. It's been a long week! I had hoped we'd make it back to base camp next week, but I'm not sure we will. Things haven't gone as planned.
Damon rubbed his tired eyes as he thought about all that had gone wrong over the past two weeks. The first mission didn’t go as smoothly as planned, but they managed to remove a high value target, who disclosed the location of a former military facility now controlled by the Taliban.
The two units—Damon’s and the seal team they were working with—were supposed to destroy the facility. But the Taliban must have been tipped off, because they walked into an ambush. Thankfully, his unit all made it out alive. Unfortunately, the seal team suffered a casualty.
Now, before returning to base, they had do reconnaissance to locate and confiscate a large weapons cache owned by insurgents.
Damon: I miss you. I can't believe Christmas is in a few weeks. I wish I could be home with you for the holidays. At this rate, I hope we make it back to base camp by Christmas so I can at least talk to you on Christmas Day. I love you! I can't wait to hear you say it again.
Christmas with Grace.
Now there was something to add to his bucket list. Thoughts of snowball fights followed by drinking hot cocoa in front of a fire with her snuggled in his arms warmed his body. He dreamed of sleigh rides at the ranch and kissing her under the mistletoe.
"Yo, Lancelot, we're moving out." King's deep voice pulled Damon from his daydreams.
"Coming." Damon pushed away from the wall of the small internet café.
They’d spent most of their time these last twelve days in smaller villages, so everyone was taking advantage of being in city of Al Khidr in Southern Iraq.
"Mind if I drive?" King asked.
They always took turns driving, rotating positions in the Humvee.
Every time King was slotted to sit in the back seat, he volunteered to take an extra turn driving.
Most of them agreed to let King take their turn, because even though they all found the lack of leg room in the back seat uncomfortable, they were at least five inches shorter than King's six-foot-seven frame.
He also outweighed them by at least forty pounds of pure muscle. No one wanted to cross him.
"Knock yourself out." Damon motioned to the driver's door then climbed into the rear passenger seat, where King would sit in the rotation.
They were supposed to be vigilant as they crossed the desert terrain, but Damon's eyelids grew heavy.
McDonald nudged his arm just as his head was about to start bobbing. "Did you get a message off to your girl?"
Mention of Grace had him wide awake.
"Yeah. It would have been nice to talk to her, but..."
"I hear you. I sent my wife a text message then called and left her a voicemail too. She likes to hear the sound of my voice, since she knows it’s easy not to say it like it really is in a text."
Wish I'd thought of that.
Damon laughed. "Let me guess, you left one of your PG-rated, yet innuendo filled messages."
McDonald wiggled his eyebrows. "Is there any other kind?"
McDonald had a wife and two kids at home. They seemed happy, but Damon knew she worried about Ronald. He worried about them too, especially after missing the birth of his second child a couple years ago while they were in Afghanistan.
Damon didn't want that to be him and Grace. He wanted to kiss her good night, not wish her sweet dreams over the phone. He wanted to hold her in his arms when she was upset or missing her mom. He hated the idea of her spending Christmas alone.
She wouldn't technically be alone, he knew that. But even though Paige and his mom would include her in their festivities, it wouldn't be the same for Grace without her mom.
Ford turned in the front seat to look over his shoulder. "You seriously thinking about getting married when you get home from deployment, Knight?"
"Yessiree. Not thinking about it. I'm doing it."
Grace might still need a little convincing, but he was up for the task.
"You always said the military and marriage didn't mix." McDonald eyed him. "Does that mean you're thinking about getting out?"
Damon took a long moment to study the barren landscape that the Humvee bumped and bounced over before answering. "Don't you ever wish there was more than this?"
"There is," King said. "It's only two and a half more months, man."
"Yes, but how long until the next deployment? And the next?"
"More? Like what?" Ford asked.
Like Damon, he'd been in the Army since shortly after turning eighteen. It was all they'd ever known. Most days, Damon didn't mind it—he enjoyed it even—but he'd grown envious of his brothers and cousins who went home to their wives and children each night.
"I don't know yet, but this is my last tour."
He’d thought a lot about what he wanted to do when he got out of the Army, and even though he hadn’t nailed it down, he knew he wanted to help people, like Grace. He liked the idea of working with teenagers, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a teacher.
"You're crazy, man. A house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a woman to come home to every day sounds nice, but it would get boring and claustrophobic after a few months."
"That's because you haven't found the right woman yet, and you're thinking of a house in suburbia. You need to get out into the country where the air is fresh, and your nearest neighbor is half a mile away. It's impossible to feel claustrophobic in the country.
"Like I said, bor—"
KABOOM!
A deafening explosion split the air, ripping through the center of the Humvee. The massive vehicle was thrown into the air before slamming onto its side with a jarring jolt.
White light blinded Damon. His ears rang, blocking out everything except the sound of the blood pulsing in his head.
Scorching heat enveloped him. Hotter than anything Damon had ever experienced. He struggled to breathe against the oppressive heat, drawing smoke-filled sandy air into his lungs.
Screaming finally pierced his ringing ears. High-pitched, agonized screams.
Men shouted, calling his name and the other occupants of his Humvee. Then they cursed.
More shouting. And more cursing.
Pain permeated the lower half of his body, sharp and excruciating.
King's name was shouted again and again in frantic tones, followed by Ford's.
Damon struggled to make sense of the chaos surrounding him.
IED.
No! It wasn't supposed to end like this.
He was supposed to get his happily ever after with Grace.
Grace.
He struggled to hold onto the image of her beautiful face as darkness claimed him.
"Okay, this is what I've come up with for the twelve meals." Charity laid a handwritten piece of paper on the table in front of Grace who nibbled on one of Charity's pecan pie bars.
Having Lily, who now played tug of war with Charity, eased her loneliness and made her get outside more often, but she was going to gain weight if she kept spending time with Damon's mom.
Charity loved Lily almost as much as Grace did.
"You're making a dessert every day too?"
Charity gave her a confused look. "Of course we are. It's the holidays after all."
"Of course." Grace grinned. She'd never met anyone quite so generous with their time and talents as Damon's mom and aunts.
Hope and Charity treated Grace like she was their own daughter, and Faith was always serving one person or another. Sometimes, more than one at a time.
Grace pointed at the paper. "Well, in that case, add flan to go with the enchiladas I'm making on the eighteenth."
"Oh, I'd love to have you teach me how to make a good flan. Mine always turns out runny." Charity pulled the paper toward her and added the dessert.
"I thought Faith was joining us this afternoon." Grace helped herself to another pecan bar.
"Oh, she's helping Edith Turner wrap Christmas gifts for her grandkids.
She's anxious to get them in the mail, but she has such terrible arthritis, that she has a hard time with the wrapping.
" Charity glanced at the clock. "I'm sure she'll be here soon.
Now, can you think of anyone else we should add to our list of recipients? "
"Don't you think six is enough?"
"It's not about the number; it's about making sure we don't overlook anyone who is alone at Christmastime."
"Right, sorry." Grace grinned again. She could learn a lot from these women. "I haven't met—"
She was cut off by the ringing of Charity's cell phone.
The older woman picked up her phone and frowned. "No caller ID. Who on earth could this be?" She swiped up and pressed the phone to her ear before Grace could explain that it was probably a scammer. "Hello?"
Grace watched the color drain from Charity's face. "Yes, this is she."
The person on the other end of the line continued.
"No!" Anguish deepened Charity's voice as tears flooded her eyes. She clapped a hand to her mouth, and Grace's stomach plummeted. "Is...is he okay?"
It's about Damon.
"W-wait. Can you repeat that please? G-give me a second."
Charity fumbled with her phone, dropping it to the table as she attempted to put it on speaker.
Heart in her throat, Grace gingerly picked it up as though careful handling of the phone would change what she was about to hear.
"Okay," Charity said with a sob. "Tell m-me again, please."
"This is Captain Evan Moore from the Rear Detachment of..." He rattled off Damon's Battalion and Ranger Regiment. "I'm calling to inform you that Sergeant First Class Damon Knight was injured while deployed."
Grace's chest squeezed so tight it pushed all the air from her lungs. That wasn't possible. She got two texts from Damon yesterday morning. He was fine then.
"At this time, his condition is listed as serious but stable. He will be transported within the next twenty-four hours to Landstuhl Germany. Where he will be further assessed before being sent to the states."
Charity's tears increased, and desperation filled Grace, tightening her chest to the point that she struggled to speak.
"S-serious but stable. What does that mean exactly?" Grace's hand tightened around the phone. "Can we talk to him?"
"He is heavily sedated at this time." Captain Moore's deep voice grew gravelly as he continued. "You should know...he lost the lower part of his left leg due to the injury."
What? No!
Grace's stomach clenched, competing with the tightness in her chest, and she feared the pecan bars might make a reappearance.
Damon loved to run. To ride horses and four-wheelers. This was going to devastate him.
"Oh no!" Charity's face crumpled.
"He is in good hands and receiving the best possible care." Captain Moore spoke again. "You will receive updates from his medical team as more information becomes available. If his condition changes, you will be notified immediately."
"Wait," Grace said in desperation. "What—what are we supposed to do? When will we get to see him?"
"You will be notified when he's transferred from Germany to the states. His injury is serious enough that you're eligible for travel through the Department of the Army. A representative from the Casualty Assistance Center will contact you within the next 24 hours to help coordinate arrangements."
Captain Moore ended the call, and Grace was left feeling like she'd been sucker punched.
Charity continued to sob while muttering things like "I always feared this would happen," and "How could this happen to my baby boy?"
Grace wanted to fall apart right alongside Charity, but she needed to be strong for this woman who'd stepped in as a mother figure to her. She'd help Damon's mom through this. And she'd stand by his side no matter what.
Scooting her chair closer to Charity's, she placed her hands on the other woman's shoulders. "Damon is alive. That's all that matters. He's going to be okay."
Grace had to believe that. If she didn't, she'd spiral too.
"You're right." Charity nodded. "We should be thankful." Then her bottom lip trembled. "He lost a leg, Grace."
"I know. And that's going to devastate him. But we'll be there for him. We'll help him through it." Grace forced all the confidence she could into her words.
"You're right. He's my son. Nothing changes that." Charity sniffed one last time. "And he's alive. Thank you, Lord." She looked up at the ceiling, muttering a prayer of gratitude.
Grace said one of her own.
The front door opened. "Sorry I'm so late, ladies. I hope I didn't miss anything important." Faith walked into the kitchen.
Charity's tears started again, and because Grace was so worried about Damon, she joined her.