CHAPTER TEN
Frankie~
It was Uncle Sam’s turn to look wise. “Be a real big step for any man to change his destiny so thoroughly. And to be so entirely beholden to his wife. I’m not saying it’s never happened, but maybe you shouldn’t try to change him. Men don’t like it when women try to change them. We like to be loved for who we are.” As if Sam would have married Lois if she hadn’t accepted the Gift of Immortality from his hands.
“So I should just give up on the idea of having a phoenix bond with my mate?” It was so typical of the older generation, to naturally assume that in any conflict it was the woman’s job to compromise. Screw that. But Frankie just nodded at Uncle Sam. At his time of life, he was not going to change his ideas of what was correct.
But Lois was shaking her head. “Don’t do it, Frankie. It isn’t just the babies. A phoenix can’t be really happy without a phoenix bond. And we’ve never had a divorce in the family. I wouldn’t want you to break that tradition. It would break your mother’s heart.”
And her own.
“What I say is, any boy who sulks when you’ve had a fight, and misses something as important as your own brother’s wedding reception, is no keeper. Is there any more coffee in that pot, niece?” Uncle Sam held out his cup. “He should have been by your side all last night, fighting off the competition, and dancing every dance.”
Even as she got up obediently to pour Sam another cup of coffee, she felt obliged to defend Cameron. “A couple months back, Major Reynolds was badly injured in combat. Yesterday, was literally his first day up since he was wounded. He returned to the cottage after the ceremony, to rest, because he was exhausted.”
“Hmph. What’s he staying at the cottage for?” Uncle Sam barked.
“He’s Harrison’s brother-in-law,” Aunt Lois reminded him. “And George and Caroline could hardly have him in the house with Frankie.”
“Huh. So why isn’t he staying with Tasha and Harrison?” Sam persisted.
“He has a head injury and headaches,” Frankie explained. “His recovery is not really compatible with two energetic little girls who talk at the tops of their voices. Mom invited him to Grape Creek to recuperate in peace and quiet. I think it was pretty brave of him to struggle to the church yesterday.” Which she did really. Cam was nothing if not heroic.
“Brave is good, but it’s not enough,” Aunt Lois declared. “Not for a phoenix. You wait for a fellow who’s prepared to have a transcendent bond with you.” She reached across and squeezed Sam’s age-spotted hand.
“Why do you think we’ve been so happy?” Sam clasped Lois’ hand before he stood up. “Where is your Dad? Sun’s up. Young man like him ought to be up and about.”
Since his retirement, Dad usually got up at dawn and ran four miles before mucking out the horses. But Frankie didn’t bother to say so. Sam headed to the hall. “I hope Uncle Sam isn’t going to wake Mom and Dad. They were at the hotel until two.”
Lois snorted. “Sam’s had two cups of coffee. He’s looking for the facilities.” She drank coffee. “You listen to an old woman. You don’t want to tie yourself to a fellow who doesn’t appreciate you. But there’s nothing to stop you from enjoying yourself, if you know what I mean?” she winked.
“Aunt Lois! I thought you didn’t want us sleeping in the same house.”
Lois shook her white curls. “You youngsters have never heard of discretion. Can’t be bringing your lover under your daddy’s roof. It wouldn’t be respectful. But you’re only young once. And that boy looked like he’d strip down well. Now is the time to sow your wild oats. You just don’t have to buy the field.”
“What if I want to take up farming?”
Aunt Lois stopped with her coffee halfway to her mouth. She set it down. Thought. “You’d have to figure a way to make that hard-headed male think it was all his idea.”
“Bear shifters are more stubborn than most men,” Frankie informed her aunt. “Much.”
“Fortunately, stubborn has to yield to smart.” Lois smirked. “Surely you are smarter than a bear?”
* * *
Cameron~
He came awake to the sound of heavy breathing. He inhaled. Phoenix, but not Frankie. He opened one eye cautiously. Two small, earnest faces stared into his. Quincy was a phoenix. Rebecca, the child of Tasha’s first marriage, was a mortal. He loved them both dearly – at least he remembered that he did.
“Uncle Cam,” whispered Becky, “We need to say g’bye. We’re going home, right this minute.”
“Yeah,” agreed Quincy.
He took stock. Was he decent? He was wearing shorts and T-shirt. He sat up, struggling to put the pillows behind him. “Do I get a kiss goodbye?”
The girls clambered onto the bed and threw themselves into his open arms and hugged him. Plastering his stubble with damp kisses. He wrapped them up against his heart and returned their kisses. Desperately wanting to feel the love he remembered.
“You have to get better, so’s you can read us our bedtime stories,” Becky told him in a subdued roar. When he was not deployed, he came by their house on Yuma Base for dinner at least twice a week. After their baths, as a special treat, Cam would get to read them a story. He had never figured out if it was their treat, or his.
“I’ll give it my best shot,” he said.
“And when you mawwy Aunt Fwankie,” added Quincy, “We can be flower girls.”
He froze. “Am I marrying Aunt Frankie?”
Quincy frowned mightily. “Poppy Danger said you could. Don’t you want to anymore?”
It was his turn to frown. Last Christmas, George D’Angelo had given him permission to woo his daughter, but it was unlike the general to gossip even in the family. And everything was changed now that his bear was deceased. But how could he explain that to two little girls?
Becky nudged her sister. “It’s supposed to be a secret,” she hissed.
“It’s not a secret from him.” Quincy argued. “He’s the one who wants to marry her,”
Becky thought. “We pwomised,” she reminded Quincy.
Cam had to smile. “Who did you promise?” he asked. Frankie? Couldn’t be a secret from her. She knew he wanted to marry her. If she hadn’t said no, she’d be married to a cripple right this minute. However, no one ever said phoenixes weren’t preternaturally lucky.
“Poppy,” replied Becky.
This conversation made his head throb. “Just don’t talk about it to anyone, okay?”
“Okay!”
“Girls,” said Tasha softly. “Quietest voices, please.”
“Sorry.”
“Maybe you better kiss Uncle Cam and go wait in the living room?”
He got two more hugs and two more sticky kisses. “I love you,” he whispered.
“Me too,” they chorused.
“They try,” Tasha said. “But they just naturally seem to shout.”
“It’s okay. They’re only little.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said sitting in the chair by his bed. She stroked her bump. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Damned if I know. But I can tell you for nothing that the prospect of a drive to Arizona does not appeal today.” He felt battered, as if going to the church the day before had been a thirty-mile hike in full gear. In the desert. Why the hell would Warrior Woman want such a fricking weakling?
“You and I could take your SUV. Harrison would drive the girls,” Tasha coaxed.
“I could,” Harrison spoke from the doorway. “And I would. Tasha, I had to send the girls outside. They found Uncle Cam’s pills. Maybe you better make sure they don’t get too dirty.”
Cam knew an order when he heard one, and apparently so did Tasha. Her face clouded, but she kissed him goodbye, patted Harrison’s arm, and left Cam alone with her husband. He liked and respected Col. D’Angelo, but it was damned awkward when your brother-in-law outranked you. And there weren’t any words for serving under him.
“You’re not bouncing back from this one,” Harrison observed. He left unsaid that shifters normally healed much faster than mortals.
Cam shook his head. The damage was bone deep. Soul deep. His bear had died in Syria with the rest of the team. Not that he planned to whine about that to the colonel. Not when it was so richly deserved. “No, sir.”
“You want to come back with us to Yuma? You’d be welcome.”
Yuma was where he had trained with his lost buddies of Epsilon Team. Hell, no. The thought of Yuma made icy hot sweat break all over his body.
“Brigham emailed me,” Harrison said heavily.
Even though it meant leaving Special Forces, Cam had accepted his promotion to Major and applied to be an instructor at the paratrooper school in Florida where Frankie tested fighter jets. He had wanted reassignment as much as to get away from Harrison as to be close to Frankie. Not that he was any use to her now.
Col. D’Angelo had approved Cam’s request for reassignment from Special Forces. Col. Brigham had sent him his papers. He was due to report to Florida on April 1. April Fool’s Day. Would Brigham hold his assignment as instructor open?
“Yes, sir?”
“He’s rescinding his offer. No surprise. I warned you.”
“Did you?” Cam blurted.
Harrison raised black eyebrows that were a masculine version of Frankie’s. Sat down in the chair Tasha had used. Pulled up his pants leg at the knee. Deliberately, slowly, as if playing for time. “How much of your debriefing do you recall, Reynolds?”
Cam thought. Really thought. The days after his return stateside were a blank. A fog of pain. “I’d have said I wasn’t debriefed at all, sir.”
“Huh. Well, I told you then that three concussions was about the limit for Special Forces. And that your knee replacement was likely a dealbreaker for field instruction. You should expect to be offered a medical discharge. With your record, you can fight it and win. But you’ll wind up flying a desk. Your choice, of course.” Harrison’s voice was trying hard to be unemotional. He knew Cam wanted no pity.
It was yet another blow. “Yes, sir.” Cam swallowed hard. If he wasn’t an officer, and he wasn’t a bear, what the hell was he? He had been born a military brat. The Air Force had been his life since the Academy. But he cringed at the thought of a desk job. And how did you survive when the greater part of your soul was dead?
Harrison nodded. “I’ve put you up for a commendation.”
“For what? Losing my team?” Cam snapped bitterly. The first time since his promotion that he had taken the lead on a mission, and he had totally screwed up. Lost every man on his squad. To say nothing of not taking out the target.
Harrison’s eyes narrowed at Cam’s sharp tone. But his voice remained level. “For completing your objective against heavy odds, and with catastrophic loss of personnel, Major. For conspicuous bravery under fire.”
“Huh.” The mission had been completed? Didn’t change a thing for his dead men, strewn across the desert like so much bloody trash.
Harrison continued. “Do you recall crawling back to your rendezvous with Nelson Onesalt on your back? If you’d left him behind, you probably wouldn’t have screwed up your leg as badly.”
That he remembered. Onesalt’s bleeding corpse haunted his dreams. As did his own raw elbows and hands. Even his good knee had been chewed up by the stony terrain. “I couldn’t leave Nelly. For all the good it did the poor bastard.”
“What on earth do you mean, Reynolds?”
“Nelson was gut shot. He bled out. He’s as dead as if I had left him there to eat dust.”
“On the contrary, Reynolds, Sgt. Onesalt is expected to make a full recovery and return to Epsilon. You applied a field dressing and scrambled back to safety with him on your back. He owes you his life.”
Cam reeled with the shock of Harrison’s words. “He’s dead,” he muttered.
“Nope. He’ll be rejoining Epsilon as soon as he’s discharged. Medics had to resection his bowel, and his chest and belly will never be a thing of beauty, but he’s alive. I give you my word.”
“Jesus.”
“Just so we’re clear, Major. Despite taking place under heavy and unexpected bombardment, your last mission was a success. And you unquestionably saved Sgt. Onesalt’s life. You have nothing to regret. You will be a loss to Special Forces, but you went out in a blaze of glory.” Harrison held out his hand. They shook. “And you deserve more than a medal. Onesalt has three kids.”
And a wife who adored him. “I know.” Before Dr. Strong had prescribed those sleeping meds, the bawling Onesalt children had visited him nightly, trying to rouse their bleeding daddy.
Cam was still adjusting to this revelation, when Harrison continued, “For what it’s worth, Reynolds, you have my blessing. Our Frankie could do a lot worse.”
Cam blinked and then sighed. He didn’t feel up to explaining why that was no longer a possibility. “Thank you, I think. I guess the girls told you?”
Harrison shook his head and smiled wryly. “No, they’ve been quiet as mice about it. My father told me that at Christmas, he had given you permission to marry Frankie. And that the girls were behind the sofa eavesdropping when you had your little chat.”
Jesus. That was kids for you. “That was before,” he blurted. Before he was a busted-up loser with no career and no job. And no bear. “Besides, she has other ideas.” If she hadn’t seen her way clear to marrying him when he was on top of his game, what would make Warrior Woman want to tie herself to a cripple now?
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Harrison held out his hand again. “Now, I’d better get my family on the road.”
Cam folded his arms behind his head and tried to relax and process what Harrison had told him. Did it make any difference to his lost dream of a happily ever after with Frankie?
Last July, he and Frankie had done a little reconnaissance here in Grape Creek, when the wolverines who were targeting Becky and Tasha had shown up*. He had taken bear, and Frankie had escorted him in lesser phoenix to check out the wolverines’ campsite.
They had shifted and crossed over onto the neighbor’s land. Here in Texas, where everyone had a shotgun racked up handy, Frankie had been rightly concerned that he would get shot. But it had been a grand adventure, cementing his determination to woo his mate back.
To win Frankie, he had even been prepared to accept her Gift of Immortality, although it meant losing his bear. At Christmas, George had demanded to know his intentions and he had assured her father that he wanted to marry Frankie – as soon as he figured out how to get her to stand still long enough to propose.
He supposed that lying around stoned on meds, too weak to keep his arse wiped, was one way to attract the girl of your dreams. Not. But he couldn’t see his way to tying Frankie to an invalid and the kind of loathsome screw-up who let good men die for lack of foresight. He had set out with six men and, according to Harrison, had returned with one. Big whoop. Not.
His eyes closed and he drifted into the too-familiar nightmare.
*Phoenix Aflame