Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Today was the day. Marlowe opened her eye, anxious to get out of bed, get showered, and plead with Libby to remove her eye patch. Freedom was so close she could taste it. Her sling was gone, and she had a mission again. A real mission. Not even the chocolate bar that Paige left on her nightstand would stop her.

Removing her cannula, she tossed it carelessly to the bed, eased both feet to the floor, and stood without assistance. At last, she was independent. Her head was clear, and her lower back felt, well, okay. Not perfect, but good enough. Her taped nose and bandaged feet still hurt, but she refused to acknowledge those minor twinges. Nothing would hold her back. As soon as she showered, she was going to the Mideast with Asher and Alex, and whoever else was brave enough to go with her.

But, ouch. After two steps, she knew her feet were going to be trouble. Painfully inching her way to the bathroom, she was nearly there when the door behind her opened.

"Whoa there, girlfriend," Judy exclaimed. "Where do you think you're going?" In an instant, her very capable hands were on Marlowe, supporting her as if she were an invalid. Which she was, in a very small, inconsequential way. Not that she'd admit it. Judy was in jeans, a pink t-shirt, and bright pink running shoes this morning. Something was up.

"Back to work," Marlowe answered, politely shrugging Judy off and away. "Where else? But why aren't you in desert camo, huh?"

Before Judy answered, Libby burst into the room with a bright, "Good morning, sunshine. Are you ready to give up that devil-may-care look you've got going?" She was dressed to go running, too. Also in jeans, her blue polo matched her eyes. So did her sparkly tennis shoes.

"If you mean this stupid eye patch, yes," Marlowe replied. "You can have the darn thing."

"Well, good, because today's your lucky day. Back to bed, though. I need to check your feet, then your nose, eye, and your stats. Your oxygen levels have been getting better, so no more cannula at night, and if I like what I see beneath that patch, off it goes."

"If?" Marlowe bit out, worried as Judy steered her back to bed. "What's that mean? No cannula forever is more like it, right? And no more sling. No more eye patch."

"Yes, if," Libby continued as she settled Marlowe onto the mattress, then lifted her legs, one at a time, and swiveled her butt until she was flat against her pillows again. "The sling you can do without, but we need to protect that eye."

Marlowe studied Libby's professional mask, hoping she'd like what she saw once she peeled those darn bandages off.

Right foot wrapping went first. "Frankly, when I first assessed your injuries, I thought you'd been hit by a car," Libby commented.

"Oh, my," Judy murmured from Libby's elbow, looking at the newly unwrapped flesh. "This one looks much better. No infection and that's saying something, as torn up as your feet were when you arrived."

"And that was after the embassy doctor in Pakistan cleaned and treated them," Libby added matter-of-factly. "He did a good job. You have very little swelling on this foot. Overall, I'd say it's healed. You'll have to take it easy a few more days, but I'm leaving the bandage off."

Left foot wrapping went next. Ahh, cool air on her soles was a luxury Marlowe hadn't realized she'd missed. "Well?" she asked, anxious to be gone. "How's it look? I can walk, can't I? You saw me. You were there. I did walk. I can do it."

Libby pulled a pair of wire-framed reading glasses from her scrubs and peered closer. "Considering your other issues, you've recuperated quickly, but wiggle these toes for me. All of them."

Marlowe wiggled all ten, just to prove both feet were in working order. But z-z-zing, zap, and darn. The muscles in her left foot didn't like being stretched or curled. Ouch. She bit her tongue, determined to get her life back even if she had to lie, but wiggling those five little traitors was agony.

"That hurts, doesn't it?" Libby asked, her eyes sharp and stern.

"Nope," Marlowe replied breezily, blinking her one good eye before it teared up and betrayed her, too. "Next question."

"Honey…" Libby said that soothingly, like a mother with a grumpy child. "You have a laceration that runs the width of this poor foot, from your big toe to your pinky toe, right below each of your medial phalanges." She took hold of Marlowe's hand and traced the area of her palm below her fingers to show where she meant. "I'm sorry, but I need to give you something to deaden the pain and re-suture this wound. It won't take long. Lean back for me. Let's check that eye while we're at it."

"No." Marlowe could be stern, too. "My feet are okay. I've wasted enough time. Just bandage or put a sock on them, something that'll keep them clean. I have to go."

"Marlowe, get serious," Judy cut in gently.

"And that's another thing. Why's everyone being so nice to me today? And why are you two dressed like you're on vacation? Where's Asher?"

Knock, knock, knock.

"May I come in?" A brown-haired, dark-eyed woman peered through the still partially opened door. She wasn't much taller than a school-girl, but she had the deepest, darkest brown eyes. Darned if she wasn't dressed as casually as Libby and Judy. Were they all going to their country club?

Marlowe didn't want to offend this visitor for some reason she couldn't come up with. She almost yelled, ‘Hell, no.' But Libby called out, "Come in, Kelsey, and meet the woman everyone's talking about. Marlowe Rich, do you mind if Kelsey Stewart visits for a minute?"

Well, damn. ‘ Yes, I mind,' seemed a rather cruel comeback, so Marlowe offered a polite, "No, sure, come on in." Everybody else has. "But I'm being released today. This morning," she emphasized, glaring at Libby, who smiled like she was dealing with a spoiled brat. Which Marlowe was not. She'd never, ever been spoiled. "So I won't be here long. What do you want?"

Kelsey stayed at the doorway. She had one of those gentle smiles that made Marlowe feel extra-mean. "I won't stay if you're busy. I just wanted to meet the miracle worker who saved my friend."

"Your friend?" Marlowe cocked her head. The Wonder Woman and miracle worker bullshit was getting old. "Who would that be?"

"She's right here with me, but she's shy and…" Kelsey leaned back and asked someone in the hall, "Are you sure? She's sitting right here, and she's going to be released this morning. This might be your only chance to tell her."

"Tell me what?" Marlowe asked loudly enough for shy whoever-she-was to hear. "Come on in. Might as well."

The dark-eyed woman she thought she'd never see again peered timidly around the corner, and the instant she saw her, Marlowe's eye filled with tears. Kelsey's friend was Farrah, one of many women the Taliban had hunted after her husband had refused to betray the American Marine who'd saved his life. Farrah, one of Marlowe's precious sisters.

Kelsey was not a large woman, but beside her, Farrah was tiny, even swathed in her lovely, deep purple robes and hiding behind a corner of her veil. Not a black, heavily masked veil anymore. Instead, a pretty, sheer violet veil with a gold-striped edge. Farrah's long, thick hair gleamed beneath it. She looked so much better.

"Farrah," Marlowe cried, her arms extended, needing her friend to get her butt inside the room. "Come here. Let me see you. All of you. You're beautiful." And such a sight for sore eyes. Make that eye, damn it. "Libby, get this eye patch off. I need a good look at my friend."

Farrah hurried to Marlowe's bedside. The moment Marlowe had her arms around one of the women she thought she'd never see again, she buried her face in her veil and broke down. "You're safe. My God, you're safe, and you look so, so good. And your little ones, Layla and Hanna? Are they as happy and as pretty as you?" Please tell me they're still alive.

"They are quite happy, and they are at home with their father," Farrah replied, her voice choked with emotion as she clasped Marlowe tightly. "Because of you, my little ones are fat. They are not afraid at night anymore, and they eat like little pigs. They tease their father and— Shukran. I can never, ever thank you enough, my lovely grouchy sister. You gave me my life back. How can I repay you?"

Marlowe couldn't help the tender feelings rushing through her. "It was my privilege. Trust me, you don't owe me anything." She choked back another darned sob, striving to be the grouchy sister she'd had to be during Farrah's harried run to Alex's helicopter instead of the bawl baby she'd turned into. Unbeknownst to Marlowe, until the second Farrah broke cover that day and ran to the helicopter, the Taliban had been hard on her trail. They'd nearly caught her, and if they had, there wouldn't have been a thing Marlowe could've done to save her.

"It's been what? Ten months?" she asked, her voice cracking at the near disaster she'd witnessed. If not for Alex Stewart's helicopter lifting up and charging those assholes, poor Farrah would've been publicly whipped and possibly beheaded. Along with her babies.

Still holding onto Marlowe, Farrah tipped back enough to swipe at her own cheeks. "Yes, yes, it seems like forever, but then" —she shrugged— "it also seems like yesterday."

"Those were scary times." Marlowe turned to Libby, who had pulled the blanket over her feet, probably to not offend some law of the prophet. There were so many rules concerning what Muslim women needed to keep covered in public, which under the current regime, seemed to be every part of her body, even her toes. "Libby Houston and Judy Mortimer, this is my good friend, Farrah al-Rabbani."

"Hi, Farrah," Judy answered. "It's good to see you again. But Marlowe, we've known Farrah and her family since they arrived in America. Because of everything you did over there, you have many, many friends living close by. Arzad and his wife. Their daughter, her husband, and their kids. It's too bad you're leaving. All of them are here because of you. I wish you'd stay long enough to get reacquainted."

Marlowe nodded, torn between her mission to save every last endangered woman still in Afghanistan and getting to know Farrah better. It would be so good to just sit and talk. "Yes, but I have work to do. Important work. There are others."

"My girls will be sad they didn't get to see you," Farrah whispered, "but they will understand. They are tough little ones."

Yes, but darn. Those little sweethearts were only tough because of all they'd seen and lived through. The fear. The hiding and running for their lives. Going without enough food, clean water, and even fresh air. Believing in monsters, because in their country, monsters were very real. Marlowe ached to see those girls. They'd been so small. So very vulnerable.

"Let's get that bandage off," Libby said, quietly changing the subject. "You can see Farrah better then."

"Yes, please," Farrah said. "I have been praying for this day." She squeezed Marlowe's arms and stepped back beside Kelsey, who put an arm around her shoulders because Farrah was crying.

Darn it. Marlowe wanted to be the one hugging her friend. She needed to be on her feet and capable, not simpering helplessly in bed. But woman to woman. Instead, she leaned into her pillows and let Libby peel the tape away from her face, carefully not upsetting her beanie. The darn thing had to go. But Marlowe didn't want to shock Farrah.

Libby was up close and personal, her focus on Marlowe's injured eye. The perfume she'd spritzed on that t-shirt was flowery and light, and it dawned on Marlowe then, that her poor nose was working. She could smell again. She sniffed as more subtle fragrances came to her. The slightest sting of antiseptic cleansers. The absence of rank sweat and body odors. Just sweet clean American air.

This country was so different from Afghanistan. Common sense ruled here—most of the time. Logical laws were enacted and enforced. Order, cleanliness, and kindness ruled. People were free to live as they chose. Freedom was everything.

"Hey, no tears," Libby whispered. "This will be a good day for you, I promise. Your ophthalmologist asked me to remove these bandages because he's that confident in you. He'll have the final say, so have faith a little longer. You're going to be fine, honey."

Honey. That word was her undoing. Unable to speak and afraid she'd fall apart if she did, Marlowe simply nodded while Kelsey and Judy chatted with Farrah. They sounded like old friends, talking about their children and husbands and…. all the things Marlowe wanted but would never have. A family. Friends you could count on. Girlfriends who actually liked you. Maybe even loved you a little. Was that asking too much?

"You're trembling," Libby whispered again. Tugging the last strip of tape away, she set it on the rolling table that was now beside the bed. Marlowe hadn't noticed that until now, when her room was filled with the soft sweet spirits of these special women. "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

Finally able to see out of both eyes, Marlowe reached up and clutched Libby's wrist. "Yes, I'm…" I'm what? Scared to leave? Scared to finish what I've started? Am I a coward? A quitter? Or just scared you won't like me if you really knew me? Her vision blurred. She blinked to get Libby back into focus. Something was wrong.

"Trust me, sweetheart, this won't hurt," Libby whispered, as she poured something cool and refreshing into Marlow's eye, then blotted the excess with a soft cloth. "I'm flushing your eye, and then I'll take pictures of the structures inside your eye." She repeated the cleansing process. Gently. Kindly.

"Structures?"

"Yes, the mechanics of your eyeball. The cornea, iris, and retina, which was torn when you arrived. That's what Dr. Burr repaired. Did you know that?"

"No," Marlowe breathed. "I never asked." I should have.

"Tip your head back. There you go." In went a couple drops of something else. Ahh, instant relief. "Now blink for me. Look up at the ceiling."

Marlowe did as she was told, and Libby peered through what looked like a magnifying lens at the end of a black handle.

"Very good. Doctor Burr was right. Your eye is healed. You'll have to stay out of direct sunlight for a couple days, but no more bandage."

Marlowe's chest lifted with a sigh of gratitude when, with a delicate touch, Libby set a pair of dark glasses on Marlowe's nose and whispered, "I've lived through some awful days, too. Days when I couldn't see the sun and believed I was dying, that I'd never see Mark again. Days when there was no hope, and I truly wanted to die. So have Kelsey and Judy. We've all been where you are right now. We're here for you, girlfriend."

"But I… I'm…" Marlowe had no idea what she wanted or needed. Her fingers seemed frozen. She couldn't let go of Libby. Because if she did, this beautiful morning would crumble into dust like so many others, and she'd be alone again.

"You're safe," Libby said quietly. "When you saved Farrah and her girls, you were saving yourself, too. We all want you to stay. Please don't leave."

Marlowe jerked back even farther then, needing to look Libby in the eye. To see the truth she hadn't realized she'd missed until then. "Where's Asher?"

Libby's lips thinned. She blinked, and Marlowe knew. "He's gone, isn't he? He left without me. He and Alex and... and Harley and M-Murphy and…" She couldn't remember who else pissed Alex off yesterday. "Asher left me behind, didn't he?" The ass.

The ugly thing that lay dormant in her heart writhed with pent-up anger, so, so ready to strike. To demand compliance and honesty and obedience. That was the only thing that saved all of those Afghan women. They'd obeyed every last word she'd said because they'd had to. They'd followed directions explicitly, without asking stupid questions. They'd been open and honest because that was what real friends did. They'd trusted her to know what was best for them. But these women... But Asher… Damn him.

"Marlowe." That was Kelsey, and oh yes, Marlowe remembered now. Kelsey was Alex's wife, and Asher said someone tried to kill her last fall. That was when Alex built the intensive care unit down the hall. Asher thought Kelsey was special. He said she'd love Marlowe. How did a person destroy that impossible possibility just because she was pissed off?

"Did Asher plan this?" Marlowe asked the room, because, come on now. It wasn't a coincidence that these women showed up the same morning Asher had snuck out of the country.

"Do you seriously believe you're capable of traveling halfway across the world in your condition?" Judy asked sharply. Apparently, she wasn't afraid to take the bull by the horns and deliver blunt-force trauma, just like she had yesterday with Alex.

"No, but…" Marlowe's eyes, both of them, filled with tears she couldn't hold back. "There are more women waiting for me to save them."

"See, Kelsey?" Libby said. "She's as bad as Alex, Mark, Harley, and—"

"And us," Kelsey replied kindly. "Marlowe doesn't know it yet, but I think she's found her tribe, and we're not going to leave her."

"Stop. Please, just stop. Everyone, shut up," Marlowe cried. "I don't know what tribe you're talking about."

Libby's arms were around her before she finished. "The silent, unseen tribe of military wives and girlfriends. The women who stand by their men and keep the home fires burning while they're off saving the world. The women who make sure those warriors have a soft place to land when they come home."

"The tribe of the desperate sisters you saved," Farrah murmured timidly. "No matter where you go, I will always love you, my lovely grouchy sister."

Out of nowhere, Marlowe hiccupped. "Darn it. That nickname's going to stick with me forever, isn't it?"

Libby kissed the top of her beanie. She kissed her. On the head. Like no woman had ever done before. "I sure hope so. We don't mean to gang up on you, but with the men leaving as quickly as they did, we knew you'd be upset when you woke and Asher wasn't here."

"So we're here instead," Judy added. "Now, stop feeling sorry for yourself, and let's get you ready for the first day of the rest of your life."

"Okay. Sure. It's not like I have a choice, do I?"

"Nope," Kelsey offered quietly. "We take care of our own, sweetheart. Get used to it."