On the other set, FOX News recapped the Syrian attack on Sanliurfa, using footage from OneWorld NewsNet. The icon of the soldier’s silhouette carrying another soldier caught her eye and made her think of Goose.
On the screen a photojournalist’s camera captured the image of a Syrian tank rolling through the wreckage of a street. The cameraman was evidently on a rooftop because the camera looked down onto the street. A group of soldiers stepped around the side of a building and fired a shoulder-mounted weapon at the tank. When the projectile hit the tank, red flames leapt up. A moment later, a heavily armed attack helicopter swung into view and opened up with its rocket pods, reducing the tank to a rolling pile of flaming wreckage. No one inside the vehicle could have survived those blasts.
Those watching the television set in the waiting room viewed in mute horror.
Casualties among the military groups, Megan understood from the earlier story on the radio on the way here from the Hollister home, ran high in Sanliurfa. Communications within the beleaguered city had suffered again as a result.
Megan prayed for Goose’s safety. But even as she did so, she felt even more uncertain whether the effort was worth the time it took. God, she felt, hadn’t shown up in Leslie Hollister’s room tonight. Guilt ripped through her for thinking like that, but she thought it anyway. If God had taken an interest there, she hadn’t seen it.
Still, the image of Gerry Fletcher plummeting from the rooftop only to disappear a heartbeat before he hit the ground bounced crazily through her mind. She had seen the boy disappear. Spotter lights manned by MPs had held the boy in their glare as he fell. Gerry was there one instant, and gone the next. Jenny had pointed out that God had taken Gerry then to prevent him from experiencing real death.
But Gerry experienced the horror of the fall, didn’t he, God? You let him feel that, didn’t You? Megan didn’t mean to be so angry, but the longer she sat in the waiting room—not knowing if Leslie was alive or dead—the more frustrated and hurt she became.
What surprised her was the aching feel of loneliness that pummeled her. She’d never felt particularly close to God, not the way Bill Townsend talked about, but she hadn’t known she was so far away either. She missed Bill. If he hadn’t disappeared in Turkey, he’d still be with Goose. Having Bill watching Goose’s back would have provided Megan with an ease of mind. Now everything she cared about was scattered. Goose, Joey, Chris—all of them gone from her so she couldn’t immediately make sure they were all right. She felt broken and shattered and barely held back the tears.
What did I do, God? What did I do that was so bad?
“Mrs. Gander.”
Startled, Megan looked up at the young MP on her left, realizing that it wasn’t the first time he’d called for her attention.
“Yes, Private,” she responded in a voice tight with emotion.
“I was asking if you’d like some more coffee, ma’am.” He pointed to the empty paper cup she held in her hands, then held up his own.
“I was about to go get some myself. Thought if you could use some more, I could get it for you.”
Megan handed the private the cup. Getting her coffee would give him something to do. There was no reason for both of them to sit here while the anxiety built up.
“Yes. Please.”
The MP took the cup from her. “I’ll be right back.”
Megan nodded.
The private glanced at the other MP, who nodded only slightly to indicate that he was awake and knew he was flying solo for a time.
Coffee wasn’t going to make Megan feel any better and she knew it, but holding the cup at least gave her something to do with her hands, and the warmth would steep some of the chill out of her fingers. She wished she could hold Chris. Even though he was five and big enough to run through the house with a cape from an old Halloween costume as fast as any other superhero in the neighborhood, he still consented to being held by Mom sometimes. Occasionally, though only when he least expected it because he still fought against it, he fell asleep in her arms while they watched cartoons.
The thought of never having an evening like that again cut through Megan. She couldn’t remember how much time had passed since Chris had last fallen asleep in her arms. Her caseload as a counselor on base had taken up so much of her family time that sometimes days had seemed to blend into each other, becoming seamless. Family evenings often got hectic all by themselves, but the addition of the work she brought home cut into those precious hours. Before being deployed to Turkey, Goose had made the most of those times, playing with Chris in the backyard when it wasn’t raining or too cold.
Joey had, as usual, stayed in a funk, going to his room and separating himself with a wall and loud music. Even if Megan hadn’t spent years as an experienced counselor, she would have seen the jealousy that Joey had for his younger brother. A little jealousy was normal, but Joey had let his eat at him. He hadn’t shown those feelings to Chris, though, except for times when he built a little more distance between himself and his little brother. Becoming a teenager was hard enough, and the added strain of a little brother coming along so late in life had taken a toll as well.
If his father had stayed in his life after the divorce, Megan thought, maybe Joey could have better handled Chris’ birth. Then she stopped, bringing herself up short. Her next leap of guilt would be to question her judgment about the divorce, whether everything was her fault.
Her first husband hadn’t involved himself in Joey’s life or hers for years, and
