But now it holds a strange attraction for me. I could almost see myself living that life.”
“Under circumstances like we are facing today, yes, the Life is very seductive,” Jake said.
Karin smiled. “Seductive,” she said. “Yes, you were very masculine, very seductive in your plain clothes.”
“Who seduced who?” Jake asked, returning her smile.
“That isn’t fair. You can’t blame me. I was disoriented, not thinking straight, discombobulated.”
“Really? You mean you just tolerated me in bed?”
“I had to. You outrank me,” Karin teased.
“So, you will do anything I order you to do?”
Karin leaned into him, shut her eyes, and raised her lips to his, but stopping just short of a kiss.
“Captain Dawes, reporting for duty, sir,” she mumbled.
Jake did not close the distance between their lips. Puzzled, Karin opened her eyes and looked at him.
“Haven’t you heard? We are an all-volunteer army now,” Jake said. “If we go any further, you are going to have to volunteer.”
“Shut up and kiss me—sir,” Karin said, pressing her lips against his.
“I need you, Karin,” Jake said. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed you more than I need you at this moment.”
Karin stood, then started toward the bedroom. “Give me a moment.”
“Make it a quick moment,” Jake replied, his voice husky with desire.
CHAPTER TEN
“Captain Dawes?”
Looking up from her computer, on which she was filing a report, Karin saw Sergeant Julie Norton. Julie was a clerk in the office of the hospital commander.
“Yes, Sergeant Norton,” Karin said, smiling at the young black woman. Julie was twenty-two years old and two years earlier, had been first runner-up in the Miss Georgia beauty contest.
“I thought you might like to know that Colonel Chambers just died,” Julie said in a sad voice.
“I was afraid of that,” Karin said. “He beat the infection, but then pneumonia set in, and he couldn’t beat that. Pneumonia is hard to fight when you are young and strong. His body was weak; I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.”
“Yes, ma’am. The doctor said the only reason he lasted as long as he did was because of the way you took care of him,” Julie said.
“It’s a shame,” Karin said. “He was such a fascinating old man. And so pleasant.”
“Did you know he listed you as his next of kin?” Julie asked.
“What? No, I had no idea. Why would he do something like that?”
“I don’t know, either. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have anyone else. I pulled his records after the doctor told me he had died, just like I do for everyone when they are being released, either discharged, or by dying. His wife died last year and their only son was killed in Vietnam.”
“Oh, what a lonely man he must have been,” Karin said.
“He left this letter for you.”
Julie handed a sealed envelope to Karin. Opening it, she removed the letter. Despite the colonel’s age, the penmanship was bold and very legible.
Dear Captain Dawes,
I want to thank you for the loving care you gave me during my time here in the hospital. The sad thing is, I know I will not survive this stay. It is not sad for me. I have lived more than my prescribed years, and I am ready to shuffle off this mortal coil. But it may be sad for you, because you invested so much of your time and effort in tending to an old man.
As you may already know from a perusal of my records, I was at Bastogne in December of 1944. I was a company commander for one of the forward units. The German commander sent a note to General McAuliffe demanding the surrender of the Americans. The general sent back a note that angered the German commander, and the German commander threw that note away.
I found that note and have kept it ever since. I am leaving that note to you.
Sincerely,
Garrison J. Chambers
Col U.S. Army (ret)
Karin looked back into the envelope and saw another piece of paper, folded into a square, the paper browning.
“Oh, my God, this can’t be real,” Karin said.
Karin removed the brown piece of paper, then opened it up. There were only nine words written on the paper, only one of which was the body of the note. But that one word had come down through American history as a symbol of duty, honor, and country.
Bob Varney was standing on the beach looking out at the now deserted offshore gas drilling rigs. Until Ohmshidi halted all domestic drilling, the rigs were ablaze with lights each night as for twenty-four hours a day, every day; they pumped gas from the rich deposits just off the Alabama Gulf Coast. Now the rigs were dark and deserted.
Charley was busily digging up sand crabs. When he found one he would jerk it up out of the hole, then throw it. More often than not he would watch the crab scurry away quickly, then go to another hole to start the process all over again.
“Nothing has changed for you, has it, Charley Dog? As far as you are concerned, your world is still Ellen, me, this beach, and the sand crabs. You’re not worried that I’m not writing anymore, or that my Army retirement and Social Security checks have stopped.”
Charley came over to Bob and reared up, putting his front two feet on Bob’s legs. Bob reached down and rubbed him behind the ears for a moment.
“Go find another crab,” he said, and Charley took off on his mission.
Although normally at this time of the year the beach would be crowded with summer people, it was empty now. Bob wasn’t surprised. Vacations cost money and with the cost of gasoline today—that is, when you could even find gasoline—it would be prohibitive for any family to make the long drive.
There were twenty-two houses in The Dunes compound. The houses that sat right on the beach were all huge, multimillion-dollar homes. Normally rented in the summer time, they were all empty now, as was every other house in The Dunes, except for the three houses that were occupied by permanent residents. Bob was a permanent resident and his house was on the third row, approximately three hundred yards from the beach.
In addition to the houses, there were two seven-story condominiums, The Dunes and The Indies. Not one unit in either of the two large condominiums was occupied. One mile farther down was Fort Morgan, an historic old fort that was built just after the War of 1812.
