Healing (General's Daughter Book 5) (7 page)

She smiled. “That’s my plan. Thanks Dad. Mom, I love you. Thank you for everything.”

“It was our pleasure. We’ll see you in a couple of months. Oh, here. Be careful,” Lil said, handing Jen a bag.

“What is it?”

“I made a couple of blackberry pies for your other family. Don’t let Mike eat them on the way home. That young man can pack it away.” She sounded pleased.

“His legs are hollow and he has all the room to fill,” Dennis grumbled, hugging Michael.

***

“Did you have a good visit, Jen?” Michael asked, leaning back in the plane seat.

Jen sighed loudly. “The best I’ve ever had and it’s because of you. Dad’s got us married with children in his mind.”

“We need to finish your school, then we will definitely explore that.”

“Really?”

“I told you I love you. I will marry you one day. You’re mine.”

“Oh my…”

“Can I have some pie?”

“No.”

“You already sound like a wife. Humprf.”

It was late when they arrived home. The house was quiet and they snuck quietly into their separate rooms. Sam was, predictably, in her brother’s bed waiting for him.

“What are you doing here? Don't you think you are getting too old to keep doing this? Go to your own room.”

“Talk to me first. I missed you. Did you have fun?”

“I did. I missed you too. I’m tired and it’s time for you to leave.”

“Mike? You wouldn’t ever move away, would you?”

“No, I couldn’t go that long without my Sammi fix. Don’t worry. Let me tell you all that happened,” Michael said, tugging her braid before pulling her into a bear hug and sharing about his weekend. She giggled, enjoying his stories, including his adventures with the little boys, and how he had to call in reinforcements from the general to get them to bed.

“So, they’ll be here in October?”

“Yeah. You’ll like them.”

“I’m just thinking of how I can include those boys into pestering their new uncle.”

Michael groaned. “No, don’t get those kids in trouble. Is this what I will have to look forward to when I have my own?”

“Oh yes, big brother. And you better never blame them for what their aunt Sammi teaches them.”

“My poor kids.”

“I feel more sorry for you and Jen.” She snickered, kissing his cheek.

“Go to sleep, I’m tired.”

***

Wednesday morning, a call came in from the Coast Guard, reporting another ship going down twenty miles off shore. The weather was bad and the vessel was sinking fast with multiple rafts in the water.

Sam grabbed her brother’s hand, looking a little green. “I never thought I would see the day I wanted off a helo. Pilot! Drop to 100, please!” she yelled.

“Are you diving?”

“That or puke my guts out. I’ll meet you there with a pod,” Sam said, steadying herself on the open docking hatch and then diving off into the black water.

She immediately felt relief as the ocean engulfed her. She activated her boots on high to reach the rendezvous while summoning all local cetaceans. Multiple images of dark storms invaded her mind from a nearby pod. She still was not able to reach Ton.

“Shit. Mike, I think there’s a bomb on board. I don’t know when it will activate.”

“Okay, be careful. Let me know if you find out anything.”

“Michael, let me go in. I can handle an explosive if it drops me down. If your gear gets removed, you’re chopped liver.”

“You’re not doing this alone. See if you can get the pods to help move the lifeboats away. Stay out of that ship. That’s an order.”

“Fine. Come on, Ton, answer me, boy.” She focused. The pods were hesitant to assist; it was too dangerous. She finally convinced a pod of blues to push the wrecked ship into the deep canyon to give them more distance from the ten lifeboats. Michael joined the dive, interviewing the crews and scanning the water for floaters. Two men were seen in the distance, but his sister was already on her way.

“One left. In the galley. Couldn’t get him,” the crewman panted. Sam’s heart sank. There was nothing she could do. The boat was already down past the man’s survival threshold.

“I’m so sorry. We need to get out of here, hold these dorsals,” she said gently, urging the two dolphins to swim fast to get away from the canyon.

A loud rumble was heard and Sam raced to escape the whirlpool forming from the explosion. A blue came to her rescue, raising her high on its gigantic back and easily pushing away. Rain started to fall heavily with zero visibility. It was impossible to get a helo to haul up the 85 men.

“Let’s net the boats together and try to bring them to shore,” Michael suggested, watching the little rafts rising and dropping on the high peaks. Nodding, Sam helped him with the task, telling each of the crew to stay low and hold on. Sam looked at her brother; he was fighting to keep his mask on. It was too dangerous for him to be on the surface.

“Mike, get in a boat. I’ll go below and direct.”

“No, I—”

“Just do it, damn it! Shit, it’s too turbulent.” She glared at him as he shook his head. She grabbed his throat with her nails, “Just fucking do it, you stubborn mother fucking shit for brains!” she shouted in his face.

Michael shocked at her words, hesitated before climbing into a raft and tossing out the draw line. A black and white figure raced beside her. Finally! She instructed Ton to beach each raft for her where the sodden seamen were deposited in waiting ambulances. Ton returned to the water, greeting his calf and imaged concern about her health.

“I’m okay. I just missed having you with me. I need you out here. We need to find a way to stop these ships from being blown up, boy. This was way too close. If it weren’t for the pod, I wouldn’t have known. Please, can you help me?”

Ton imaged a giant eel biting the hulls of a boat. She thought about it for a minute, and then imaged back to him a submarine. He confirmed. He would help her find it if it kept his calf from being caught in a net or getting her tail flukes bitten. She hugged him again, and then headed with him towards home. She wasn’t quite ready to face Michael regarding how terribly she’d spoken to him.

She transmitted her coordinates to dispatch and swam beneath the stormy surface with Ton, taking a moment to enjoy the turbulence of the waves. He liked the squall, surfacing playfully and rolling under the pelting rain. Sam rested with him before beaching herself on the sandy shoreline a mile from her house. It was rough getting out of the surf with the strong waves knocking her down and forcing her to crawl out on her hands and knees.

She collapsed on the sand. “That was a tough one,” she muttered, closing her eyes to the rain as she caught her breath. Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet and began to walk home.

Standing under the sunroof over the deck, she mopped herself off, watching as the storm took over the ocean. Monotone black and grey were the only colors seen. The downpour was violent; the waves crashed high over the dock, threatening to spill the
Grunion
despite its solid anchoring. Sam stood silently, watching, hypnotized by the beautiful danger of nature. She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her and jumped at the hand on her right shoulder.

“You did well today, sis. Thanks,” Michael said, standing next to her to watch the storm.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. You were right; I wouldn’t have been able to stay down. Thanks for getting in my face.”

“Then you’re not mad at me?”

“No, hon, not at all. This was my fault.”

“Ton said it’s a submarine planting bombs on the ship hulls,” Sam said quietly. “He offered to help us find it.”

“It must be a day for miracles. What matters is that everyone is all right.”

“No, we lost one man. He was in the galley and when I found out, it was too late for me to go down and get him,” Sam said sadly.

Her brother gently hugged her. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say to make this type of hurt go away.”

“No, there isn’t. Look at it out there, Mike. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

He frowned, watching the crashing waves and the lightening flashing across the sky. “I wouldn’t call it beautiful. Powerful, violent, deadly.”

“I think it’s beautiful. I’m sorry I got so unbelievably nasty with you. I am so sorry.”

“I wasn’t listening to reason. That was a time you needed to. Why don’t you get out of those wet things and I’ll make us some hot chocolate?”

“I’ll make it. We can sit out here and watch the storm, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

Sam handed him a mug of steaming hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows) and walked outside. She sat back on the swing, watching the waves quietly.

He joined her. “I see why you like storms,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “There’s something about them that makes everything else seem obsolete.”

“Nothing you can do can stop it. It’s the ultimate force. Yet, underwater, it becomes tranquil. It’s the only escape, deep under. I hope the family is okay driving home,” Sam said suddenly, glancing at the clock.

“They’ll be fine. Dad’s a good driver. Scott, well… Dad won’t let him drive in this weather.” Michael chuckled.

Sam leaned against her brother’s chest. “Still want me as your partner?”

“I want no one else. Do you still want me?”

“I’d have no other. Twins?” She held out her knuckles.

He joined his. “Twins.”

The family arrived forty minutes later, coming in through the garage. “I can’t believe how much it’s pouring out,” Scott grumbled.

“Shh, they’re sleeping,” Dr. Quimby said, stopping everyone from talking. The two were on the couch, wrapped together under a blanket. “They’ll be up in a while, just sleeping off the mission. Rich, your turn to cook,” the man whispered, beckoning Rich and Jen into the kitchen.

Rich raised his eyebrow, “Me? I don’t live here.”

“You’re here enough that you can take a turn cooking. Better you then her.” Scott thumbed Jen.

“I cook just fine, thank you. At least I can do more than BBQ,” Jen huffed with hands on hips and staring up into Scott’s face.

He looked down at her, hands on his hips. “Getting brave with me now, aren’t you, shorty?”

“You don’t scare me. Much,” Jen answered back, keeping a straight face. Scott continued to stare, but Jen refused to be intimidated.

Dr. Quimby finally broke it up. “She’s been getting lessons from Mike about seeing through your stares, old friend. Stop picking on the kid. You’re in a crappy mood.”

Scott grunted and Jen grinned with satisfaction. Only Rich noticed the shaking in her legs. He hugged her. “You are so brave, little sister. Staring down the big old bear.”

“She did better than you could, boy,” Scott grumped.

Rich raised an eyebrow. “You sure of that, Scott? Do you really want to go there?”

“Okay, you two, we have enough testosterone in this house to fuel a warship. Rich, dinner. Scott, your turn to take out the trash. Jen, set the table. Hustle, all of you,” Dr. Quimby ordered, snapping his fingers. Grumbling, all three obeyed. Satisfied, Dr. Quimby returned to the living room with his paper.

Michael woke, sniffing as he stirred out of a deep sleep. “Mmm, something smells good,” he commented, sitting up and stretching, carefully adjusting his sister to lie in his lap. She mumbled something, snuggling into his thigh.

“How are you doing, son? Everything okay?” Dr. Quimby asked softly, standing to retrieve his daughter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and curled against him as he sat back down.

“All went well. She did great out there. I was majorly stupid, but she saved my neck. Where’s Jen?”

“Helping Rich with dinner. Scott’s in there too.”

“Helping? Wow. How did you manage that?” Michael asked, standing to stretch his back.

“He and Rich are having testosterone matches. Rich bet him that if he could outstare Scott, then Scott would have to help make dinner. Rich won.”

“Of course he did. That’s part of his sensory training. No arguing from Scott, either. Interesting.”

“Scott’s pouting. I think, though, he’s really enjoying himself. I don’t usually let him help in there because he’s a pain in the ass. Hello, baby girl. Are you waking up?” her father asked, feeling her stirring in his arms.

“Mmm, good nap. I love rainy days. Something smells good.”

“Rich is cooking.”

“He likes to. When we get married, I won’t have to cook or clean.” She giggled.

“Marriage is a long way off, and you shouldn’t depend on your partner doing all the work. Even if he does it better. I learned how to cook because Scott would only make BBQ and we needed something more. Mom was too little to help much at the time.” He kissed Sam’s forehead. “So tell me about your mission.”

“Should we wait to tell everyone? I hate repeating myself,” Michael asked.

“It depends. What did you do that was majorly stupid and how will the others take it?”