Emergency In Maternity. Fiona McArthur

needed to feel pretty again, more like the woman she’d been when she left Whidbey.

      This wasn’t a usual homecoming. No navy band would play upon her arrival; she wouldn’t be dressed in her uniform or flight suit. The squadron, at her request, wouldn’t be there. She wasn’t up to it yet.

      As she shakily applied the makeup Ro had included with the clothes, she ignored how pale her reflection in the mirror was, how chapped her skin, her lips. Whidbey was the best place for a sailor to do reentry. She wouldn’t be alone in her struggles, if and when they came. Other survivors were doing just fine, whether they were still on active duty like her or had transitioned to civilian life.

      A lot of the vets weren’t fine—they continued to suffer immeasurably. Would she be one of them?

      It felt odd to put on makeup again. What would Drew think when he saw her?

      “Nothing,” she muttered. “He’s going to think the same thing he did when Miles, Ro or any of our other friends came back.” Anger at her uncontrollable emotions sucked away the last of her energy, and she leaned against the hospital room’s sink.

      Where was the tough streak she’d always been able to rely on?

      She had no control over what she’d been through, or the fact that she’d returned from the dead, virtually homeless. Gwen slapped some blush on her cheeks. She didn’t have to look as if she’d been through hell, at any rate.

      They’d all thought she’d died, out on that ocean. So had she.

      Miracles still happened.

      * * *

      THE FLIGHT HOME TO Naval Air Station Oak Harbor was thirty minutes, tops, but Gwen felt as though she was on another endless journey.

      After a quick drive from Madigan Army Hospital, they’d taken off from McCord Air Force Base in a C-12, the twin-engine turboprop owned by NAS Whidbey. She hadn’t been so keen to get on another plane after the long trip back from Manila, but at heart she remained a pilot, and a practical one at that. Twenty-five minutes in the air versus more than two hours in a car, longer if there was typical Seattle traffic, was worth any anxiety.

      Once her feet hit the tarmac on Whidbey, her healing could start.

      She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the feel of Pax’s little body as she’d held him, carried him through miles of jungle and through the crowded streets of Manila. His baby scent... These memories sustained Gwen in her hope that she’d be his legal mother soon. She’d gotten through the jungle, the journey to the American embassy and all she had left was this flight home to Oak Harbor.

      The experience of having the medical team poke, prod and question her to determine the extent of her injuries was over.

      The only hurt she continued to suffer was remembering the excruciating goodbye to Pax as she’d turned him over to the Philippine social service workers. He had to live in an orphanage pending his adoption.

      She squeezed her eyes shut against the vision of row upon row of tiny cribs, Pax one of dozens of babies.

      “Mama’s getting you out, baby.”

      The drone of the engines kept her words inaudible to the others. She opened her eyes and looked around. The commodore and his few staff members were reading, napping or staring out the windows. They’d be exchanging knowing glances if any of them had noticed her talking to herself.

      Heck, did Drew realize what he’d signed up for when he’d agreed to help her transition?

      He’d never believe she’d had a change of heart about her priorities, even when he found out she wanted to adopt a baby. He’d assume the worst of her as he always had those last fractured months of their life together. He’d assume she was in it for herself.

      You survived a ditch, war-torn terrorist country, turning over the baby you love. You can do this.

      When her life was threatened, it’d been clear that, of all her accomplishments, the one that mattered most was her marriage. A marriage that had failed. Gwen didn’t kid herself—she knew she was far from perfect.

      So she’d thought of her marriage during those long, traumatic days and nights. As she ditched her P-3C, as she floated at the whim of the ocean’s harsh currents, her thoughts had gone back to Drew and to the love they’d once shared. She was only human.