“All those hours of lying still, fighting back the pain, it was just me and God, man. And suddenly all of that fear and trepidation about it just dissipated into nothing. I’m not ready to leave this earth and meet God face-to-face. I mean, who is at our age? But now I know I’m not afraid to either.”

Rick thought over his job, of the times when he didn’t know if he would live to see the sun go down. “I can’t imagine someone who is afraid of death doing our job.”

“No. But it’s nice to have the affirmation.”

He nodded. “I can see that.” He drained his glass. “It’s the fear of living that has me concerned. I don’t want to turn my life into a cycle of waiting for the next deployment. Starting to think I want more.”

“A family?”

“Yeah. ‘It is not good for man to be alone,’” Rick said, quoting Genesis. “Feeling that in my soul lately.”

“Do we really have the kind of career that’s conducive to a happy marriage?” Bill asked after a few moments.

“Depends on the wife,” Rick said with a grin.

“Four little words.” Bill pointed a finger at him. “Out of your league.”

WASHINGTON, DC

What color did one wear to a military awards ceremony? Did she go all patriotic or keep it subtle?

“Ugh,” Cynthia said, finally settling on a blue dress. She wrapped a red-and-white belt around her waist and slid into a pair of red heels. She laid out a red sweater in case it got cool at the venue.

As she started from her room, she paused. Why had she put so much effort into her clothes? Would it show? Should she change into something a little more neutral?

Putting her forehead against the doorframe, she chided her nervousness. “Come on, silly,” she whispered. “He’s not going to even look twice at you.” If he’d had any interest in her, he would have called by now. His unit had arrived back in the States two weeks ago. For the first week, she’d jumped like a nervous kitten every time her phone made a noise. She’d given up waiting for him to call a week ago.

She went downstairs and grabbed a yogurt out of the refrigerator. While she ate, she skimmed the national news magazine that had her father on the cover. In it, she read an article about the need for qualified doctors in military hospitals. That gave her a niggling idea. Maybe a military hospital wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe that environment would be safe enough for her to practice medicine without fear or publicity.

After she tossed the empty container in the trash and washed her spoon, she used the kitchen stairs to go back to her room and passed the cook coming down. “Morning, Mabel,” she said.