Kronos hammer, p.6
No Turning Back, page 6
“I grew up with it,” she said. “Maria taught me Russian, also.” She gave him a wry look. “That might come in handy next year when we’re out in the field.”
He grunted and nodded. “Russians murder, rape and torture their enemies and they will destroy the civilian populace as fast as they will us in the military. Unless we accidentally listen in on a local Russian radio call or our comms pick up cell phone chatter between themselves. That information could come in handy and we would pass it on to our intel people.”
“The Afghan people fought them for years and they won. Russia backed out.”
“They’ve bit off the wrong country, again,” was all Ram would say.
She tilted her head. “I like that we’re really talking human-to-human with one another. This is a first.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Is it painful?”
He grinned at her teasing. “No. Liberating, maybe...”
“In what way, Ram?”
Shrugging, he said, “I’ve been wanting to have conversations like this with you ever since I met you, Dare,” and he held her shocked expression.
Silence.
“I’ve never known you to not have a comeback,” he teased her gently. She was giving him a strange, confused look.
“Why now?” she choked.
He looked away for a moment, then lifted his chin, holding her bewildered stare. “It wouldn’t have been appropriate in Afghanistan.”
Nodding, she whispered, “Yes, you’re right, of course.” Lips flexing, she asked, “Why now?”
“I was waiting for the right opportunity, Dare. I have no say in where our team is sent, but when we came back here, I thought we’d be here awhile, but we weren’t. We were sent to America for six months of further training. We got back here the past week. I was still hoping you were here, and you were. I thought you were in Lviv, unaware of your assignment to teach in Kyiv.” He held up his scarred hands. “When we came back, my CO gave me your orders to team up with you again and I couldn’t believe it. You were here, in Kyiv.”
She gave him an amused look. “Why couldn’t you believe it?”
Shaking his head, he muttered, “I’m a bitter person, Dare. Nothing ever works out for me. Not the way I want. Not ever. Getting sent back here to Kyiv I thought was my opportunity to try and forge some sort of a personal relationship with you over time. Then, we spent half a year in the USA. And add to this mix, Russia is going to attack our country sometime early next year. Three things to stop me from wanting to have a different...better relationship with you if you wanted one with me.”
“And yet,” she murmured, “here you are.”
“Is this offer one-sided?” Holding his breath, he saw her grow thoughtful, turning the stem of the crystal slowly around between her slender fingers. Fingers that had sewn the injured people back together. She was a lifesaver in so many ways, Ram thought. A lifesaver to him, as well. His stomach clenched as the silence grew heavily between them. Unable to stand it, he uttered, “Look, if you’re in a relationship—”
“I’m not.”
“Oh.”
“And you?”
He raised a brow.
“Hey, what is good for the goose, Kozak, is good for the gander where I come from.”
A grin leaked out. “You’ve always told us how you felt about something. Why stop now?” He saw her blue eyes deepen in color.
“Honesty is the best policy. It’s a good ole American saying.”
“America has some really interesting slang.” He studied her, seeing her arch her back, giving him that demanding look she could give someone. “I am not in a relationship,” he admitted. Dare appeared relieved. Could it be true? That perhaps she liked him in a romantic way? Just a little bit? His heart thudded once to underscore that possibility.
“I know absolutely nothing about you, Ram. Only your being our captain and that you’re a damned good leader and tactician.”
“Have we crossed the Rubicon?” he wondered.
“I don’t know. What do you consider a relationship? It has many definitions.”
Wariness was in her husky tone and eyes. Ram couldn’t blame her. What was he offering her? A bitter person. Who would ever want one of those bad-luck souls around? He sure wouldn’t. Why did he hope that she did want him around? What could he offer her? What would she think of his past? She’d glibly talked about her past as if it were nothing, but he knew it was monumental. One didn’t get thrown away by their mother and not feel the lifelong sting of abandonment. Still, she didn’t act like it, always confident in herself and her abilities and skills.
She was not a braggart, nor was she arrogant. Instead, she was quietly skilled at saving lives. He’d always admired and respected her for that. The fact she’d been abandoned, for whatever the mother’s reasoning, was a scar she’d carry all her life and Ram was sure it would never disappear. Just as the scars he wore would do the same. There was no escaping that kind of deep, grinding pain that might soften a little over time. He understood he’d die with his, as she would die with hers.
“We have a war staring us in the face,” he said heavily. “And we have to work together again in a team where there can be no personal ties to one another.”
“And that’s why I asked why you would want any kind of relationship. The timing is bad, Ram.”
“I learned my lesson the first time with you,” he rasped, feeling as if he were going to lose her before he ever had a chance to know her heart, her soul. “I kept putting it off in Afghanistan. I am an officer. You are an enlisted person. The military does not bless such a union. And then, when the US Army hauled you out of my team to assign you to teach in Lviv, I realized all my planning was for nothing.”
“Real life intercedes all the time. We know that as black ops. All we can do is expect change, Ram.”
“Have you ever had a deep relationship in your life?”
It was an odd question to ask, but she saw how serious he was about it. “A few, back in college. Once I entered the Army and made Special Forces, I knew I couldn’t do both. I either focused on one or another.” She hitched one shoulder, a wryness to her tone. “I figured if I was able to make it there, to get into their world-class medical combat program, that later I’d have time for a serious relationship down the road.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“It didn’t. I was tops in my class and I was one of the few chosen to enter the advanced surgical field combat training, and I jumped at it. I think my dad had a real influence on me regarding it as I grew up. He would show me a stethoscope, an oximeter, and taught me how to take a blood pressure reading with a cuff. He taught me how to stitch a wound closed with an orange and some dental floss. I was hungry to learn anything medical. When I was eight years old, for Christmas, they gave me a child’s physician bag, and I was over the moon.” She smiled fondly. “I’ve always loved medicine and helping people. My dad saved so many lives with the skills he had in his hands and with his training. I wanted to do the same thing. When I was twelve, they sent me to a summer camp for children in Switzerland that was all about beginning medical training. It was the best summer I’d had because it was there that I focused on what I really wanted to do in life.”
“To join the Army? Become a medic?”
“Yes, to work in the field of medicine in some way.”
* * *
“BUT WHY THE MILITARY? You had a family that could easily have paid for your premed education at some of the finest medical schools in America. Yes?”
“Yes, my dad wanted me to go to Harvard. But I wanted adventure, Ram. I didn’t want to sit in premed classes for four years and pound memorization into my brain. I wanted to be in the field, hands-on, learn on the job and save lives. When I was seventeen, my father talked the local fire chief into allowing me to become an EMT, emergency medical technician. It was a fourteen-week course and I passed it with flying colors. That’s when one of the instructors, the assistant chief, who had been a Special Forces combat field medic, told me the stories of the lives he saved in the field. I knew without a doubt that was exactly what I wanted to do. In fact, he contacted a general, talked to him and wrote a wonderful reference letter to get me into their program.”
“You’re a brave soul, Dare Mazur.”
She shrugged. “My poor parents were worried by my decision. There were three of us girls in that class. We all made the cut. One went into communications and the other became a weapons expert.”
“And you became the medic?”
“Yep, and I loved it. I really had no time for an affair or ongoing relationship with a guy. All my time was hands-on learning, which I’m very good at. I don’t do well learning by book or taking online computer classes. I like being in the thick of things, kinesthetic training, hands-on and then it sticks with me. I remember it.”
“I’m sure your parents continue to be very worried for you.”
She sighed. “Yes, a lot of worry when I was ordered to go to Afghanistan.”
“What about now? They’re in America. You are here in Ukraine. The Army now needs us to stay in-country to help us fight for our democracy. They must still be very worried about that.”
She became glum, holding the crystal stem between her fingers. “They are beside themselves with worry. I haven’t told them about the orders to go into your team, Ram. They were expecting me to come home to the US and be safe.”
“Any parent would worry about their child in a situation like this,” he agreed. “When are you going to break this news to them?”
She gave him a weary look. “I don’t know yet... They realize I’m in the Army and I can’t just walk away and go live in Cleveland with them. I just signed back up for another six-year hitch. I thought I’d be in Kyiv teaching during my enlistment...not out on the battlefield again.”
Silence fell over them. He roused himself and he sat up, holding her sad gaze. “So where does that leave us? What do you want to do about this?” Again, his stomach clenched. Ram tried to steel himself against the obvious answer that he knew would come from her.
She smiled slightly. “I like the idea of a friendship with you. That is a relationship. What did you have in mind?”
He rubbed his jaw. “I like the idea of a friendship. I want to earn the right to be your friend.”
She smiled softly. “That feels good to me. Why not come with us and the girls tomorrow morning? We’re going to be hunting for rose hips and Lera is going to teach me how to make jelly out of them.”
“Sounds exciting,” he deadpanned, a slight lift of the corners of his mouth. “I’d like to go with you.” Hope infused him. She hadn’t turned him down. She didn’t say no. Friendship? It was better than nothing. And perhaps, over time, it could turn into something deeper and more long-lasting.
Chapter Four
November 3
Anna and Sophia were dressed warmly on the cool November morning after the storm had passed. The ground was wet, the grass long, yellowed and tangling around their rubber-booted feet as Dare aimed the happy little group toward a hedgerow of bushes ahead of them. Dare looked up, the sky still filled with low, ragged-looking clouds, the end of the front still coming through, lots of patches of light blue sky here and there. The air was crisp and she inhaled it deeply, loving the scent of the musky earth after the sweet smell of rain had lavished the soil. Most of the trees that ringed the property, a large square of ten acres, were losing their colorful leaves. The wild rosebushes grew between the trees, many of them ten to twelve feet tall. They were very old, well established, and even at this distance, she could see the bright red rose hips that reminded her of red bulb decorations that were hung on a Christmas tree.
Glancing to her right, she saw Ram walking a few feet away from her, looking around, a habit of being in black ops. The cries of ravens erupted suddenly, and she saw a buck and three does running from one area to another. Right now, it was mating season and she enjoyed seeing the wildlife that were more intent on that than being seen by humans. Smiling, with Anna on her left and Sophia on her right, she said, “Did you see them?” She pointed toward the deer.
“Oh, yes!” Anna cried, “How pretty!”
“They’re staring at us!” Sophia said.
“I think they’re surprised we’re here,” Dare agreed. She carried two five-gallon buckets in her hands and Ram carried the other two.
The deer took off, white tails in the air, disappearing once more into the woods.
“Tell me again what we’re doing this morning?” Ram asked.
Dare suppressed a smile. He’d overslept this morning and Adam had to rouse him so he could leave on time with them. “Rose hips. Lera’s mother was a sixth-generation herbalist. They used the rose hips as a tea or tincture throughout the fall, winter and spring to cure colds and flu.”
“I like them!” Anna said, jumping up and down, throwing her arms into the air.
“I do, too!” Sophia said, not wanting to be left out of the commentary.
“What do you like best about them?” Dare asked the six-year-old.
“I like the jelly! I like lots and lots of it on toast with butter!”
“Sounds good,” Ram added, smiling a little at the child whose cheeks were a rosy red.
“Rose hip jam and jelly are a forever food here in Ukraine,” Dare said to him. “Surely you had it in your family?”
Ram grimaced and said, “Yeah, I suppose we did.” He wasn’t going there today. He was trying to learn how to be a friend to Dare. He had no idea how to go about it, however. Men were friends. Women? Well, in his life they were never friends. Lovers? Yes. But a friend? He was having trouble separating sex from friendship, the need to love Dare versus what friends would do instead. He never had this problem before because all his friends were male.
“Did you ever go out with your mother or grandmother and pick them in the late fall like this?”
He squirmed inwardly. “I really don’t have such a memory...” he answered, purposefully vague. Feeling guilty more than ever because yesterday early morning Dare had opened up her private life to him, sharing events through her childhood. He’d been a thirsty, hungry wolf for just such information from her because it helped him understand her. He’d always wondered what made her tick and now he knew: her medical doctor father had a powerful influence over her, but in truth, she had an inner love and drive to be in the field of medicine, anyway. It helped explain to him why she was so devoted to her career, why she took risks that all combat medics would take sooner or later—and live to tell about it.
Ram knew he was super protective, like a father with his children, of his team. The responsibility weighed heavily on him, without relief, but he didn’t care because he was a Ukrainian patriot and would do anything for his “family” and his country. He saw the questioning in her gaze as they walked with his nonanswer. He didn’t like doing that to her, but with two energetic young ones with them, it was not an appropriate place to speak to her on more personal terms. They were approaching one end of a half-mile-long hedgerow of wild rosebushes and he could see the red rose hips everywhere among the leaves.
The girls surged ahead, squealing with excitement, their hands in gloves so that their small fingers wouldn’t keep getting poked with the tiny needlelike thorns. The wind was chilly and he’d pulled up the sheepskin collar of his jacket to protect the back of his neck.
Dare was well prepared, a purple knit cap on her short, dark hair. A muffler around her neck, the ends tied at her throat. He remembered when she’d first come to the team, her hair had literally been halfway down her back. It didn’t take long for her to figure out that the long strands would get caught in everything and slow her response time, plus cause a lot of other issues when they were getting shot at. He recalled after that mission she’d asked Adam to chop it all off, and his second-in-command looked anguished over doing it. Dare hadn’t. She was relieved to get it out of the way. Much to his surprise, she gave the shorn locks to an Afghan woman who weaved it for an older woman who was going bald, and she created a wig of sorts out of it for her.
Afghan women were famous for making something out of nothing. Dare had taken her locks to the village and given them to the weaver, who set to work. Those two years they were there, that particular village always invited them for feasts and ceremonies after that. It had been one of the few positive bright spots in their time in that war-torn, starving country.
“We’ll start here,” Dare told him, setting the buckets down at the end of the row. “Ram, if the rose hip is green, yellow or orange? It’s not ripe, so let it stay on the bush. Just pick the bright red ones.”
“There’s all colors on this one,” he said, looking it up and down.
“A Christmas tree with light bulbs, for sure,” she said, smiling over at him.
He felt his heart thud once, privy to that sweet smile of hers that flowed through him. Dare was happy. He could see it in her dancing blue gaze, the tilt of the corners of her soft mouth curving upward. Managing a slight smile, he said, “Strange Christmas tree, but you’re right.” Right now, she was setting each bucket about two meters apart for the girls, as well as for themselves.
Each child claimed a bucket and swiftly began to collect the ripe rose hips with a blur of tiny hands in motion. She placed the third bucket, hers, between her booted feet, going to work.
Ram said, “I’ll go this way,” and he pointed to his right. He halted and for a moment watched the little girls as they started at the top, as high as they could reach, and then came down vertically until they were bent over, getting the last of the rose hips at the bottom of the bush they’d been assigned. Then, they’d move a few inches, and start at the top and work their way down another row. He mimicked their way of doing things.
