Gathering String by Mimi Johnson

away, Sam nearly cried out again, for the loss of her. When she hung up, she looked over at him, reaching out to flick on a light. “My dad and my brother Will are downstairs. They’ve come to fly us home."
     
    They were both offered a month’s leave, but three days after he got back from South Dakota, Sam was back at work. His ribs hurt like hell, and the stitches in his back and shoulder were drawing and itchy. His lower lip had a raw crease he assumed would be a scar, but he could already tell it would hardly be noticeable.
    Tess took off. Baxter had insisted she take the leave, and she accepted gratefully. The last Sam saw of her was at Dulles, where her brother had landed the small Lear jet her father owned in his charter business.
    Sam liked both the Benedict men. It was reassuring, being in the hands of two experienced Navy pilots. With the youngest child in trouble, they stepped in and took charge. Will received an emergency leave from his post in Norfolk. Keith piloted the flight up to South Dakota. Will flew them all back to D.C. At the charter gate of the Rapid City airport, the sun had broken through that morning. Keith pulled Sam aside. “I know you’ve got to be a little nervous about this, son.” The corner of Sam’s mouth went up. At 40, it had been a long time since anyone called him “son.” “That was a bear of a landing you two went through. But rest easy. My Will is going to give you a smooth ride.”
    Keith was right. Though Sam was a little shaky, the take-off was perfect. After that, he found to his amazement that he never had a moment of misgiving. Will brought the plane down at Dulles with the skill of a carrier landing, all the wheels kissing the runway together. They parted at the terminal. Keith was taking Tess to her apartment so she could gather some things, and he stood beside his daughter to shake Sam’s hand. “Thanks for helping Teresa out before we could get up there.”
    Sam looked over at Tess. “More like she helped me, sir. She did the rescuing.”
    A faint blush came to her face, and she looked away. Her father smiled saying, “Well, get healed up, Sam. Good to have you aboard.”
    “My pleasure. You were right. It was a great flight.”
    Keith nodded, then stepped away to sign some paperwork with an airport official. When he glanced back at the two, a thoughtful crease between his eyes, neither Sam nor Tess noticed.
    “Well …” Sam looked down at her. She was wearing a deep blue blouse he’d seen in their Wal-Mart cart. In spite of the cheap quality, the color brought out the blue of her eyes, even though the white of the left one was a bloody red and barely visible between the swollen lids. He knew he’d never forget how she looked: battered, exhausted. But perfect.
    He cleared his throat, “This was a class way to get home.” She nodded. He hoisted the duffel bag. “I better get going. You still have a long way to go, and I don’t want to hold you up.” Somewhere beyond security Judith was waiting, and he started to walk away, then turned back to see her watching. The tears in her eyes caught the breath in his throat. Dropping the bag, he came back to gather her up in quick, careful hug, whispering, “Thank you.” Then he picked up his bag and went on. She’d never said a word.
    For the first few days Judith was uncomfortably close, forcing him to see a pulmonary specialist about his shallow breathing, nagging him to make an appointment for a cosmetic surgeon to look at his lip and remove the stitches from his back, and generally making him feel uneasy under her watchful eyes. He insisted on going back to work.
    Judith and her mother had planned a spring trip to Europe. If she had any misgivings about leaving him, her mother, Monica did not. Monica couldn’t stand Sam and was frank in her opinion, saying he had perfected self-centeredness to a high art. She certainly couldn’t see canceling a well-planned vacation on his account, and no thought of him