Craig's Story
Chapter 1
Craig's thumb caressed the back of the soft skinned hand that was clasped gently in his larger one. He fervently wished he could hold and caress more than just the hand of the woman in the Wren uniform who was seated beside him on the bed. He also fervently wished he could go back to the tiny flat in Chelsea with her instead of going back to the Mansion to be cared for by his sister. However, that wasn't even a remote possibility.
Twinkling blue eyes beneath wavy short brown hair watched him above a small red smile. "Are you thinking carnal thoughts, Craig?" she asked with more than a hint of humor.
"Not yet," grinned Garrison, "but I'm working on it."
The young woman shook her head. "My, you must be making a quick recovery," she teased.
"I always make a quick recovery," he replied slyly.
"Yes, you do." She broke into a quiet laugh.
Craig smiled widely. "Any complaints?"
"None at all," she assured him in a soft voice with a hint of northern England and a tiny lilt of Irish.
A faint voice could be heard down the hall behind the closed door. "Can I take him now?"
"Terry," hissed Garrison, losing the grin.
The woman's face fell and then her head darted forward to kiss Craig full on the lips before she leapt to her feet almost knocking her hat off. The door opened and Terry Garrison stopped short to take in the Wren standing at her brother's bedside.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," the woman was saying. "I believe that covers everything."
"Sorry," said Terry. "Am I interrupting?"
The woman turned with a smile. "Oh, not at all, Ma'am. I was just leaving."
Terry took in the wavy brown hair and blue eyes. The face that looked back at her was strictly business. Damn, the woman was good.
"I can go get a cup of coffee, if you need to take care of more business," said Terry.
"That won't be necessary, Ma'am, but thank you," smiled the Wren.
"I – uh – think we covered as much as we can possibly cover," added Craig.
The Wren looked down at Garrison on the bed. "Lieutenant."
"Ma'am," he replied.
Terry stepped back as the female officer walked past her and out the door. Terry peeked around the door into the hall and studied the Second Officer's trim figure from behind. Nice. Funny, Craig usually preferred them a bit older than himself. This one was about her own age. Terry walked back into the room, closing the door behind her, and came to stand where the officer had been standing.
"Ready to blow this place?" she asked her brother.
"Sure," he replied with a casualness that belied the feeling of regret he actually had.
Terry looked down at him and matter-of-factly said, "You have red lipstick over your upper lip."
Garrison casually wiped the lipstick off with the back of his hand. He couldn't miss the smirking smile on his sister's face as she turned to retrieve his clothes from the grip she had dropped on the floor when she entered the room. Craig pushed the covers back and with a grimace, sat up and eased his legs off the bed.
"I thought Actor was coming with you?" he asked. "Is he talking to the doctor?"
"Actor?" asked Terry with a laugh. "We already talked to the doctor. No, he's holding court with the nurses down at the desk." She laid pants, shirt and underwear on the bed beside her brother and frowned. "I hope he doesn't hit on that nice little Wren," she remarked innocently.
"I think the nice little Wren can take care of herself," assured Craig, still not admitting to anything.
He sat a minute on the side of the bed to get his equilibrium back before getting dressed. The concussion was very mild compared to some he had endured, but moving too fast still made him a little light-headed. His eyes followed Terry as she slowly walked around in front of him, taking in the bandages on left upper arm, chest and right shoulder.
"You are a mess," admitted the girl with hands on hips. "If she's out too, that mean your cover's blown?"
"I don't know what you're talking about – she," replied Craig, knowing he couldn't keep much from his sister. "As for my cover, this didn't have anything to do with it. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"So why did we bomb you?" asked Terry, not understanding the rationale for the Allies bombing such a small village as the one Garrison had been in.
"We didn't," explained Craig. "The Resistance blew up a German troop transport. I just happened to be too close." He looked from the scrub bottoms he was wearing to the clothing on the bed beside him. "Uh, do you mind, Sis?"
"Ahh," she said, getting his meaning immediately. "You need help? You want me to go rescue the nurses from Actor?"
"You mean rescue Actor from the nurses?" shot back Garrison with a grin.
"I really don't think he wants to be rescued," replied Terry.
Craig doubted it also. "No, just turn around."
He waited until his sister had stepped away and obediently turned her back, hands clasped behind her, before standing and untying the cloth belt that held the scrub pants up. He let them drop around his ankles and sat down again. This was not fun. Every move pulled on stitches and torn, abraded flesh. He eyed the bandage around his left thigh. It was the other leg this time. At least the legs were even now in the number and location of scars. Pretty soon his own mother wouldn't recognize him.
Steeling himself to lower his head, he lifted his feet from the scrubs and slipped them into the regulation underpants and then the uniform pants. He straightened and took a breath as the room settled down again. The singlet went on next, carefully easing over the injured arm and shoulder. Garrison leaned forward and grasped the tops of the pants and underwear before standing to pull them up, fasten the outer pants and suck his stomach in to tuck in the singlet. Satisfied he had managed that on his own, he sat back down.
"Uh, Sis," he broached. "Did you bring shoes?"
"Of course," she replied.
Terry dug in the grip and pulled out his high top laced shoes with the socks tucked inside. She squatted down in front of him, tossed the scrubs on the bed and put his socks and shoes on for him. He allowed her to help him get into the shirt. Satisfied he was presentable, Terry headed for the door.
"Let me get a wheelchair and our resident Don Juan and we can get out of here," she said with humor.
Terry watched Actor leaning on both forearms atop the counter in front a group of four young nurses, his face smiling and animated. She wondered what story he was feeding this bunch. They were new and seemed too enthralled with what he was saying to be aware of the confidence man's reputation. One of the nurses looked up and straightened.
"Is Lt. Garrison ready to go?" she asked.
Terry nodded and watched the girl hurry to get a wheelchair. With a smile, the Garrison girl stepped up to stand beside the Italian. Her hand reached stealthily down and pinched the near, firmly rounded, buttock, none too lightly. Actor's head turned slowly in her direction to give a narrow-eyed glare.
"Does the Lieutenant need assistance?" he asked tightly.
"Too late," Terry smiled up at him. "But you could bring the car around to the door, caro mio."
The three remaining nurses watched the proprietary interaction between the woman and the handsome man.
"Are you two married to each other?" asked a cute little blonde.
"No!" replied Actor adamantly.
Terry turned to accompany the nurse with the wheelchair back to Craig's room. "He tries not to acknowledge me," she said as she moved out of reach of the con man's long arm. "Or our six kids," she added, barely containing her mirth.
"Teresa!"
"You have six kids?" asked one of the young women incredulously.
"Oh, I'm sure he has more than that," Terry called back. "He just has six children with me."
Garrison eyed his sister as she followed a very circumspect nurse with a wheelchair into his room. He had heard her last remark and could only guess at what had come before that.
"You didn't?" he asked rhetorically.
She just smiled widely.
As Craig was wheeled down the hall, Terry walking serenely beside him, he noticed the nurses at the desk studiously attending to business. The ladies' man was nowhere in sight. As they went through the criss-cross taped glass doors to the outside, he saw the Packard at the curb, both right doors open, Actor standing beside the front passenger door.
"Front or back?" asked Terry.
Garrison took in the thin lipped countenance of his second in command. "I think I better ride in the front," he said. To keep them from killing each other on the way home, he thought to himself.
By the time they had reached the outskirts of London, Actor was beginning to relax. He was keeping a surreptitious eye on the Lieutenant. The doctor had said none of the injuries were major, but together they had caused a good deal of blood loss and weakness.
"How are you doing, Warden?" he asked solicitously. "If you need to stop for any reason please say so. We can always make you comfortable in the backseat."
"No, I'm fine up here, Actor," said Garrison. "And how are you?"
"Just fine," replied the Italian, "…for an old man with six children."
Craig swallowed a laugh, hearing a snicker from the back seat.
Actor glanced in the rearview mirror at the errant woman in the back seat who was grinning back at him. "Only six, cara?" he asked sarcastically.
"What are you, Actor? Pushing forty?" asked Terry. "I figure you probably started at twelve. By now you could have populated half of Europe."
"Scheisse," muttered Craig.
The consummate ladies' man's tone became haughty. "Contrary to your apparent misconception, Teresa, I take great pride in seeing that does not occur."
This conversation was becoming unbelievable thought Garrison. And apparently Actor was getting some enjoyment from dishing it back to Terry.
"Terry, I am sure in his line of business," Craig could not help adding, "he cannot risk having something come back and bite him in the rear."
"Speaking of which," started the con man. "Teresa, have I not told you before, nice Italian women do not pinch a man on his culo?"
Craig had to laugh at that one. "She's only a quarter Italian, Actor."
'Besides," said a quiet voice from the back, "it's a nice culo."
"Terry!" objected her brother.
Actor shook his head and glanced at the officer beside him. "I greatly admire you, Warden," he said.
Craig waited for the other shoe to drop.
"You grew up with her," continued the Italian. "It must have taken great patience and forbearance to not strangle her."
"Couldn't," said Craig. At the older man's glance, he added, "She breaks horses better than the rest of us. We needed her."
"I have no doubt she would break them," said Actor sarcastically, not totally versed in ranch life.
With great difficulty, both Garrisons had to let that one pass.
"He thinks I'm bad," Terry said to her brother, "he still hasn't met your sister."
Craig chuckled at that concept. "Polar opposites, him and Cinder."
"I don't know," mused Terry. "She likes 'em long legged, strong haunched, and wide chested."
Actor turned an exasperated look at Garrison. Craig grinned.
"She's talking about horses," he assured the con man.
"Horses, men, whatever," said Terry. She was having too much fun to let this conversation drop. "Anyway, those four nurses were way too young for you, caro."
"I am the man, Teresa," retorted Actor. "I am the best judge of what is too young or too old for me." He could not resist. "And just what did you think I was going to do with four of them?"
Terry shook her head innocently. "Actor, I do not even begin to imagine what your deviations are."
Garrison dropped his head and shook it. He had never heard the two be so blatant before.
"Suffice to say, Little One," Actor tossed back smugly, "you will never be on the receiving end of my 'deviations'."
Craig looked at Actor. "Tell me. When you two are alone at the Mansion, how do you keep from killing each other?"
Terry leaned forward and rubbed Actor's shoulder. "When we're alone at the Mansion, he is usually injured and I take pity on him."
Actor pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out to the lieutenant. "As I said, Warden, patience and forbearance." He lit both cigarettes and put the lighter back in his pocket with the pack.
"Excuse me," said Terry indignantly. "Where's mine?"
Actor gave a dramatic sigh and took the cigarette from between his lips and held it back for her to take. "They are Gauloises," he warned her, getting another one for himself.
"Why can't you smoke American cigarettes?" grumbled Terry good-naturedly.
"Terry," objected her older brother, "just sit back, smoke your cigarette and quit bothering the man."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Actor with a grin. "She is your sister after all, and I would not wish to insult you by telling her to stai zitta."
"Go right ahead," grinned Garrison back.
Terry slouched back in the seat trying not to make a face at the strong cigarette she was smoking. "So you didn't get any new names for that little black book of yours?" she asked conversationally.
Garrison exchanged a glance with his second. Too young, mouthed Actor with a curl of his lip.
"Ah, now there was one I wouldn't have minded getting to know," he said, more for Garrison's benefit than the one in the back seat. "There was a perky little Wren who walked by. Brown curly hair and the bluest eyes," he started with a slightly exaggerated tone.
Terry almost choked on the cigarette as she watched the muscles in the back of her brother's neck tighten.
" . . . Curves in all the right places too. She made that uniform look very enticing," continued the confidence man.
Terry slouched further down in the seat, hand over her mouth to hide her silent laughter. She watched Craig's neck muscles tighten even more. She managed to keep the tremor out of her voice. "So you didn't get her number?"
Actor sighed, "Alas, no."
Garrison's neck muscles relaxed.
"All business, that one. Such a pity. British women are becoming more tight-laced now than they were ten years ago."
"Maybe she just likes blondes," remarked Craig snidely.
Terry sputtered in the back.
"Teresa, what is the problem?" asked Actor in annoyance.
"Uh, the cigarette's a little strong," she covered.
"Then stop asking for them."
GGG
Garrison didn't know whether he was relieved or sorry by the time they reached the Mansion. The repartee between his sister and his second had gone on in spurts for the entire drive back from London. It seemed Actor had finally learned how to deal with the girl's teasing by delivering it back to her. And, here and there, Craig had been included in the byplay as a foil by both of them. It had definitely made the long drive seem shorter.
Even so, the injured muscles had stiffened up from sitting so long and getting out of the car was an effort that he tried to hide from the three men who were at the top of the stairs by the time he had managed it.
"Do you need assistance?" asked Actor quietly, watching the slow movements.
"I can make it," said Garrison firmly.
Despite his assurances, Terry flanked him and Actor followed on his heels as he made his way up the steps.
"Welcome 'ome, Warden," said Goniff cheerfully, stepping aside to let the officer in the door.
"What's the matter, Babe?" asked Casino before Garrison could reply to the greeting. "No pretty nurses?"
Craig stopped in front of the stairs in the foyer. "There were a couple," he admitted. "But what could I do? Mother Teresa here insisted she could take better care of me."
"Well, excuse me," said Terry with mock indignation.
"So how bad you get hurt?" asked Chief.
"Garrison gave a small shrug. "Not too bad. Just some shrapnel."
"More like a lot of shrapnel," snorted Terry. "You going up and lay down for awhile?"
"For a little bit." Garrison was not about to admit how much he wanted to stretch out in his bed. "It's hard to sleep in a hospital."
Terry shook her head and wandered off toward the kitchen. "I don't know why people think when they go to a hospital they're going to get any rest," she muttered.
Garrison made his way up to his room and shut the door. It was with relief that he sat on the edge of the bed that had been opened for him by his sister before she and Actor had left to pick him up. Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt and stiffly shrugged out of it. Habit had him folding it neatly to lie on the bed beside him before standing to remove his belt and unhook the uniform pants. He sat back down and took a deep breath before attempting to bend over to unlace his shoes. That effort made his head pound in the back where he had been hit by a piece of metal and gave him an instant of lightheadedness.
A soft knock came to his door. "Who is it?" asked Garrison.
"Actor," was the reply. "May I enter?"
"Come in," replied Craig hiding the relief from his voice.
The door opened to admit the tall older man and closed behind him. With a solicitous smile, Actor approached the bed.
"I came to check on your dressings," the confidence man said.
Garrison watched as he folded his long legs and squatted down, automatically unlacing the high topped shoes.
Voice matter-of-fact, Actor said, "I am told you have a concussion. Better to accept some assistance than to pass out and fall on your head." There was a tiny twinkle of amusement in the voice at that last.
Garrison allowed the man to remove his shoes and then carefully pull the pants the rest of the way off. He watched Actor flow gracefully to his feet and take the uniform pieces over to his armoire, smoothing the material over hangers and hanging them with care from the bar. The grace with which the man moved was deceptive as Craig well knew. He had practiced enough hand to hand combat with the big man to know the strength, mixed with agility, which was underlying that aristocratic presentation. There was also a gentleness of touch that seemed incongruous with the haughty air.
"Is your cover blown?" Actor asked casually.
"No," replied Garrison for the second time that morning.
"Ah," said the con man, returning to begin an inspection of the bandages that covered several locations on the officer's body. "As the young lady was also out, I thought perhaps this was related to your mission."
Damn it, how did Actor know, wondered Craig in disbelief. "I don't know what young lady you're referring to," he said pointedly.
The Italian gave his characteristic crooked grin. "Oh, come now, Lieutenant," he chuckled. "What possible information could a Wren be sent to your hospital bed to get?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," said Garrison pointedly.
The Italian did not pursue it. Instead, he perused the dressings on limbs and back. He grinned at the bandage around Garrison's left thigh. "Evening out the scars, I see," he remarked in reference to the last injury that had occurred on the opposite leg.
"Yeah, I did that on purpose," joked Craig, bringing a chuckle from both of them.
He eased back onto the bed, sinking into the comfort of the soft mattress, unsurprised when Actor casually draped the covers over him.
"Teresa is preparing a sandwich for you," said Actor. "If you need anything, we will be happy to assist you."
"Thank you, Actor," said Craig.
The tall man stepped to the door, pausing before going out. "She is a lovely young woman," he said slyly. "In a wholesome way."
Craig eyed him narrowly as he left the room, knowing the ladies' man was not referring to his sister.
It wasn't long before Terry came in bearing a plate with two sandwiches and a glass of milk on a tray. She set the tray on the chair and helped him scoot back against the pillows and the headboard. She set the tray on his lap.
"Did you tell Actor?" he asked accusingly around a bite of sandwich.
"Did I tell Actor what?" asked Terry. She carefully eased a hip on the edge of the bed and watched him eat.
"About . . ." Garrison wasn't sure how to proceed without giving the whole thing away. "About the Wren?"
"Terry looked at him with raised eyebrows. "No. I never mentioned her."
"Then how did he . . .?" Craig frowned in frustration.
Terry laughed. "He's Actor. If it involves a female, he'll know about it."
Craig shook his head and took a bigger bite of Spam sandwich. Even Spam tasted good compared to the hospital food.
"Give it up, Craig," said Terry still laughing. "Chris and I both have seen her now. We know you have to keep what you do in Norway and what you do with the guys totally separate." She sat down on the chair and her eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't know before," she said. "You probably wanted to go to your flat with her. Is there anything we can do to remedy that?"
Craig shook his head. "No. It wouldn't have worked anyway," he said. "She has to go back in tomorrow night."
"Sorry," the girl apologized. "You could have had today and tonight anyway."
Craig looked down at himself and the underlying bandages. "Yeah, and do what?"
His sister actually looked a bit uncomfortable. "Uh . . . I kinda try to not think about what you – uh – do. You're my brother for cryin' out loud."
That brought a chuckle to Garrison. "Now you know how I feel thinking about you and . . ."
"Craig!" protested Terry. "We're . . ."
"Not. I know," he reassured her. "At least not yet."
Terry looked at him with exasperation. "Pretty sure of us aren't you?"
"If I were the guys, I'd put money on it," he grinned, teasing her.
"They probably already have," she muttered.
"Face it, Sis," continued Craig. "You two can probably finish each other's sentences by now."
"So we're getting into each other's heads," Terry shrugged it off.
"That ought to be interesting . . . from a female perspective."
"I'm not his type," said the girl adamantly. "Will you give it a rest?"
Garrison figured he had teased her on that subject about as far as he safely should and nodded. He finished his sandwiches and drained the glass of milk.
"What's for dinner?" he asked.
"Fish," replied Terry, picking up the tray.
"Where'd you get the fish?" asked Garrison, suspiciously.
Terry's eyebrow went up. "I'm not telling you my Black Market connections."
Craig watched her head for the door. "Yeah, and if something happens to you, we'll starve."
Terry chortled. "No you won't. Just ask Goniff. He knows who half my suppliers are."
"Goniff?" asked Craig dubiously.
"Who do you think set me up in the first place?" She tossed a grin over her shoulder at her brother. "Take a nap or something."
Craig slid down in the bed as she left the room and closed the door behind her. Man, they had all come a long way from the ranch in Montana. This life bore little resemblance to the way they had grown up. That thought took his mind to Norway, which bore no resemblance to the seemingly idyllic life they had known. Terry would have a major hemorrhage if she learned just what he and Jennie were involved with in Norway. Craig hoped his mother would never find out. The only person who might understand the proclivities of some of the population in Europe was Actor, and he was not about to attempt any kind of discussion with the aristocratic confidence man about that subject. He was already aware of the Italian's outlook on that.
Craig settled down in the bed and cleared his mind of anything except Jenny . . . his sweet Jenny. They had only been working together off and on since the middle of last year. Sometimes it seemed as though they had been together forever and yet it also seemed as though they had just met yesterday. The pain of his wounds was nagging, so he pulled his mind back in and let it wander back in time to just after his group of cons had been formed . . .