Wounded Again
Troy lay on a cot in a M.A.S.H. unit in Korea. He had been lifted by helicopter to this Mobile Army Surgical Unit after being shot in the side. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be on the battlefield, just come up with the strategic plan and order the soldiers under his command to do the dirty work. That didn't sit well with him. He was more a man of action than a paper pusher. He had difficulty sending men on a mission while he sat safely at headquarters miles away. That's why he had resisted becoming an officer for years. Yet, here he was, staring up at the fatigue green canvas ceiling above his cot.
The pain in his side reminded him of so many other times he had been wounded. At least this time around he didn't have to worry about sand. He did miss having his Rats looking after him. He recalled the many times they had rescued one another, bandaged wounds or kept watch when one of them was ill. Those bonds had only grown stronger, and he missed not having them close by. Still, it was great they had remained friends and saw each other several times a year.
A nurse came by to check his vital signs. She was pretty and he flirted with her a bit. She reciprocated but quickly moved on to the next patient. Hitch would have had time to find out her name, where she was housed and if she was free for the evening in that short amount of time. Well, Hitch was no longer the skirt-chaser, and he was the only one still unattached of their quartet.
He knew the higher-ups weren't happy with his decision to accompany his troops onto the battlefield. They would argue he was too important, and the men were well trained to complete the mission. They were well-trained, but he did not consider himself more important than the least of them. The plan had worked. The mission was a success. Unfortunately, Troy was wounded as the enemy retreated. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do when he faced his commanding officer.
He had lost a lot of blood, and the surgeons had some difficulty in removing the bullet. He knew they were going to send him stateside for his recovery. All in all, he was not very happy about the situation and cursed himself for moving too slowly. Five years ago, that bullet wouldn't have caught him. The difference in his reaction time and agility from those five years ago was amazing. He didn't like to think he was growing older, but he could sense it every time he got out of bed in the morning. The creaking and popping in his bones often took him by surprise. Mentally, he was as sharp as ever.
A week later, he was recovering in a hospital bed in a Washington, D.C. hospital. He was feeling much better and ready to get back to work. He turned his head as a woman entered the room, carrying a small fruit basket and a vase of flowers, that obscured her face. She walked past the first two beds in the room and stopped next to his.
"How are you feeling, Sam?" came a familiar voice, placing the flowers and fruit on his tray table.
"Lillian," he was amazed to see the widow of his friend, George Thompson at his bedside.
"It's good to see you," she smiled, "I hope you're recovering well."
"I don't know why they're keeping me here," he answered, returning her smile. "I've been ready to get out of here for days. What are you doing here?"
"I'm teaching in Arlington," she explained. "I needed a change after George's death and my grandparents live close by. They're very good with the children."
"How are they doing without their dad? I would imagine its been especially difficult for John. Sit down," Troy was sympathetic and indicated the bedside chair. She repositioned it and took a seat.
"It's been difficult, for all of us," she replied, and a few tears came to her eyes. "John keeps asking 'where's daddy," and I have to keep explaining how he won't be coming back. Maggie's so young, I don't know if she's really noticed anything different." They continued talking and suddenly realized an hour had passed. Lily stood up to say goodbye, promising she would visit again.
Over the next several weeks, Lily visited often. Troy's wound required a temporary drain, but he suddenly found himself a little more patient in being hospital bound since he had Lily's visits to look forward to. He remembered how much he had liked her in the past. He had been disappointed when she married George, but he never found the courage to ask her to marry him instead.
He enjoyed the time they spent together, the hours seemed to fly by, and they never ran out of things to say. When he was able to begin walking around the hospital, she joined him, and they often sat in the solarium for their conversations. Her visits buoyed his spirits but when she left, his feelings turned to self-recrimination. He felt guilty about relishing her company when she was so recently widowed. He felt like he was betraying George's memory. He didn't want her to feel pressured and doubted if she felt about him, the way he was beginning to feel about her.
He tried to convince himself it would be better, once he was released from the hospital. Surely, she was only visiting because he had been wounded.
Occasionally she would bring pictures of the children and Jack had drawn some get well cards for his Uncle Sam. Troy would lie awake at night and think about them becoming a family. Given the reports he had received after his bout with the mumps, a ready-made family would be ideal. He chastised himself for even thinking such a thing. He was allowing his fantasies to run away with his common sense. It was too soon. It was too fast. It had only been six months since George had passed. What if she wanted more children? What if she didn't want to remarry? What if she was only reaching out to him in friendship and the past they shared with her late husband.
He kept replaying the same thoughts over and over in his mind like an ending loop. How did he really feel about her? Was he merely caught up in the memories of the past? Did he love her or just want to protect her? Was his desire to be a father overwhelming all other thoughts and feelings? Was he betraying George, or just wanting to make sure his friend's family was provided for?
All too soon he was released from the hospital. He would be returning to the small apartment he had near the Pentagon while continuing to recuperate. He wouldn't return to work for several more weeks. She came to drive him home after being discharged. She walked him to the door, carrying some of the items he had collected during his hospital stay.
"Thanks for the lift," he said at the doorway, after placing everything inside, "and for all the visits. It helped make the time pass a lot quicker and more pleasantly."
"It was my pleasure. I'll come by to check on you and make sure you have what you need. Is there anything I can do for you now?" she asked.
"Yes," Troy spoke slowly and nervously. "Would you let me take you to dinner tonight?"