The Turning Tides (Marina's Tales) by Derrolyn Anderson Read Free Book Online Page B

on your training.”
    I sighed and agreed, changing and following Paul out of the hospital to a pretty little park. It was a crisp clear autumn day, and the fiery leaves seemed even more brilliant against the bright blue sky. We took a quick jog around a path that circled a pond, and stopped at a playground where he had me do some chin-ups.
    He lifted me up to the highest bar, and when I was exhausted, he reached up to take me down and lowered me slowly, setting me down and brushing the hair out of my eyes, “Are you alright Vanderpool?”
    I nodded up at him, “I’ll be okay… it’s just that…” my voice caught in my throat when I remembered my dad thinking I was my mother. What if he couldn’t remember me? My eyes filled with tears and spilled over.
    He led me to a bench and sat us down with his arm around my shoulders, giving me a rough squeeze, “I’ve seen plenty of guys a lot worse than that who come out of it one hundred percent.” He reached up to wipe the tears from my cheek, bringing his forehead to mine and looking me square in the eyes, “Listen soldier, there’s no crying in combat… Now drop and give me twenty.”
    I smiled, and did. By the time I got showered off and back to my dad’s room I was exhausted.
    “Thanks, Paul,” I nodded, t aking over the watch for Evie. I put on some music and curled up in the recliner by his bed. When I woke it was dark outside, and I sat up to stretch with a yawn.
    “Is it Beethoven?” my father asked.
    I wheeled around to meet his clear eyes. He looked towards the music player.
    “Yes… yes… I think it’s Moonlight Sonata,” I stammered.
    He sighed, “It was your mother’s favorite.”
    “Oh D ad!” I yelped. I leapt out of my chair and hugged him, taking care not to disturb his arm.
    “What happened?” he asked, and I pulled back to see him struggling to remember. He squeezed his eyes shut, “I was talking to you on the phone… Oh no… Oh my God… Hamid!”
    His face was terrible when he finally remembered. I could see him piece it all together and my heart ached for him. A man had been blown to bits in front of him, and I knew that he’d feel responsible for the accident. He felt responsible for everything.
    “It wasn’t your fault,” I told him gently.
    “But his family… his wife,” he struggled to sit up, his voice anguished.
    “I’ve taken care of it,” Evie’s voice rang out from the doorway. She must have heard me cry out. She came in and stood beside me. “They’ll not want for anything.”
    He nodded, falling back ont o his pillow, “Thank you Evie.”
    Over the next few days, we prepared to take him back to San Francisco. There was more bad news from Afghanistan; Evie had to sit down and tell my father that his field laboratory had been looted, and all of his valuable research had been lost or destroyed. He was despondent.
    “I spent a whole year away from Marina for nothing,” he said grimly.
    “Martin, there will be other opportunities for your research to go forward. We’ll have you back at work in no time at all,” she promised.
    “Look at me,” he said, holding up his mangled hand. “I’m no good to anyone like this.”
    Evie was at a loss for words, and I could tell that she never expected things to go so completely off the rails. She wasn’t the sort of woman used to dealing with failure , so she threw herself into making sure everything having to do with the move home was executed perfectly. She lived on the phone, making all kinds of appointments and arrangements, and lining up the best specialists in San Francisco for consultations.
    Evie was in complete management mode, and when she got this way about anything, failure was simply not an option.
    Moving day finally came, and Dad grimaced with pain as we loaded him into the ambulance . I fe lt completely helpless , cring ing along with every bump and jolt. My phone rang, and I looked to see it was Ethan.
    “Can I call you right back?” I