Chapter 50

12:40 Monday, November 18^th, 1991

San Mateo County Hospital

222 W. 39th Avenue

San Mateo, CA 94403

Jack Kostowe felt his head had cleared enough; they'd stopped the really heavy narcotics midday Sunday. "Deb," he'd asked last night, "Please find for me a spiral-bound notebook and some pens that are easy to use."

She looked at him steadily, and then nodded.

Now, he was writing in the pages, and filling them as furiously as he could. He had to take breaks frequently, and often thanked his Maker that the wrist he broke was his left, not his right, one.

"Mister Kostowe?"

Jack looked up to see his doctor had entered the room. Deb put down the needlepoint she had been doing – something Jack had never known her to do before. She said she'd always wanted to learn and only needed a push to get started.

It was, Jack reflected, a pretty good straight line, but he resisted.

"Yes?" he invited the doctor to continue.

"Okay. We've put a pin and a plate in your hip, and screws in your wrist. Looking at your bloodwork and your pictures, I think we'll send you home tomorrow. We need to give you some injections and draw blood, so there'll be a nursing service that'll visit you at home. We'll have someone call you for that tomorrow. I think your wrist will continue uncast. We'll have a physical therapy regimen for you, where you'll be doing a lot of walking short distances, stepping on stools, and flexing. Who will be helping you with that?"

"That would be me," Deb spoke up.

"Very good, ma'am. I was hoping that would be the case," the youngish doctor said, sincerely. "We have a much better percentage of full recovery in cases where we have help at home."

17:25 Tuesday, November 19th, 1991

392 7th Ave

San Mateo, CA 94401

"Lenore, Commander Fales asked me to identify myself as your mentor. His intent was to keep your Student Battalion from requiring remedial military training and PT from you. The Skipper of the Student Battalion and I have friends in common, and he and I would meet from time to time to reminisce. Sometimes the XO and Lieutenant Wheeler would be there, listening."

Lenore hadn't said a word to the Chief since her arrival only moments before, and now she smiled sweetly at him. "Feeling guilty, Chief?"

He shook his head in return. "Okay, Collins. Have it your way. I've secretly been puppeteering your career, pulling strings for you."

Shocked, Lenore saw he was actually disappointed in her.

"Chief, I'm sorry I gave you the impression I doubted you. That wasn't what I'd intended."

He gave her a wry smile. "I think it is the aftereffects of the narcotics. I'm feeling fairly strange. Lenore, I don't want you to leave today angry with me, or thinking I could ever be angry with you."

She bit her lower lip, and studied him for a short while. How in hell can I ask him if it's really because he's worried and scared?

"Chief?" When she saw she had his attention, she continued. "Tell me a sea story. What is it like to have a ship in battle?"

The effect was surprising – his whole countenance softened, and he smiled at her. "It's pretty damned frightening, Lenore. There is very little that will sink a US Navy ship now, but accidents can happen ... in the Second War, there was a lot that could sink a ship."

Lenore listened for an hour, until the Gunny came, and Deb came back from the Admiral's house, with a change of clothes and a meal.

Deb left the Gunny in the Chief's bedroom, taking Lenore with her. "The worst is getting down to sit on the damned head," the Chief was saying as they were leaving. "And those Goddamned stool softeners..."

Deb shook her head and smiled at Lenore. "He'd been worried about what you might say to him all weekend, you know."

Lenore nodded. "I think he was feeling really guilty about it, and I think he's scared, Deb. He didn't want me to leave mad at him, or him mad at me, but he can't ... heck, I can't bring myself to talk about it."

"I think it's a silly fear, one that can't do him any good," Deb declared. "But it's a real fear, and he won't let me see what he's been writing in that notebook of his."

15:10 Thursday, November 22^nd, 1991

Parade Ground, Hearst Gymnasium

University of California, Berkeley, CA 94720

The wind in the trees was loud, and the skittering of leaves on the ground was omnipresent, a background that spoke of late Fall. Though Lenore didn't make eye contact with Lynne, she knew that Lynne was aware Shiplett was watching her differently today. Some sub-vocal communication channel, some difference in posture or expressionless expression carried it more clearly than words. Shiplett was curious about Lenore, in a way that he'd never been before, and it included Lynne also.

"No formation next Thursday, for anyone remaining on campus for the Thanksgiving holiday. Permissive leave is granted, meaning you Candidates won't be charged leave next Thursday through Sunday. Return on Monday after Thanksgiving. Uniform day next week is canceled." The recitation droned on, and Lenore let it wash over her.