Silver Stars (Front Lines #2)(110)

Cat uncorks the bottle, which wakes Geer, who in turn smacks Stick on his back. “Come on, Stick, we’re drinking.”

They pass the bottle solemnly, like a ritual, like some parody of holy communion. Cat, Pang, Geer, Jack, Jenou, Beebee, and a sleepy but smiling Stick.

“They’re sending me out early. I guess you all follow later,” Rio says.

“We hate to lose you,” Stick says sincerely. “Even just for a while.”

“They can’t force me to take a promotion, can they?”

“Well,” Geer drawls. “They can force you to leave your home and come wallow like a hog in the mud of Italy, so I’m guessing they can force you to do whatever the hell they like.”

There’s a bit of teasing after that, various members of the squad competing to come up with examples of how much better it’ll be once Rio is gone.

Won’t have to listen to her bitching about SOS.

You know those sneaky farts no one admits to? That’s Richlin.

Who’s going to steal all my smokes once Richlin’s gone?

Eventually it’s just Rio and Jenou, and they leave the smoke-filled tent for fresh air.

“Whoa,” Jenou says. “Are those stars?”

“Yeah, shocked me too.”

“You know, Rio, chances are you won’t end up back with us.”

Rio shakes her head. “I won’t let that happen.”

Jenou laughs. “I’m not sure a little tin star on your chest will give you godlike powers, Rio.”

“I’ll do my damnedest,” Rio protests. “I’ll refuse to fight.”

“Honey, don’t be a fool. You’re going to be the first woman ever—ever—to earn the Silver Star; they’re not going to send you back to the line. They’ll trot you around like a show horse for the newspapers and the cameras and probably have you giving speeches and sleeping in fancy hotels, ordering up steak and lobster.”

Rio takes a step back. “That’s bull.”

Jenou sighs and shakes her head. “Well, maybe not, I don’t know. But we better face up to the fact that this may be good-bye, at least until the war is over.”

“No!” Rio cries. “No, that’s not right, that’s nuts. We’re in this together. You and me, Jen.”

“Sweetie, all we’ve done is get on each other’s nerves.”

“Fug that, we can get on each other’s nerves and still be friends, can’t we?”

“I don’t know.”

That answer cuts Rio like a knife.

Jenou sees her reaction and squeezes her hand. “You’re a genuine, certified, grade-A hero now, Rio. Me? I’m just a plain old dog-faced soldier.” She takes a beat before adding, “Well, a very pretty dog-faced soldier.”

“You’re my friend, Jen,” Rio says, urgently returning Jenou’s pressure on her hand. “You have to always be my friend.”

“I’m not the right friend for someone like you.”

“You fought as hard as I did,” Rio insists. “You put as many Krauts in the ground as Geer or Cat or me.”

Jenou nods, accepting this, and even smiles in gratitude. “Let me make it clear for you, Rio. Like I said, I don’t expect I’ll make it through this war. I used to. I used to think . . . hell, we all did, didn’t we? Used to think it couldn’t happen to us? I don’t believe that anymore. When I catch it, I don’t want you to be the one who sent me.”

“You think I’ll get you killed?” Rio feels hurt by the suggestion, but it’s instantly clear that she hasn’t understood.

“No, I don’t think that. I mean, sure, it could be you, but it could be anyone or anything. But if it is you, it’ll eat you up inside. That’s part of it. The other part is that I’ve been leaning on you.” She straightens her spine and holds her head high. “I’m ready now.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to stop leaning on you, my best friend. My brave, fearless best friend. The sister I never had. Funny thing is, once you accept the fact of death, you stop being afraid.” She sighs and tilts her head back to look at the stars and says, “I don’t like any part of this whole goddamned war, but I’m ready now to pull my own weight. You’ve become a hero, Rio, and to my amazement, I, Jenou Castain, have become a soldier.”

Rio parts the next morning, with tears from Jenou, and the inevitable jokes and gibes and nonsense from the others.

Rio, seated in the back of a truck, waves to Jenou and Cat and, coming to stand beside them, Jack.

Jack makes a fist, places it over his heart, and bows to her. Then he disappears as the truck column obscures Rio’s view.





35

FRANGIE MARR—US ARMY HOSPITAL, PORTSMOUTH, UK

“Just hold it still, Frank. How many times do I have to tell you to hold it still?”

“Well, it hurts, Miss Frangie!”

“Nonsense. Goodness, you’d think you were the only person here with a bullet wound. Look at me!” She holds up her right hand, now with just four fingers and a tiny stump. “When I got hurt, I was a perfectly obedient patient.”

A nurse walking by says, “Uh-huh,” in a sarcastic voice.