Improvise Page 4

  “Yeah,” he mumbled as he fell asleep. “You’re welcome.”

  As they waited for the program’s host to arrive, they sat in the sound booth and chatted a bit. A sound tech was working on the other side of a plexiglass barrier.

  “Shall I tell everyone the truth this time? You know, how I single-handedly kept five terrorists and two bombs from destroying De Roos?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

  “Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time an officer took credit for my work,” she shot back. “Sir.”

  He laughed. “That hurts. You don’t think I’ve earned my superhero cape?”

  “Nope. You can’t pull off the tights.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Ugh. Now I have that image in my head.”

  Richard was about to joke “better off than on,” when he saw a green light out of the corner of his eye and glanced up to see the tech grinning at them.

  The host rushed in with stack of papers clutched in his hand and introduced himself before dropping into his seat and beginning the show.

  They were five minutes into the interview being asked again why they had attacked the terrorist standing guard at the door, and Richard was trying not to smile at Bennet’s epic eye roll. Instead, he answered diplomatically, “Well, he was isolated from the others, and we were in position to take him by surprise.”

  “But you had no weapons,” the host insisted. “What made you think you could succeed?”

  Richard sighed a little. We’re Marines, he thought, and imagined hitting his head repeatedly against the tabletop. Surely it couldn’t hurt any worse than answering these questions every day, could it? But then Bennet took over.

  “We did have weapons, Henrik,” she said smoothly. “Those heavy steins they use for the tourists. They might not be firearms, but they have great stopping power, right, sir?”

  Richard didn’t answer. Great stopping power. Where does she come up with this stuff?

  Bennet’s voice grew thoughtful. “In the Marines, Henrik,” she said, “we have an unofficial motto: Improvise, adapt, overcome.” She paused. “That’s all we did here.”

  “And on that note,” Henrik said jubilantly into his oversized microphone, “we need to move on to traffic. Thank you to Major Richard Fitzwilliam and Sgt. Elizabeth Bennet, recipients of Belgium’s Order of the Crown, and US Marines through and through.”

  Fitzwilliam opened his mouth to say Staff Sergeant, but they were already off the air and Bennet just made a face. She stood up. As they walked out of the recording booth, he turned to her.

  “Nothing like dropping pearls of wisdom and getting cut off for traffic,” she quipped.

  He shook his head at her. “Breakfast?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  As they waited for their food, the major propped his head up on his hand and gazed groggily at her.

  “So, Staff Sergeant, tell me something about yourself.”

  “This isn’t speed dating, sir,” Elizabeth retorted. “You have to be more specific.”

  “Do me a favor, keep me awake. We’ve been through how many of these things now? They didn’t even send a handler for us today.”

  “Thank God,” she groaned. She hated this whole press tour even more than the major seemed to. We found ourselves in a situation, and we did what we were trained to do. I don’t know why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it.

  “Agreed,” the major was saying. “But other than you’re good at what you do, you have a sister who’s a doctor, and you are a pain in the . . .”

  “Hold up, there, now,” she warned him laughingly.

  “Other than those things,” he replied, deadpan, “I don’t know much about you. Home’s in New York like me, right?”

  Okay, I’ll play. “Grew up in Meryton, upstate New York. Big country house in the family for four generations, lots of acreage, horses. Parents belonged to the country club. We played tennis and swam in the summers. Nice place, good town to grow up in. My family’s in Montclair, New Jersey now.” She gestured across the table. “You?”

  He scratched the back of his head, and Elizabeth knew what he was thinking: Why would they leave a family house like that? She didn’t elaborate.

  “Manhattan boy,” the major said. “My father’s a senator. He commuted to D.C. my whole childhood, but now that we’re all up and out, he spends his weeks down there and comes home when the House isn’t in session. My mom died a few years ago of cancer.”

  “Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she said with genuine regret.

  The major nodded, his eyes clouding over for a moment.

  “Senator Fitzwilliam,” she mused. “I’ve heard of him, of course. Wondered if you were related. Was that a weird way to grow up?”

  He reached for the sugar and tipped it into his coffee. “Probably, but it was normal for us. Didn’t see a lot of him, but he tried to be there for the big things. My mother was with us all the time.” He paused. “He says he’s not running for reelection. She’d have loved to have him home.” He shrugged. “What about your family?”

  “Umm,” she said as she looked to the other side of the café to check for their waitress.

  He tilted his head at her. “Look, I’ve heard a lot of horror stories from a lot of Marines. You aren’t going to shock me.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not shocking, just not all that interesting.”

  He waited.

  She frowned. “My mother was bipolar. Lots of highs and lows, lots of what she called ‘nerves,’ and she didn’t always take her meds. It made things kind of tricky.”

  “Did your dad help?”

  She gave in to the inquisition. “I haven’t heard from him in a long time. He left for good when I was a junior in high school. Jane was away at school and I didn’t want her to quit, so I was sort of in charge.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “That sucks.” He took a sip of his water and then asked, “Siblings?”

  “It wasn’t fun,” she said honestly, “but we coped. Four sisters. Jane’s older, and I have three who are younger. They all live with my aunt and uncle now. Jane’s a DNP in Newark at the hospital there. Mary started Montclair State this year. Kit and Lydia are still in high school. What about you?”

  His forehead furrowed. “What’s a DNP?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Doctor of Nursing Practice. She has a specialty in emergency medicine.”

  The major raised his eyebrows. “She’s a doctor of nurses?”

  “She’s got a doctorate in nursing practice.” She watched him squint and laughed softly. “I watched her graduate online—they streamed the ceremony. So, she’s Dr. Bennet, though she doesn’t like me to call her that.”

  “Pictures?” he asked.

  Of course he’d ask for pictures. She pulled them up on her phone and handed them over.

  “Wow,” he said. He swiped the phone a number of times. “Geez, Bennet, is there anyone in your family who’s not good-looking?”

  She shrugged. “My sisters are all pretty, but Jane’s clearly the most beautiful.” She took her phone back when he held it out to her. “More importantly, she’s an all-around amazing human being. She wants to wind up on one of those helicopter trauma teams.” She tapped on her photo collection and smiled a little. “You’d never know it, but behind that toothpaste commercial smile, she’s kind of an extreme sports junkie.” She took a sip of her orange juice. “Now you.”

  He gave her a grimace, but Elizabeth detected his approval. Jane gets the interest of men who haven’t even met her yet, she thought affectionately.

  He cleared his throat. “One older brother, Oscar. Cousins Will and Georgiana. Oscar works in my dad’s office as a campaign manager and strategist. Will co-owns his dad’s company and is the CEO of his own. G has just started at Stanford.”

  “Underachievers, then,” she replied, acknowledging him with a nod.

  He snorted and added a little cream to his coffee before he drank it down.

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nbsp; “Stanford,” she continued, pursing her lips. “She’s smart.”

  Major Fitzwilliam nodded. “You’re pretty smart yourself, Bennet,” he responded. “I mean, you know, not doctor smart, but . . .”

  She tossed a balled-up napkin at him.

  “Your aim sucks, Staff Sergeant,” he said as he caught it mid-flight.

  The waitress arrived with their food. After she set down the plates and bustled away, Bennet picked up her fork.

  Her eyes met his.

  “No,” she replied, her voice turning serious again. “It doesn’t.”

  “No,” he agreed, stabbing his eggs with a fork. “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.”

  And we’ll all stay free, she finished silently.

  They’d eaten half their meal in silence when the major looked up and asked, “Why didn’t you go to college first and join as an officer?”

  Like a dog with a bone. He’s lucky I like him. “Timing,” she explained, trying to remain nonchalant. “My mom died right before I graduated high school. My dad was still her beneficiary, so he got everything, and of course the house was always his. He paid for the funeral but didn’t attend. He wrote my uncle to say he’d set up child support accounts for my little sisters, probably because he knew he would be taken to court if he didn’t.” She hesitated. It felt a little strange talking about it after all this time, but it was undeniably easier to talk about then it had been. “Then he sent a certified letter to tell Jane and me that as we were both out of high school, we were on our own.”

  Major Fitzwilliam squinted at her. “Were you?”

  “Was I what?” She caught a passing waitress and asked for more coffee.

  “Out of high school.”

  She shook her head. “No, not quite. I had a few months left. I’d been accepted to Rutgers, and I couldn’t wait to go.” She held out her coffee mug, and the waitress poured her another cup. “Anyway, my father paid tuition once a year, and Jane lucked out—he’d already sent the money for her junior year.” Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, remembering. “Jane and I had college accounts, you know, those 529 ones?”

  He nodded.

  “I worked and added to mine, but I didn’t understand how they worked. As a minor, I couldn’t access the funds, and my father never signed them over to me. Technically, he owns the account.” She shrugged. “Without that money, I couldn’t pay the deposit to hold my spot, and if I couldn’t draw on that account, I knew I’d never be able to come up with the tuition anyway. I tried to contact my father, but I didn’t have his phone number and he never emailed back.”

  “Nice,” the major said, shaking his head.

  Elizabeth nodded. “He didn’t release the rest of Jane’s funds either, but she only had to find money for one year. My grades had slipped because I was busy taking care of the girls, so I had no chance at an academic scholarship. I quit the soccer team for the same reason. No senior season, no recruiting. My coach was unhappy, and my teammates made kind of a thing about it.” She poked at her eggs. “And because I was still on my parents’ taxes, I couldn’t qualify for need-based aid. It was going to cost around fifteen grand a year just for tuition, another ten for room, board, books—I didn’t want to take on that kind of debt.”

  “So you joined the Marines?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye. He was laughing at her. “Seems an extreme response.”

  Elizabeth thought she should feel insulted, but it was sort of funny. She shrugged. “My uncle was a Marine, and he and my aunt are probably the people I admire most.” She pulled a face. “Aunt Maddy was pregnant, but she and my two little cousins still came to stay in Meryton with us for a few months to finish out the school year. Then we all moved to Montclair, and I joined the Marines because they’d pay for school.” She reached for her water and drank the entire glass.

  “Tough way to earn a degree,” the major said, raising his eyebrows at her.

  She let out a short bark of a laugh. “You’re not kidding,” she agreed. “I never seem to do things the easy way, unfortunately.”

  “Lucky you had your aunt and uncle,” he said thoughtfully.

  “They’re amazing people,” Elizabeth agreed, warming to her subject. “Aunt Maddy just gave up her life for almost two months to move in with us so we could finish school in Meryton. Uncle Ed drove up on the weekends. After I graduated, they took on my three sisters with no complaint, turned the guest room over to Kit and Lydia. Mary moved into the room Jane was renting.” She shook her head with a small smile on her face. “They’re more family to us than our parents were.”

  He stuck his hand up to wave the waitress down. “When you go home, will you live with them?” The waitress brought the bill and he grabbed it.

  “No way,” she replied, pretending to be horrified. “Six kids, four adults, two dogs, a cat, and a hamster under one roof. I mean, they have a big house, but they are maxed out. I will definitely be getting my own place.”

  “Ah, I see,” he chuckled. “You joined up for the peace and quiet.”

  Elizabeth tossed some money across the table. He rolled his eyes at her, but he took it. “Absolutely,” she replied.

  Chapter Five

  Elizabeth closed her laptop and stowed it beneath the airline seat in front of her. She leaned her forehead against the window as she watched the airfield at Newark coming into focus, feeling the pain of a migraine beginning at her right temple. All this traveling. She rubbed her ear against her shoulder unconsciously before pulling out a plastic prescription bottle. Hardly any left. She shook two pills into the palm of her hand, stared at them blankly for a minute, then tossed them in her mouth and washing them down with the water she always carried.

  Home at last, she sighed. Home for good. She was expecting to feel different, more excited. Instead, she felt no different than she had when she had finally received her discharge papers—sort of a numb acceptance that it was time, finally, to move on. It’ll just take a while to get used to it again.

  She pulled the bottom of her uniform jacket to straighten out the wrinkles, as she was wearing her dress blues on final orders from her commanding officer. She was proud to wear her uniform, but it was August. It was hot, the uniform wasn’t comfortable for travel, and playing the part of the perfect Marine had become tiresome. It was not the understated way she had planned to end her military career. She had seen Major Fitzwilliam at several more joint appearances, his level of frustration growing even higher than hers, so she had buried her own irritation and physical discomfort, attempting instead to tease the usually affable officer into a better mood.

  Her time in the Marines had been more difficult and more gratifying than she had thought it would. Even on those late nights in Uncle Ed’s den just after graduation, where she had asked about his experiences in the Marines and he had related a dozen or more stories to demonstrate that serving, while not glamorous, could be rewarding, she could not have begun to fathom how much the experience would mean. It had been brutal in many ways—physically, emotionally, and intellectually—and yet the challenges had done her good. She had always been an athlete, but the Marines had broken her down and built her back up. She would not exchange the experience for the world, not even the attack at De Roos or the recuperation and ridiculous public relations duty that had been its result. She had a confidence now she’d never had before, a sure knowledge of her own abilities and two college degrees she had slaved over to keep herself out of trouble and smooth her transition back into civilian life.

  It had required nearly the entire time remaining in her tour to recover, the concussion taking longer than the knee. She’d spent most of her time going to physical therapy and talking to the international media until they lost interest and only the American press remained. She still suffered migraines from time to time when she allowed herself to become too tense or tried to work for eighteen hours staring at a screen as she might have in the past, but it was a small price to pay for all being a Marine had given her.


  The landing gear hit with a jolt, slapping the tarmac hard like a plane on a carrier, and Elizabeth grimaced. Clearly a Navy pilot.

  As everyone stood to gather their belongings, she pulled her duffel from the overhead and set it on the seat, the strap of her laptop case already slung over her shoulder as she waited for the door to open. Suddenly, the flight attendant winked at her and began to speak into his handset.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced in a sing-song voice. “We have on board with us Marine Staff Sergeant Elizabeth ‘Lizzy’ Bennet, who is arriving home from a long overseas deployment, including some time at the US Embassy in Brussels.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. Richard Fitzwilliam, I will kill you. Seriously. She opened her eyes to see everyone in first class turning to look at her, recognition lighting the eyes of a few. She made a game attempt to return their smiles, but she froze as she watched them begin to whisper to one another. She really hated this part. So close to just getting away.

  “If you would all please just wait a moment and allow Staff Sergeant Bennet to deplane first, I am sure her family would appreciate it.” He went on to deliver the rest of his customary speech thanking everyone for flying with them, but Elizabeth didn’t hear it.

  As the door to the plane opened, she tossed her duffel over her shoulder and walked down the aisle. She smiled and thanked the passengers who applauded, a few shaking her hand, another few taking pictures with their phones, and did the same for the crew. Then she stepped smartly up the ramp, taking her own phone off airplane mode and seeing that Jane had sent her eight texts, her building excitement demonstrated by the increased use of exclamation points and question marks as her sister’s arrival grew closer. Elizabeth grinned.

  She might not feel much enthusiasm for being home, but seeing Jane was another matter. Elizabeth had talked her sister out of coming to Brussels. She was fine, and the plane fare was exorbitant. Besides, Jane had just settled into her new position in the ER. They texted and made weekly video calls, but it wasn’t as good as being in the same room.