It seemed hours passed before any additional information was released, and then the names of the injured were read. Neither Jeff nor Rush were listed. Lindy didn’t know whether to be happy or terrified. The only choices that remained were that both men had somehow magically escaped the explosion or were among those listed as dead.
Steve was at Lindy’s side as much as possible, doing what he could. One look at her brother told Lindy he suspected the worst. As much as she could, Lindy tried to be positive. If Rush had died in the explosion, she reasoned, she would have felt it. Deep within her heart, she would have felt a part of herself die. She wouldn’t be this calm, this accepting.
People milled around everywhere. Wives, children, parents. Rather than sit and worry, Lindy mingled with the others, talking, praying and crying – sometimes all three at once.
It was when she turned to find Steve at her side that she knew word had finally come through. She looked up to the brother she had always loved, the brother who had shielded her from whatever pain he could, and Lindy smiled. She realized at the time how odd that was.
Her brother slipped his arm around her shoulder and his jaw jutted out in a gesture of grief and pain.
"Rush is listed as missing."
Chapter Thirteen
"What do you mean missing?" Lindy asked. "Rush couldn’t have just disappeared." It astonished her how calm she felt, how controlled, as though they were discussing something as mundane as the tide tables or what to fix for dinner.
"Lindy, I think you should prepare yourself for the worst."
"That would be silly," she said, turning back to the little boy she’d been talking to and purposely ignoring her brother, "Rush is fine. I know he is. There’s been some screwup and he’s going to be furious when he learns the way the navy has everyone so worried about him."
"Lindy…." Steve hesitated, and his brow creased in thick folds of concern and regret. "I hope to God you’re right."
"Of course I am."
Steve left her then and Lindy sank into an empty chair. Her hands shook so badly that she clenched them together in her lap, her long nails cutting crescents of pain into her palms. Soon her arms were shaking, then her legs, until her whole body felt as if it were consumed by uncontrollable spasms.
Susan took the chair beside Lindy and wrapped her own sweater around Lindy’s shoulders. Susan held it there until some of the intense cold she was experiencing seeped away and a steady warmth invaded her limbs.
Lindy tried to smile, failed, and whispered one word. "Jeff?"
"He’s fine."
Lindy nodded once. "Good."
"They’ll find him, Lindy," Susan said, her voice thick with conviction, although she was struggling with her own fears. "I know they will. Jeff won’t let anyone rest until they do."
"I know." Lindy remembered how Susan had once told her that she didn’t worry so much about Jeff at sea because she always knew Rush would be there to watch out for her husband. The truth of what Susan was telling her now was the only slender thread Lindy had to hang on to. Jeff would turn hell upside down until he learned what had happened to Rush.
Soon the other wives joined Lindy, scooting their chairs and forming a protective circle around her. No one did much talking. No one tried to build her up with false hopes. No one suggested she try to eat or get some sleep. Or leave.
That night cots were brought into the information center for those who wished to stay. Lindy insisted the other wives go back to their families, but each one in turn refused. They were special sisters, bonded together in ways that were thicker than blood.
"No one’s leaving until we find out what happened to Rush," Susan said, speaking for them all.
The others managed to sleep that night in the cots provided. Lindy tried, but couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes that same terrible scene flashed through her mind, and she was convinced she could hear Rush cry out in torment. As the hours slowly, methodically ticked away, Lindy sat and stared into space. In the darkest part of the night, surrounded by silence, she tried to prepare herself to accept Rush’s death, but every time she entertained the notion, such piercing pain stabbed through her that she shoved the thought from her mind. This interminable waiting was the worst nightmare of her life.
Food was brought in the following morning and the others ate, but Lindy knew it would be impossible for her to hold anything down.
Susan handed her a glass of orange juice. "You didn’t eat anything yesterday. Try this," she said softly, insistently. "You’re going to need your strength."
Lindy wanted to argue with her friend but hadn’t the fortitude. "Okay."
Another eternity passed, a lifetime – hours that felt like years, minutes that dragged like weeks, seconds that could have been days. And still they waited.
"He’s dead," Lindy sobbed to the others late that afternoon, although just saying the words aloud nearly crippled her. "I know it. I can feel it in my heart. He’s gone."
"You don’t know it," Susan argued, and her own eyes shone brightly with unshed tears. Her hands trembled and she laced her fingers together as though offering a silent prayer.
"Don’t even say it," Sissy cried, her face streaked with moisture.
Joanna gripped Lindy’s fingers with her own and knelt in front of her, her gaze holding Lindy’s. "He’s alive until we know otherwise. Hold tight to that, Lindy. It’s all we’ve got."