Page 27 of Christmas at Watson Memorial
“I love it,” I whisper.
“Arya told me once that medicine is equal parts science and magic, so that's where the message came from. It's okay to keep your little quirks,” she adds, leaning in to kiss me.
I melt into her embrace, resting my head on her shoulder. The new pen slides into my pocket next to the old one. Present and past. Loss and hope.
“Merry Christmas, Doctor Winters,” she murmurs into my hair.
“I have something for you too,” I admit, surprised by the emotion in my voice.
“Really? Damn, I thought I was being super original with the January first presents and… you had the same idea?”
“I wish I could say yes, but now I understand why Arya was so insistent about preparing something for today. She's such a little shit, as she'd say herself.”
I pull the envelope from my purse and hand it to her. My hands shake slightly, something that never happens. Selene looks at me curiously, her blue eyes sparkling with a childlike innocence that makes my knees weak.
“What is it?” she asks excitedly, turning the envelope in her hands without opening it, almost like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Open it and find out.”
Selene pulls out the contents: half a dozen letters, some handwritten, others typed. I watch as she unfolds the first one and holds her breath before reading aloud.
“Lieutenant Callahan: You might not remember me, but I'll never forget you. I'm James Cooper, from the 247th platoon. It's been almost eight years since that night in Kandahar, but the echo of your helicopter approaching remains the most beautiful sound I've ever heard…”
Her eyes fill with tears. She looks at me, unable to continue.
“How…?” she asks with a long sigh.
“Keep reading,” I whisper, moving closer to rub her lower back.
“…No one else dared to fly that night. The sandstorm was brutal, and the gunfire wouldn't stop. We had three critical casualties and communications were barely working. But you came. Again and again, we heard your Black Hawk roaring above us, like a guardian angel refusing to abandon us. Because of you, I got to meet my daughter Emma. Every time I look at her, I remember I'm alive because one crazy pilot dared to challenge hell itself to save us.”
Selene sobs, wiping away a tear with her palm before moving to the next letter.
“Some say the darkest moments bring out the best in people. You brought out the best in all of us. Not just through your extraordinary piloting skills, but through your humanity. For staying after rescues, holding the wounded's hands while telling them stories about New York. For making us doctors laugh when the weight of war became too much. For reminding us that kindness existed even in the worst places…”
Tears flow freely down her face as she reads letter after letter. There are grateful testimonials from soldiers, nurses, military doctors. They all speak of her courage, her compassion, specific moments where her presence meant the difference between life and death.
“Nicole Wright helped me contact them,” I explain. “When I mentioned your name, she went quiet for a moment, then told me you were a legend among the medical teams in Afghanistan. You never told me about your Silver Star for valor. Three consecutive flights to evacuate Bagram base while under attack. Wow. And you don't even brag about it.”
“Alexia…” her voice breaks as she hugs the letters tight against her chest. “This is… God, I can't…”
“You're incredible. I already admired you as a person, but learning this part of your life has been amazing. So many things make sense now. The way you get the hospital kids to smile with your stories, how Holly dreams of being likeyou someday. You show them that even in the darkest days, someone's always fighting for them.”
“I'm crying like an idiot,” she admits.
“You're still the bravest person I've ever met, even if we nearly killed ourselves in that snowstorm. Happy New Year, Selene Callahan,” I whisper against her lips, sealing the moment with a kiss.
Chapter 16
Alexia
The phone vibrates against my hip as I drift into that sweet space between sleep and consciousness, my head nestled on Selene's chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. The soft cotton of her t-shirt carries her scent — a mix of vanilla and something uniquely her. For a moment, I consider ignoring it, but something pulls at me, and when I see the name on the screen, my heart nearly stops.
“Shit,” I mutter through clenched teeth as I read the message.
“Your mother's in Manhattan?” Selene's eyes widen in surprise when I tell her what it's about.
“Apparently so,” I admit with a huff that betrays my frustration. “She says she's 'in the area,'” I make air quotes around the phrase. “In mom-speak, that means 'I have something important to tell you, and I've come all the way to Manhattan, so drop whatever you're doing and contact me right now.'”