Gabe swirled the pasta around his fork. "Extra water rations is something you always want to pack on a mission. We drink and eat constantly. Some guys carry Gatorade plus water. There's never such a thing as having too much of it when we're out there."

"No-brainer," Bay said. She hesitated and then decided to get personal with Gabe. Maybe it would help her understand why she was so drawn to him. "You know about my family background. What about yours? What was your childhood like, Gabe?"

His mouth pulled in at one corner. "The opposite of yours."

She heard the carefully closeted pain in his voice. "What do you mean?"

Ordinarily, Gabe never spoke about his growing-up years to anyone. The care and warmth in Bay's eyes and voice broke through that barrier. "I was an only kid," he quietly admitted, cutting up the two other large meatb.a.l.l.s on his tray. "My father was a redneck." He glanced up to see her reaction. Gabe knew hill people preferred being called hill people, not hillbillies, rednecks or yokels, as the lowlanders often called them.

"Hill people?" Bay asked.

"No, he wasn't hill people. He grew up north of Butler, Pennsylvania, where I was born. Lots of hill people around, though, but I'm making a division here between them and being a redneck."

She finished the spaghetti and took a piece of toasted bread slathered with b.u.t.ter and garlic. "Where I come from, a redneck is sort of a step down from the codes of conduct hill people live by." She shrugged. "Sometimes they're very coa.r.s.e. And rude. They're good ole boys and not necessarily responsible toward family or the greater circle of people in their community." She frowned. "Was your father like that?"

Gabe wiped his mouth with a napkin and laid it aside. "My father was an alcoholic, which didn't help things, Bay. From the time I could remember, my mom and he were always fighting. As a kid, I was scared he was going to hit her.

Bay's heart went out to him. She could imagine him as a young boy hearing the parents screaming at each other. "I'm so sorry...."

Gabe pushed the fork around in the spaghetti, losing some of his appet.i.te. There was just something special about Bay that made him want to confide everything to her. d.a.m.n. Yet Gabe fought it because he didn't want her to see him differently than she did right now. He had her respect. And he didn't want to lose his reputation with her by talking about his sordid past.

"Your poor mother, Grace," she whispered. "How did she take it?"

"Not well. My father was a closet drinker because, I guess when he married her, she didn't know about it."

"Was he able to hold down a job?"

"No. He was a construction worker and lost his job because he was caught drinking. It was several months before he landed another job, but not having his paycheck really put us in the hole financially. My mother had to work twelve-hour shifts at the V.A. hospital to try and make up some of the difference."

"How old were you when this happened?"

"Six."

"And he was verbally abusive to her?"

Gabe grimaced. "Yes, but she wouldn't take it and fought back. He was at home all day, babysitting me when I wasn't at school. He'd drink. By the time I got let off the bus, he was angry and stalking around the house, looking for a fight."

Bay cringed. "Sounds like a really bad drunk." She watched him nod and saw the darkness in the his eyes. "He took it out on you?"

"Yes."

Bay drew in a deep breath. "That's awful. Did your mother find out?"

"Finally. But it was years later."

"Why didn't you tell her?"

"Because my father threatened to beat me senseless if I said anything to her. I'd already got a taste of his hand and fist, and I knew he'd make good on the threat."

Bay's heart crumpled with pain for Gabe. She sat there trying to digest all of it. "Yet he took you hunting, taught you to track...."

"He liked escaping into the woods and getting back into nature. I think that was his Cherokee side. He was always happy when we were going to hunt in the woods on a weekend. We'd stay out for two days, camping, hunting or fishing. I really liked those times with him. He was happy out there and so was I. He never drank when he was out in the woods. Just at home and on the job."

He was a child torn in two by his father's dark moods, Bay thought. "You said the other day when you were ten years old, your father died?"

"Yeah, not a stellar year for me. Or for my mother. Or him." His mouth flattened, his appet.i.te gone. Gabe put the tray aside and picked up his coffee cup, wrapping his large hands around it. Just the tender look Bay gave him pushed him to tell her the rest of the story. "Everything came to a head when I was ten. My father lost another job because he was found drinking at a power company that was being built nearby. My mother had the night shift at the hospital. I'd just come home from school. My father had been drinking all day and my mother woke up early and caught him with a bottle. Things escalated and my father lost his temper and slapped my mother. She called the cops and filed a.s.sault charges against him."

Gabe took a deep breath. "It was the cops who started asking me questions. I tried to lie, because I was afraid my father would kill me when he got out of jail. But my mother read me right. My father had taken his leather strap to me that morning. My mother had been asleep at the time. The one cop was very nice and I guess I trusted him over the fear of telling the truth. When my mother lifted up my T-shirt and saw the red welts across my back, she about lost it."

"Oh, G.o.d, Gabe, that's terrible. I didn't realize..." Bay reached out to touch his hands wrapped tightly around the mug. And then, when she realized what she was doing, she quickly pulled her hand back. Seeing the sorrow in his eyes, Bay felt badly for him. She had never meant to stir up this kind of sadness for him. "What happened next?" she asked, her voice soft.

"My father was taken to jail. Two days later, he got into a fight with some of the guys in jail and was killed." His voice went flat. "It shook us up. We never expected that. But my father had an uncontrollable temper and even though my Mom felt guilty about sending him to jail, I didn't. I felt relief, if you want to know the truth. I never told her how I felt and I think I should at some point. Maybe when I get rotated back to the States, we'll sit down over coffee and have a talk that's been a long time in coming. It was just too painful for me to talk about until recently."

"She thought that your father's dying took him out of your life?"

"Yeah," Gabe said, shaking his head. "She doesn't know to this day how many years my father made a punching bag out of me. If I tell her, she'll probably feel guilt. And I don't want to pile more on than what she's got already. I'm still not sure I'll do it or not." Stunned that he'd told her everything, Gabe looked at his watch. He was blathering like a fool and he needed to put a stop to it. "It's time to go."

Nodding, Bay gave him a strained smile and eased off the bench.

On the way back to the SEAL headquarters, the evening cooling rapidly, Bay walked at his side. Gabe had become withdrawn. "I feel badly for stirring up a hornet's nest for you," she admitted, catching his gaze. "I'm truly sorry, Gabe." Opening her hands, Bay added gently, "I guess my curiosity about you, what made you the man you are today, got the better of me. I sincerely did not mean to make you rehash all that suffering and pain." If they had been any place else, Bay would have thrown her arms around him and just held him. While Gabe told her the story, she could see the frightened ten-year-old little boy in the recesses of his eyes. Yes, holding was what Gabe needed. He still needed it, Bay realized.

Gabe slowed his pace. They were moving through tent city toward HQ. "In a way," he admitted, "it felt good to get it off my chest, Bay. I've never told anyone about it. Ever." He managed a one-cornered smile, absorbing her tender look. "You are definitely a doc. You know how to pull out the toxic infection a person carries. By getting it out in the open, maybe they can heal up then?"

How badly Bay wanted to stop and show him how much she cared. Gabe needed nurturing, tenderness and some long-overdue TLC. She could see the need in his expression, in the set of his mouth. Disappointment flowed through her over not being able to give him what he needed. At least not here. And probably never. "There's all kinds of infection, that's for sure," she whispered, regret in her tone. "I just never realized how terrible your growing-up years were."

She tilted her head and gazed deeply into his dark eyes. "And you're so kind and caring toward others, to me. I saw it at the village. You had candy in your cammie pockets and you were handing it out to all the kids. I saw you help that old Afghan man who was hobbling around on a crutch. He dropped his bag and you went over and picked it up for him. You're not your father's son, Gabe."

"I take after my mother's side, thank G.o.d."

"That's right, she's an R.N.," Bay murmured as they turned the corner. A number of other SEALs were trekking through the entrance into the planning room. "I'm sure she is a healer. I'm sure she helped you after your father died?"

Gabe slowed his pace. "Yes, I became the total focus of her world after that. And looking back on it, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. She's a good person, Bay. I hope someday you get to meet Grace."

"Why?"

He smiled slightly and opened the door for her. "I think you'd see a mirror reflection of yourself in her. You're a lot alike."

"Another me?" She laughed. "Oh, Lordy!" Warmth stole through her as he really smiled at her for the first time, most of the suffering dissolving in his green eyes.

They made their way inside the mission planning room. She and Gabe took the last bench near the bulkhead or wall. The rest of the SEALs sat closer to Chief Hampton, who was standing at his whiteboard with eraser and colored pen in hand. The PowerPoint on the laptop sat on the planning desk and would be utilized later in the workup on the mission.

Gabe left plenty of room between them because he didn't want talk starting among the team. There were enough innuendos being hurled his way by Hammer and his group, accusing him of being Bay's full-time babysitter. What Hammer failed to understand was that his job entailed getting her trained to be of help on a mission, not a problem thrown into the mix.

Still, as Gabe sat listening to the mission briefing by Doug Hampton, another part of him, his heart, was feeling lighter. Maybe even happy. Bay had a h.e.l.luva way with questions, he'd just discovered. It was as if she had all-terrain radar that could home in on the wound or infection inside a person, ask just the right questions to expose it and then help discharge it by being a good listener. She'd done that for him whether she realized it or not.

Giving her a sideward glance, Gabe saw her dutifully taking notes about the mission. Her lips were pursed, her brow knitted, intently writing in her notebook. What made her beautiful were those soft brown curls at her temples. He ached to tunnel his fingers through that silky, thick ma.s.s. It frustrated him that he found himself wanting Bay even more than before. What had their intimate talk unhinged in him? Gabe didn't know. But he had to get a handle on it d.a.m.n quick.

CHAPTER NINE.

BAY TIREDLY PULLED strands of her hair away from her face. She wove her way through the busy FOB, having served over at the medical dispensary for the first half of her day. Chief Hampton had told her word was getting around they had an 18 Delta combat medic among them. The Navy commander running the medical dispensary had asked for her a.s.sistance when two medevacs flew in carrying six American casualties on board. They didn't have enough personnel and a call went out to her for help. She had aided in saving three men's lives, working frantically with the other doctor and two nurses at the unit. The dispensary was badly understaffed in Bay's opinion.

The sun was beating overhead when she got back to her tent. There, she found a cardboard box sitting on her cot. Brightening, Bay knew it was from her mother, Poppy, and it contained those delicious cookies she'd baked. Her exhaustion dissolved as she unclipped the M-4 off her chest, cleared and safed it and set it in the corner. Then she sat down on the cot and opened the cardboard box.

"Hey, you in there?" Gabe called, sticking his head between the flaps.

"Yes, come on in." Bay hadn't seen him since the briefing yesterday. Smiling, she held up a plastic bag. "Look! My mama sent me those incredible chocolate chip cookies I told you about."

Gabe stood at the opening. Grinning, he said, "Where have you been?"

"Working over at the dispensary. Didn't Chief Hampton tell you?"

"No, but that's all right. We're getting ready to set up for that sniper op tonight."

Opening one of the bags, Bay eased to her feet, walked across the plyboard floor and offered him some of the cookies. "You have to try these."

Inhaling the odor, Gabe smiled and reached into the bag. "They smell great. Thanks."

She saw he took only one. There were two dozen cookies in the bag. "Why not take more?"

"You know, the team might appreciate you sharing them." Gabe took a bite of the cookie. It melted in his mouth. "It would be a nice way to break some of the tension with Hammer and the other guys."

The idea wasn't lost on Bay. "Okay," she said, handing him two more. "How do I do it?"

Gabe had his mouth full of cookie. "When any of us get a package from home, we usually set it on the planning board desk at HQ. That way, as the guys drift in, they see it and can take what they want."

"What if they know it's from me?" she asked, worried as she walked over to the cot. She picked up her weapon, clipped it across her chest, grabbed her boonie hat and threw it on her head. As she took the box, Gabe opened one flap so she could step out. Bay felt that special connection that was always simmering between them.

"They won't care one way or another," he said. "They're animals and they like anything homemade."

Yesterday's discovery of his abusive young childhood had softened her toward Gabe even more. As tough and hard as he was, she'd never forget he'd been harmed by his own father. Bay was mystified why any parent would beat up his child. She wondered how it had played out in Gabe's life. Maybe that was why he was closed up tighter than Fort Knox. There was drive, far more than curiosity, pushing her to know him on a deeper personal level.

Stepping into HQ, Bay noticed most of the SEALs sitting on the benches talking with one another. The coffeepot was in here and she'd discovered that the guys, once they had cleaned their weapons, tended to migrate to the planning room. They all looked up in unison when she entered.

"What's in the box?" Hammer called.

She grinned. "My mama's world-famous chocolate chip cookies. Gabe said you guys share your boxes when they come in, so I'm sharing mine." Bay set it on the planning board and opened it up. Almost instantly, the other SEALs surrounded her, eyes on the prize.

"Chocolate chip?" Hammer said, leaning over her shoulder, peering into the box.

Bay smiled and pulled out the three plastic bags that had two dozen cookies each in them. "The best you ever tasted," she promised. She'd no more than set them at various points on the long table when the men's hands were diving into them, grabbing a many as they could.

Getting out of the way, Bay watched the seven SEALs stuff their faces with her mother's cookies. The looks of sheer pleasure, surprise and glee were written clearly across all their features. She stood near Gabe and watched.

"Hey," Gabe called, "leave some for the LTs and the chief or s.h.i.t is gonna rain down on you animals."

Chuckling, Bay hid her smile behind her hand.

Hammer stood there, chewing and smiling. "First come, first served, bro. It always pays to be a winner. These are good, Doc. Thanks."

Bay felt relief as she stood there watching Hammer close his eyes and simply enjoy the cookie. Maybe...just maybe...they could move their tense relationship to a better place?

"Hey, what smells good?" Hampton called, coming out of his office, sniffing the air.

All the SEALs' heads popped up in unison and looked as the chief sauntered over to the planning table. All appeared guilty, each with at least half a dozen cookies or more in his hands.

Bay watched the unfolding drama. Hampton peered into the box.

"This is empty. What did you animals do with 'em?" he demanded, scowling at the team.

"Hey, first come, first served," Hammer mumbled, words barely distinguishable as he crammed the last of his cookies into his mouth. That way, the chief wasn't going to make a grab for it. Ownership was nine points of the law.

Hampton quickly perused the three emptied plastic bags lying on the table.

The SEALs all had their mouths full, beatific looks written across their faces.

Snorting, Hampton growled, "You bunch of animals. Didn't your mothers ever teach you to share?"

Bay chuckled. Gabe laughed. All the other SEALs just looked at Hampton, huge grins spread across their faces. Each man looked like a chipmunk, cheeks stuffed with cookies.

Throwing his hands on his hips, Hampton read the label on the box that said "cookies" on it. "Oh," he said, looking across the table at Bay, "this explains it."

"Gabe said to bring the box over and share with everyone, Chief," Bay said, unable to hide her smile any longer.

"Yeah, well, Griffin forgot to tell you these guys don't share."

Hammer lifted his hands, feigning surprise. "Hey, Chief, all's fair in love and war...and this is war. Or," he postulated, placing an index finger on his chin, "only winners win...losers lose...."

Snorting again, the chief picked up one of the bags and inhaled the flavor of the cookies still in it. In the SEAL world, it always paid to be a winner. No one wanted to be the loser. "d.a.m.n, these smell good...."

Wiping his hands on his thighs, Hammer grinned wickedly. "Best chocolate chip cookies I've ever had."

Hampton glared at him and threw the bag into the box. "Well, thanks for sharing, Hammer."

The SEAL gave him a wide-eyed innocent look.

The men snickered collectively, exchanging evil grins.

Gabe held up his hand, offering his last cookie to the Chief. "I've got one left, Chief."

Hampton's dark looks dissolved as he raised his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I know how to share," Gabe said, smirking as he handed the cookie off to Hampton.