by T. I. Lowe
They’d spent most every evening after work for the past week exploring the newness of their relationship. He seemed to favor snuggling with her on the couch, even dozing off a few times. Last night’s nap ended with him screaming out. He apologized profusely, but she told him to knock it off.
What was unnerving about it was the haunted look in his eyes afterward. Of course she asked again if he suffered from PTSD, but he said no, the nightmares only showed up when he was stressed, and his therapist had gone over coping mechanisms with him before discharging him. Opal was relieved that he’d gone through therapy, but she didn’t feel any better because that meant he was stressed, and that made her wonder if she was the cause of it.
“You listening to me?” His gravelly voice growled the question, snapping Opal out of her thoughts.
She narrowed her eyes and gave him her best mean face. “What?”
“We can handle this one of two ways,” Lincoln said, returning her mean face. Or that’s what he was going for, but his lips refused and kept tilting into a playful grin.
Opal fought off her own grin and bucked against him. “I’m a grown woman. I’ll handle things however I see fit. You don’t boss me around.” She tried again to wiggle from underneath him but his hands clamped against her sides once more, sending her into another fit of screeching giggles. “Stop tickling me!”
“Tell me yes and I will.” Lincoln dug into her sides again until Opal squealed for mercy.
“Fine! We’ll waste what I cooked and order something, you big ogre!” She bucked against him again, and this time he stopped tickling her and rolled over. Both lay sprawled out on the worn wood floors of her living room, staring at the whitewashed-plank ceiling while panting. She reached over and slapped him, but before her hand could retreat, he grabbed it.
“What was that for?” Lincoln asked, pulling her hand close and delivering a kiss to the back of it.
“For tickling me,” Opal said breathlessly, still trying to catch her breath. “You’re mean.”
“Not mean.” Lincoln flipped her hand and placed a kiss on the palm. “And you know it.”
Sure, she knew it, loving this playful side of Lincoln Cole. He’d let the grumpy facade slip since that monumental kiss last week, revealing a big ole teddy bear underneath. Funny how little Miss Dalma had been right about him all along.
Opal and Lincoln kept their distance during working hours, but as soon as the store closed for the day, they morphed into forms resembling lovesick teenagers. Who knew holding hands, snuggling on the couch, or wrestling around her living room floor would have been so appealing? It was beyond appealing and all-out overwhelming, but Opal couldn’t quite let go of the fear of him changing his mind on the idea of them as a couple. Time would tell, she supposed, but in the meantime the only thing to do was enjoy the gift of his affections.
“Next time you’re gonna let me choose supper. Fair is fair.”
Lincoln rolled his head in Opal’s direction, giving her a perfect view of his handsome face. He’d trimmed his beard, so those full lips were on better display as he pouted them out. “As long as it’s nothing nasty.”
“Our definitions of this word differ.” That was something else she feared. What if Lincoln grew tired of her weird approach to odd food or fashion or life in general? She shook off the anxiety those thoughts conjured and scooted over until she was close enough to lay a kiss on those pouty lips. “You like me, right, Lincoln?”
He closed the gap between them when she leaned away. After he finished laying a perfectly convincing kiss on her, he murmured, “I think I’ve made that clear at this point.” With one more kiss, this time quite chaste in comparison, Lincoln rolled to a sitting position and then slowly rose to his feet to help her do the same. “Now, as I was saying before you got all mouthy, we are tossing that concoction in the pot and ordering Chinese or a pizza.”
Opal followed him to her kitchen and watched what she had thought was a stellar attempt at making sukiyaki go into the trash. At least Lincoln was direct about things he didn’t see eye to eye with her on, like her cooking skills. That gave her a little bit of hope to combat the fear of rejection. Perhaps when he grew tired of her quirks and was ready to move on, he’d be up-front with that as well.
As Lincoln stood at the sink, scrubbing the rubbish stuck to the bottom of the pot, Opal sidled up behind him and wrapped her arms around his lean yet solid waist and held tightly. “Thank you.”
Lincoln kept washing the pot as he looked over his shoulder. “For what?”
“For being honest about not liking my food. And for kissing me. I really appreciate the kissing.”
His chuckle was so deep that Opal felt it reach her where she clung to him. “You can show your appreciation by ordering delivery. I’m starving.” He finished rinsing the pot and placed it on the dish rack before drying his hands and turning around to face her. “And after that, I wouldn’t mind kissing you some more.”
Grinning up at him, Opal ran her fingertips through his dark beard and giggled. “Sounds like a plan.”
Opal couldn’t help but wish for the plan to become a more permanent part of her life. But until Lincoln dealt with whatever problems he had with his family and made peace with them, there was no use in trying to move their relationship any further. A few times, words almost slipped out demanding that he open up to her about what he was hiding from, but she held them back. She knew they would probably make her ornery soldier turn tail and flee as fast as his gimpy leg would carry him.
13
Weakness was never an acceptable role for a Cole man to portray. If any ailment was to pop up, the knee-jerk response was always to buck up and take it like a man. Lincoln wanted to live up to the expectations of his father even if they were estranged. That weakness in his leg, though . . . he’d tried bucking up and taking it like a man. He’d even hoped getting lost in the newness of his relationship with Opal would ease the pain. No matter how many sweet stolen kisses he’d collected from her in the last few weeks, the nagging weakness wasn’t getting any better. Lincoln had given it his all but—
“Did you hear me, Mr. Cole?” The doctor’s voice pulled Lincoln out of his thoughts about that certain redhead and pushed him back to the blaring reality of being in the doctor’s office getting news he didn’t want to hear.
Lincoln glanced up from his clasped hands and squinted his eyes at Dr. Rabin. “Sorry, what?”
“I’ve spoken with your orthopedic surgeon, and we both feel it’s in your best interest.”
“So you want to cut my leg open just to poke around?”
The doctor tossed the rubber gloves and pulled up Lincoln’s file on the laptop. “Your mobility isn’t progressing as predicted. After discussing this with Dr. Sykes, we suspect there may be some shrapnel causing the recurring infection, and there may be some other possible improvements to be made since the last surgery.”
Lincoln exhaled sharply. Another surgery would have him back to square one. “I just ain’t all that inclined to having my leg sliced open again.”
Dr. Rabin typed something in Lincoln’s file before looking up, his bifocals perched on the end of his nose. “Our goal is to get your leg to a healthier state. If not, amputation may be the only option.”
“Oh,” Lincoln mumbled, the wind knocked out of his sails at that one word. He looked around the room, wishing his meddling pixie were there to hold his hand, but she had prior obligations at her church. She had offered to tell them she couldn’t make it, but Lincoln had insisted that she go since he knew how important her church was to her. He’d grown dependent on her presence in such a short time, yet another reason he felt so weak that day. All two hundred and fifteen pounds of him were on the verge of falling apart, and he knew that if Opal were there, he could handle it much better. “But I thought swimming . . .” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’ve been swimming the last month . . .”
“And that’s great, but we still aren’t where we need to be. Y
our pain level shouldn’t be a constant seven or eight. Our goal was to have it down to around a three by now.”
“I’ve been managing.”
The doctor slowly shook his head. “I’m putting you on another round of antibiotics for the third time in the last two months for an infection in your leg, and your limp is more prominent than it was a month ago. Son, that’s not managing.” He placed his hand on Lincoln’s shoulder, but the gesture offered no comfort. “I’ve had several conference calls with Dr. Sykes. He’s the best of the best and knows your leg better than I do. He and I both agree you need to go back to Beaufort so he can perform the surgery, but I’ll be honored to assist him in helping to give a war hero a better quality of life.”
Lincoln felt the heat rise up his neck and cheeks. “I’m not sure I deserve such a title.”
“I’ve heard there are about a dozen living, breathing soldiers who would say you deserve that title and then some. Seriously, schedule the operation and I’ll be there.”
To say yes would mean Lincoln had to go back to Beaufort and face the mess he’d made before running away. The fevered hurt in his knee seemed to travel up to his chest just thinking about it.
“Give it some thought, and when we do your follow-up next week, let me know your decision.” Dr. Rabin typed something into the laptop but paused to glance at Lincoln. “I’m sending a prescription for the antibiotic to the pharmacy. You need something for pain?” When Lincoln shook his head, the doctor let out a snuff of laughter. “You are one stubborn man.”
Lincoln couldn’t disagree with that statement. He promised to give the doctor his answer on surgery at the next appointment. “Thanks for coming in to see me on a Saturday.”
“No problem. You served our country and now have to live with what that sacrifice has cost you, so it’s my honor. Glad you didn’t put it off.”
Lincoln snorted. “A certain someone wouldn’t let me.”
The doctor joined him in a chuckle. “Tell Opal I said hey.”
“Will do.” He hurried out of the office as quickly as his fevered leg would allow and, against the doctor’s orders, headed to the church festival instead of going home and propping his leg up.
The church normally held an annual festival in October, but the hurricane had canceled those plans without permission. So they decided to hold a sweetheart festival instead. Seemed the entire coastal town was much like Opal when it came to bothersome circumstances. They didn’t let anything keep them down for long before choosing a way around the obstacle life pushed in their way.
He pulled up to the church and took in all the glittery hearts and streamers dancing in the air. Everyone appeared to be dressed in the Valentine’s theme colors of white, pink, and red. He glanced down at his hunter-green thermal shirt, knowing Opal would have something to say about it, but it didn’t deter him from stepping out of the Jeep and going on a search to find her.
Among the dessert booths stood his pixie wearing a pink shirt with the words All You Need Is Love splashed across the front in silver glitter. Red tights with a pink tutu completed the outfit. A smile tugged at his lips as he moved closer and leaned to the side to find pink high-top Converses on her tiny feet.
“Please tell me you didn’t make any of these treats.” Lincoln quirked an eyebrow while moving his gaze from her cute getup to the bounty of chocolate goodies.
Opal giggled. “I dipped strawberries into plain ole boring dark chocolate, just as Josie demanded.”
Lincoln inspected the three-tiered platter of berries and was right impressed. “They’re beautiful.”
“That was all Jo. She painted them with the white chocolate after I dipped them.”
Opal plucked one with swirling white hearts from the platter and held it to his lips and grinned wide when he only took a tentative bite. After a few thoughtful chews, he leaned toward her hand and snatched the rest of the berry in one bite.
Before she could make another comment, Lincoln grabbed her hand and pulled her around the side of the building. After he glanced both ways and found the coast clear, he bent down and caressed her lips with his and found the sweet taste of cocoa and berries. “Hmm . . . I think chocolate-dipped strawberries are my new favorite food.”
He went in for another kiss, but Opal dodged his lips and giggled. “For someone who doesn’t too much like me, you sure do like kissing me.”
“We both know me not liking you is just hogwash.” Lincoln took hold of one of her soft curls and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re all glittery. My own little fairy.”
Her green eyes narrowed. “Stop sweet-talking me and tell me what the doctor said. You have another infection in that leg, don’t you?”
He groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “Can’t we just kiss?”
Opal pushed against his chest, so he reluctantly took a step back. “Linc—”
“Yes. It’s infected. Got an antibiotic, though.” Lincoln rattled off the information in a robotic tone while running a hand through his hair. He omitted the spiel about the surgery, knowing that was a can of conversation he had no desire opening while hiding behind the church.
“And you should stay off it, correct?”
“Yes,” he answered on an exasperated sigh. “But I wanted to see you.” Lincoln needed to see her but chose not to sound as desperate as he actually was. He knew as soon as he allowed Opal to get close enough, he’d grow attached. It was too late to dwell on that now, so he tried wrapping his arms around his newly acquired haven of comfort, but she took a step out of reach.
“You’ve seen me. Now go home.” Opal pointed a pink-tipped finger toward his Jeep.
“What if I wanted to help out here for a while?” He moved in and used his thumb to wipe a tiny speck of chocolate off the corner of her heart-shaped mouth.
“That’s sweet, but you need to go home and prop that leg up.” She gently shoved him. “I’ll bring supper over in a few hours.”
The promise of food and a visit made her brush-off feel less irksome, so Lincoln nodded instead of protesting further. “As long as you bring some of your strawberries.”
Her entire face beamed and it made a nice warmth flood his chest. “You got it. Now . . .” Opal pointed again. “Home and rest.”
Lincoln leaned down and brushed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”
By the time he picked up the medicine and had propped up in his favorite chair, Lincoln’s body was spent and more fevered than earlier. His phone alerted him to a new message. Hoping it was Opal saying she was on the way, he quickly fished it out of his pocket but cringed when he looked at the screen. Hesitantly he hit Play and listened to the voice mail.
“Hey, sweetheart . . .” His mom’s voice trailed off, sounding unsure. “I . . . we miss you and wanted to check in. I haven’t heard from you since . . . and, well . . . You should have come home for Christmas or at least called. The holiday just wasn’t the same without you . . .” His mom hesitated and cleared her throat before whispering, “Son, it’s time we fix this. I . . . we love you.” Her heavy breathing filled the line for a few moments before the voice message ended.
Lincoln placed the phone on the end table and dropped his head into his hands. If his mom’s words weren’t enough of a reminder that he needed to face what was waiting for him in Beaufort, the angry heat and nagging twinge in his leg definitely drove the point home. He popped a few ibuprofens, hoping they would ease the ache in his leg and the pressure of a nasty headache that was building at a rapid pace.
While listening to the ocean waves rushing the shore just outside, Lincoln concentrated on taking even breaths. As the tears built behind his closed eyes, he began to pray. I’m broken. My family is broken. Please, God, help me mend this mess . . . He continued to pray until the tears subsided and he dozed off.
The sweet scent of honey mingled with the savory smell of fried seafood, and it was such a delicious combination it had Lincoln’s eyes slowly opening and his mouth watering.
He blinked a few times to find his fairy perched on the side of his chair, her smile soft and concerned.
“You okay, sleepyhead?” Opal whispered as though she feared startling him.
“I am now.” He reached over and pulled her onto his lap, mindful of avoiding his bum knee. The pain still shot down his leg, so he shifted her until all of her weight was placed on his right side. She squirmed, seeming to want to be let up, but Lincoln only wrapped his arms more firmly around her and held on for dear life.
Opal sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “You miss me or something?”
“I did.”
“That’s just too hard to believe. Was it only a few weeks ago you were doing everything in your might to run away from me?”
“’Cause I’m an idiot.” He tucked her closer, needing some reassurance that he truly wasn’t alone.
“I won’t argue with you about that.” Opal began threading her fingers through his hair, instantly soothing some of his aches. “I’ve brought you a flounder sandwich and some onion rings.”
Lincoln swallowed just as his stomach rumbled. “Feed me, woman.”
Opal wiggled out of his lap and grabbed the to-go containers. They spent a while eating with her filling him in on the festival. “They raised a good bit of money for the homeless shelter.”
“That’s good. I like how y’all pick different groups to support each year.” He took another bite of his savory sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “What will they do with the money?”
“They plan on buying some hygiene supplies.” Opal munched on an onion ring, looking a little lost in thought.
“What is it?” Lincoln asked before taking a sip of his tea.
She shrugged. “I have a pile of old bunk bed frames in storage I scored from an Air Force base that was shutting down. Been thinking about doing a fund-raiser where you and I restore the beds and have the community donate mattresses for them. And then we donate them to the shelter.”
