Summer of Love

by Marie Ferrarella

  “She died, and I couldn’t do anything to save her.”

  “Your captors didn’t help?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t want them to know I was pregnant, because I wasn’t sure how they’d react to an unmarried woman carrying a child. So I hid my condition. It wasn’t hard under the robes. I was in my cell most of the time, and I figured once I delivered, they’d let me keep her, or maybe even let us go.”

  Clint spoke up. “How far along were you when you were captured?”

  “Around three months.” She turned to glance at him. “I lost track of time after a while, but I think she was born around four months into my captivity.”

  Too small. Without the help of modern medicine the baby wouldn’t have had much chance to survive.

  Chelsea continued. “She came in the middle of the night. She was so tiny. And absolutely perfect.” Her fingers caressed the doll. “She never even cried. I held her for a long, long time, praying for her to take a breath.” Her voice broke for a second, but then she continued. “After a while, I knew she was dead, and I was afraid if anyone found out, I’d be killed, too—and I didn’t want anyone other than me touching her. So I tore off a piece of my robe and wrapped her in it, then I scratched a hole in the dirt floor of my cell with my fingernails and buried her. I was rescued less than a week later.”

  A couple more tears trickled free, and Jessi reached over and held her hand, her own vision blurry.

  “I’m so, so sorry, Chelsea.” Her daughter had dealt with all of this by herself. There’d been no one there to help her … no one to comfort her. Her own heart felt ready to shatter in two.

  A box of tissues appeared on the tiny table in front of them. Chelsea took several of them and wiped her eyes and then blew her nose before turning to look at her.

  “Once she was gone, I realized just how alone I was. I couldn’t even mark my baby’s grave. And if I died there, I would be just like her. Dumped in a shallow grave somewhere. No one would even know I existed. After I got home, I started thinking maybe that would be for the best. That the baby should have survived. Not me. That I should be the one forgotten, instead of her.”

  Clint leaned forward. “You wouldn’t have been forgotten, Chelsea. People would have grieved deeply, just like you grieved for your baby. You have a mother who loves you. A grandmother. Comrades in your unit. And you’re right where you should be. You’re here. Alive. Everything you did while in that cell had to be done. It gave you a chance to survive. Gave you a chance to make sure your baby would never be forgotten.

  “If you had died, her memory would have died with you.” He paused, keeping his gaze focused on her. “And yet look at what’s happened. Your mom now knows about her. I know about her. You’ll probably talk to more people about her as you live your life. She won’t be forgotten. Your very survival makes that a certainty.”

  Chelsea seemed to consider his words for a minute, and then nodded as if coming to a decision. “I’d like her to have a grave here in the States. A marker with her name on it.”

  “Of course we’ll do that.” Jessi wondered if the ache in her heart would ever stop. She’d been about to be a grandmother of a baby girl who might have survived, given access to modern medical facilities. But those were things she could never say to Chelsea—would never say to her. They would decide together whether to tell Chelsea’s paternal grandparents. Larry’s parents were still alive, and Jessi and Chelsea kept in touch with them regularly. As for her mother …

  They could think through all that later. The important thing was that Chelsea was talking. Working through things she hadn’t told another soul.

  She had to ask. “Does the father know?”

  “No. I never told him, and there seems to be no point now.” She licked her lips. “And he could get in serious trouble if the truth were made known.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s an officer, and I’m not. We weren’t supposed to get involved with each other to begin with.”

  Jessi shot Clint a glance that was probably just as guilt-filled as she feared. But he wasn’t looking at her. At all.

  “Did you love him?”

  “No. And he didn’t love me. It just happened. Neither of us meant for it to, and we’ve never gotten together again. It was just the one time.”

  God. Chelsea could have been describing exactly what had happened years ago, only with different players. And Chelsea was right about one thing. Larry had found out and the consequences had been disastrous. And so very permanent.

  Her stomach clenched and clenched.

  And unlike Chelsea, she hadn’t learned from that mistake all those years ago. She’d gone right back and done it again.

  Jessi hadn’t been able to resist Clint.

  She never had. He’d been just as taboo as that officer Chelsea had spoken of.

  Chelsea glanced at Clint. “You told me during our first meeting that you were here to help me get through this. So I’m ready to try. I promise to work really hard.”

  Clint stiffened visibly in his seat.

  Chelsea, totally unaware of the strained dynamics in the room, kept on talking. “Did you go through boot camp, Dr. Marks?”

  “I did.” Nothing in his voice betrayed his feelings, but Jessi knew. She knew exactly the struggle going on inside him right now.

  “Then you know a soldier agrees never to leave a wounded comrade behind.”

  He gave a quick nod.

  “I may not be missing a limb or have any visible external injuries except these …” she held out her wrists, showing the scars “… but I am wounded. So please, please don’t leave me behind.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THEY WERE MAKING PROGRESS.

  It came in fits and starts, but the past week had seen Chelsea come further than she had since she’d been at the hospital.

  And Clint was still on her case, even though in his heart of hearts he knew he shouldn’t be. But Chelsea’s words had reached to the heart of who he was as a soldier, and he knew that he would have wished more than anything that someone had been there for his father. But they hadn’t. He’d dealt with his demons alone. That’s not what he wanted for Chelsea.

  Besides, since that session, Jessi had been careful to keep her distance, speaking to him only when he asked her something during joint sessions or when he saw her in the halls at the VA hospital. It was like she was walking on eggshells around him.

  Well, so was he, around her. And the edges of those shells were beginning to feel damn uncomfortable beneath his feet.

  But as long as he could maintain things for another few weeks, they should be fine. Chelsea had gotten her wish not to be abandoned “like her baby.” And she was gradually starting to believe that none of what had happened had been her fault. She’d soon be discharged and start doing her sessions on a weekly outpatient basis—which meant he’d be seeing even less of Jessi.

  And that made his chest tighten in ways he’d never thought possible. In fact, he hadn’t felt this way since …

  Since the day he’d left her twenty-two years ago.

  Just like he’d leave her again once his transfer papers went through.

  And, yes, he was prepared to put in for one, even though a little voice inside of him whispered that when this was all over—when Chelsea was no longer his patient—he could ask Jessi out on a real date and woo her the way he’d once dreamed about.

  Except nothing had changed. Not really.

  He was still not the right man for her. He was still too cautious—too afraid to let himself be with any one woman.

  Besides, Jessi had already experienced the worst parts of coming from a military family, having a daughter who’d served and come back with serious issues. Did she really need to be involved with a man who dealt with wounded soldiers day after day? Wouldn’t it just remind her of all she’d gone through with Chelsea?

  Never had he felt the weight of responsibility more than he did right now.

  “D
r. Marks?” One of the nurses popped her head into the room. “Peter Summers just called. He’s asking for a refill of his methadone prescription.”

  Another complicated case.

  He sighed. Peter’s maintenance dosage of the drug was dependent on his showing up for his sessions, the last two of which he’d missed. A longtime addict, methadone was meant to replace cravings. The treatment regimen was highly regulated and required sticking to a precise schedule. That meant outpatient sessions and progress reports. Clint would have followed those guidelines even without the corresponding laws, just because it was the right thing to do.

  Hell, it didn’t seem like he’d been too worried about doing the right thing when he’d been rolling around on Jessi’s couch.

  And thoughts like that would get him nowhere.

  “Would you mind calling him and setting up a new appointment? Tell him he can’t have a refill without coming in.”

  Consequences. Larry’s tragic death came to mind. The consequences of his fling with Jessi.

  Well, someone else besides him might as well learn the meaning of the word.

  “Will do.” The nurse jotted something down onto the paper in her hand. “Oh, and I didn’t know if you knew, but there’s someone waiting to see you. At least, I think she is. She’s come down the hallway and almost knocked on your door twice before going back to the waiting room and just sitting there.”

  He glanced at his planner. He wasn’t scheduled to see anyone for another couple of hours. “Any idea who it is?”

  “It’s Chelsea Riley’s mother.”

  His throat tightened. Jessi was here to see him? Had almost knocked on his door twice?

  “Is she still here?”

  The nurse nodded. “She’s in the main waiting area.”

  He pushed his chair back and climbed to his feet. “Has she been to see Chelsea yet?”

  “No, that was the strange thing. She came straight here without asking anyone anything.” She shrugged. “I thought you might like to know.”

  “Thank you.” He shoved his arms into his sports jacket. “If I’m not in my office when you get hold of Peter Summers, could you leave me note with his next session date? Or let me know what he said?”

  “Sure thing.”

  With that, the nurse popped back out of the room, leaving him to struggle with whether to go down to the waiting area and talk to Jessi or to pretend he knew nothing about it and either wait for her to come to him or to leave, whichever she decided.

  Consequences, Clint. You have to do more than talk the talk—you have to be willing to walk the walk. Even if it means walking away.

  Despite his inner lecture, he wandered down the hallway—like the idiot he was—and found her in the waiting area, just like Maria had said.

  Jessi’s head was down, her hands clasped loosely between her jeans-clad knees. She could have been praying. Hell, maybe that’s what he should be doing right now. Because just seeing her was like a fist to the stomach. A hard one. Hard enough to leave him breathless and off balance.

  And all those emotions he’d worked so hard to suppress boiled up to the surface.

  The waiting room was full, only five or six seats empty in the whole place and neither of them next to where Jessi was perched. He moved in, catching the eye of an older man, who, although gaunt, still sat at stiff attention. Clint nodded to him, receiving the same in return. He finally got to where Jessi was seated.

  “Jess?”

  She glanced up, the worry in her green eyes immediately apparent. She popped to her feet. “I was just coming to see you.”

  “I know. One of the nurses told me.”

  Her teeth came down on her lower lip. “I figured it must look weird. I just couldn’t get up the nerve to …” She glanced around, bringing back the fact that the room was full and now more than one or two sets of eyes were following their exchange with interest.

  “I’ll take you back to the office,” he said. “And I’ll run down to the cafeteria and get us some coffee.” He wasn’t sure how smart it was to be alone with her. But as long as he kept the door unlocked, they’d be fine. At least, Clint hoped so.

  He went to the cafeteria and ordered their coffees. She liked hers with milk, something he shouldn’t remember, but did. He dumped a packet of sugar into his own brew and headed back to his office.

  When he pushed through the door, he noted she still wore the same haunted expression she’d had earlier. Setting her coffee on the desk in front of her, he went around to the other side and slid into his office chair. “What’s going on, Jess?”

  “It’s Mom. I—I felt like I had to tell her about … about Chelsea’s baby, since she and my mom are close.” She blinked, maybe seeing something in his face that made her explain further. “I’d already talked to Chelsea about it. She knew I was going to tell her.”

  “And how did your mom react?”

  Her clenched fingers pressed against her chin. “That’s just it. She’s in the hospital. And I don’t know what to tell Chelsea. I know she’s going to ask as soon as I go in there.”

  Shock spurted through his system. “What happened?”

  “I think I told you, she hasn’t been quite herself lately. Anyway, when she heard the story, she seemed to be handling it okay, then she suddenly started feeling a weird pressure in her chest.” Jessi blew out a breath. “It turns out one of her arteries is 90 percent blocked. She needs bypass surgery. She’d been having symptoms for about a month, but didn’t want to worry me.”

  He immediately went to reach for her hand then stopped when Jessi slid hers off the top of the desk and into her lap.

  Keeping her distance. Asking for his professional opinion.

  Of course that’s what it was. She’d already told him what she needed to. She wanted to know whether or not she should tell her daughter about what had happened. She hadn’t come to him for comfort or anything else.

  Just medical advice about her daughter … his patient.

  Right now, though, the last thing he wanted to do was think this thing through. What he wanted was to get out of his chair, walk around the desk and grab her to his chest, holding her while she poured out her heart.

  Impulse control.

  With his recent track record, holding her was exactly what he shouldn’t do.

  He took a sip of his coffee and let the heat wash down his throat and pool in his stomach, adding to the acid already there. “I think you should tell her the truth about your mom’s condition. Maybe not the events preceding the attack but that her doctor found a blockage in an artery and has decided it needs to be addressed as quickly as possible.”

  “So you don’t think I should tell her about Mom knowing what happened with the baby?”

  “Not unless she asks you point-blank. The truth might eventually come out, but I don’t think you need to hurry into any kind of explanation right now. That can wait until after the surgery. When your mom—and Chelsea—are better.”

  The truth might eventually come out.

  Great advice, Marks, considering your and Jessi’s current situation. And what had happened to her late husband once that truth had indeed come out.

  None of that mattered at the moment. “When is the procedure scheduled?”

  “They want to do it as soon as possible. This afternoon, in fact.”

  He sat back in his seat. “Maybe it’s good that this happened when it did. At least you were with your mom at the time and knew what to do.”

  “Did I, Clint? What was I thinking, just blurting something like that out?”

  “You said she’d been having symptoms for a while. Besides, I’m sure you didn’t ‘blurt it out.’ You were doing what you thought was best for your mom and for Chelsea.”

  Like he was doing, by continuing to treat Jessi’s daughter? Actually, yes. Nothing had happened to suggest that this couldn’t all work out for the best as far as Chelsea was concerned.

  “I just never dreamed it might lead to—”
r />   “I know.” He paused. “Do you want me to be there when they do the procedure?”

  “Don’t you have patients?”

  Not a direct refusal. More like a hesitation … trying to feel him out, maybe?

  “I have one more to see in about an hour and a half. What time is her surgery scheduled for?”

  “Five.” Her hands came back onto the table and wrapped around her mug.

  “I’ll be done in plenty of time to get to the hospital.” He waited until her eyes came up and met his. “Unless you don’t want me there.”

  There, if she wanted reassurance, he would give it to her. And he had a feeling she could use a friend right now, even if they could never be anything more than that.

  “I’d actually like you to be there, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Of course it’s not.”

  This time her fingers crept across the desk and touched the top of his hand. He turned his over so it was palm up and curled his fingers around hers.

  “Thank you so much, Clint. I know it’s hard after everything that went on between us.”

  “Not hard at all.”

  They sat there in silence for a few long seconds, hands still gripping each other’s. Only now he’d laced his fingers through hers, his thumb stroking over her skin.

  A few minutes later she left—with his promise to be at the hospital before her mom’s procedure.

  And somehow in that period of time he was going to give himself a stern pep talk about what he should and shouldn’t do as he sat with her in the waiting room.

  And all he could do was hope that—for once—his heart decided to cooperate.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JESSI PACED THE waiting room of the hospital an hour into her mom’s surgery, her chaotic thoughts charging from one subject to another. Her daughter had been so upset by the news that she hadn’t asked if Jessi had told her about the baby.

  Or asked any deeper questions about why Jessi had told Clint before she’d told her.

  That was good, because the last thing she needed to do was heap one more tricky situation onto the pile.