by Hinze, Vicki
Having no answer, she focused on what she did know. Talking about nightmares made them more real and they were powerful enough, frightening enough without added fuel. She had to starve them. Nodding to C.D., she reached to the bedside table for a glass of water and took a sip, focusing on the clock on the wall. “It’s two in the morning. Why are you still here?”
C.D. smiled, charming even now, knowing she hated him. “You need me.”
She did. Sam had deserted her. He’d moved on with his life and had left her behind. Dead and buried. “You’ve had a million women after you your whole life,” she said. “Didn’t you come home and marry one of them?”
“No, I didn’t.” He lowered his gaze to her chin.
She fluffed her pillows and leaned back against them, shaking off the vivid images trying to stay put in her mind. “Then what did you do—after you mourned me?”
“While.”
“What?” The room was dark, except for the amber glow of the light above her hospital bed. It spilled light onto them, but left the rest of the room in shadowed darkness.
“While I mourned you,” he said. “I didn’t stop, Katie. After the crash, I spent a lot of time in hospitals. Three surgeries, and then what seemed like a lifetime of physical therapy. The knee locks up, so I limp.” He lifted the cane. “This helps.”
“Can it be fixed?”
“No.” He shrugged. “Once we knew that, well, there’s not much use for an air force pilot in my condition, so I medically retired. Then I bought a little bar on the bay—Top Flight. It’s right outside the base’s main gate. I bought some stock and stuff, and then two years ago, three cottages on the property next door to the bar went up for sale, so I bought them as rentals. Tourist season goes just about year round here, so they do well.”
“I can’t believe it.” She looked at him as if he’d sprouted two heads. “This is so not you, C.D. It’s all far too tame.”
“After losing you, I needed tame.”
They’d been so close. Not romantically, but soul to soul. Finishing each other’s thoughts, knowing each other’s minds and hearts and hopes and dreams and desires. She’d felt that acute sense of unbearable loss, too. “I still hate you.” She held his hand and squeezed. “But I’m glad you’re back in my life.”
He smiled. “Me, too.”
Weepy, tears gathered on her lashes, blurring her vision. “Sam’s remarried. I just can’t wrap my mind around that.”
C.D. sighed. “Well, Angel, he might have gotten remarried, but technically speaking he’s still married to you.”
“That’s right.” Katie sucked in a sharp breath. “So what does that mean? Do you know?”
“According to the Paxton legal beagles, it means his marriage to Blair will be set aside. Beyond that, only he and you women can sort it all out.” C.D. leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her temple. “But that’s nothing for you to worry about tonight. You can’t fix it alone.”
She turned her face to his chest and inhaled his scent, drawing it deep inside her. “I might hate you, but I still adore you, too.”
He stood and took her into his arms, hugged her tightly. “I adore you, too, Angel.”
They talked nonstop about anything and everything and eventually stood back to chest at the window, his arms wound around her middle, and watched the sun rise. Katie hadn’t seen the sun rise in years.
“As beautiful as you remembered?” C.D. asked, his throat thick, his voice husky.
“Even prettier,” she managed to admit, though it was hard to recall that she could voice an opinion without fear of repercussion. She didn’t have to be on guard and strong and avoid giving anyone any information they could later use against her. A prisoner quickly learned that in enemy hands anything could be a weapon. Anything liked or disliked or even merely appreciated. Only indifference was safe.
It would take time to adjust to not living that way. Even longer, she feared, to not think that way anymore.
Feeling better about her situation, though only God knew why, Katie leaned her head back against C.D.’s shoulder and whispered, “Thank you for being here for me.” She swallowed hard, forced herself to turn and look him in the eyes. The tenderness she saw there had her lifting a hand, caressing his face. “Thank you for holding me, too.” She blinked hard and fast. “I didn’t know how badly I needed to be held.”
“I’ll tell you a secret, Angel.” He touched a fingertip to the tip of her nose. “I needed to hold you, too,” he confessed. “I needed to know this is real. You really are here with me.”
A light tap on the door claimed her attention. “Yes?”
It swung open. “Good morning.” Ashley walked in smiling. “You two been up talking all night?”
“Some of it,” Katie said. “I slept a lot, too, though I doubt C.D. did.”
Ashley checked him out. “You look good to me.”
He gave her his best lady-killer smile.
“Watch him,” Katie warned. “He’ll sneak in and steal your heart. You won’t even know what hit you.”
Ashley laughed. “I can see that potential in him.” She turned to Katie. “After… what happened yesterday, Dr. Firestone wants to talk with you.”
“Dr. Firestone?”
“The psychiatrist,” Ashley reminded Katie. “Just to make sure you’re all right.”
“Can’t you just tell him I’m fine?” She couldn’t talk to him or tell him anything. Not sure what was real or imagined, she didn’t dare to tell him anything. If she did, she could die of old age in this room.
“Are you refusing to see him?” Ashley asked, looking worried.
“Yes.”
“No.” C.D. stepped in. “Katie, just talk to him and let him see that you’re fine. This is a military hospital. The man’s got squares to fill or someone’s going to be crawling his back, saying he’s not doing his job. You know how it works. Say or don’t say whatever you want, but go.” He shrugged. “Listening to people gripe and whine all day every day makes his life miserable enough without him getting his back crawled, too.”
“Oh, all right. All right, I’ll go.” She frowned at C.D. “I have to tell you, I was hoping you’d grown out of your nag-me-into-everything stage, but I guess you’re never going to get past it, are you?”
“While there’s life, there’s hope.” He pulled his lips back from his teeth in an exaggerated smile. “Keep working on it.”
She rolled her gaze. “I’ll talk to Firestone, Ashley.” Katie agreed, yet still grumbled and groused. “Just this once—but he is not getting inside my head, C.D. Quade.” No one was forcing her to expose her underbelly so they could pity her or judge her or condemn her—or lock her up in some mental hospital until she knew for sure what happened and what she only thought had happened. No way.
Images of an interrogation room at the prison camp flashed through her mind. The room, stark and empty, save one chair. The oppressive heat and lack of circulation pressed down on her. The smell of perspiration, the iron scent of blood, and the strong stench of urine. The demonic Lieutenant Ustead, leaning against the stone wall, eating chicken that had her starving stomach growling and her salivating. He took perverse pleasure in pretending to show her compassion, holding a newspaper clipping he wouldn’t let her see. I’m sorry to have to tell you that two men broke into your home, Captain Slater. Your children were there alone. Your son Jake was blinded so that he couldn’t identify the invaders. Your daughter, Molly, was beaten to death. Your husband later returned from the hospital and found them. The guilt was too great. He committed suicide…
Ustead had known that her family was Katie’s deepest vulnerability, and he’d mercilessly used that knowledge to hurt her. She hadn’t known whether or not to believe him, of course, but the haunting images tortured her just the same. Was that exchange a dream? Or had it happened? She didn’t know.
The next time she’d been dragged into the interrogation room, she hadn’t said a word. Not one. Ustead, frustrated by his i
nability to break her, had beaten her to within an inch of her life. And—dreams or actual events—the same thing had happened the time after, and the time after that, until a miracle occurred.
Determined to reduce her to screams, Ustead decided to rape her. She didn’t move or utter a sound, and his temper exploded. He threw her against a stone wall, cursing her, telling her only a woman wicked to her bones wouldn’t resist, telling her all the vile things he was going to do to punish her . . . and General Amid heard him.
Like the knight he’d been to her in returning her family photo, he came in, immediately grasped what was happening, and shot Ustead square in the chest.
Her torturer died at her feet.
That had to have happened. Her flight suit still bore the stains of splattered blood. Yes, yes, it had happened. And then General Amid had put his men on notice. She was, like them, a solider, and she deserved to be treated with the respect they would wish if their roles were reversed.
Under his protection, the guards still tormented her—their idea of respect and hers stood worlds apart—but she didn’t think she had been severely beaten or raped again. Or been taken back to the interrogation room. There were no nightmares or flashes of images in her mind that she didn’t directly associate with his murder. None like those after then.
That was fourteen months and three days after she’d been taken captive, or so General Amid had told her. She’d lost track of time due to days of her eyes being swollen closed from non-severe beatings.
It was the last time anyone other than General Amid had spoken a civil word to her.
“Katie?” C.D. touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
She shook off the memories of the past and looked over at him, doing her best to sound convincing. Hard, when the images still burned in her retinas like super-imposed monsters bent on destroying her. “I’m fine.”
C.D. didn’t believe her; she saw it in his eyes. But to his credit, he didn’t push.
“Thanks for agreeing to see Dr. Firestone.” Ashley smiled her thanks to C.D. “Being the sweetheart he is, Katie, he made getting you to him my primary duty.”
“I know you’re sweet on him, Ash, but he’s still not getting inside my head,” Katie warned again. She didn’t even want to get inside her head.
“He’ll be relieved to hear it.” C.D. said, looking and sounding totally confident. “What?” He challenged their skeptic looks. “The man’s got to get tired of getting into peoples’ heads.”
Katie frowned but caught the twinkle in C.D.’s eye. Endearing, the lengths he went to, trying to make her feel normal. She still hated him, but she really did love him, too.
“Do you need a wheelchair?” Ashley asked, holding out a robe. “Or are you up to walking?”
“I’ll walk.” Too grateful she still had legs, Katie crawled out of bed. “For the record, C.D., I let you win this one. But you put everyone around here short of God on notice. Either I see my kids today, or I’m going to take this place apart and walk out.” She shrugged into the robe, cinched it at her waist, then lifted a pointed fingertip. “I swear it on my wings, C.D. I’m done waiting.” She lifted a pointed finger. “And I mean it. On my wings.”
He winked. “I’m all over it, Angel.”
Grumbling, she walked out of her room and down the hall.
“He’s crazy about you,” Ashley said from beside her.
“He’s crazy. Period,” Katie said. “But I adore him. I still hate him for leaving me, but I adore him.” Her anger at him was subsiding, and frankly she was grateful for it. She had too much anger and upset at too many people rumbling around inside her taking up space. If she really wanted to reclaim her life, she had to let everything go to make room for positive stuff. How? She wasn’t sure. But maybe it happened on everything with everyone like it was happening with C.D. The bad stuff just dwindled a thimbleful at a time as other feelings came around and pushed in.
And maybe that was a good thing. She’d have to think about it later. Now, Ashley was waiting for Katie to say something about C.D.
“The truth is he’s been the best friend I’ve had in my whole life.” His confession to her spilled out. “And as much as I hate him for leaving me, he hates himself even more.”
“I guess he has some things to work through and figure out, too.”
“I guess so.”
“Well, at least you have each other to help you do it.” Ashley turned the corner and pressed the button for the elevator.
The light came on. “True, and that’s important.” After all the years of isolation, Katie Slater knew the value of having someone.
* * *
Dr. Firestone met Katie in the hallway and walked her into his office. “I’m glad you decided to come.”
She glanced over at him. “C.D. reminded me that you have squares to fill to keep people off your back.” She hiked her chin. “I have nothing against you personally, Dr. Firestone, and I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“I appreciate that.” He waved to a chair in his tidy office of a sofa, two chairs and a desk. “Please, have a seat.”
A candy dish full of foil-wrapped Hershey’s kisses sat on the desk edge within easy reach. Her mouth watering, she sat in the nearest chair. “I still don’t want to discuss the past.”
“No problem.” He sat down behind his desk, rocked back and forth in his seat. The chair’s springs squeaked in a familiar way that appealed to her. “Just tell me you’re not pretending nothing happened.”
“No mortal has that much imagination.” She folded her hands in her lap, swearing she wouldn’t reach into that candy dish. “When I was taken prisoner, I knew what to expect. And I knew that to come out on the other side of it, I had to be realistic about it. I don’t deny what happened, Doctor. I believe that if I focus on it, then the captors not only stole that time of my life from me, but the time I spend focusing on it now, too.” She swept her hair back with a steady hand. “I’m just not willing to give them anymore. For me, it’s over. They’ve gotten all they’re getting. It’s that simple.” Simple? Did she honestly just say simple?
“But you’re coping with what happened?”
“Does one have any other choice?” Cope, or let it drive you insane. Those were the only options. When being held prisoner, insanity appealed, but not now. Not with freedom within reach.
That which is endured is conquered.
He paused. “Some people in your position go through Stockholm’s syndrome—”
“I’m familiar with it, and not a chance. These men were merciless enemies through and through. I have not confused the issue.” General Amid might be an exception. I couldn’t shoot him. He protected me, treated me with respect, and he put me in that market so the Frenchman would see me. He wanted me rescued before he transferred. But the rest of them? “Stockholm Syndrome? Not hardly. I could rip out their hearts with my bare hands and not even blink.” She wouldn’t, but she could, which meant she had a lot of work to do on herself. She didn’t want to hate them. Hating them took too much energy, gave them too much power over her. Let it go, Katie.
She heard the still, small voice inside issue the warning. Heard and listened. I know. I’m trying. It’s hard, but I am trying.
Dr. Firestone reclaimed her attention. “So there are no physical symptoms manifesting as a result of your treatment there, then?”
A very polite way of asking if she’d contracted STDs or symptoms of AIDs or gotten pregnant. “I’m fine.” Deliberately vague with no intention of admitting she’d been violated, she stared at him and held it until he looked away.
Frowning down at his hands, he hesitated. “Katie, I’m sorry about what happened yesterday with Sam.” He looked up at her. “It wasn’t the way I would have told you…”
His regret was genuine, and his remorse was written all over his face. “It’s not your fault or Dr. Muldoon’s. Sam is—” She started to defend him as she always had but couldn’t. Now she saw him and his actions in a diffe
rent light. Still in a loving light, but one less rosy and more clear. “Sam.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t the homecoming dreams are made of, that’s for sure.” Looking beyond the wall upon which she focused, she added, “But in an odd way, it fits.”
“Fits?” Firestone rocked back. “I’m not following you.”
The candy dish called her like a siren, and her mouth was watering so much she could barely speak. “I, um, should have been prepared for Sam… for that. His remarrying, I mean. But I didn’t once think about it. I don’t know why. I’ve asked myself about it a thousand times since he left here yesterday. The possibility should have at least occurred to me, but it didn’t.”
“Perspective, I suppose. He was in his normal world. You were isolated.”
“And forgotten, yes.” She nodded, shoving back the memory of just how isolated she had been. “I can’t change what is, Doctor. But regardless of what Sam has done, my children are still my children. I’ve been patient, but I want to see them. Today.”
“C.D. already called.” Dr. Firestone smiled. “He said you’d take the place apart, and he’d help you.”
Standing by her. Clearing the path. Ever C.D. A warm bubble swept through her stomach. “So?”
“So,” Firestone passed the candy dish to her, “have some candy. All you want.”
“Thanks.” She held the dish in her lap but didn’t touch or eat any candy. “My children?”
“Will be here shortly,” he said, his smile broadening.
“Really?” Joy welled up and spilled over inside her. Abundant and flowing, it swelled and filled every inch of her with eager anticipation. “Really?”
He nodded. “But remember not to expect too much. You’re a stranger to them, and they need time to adjust to your return as much as you do.”
“I know. I know. It’ll be hard not to smother them with attention, but I do realize that they remember very little of me. Maybe nothing of me.” Those words came out sounding like the others, but they pierced her heart and left a hollow ache.
“They’re beautiful children,” he said.
