Will Rise from Ashes

by Jean M. Grant

  “I’m sorry,” Reid said.

  “Will was born the day before her birthday. I like to think that he is her reincarnated in a way, for he has such an artistic, loving soul.”

  Reid smiled. “I can see that.”

  We were quiet for a minute, as I pondered.

  “Being a mom without a mom can be tough, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s hard when you don’t have a mom to call about all the kid stuff…concerts, activities, milestone moments. It really sucks. I thought I was doing okay with it…but then Harrison died, and well, it’s been hard.”

  Reid took my hand in his and squeezed. I loved the feel of it in mine and didn’t let go.

  “You were young when you lost her?”

  “Yeah, in my twenties. Patsy, my mother-in-law, she tries to fill that void, but…” I drifted off, not elaborating. Reid didn’t prod.

  I sniffed and blew a breath. “She’d read my work though. My mom. She loved it. That early work was total crap, but my mom was my cheerleader while fighting her own battle.”

  “Moms are amazing.”

  We sat quietly, musing.

  Reid must have sensed the prickly friction that hovered between the inches that separated us, too, for he released our interlocked hands and stood. “I’m going to walk around, stretch my legs. Check out some of this art. Is that okay? Wanna come?”

  “No thanks, I need to stay here. I’ll enjoy the quiet.”

  It was hardly quiet. The rain pattered against the exit door at the end of the hallway.

  The sugar high from the cake was already fading, as was the soda buzz.

  “Is it okay if I sleep in the car?”

  Here it was. I’d avoided mentioning the room situation during our conversation. The hotel was booked solid. We’d gotten the last available room; Reid paid for half. I tapped a finger on my leg. “No. You should take the other bed. There’s sort of a wall and sliding door. It’s cool.”

  “I can’t ask that of you. It’s not—”

  I shoved a key card into his hand, my fingers pausing on his for the briefest moment. “You’re not asking.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  “Yes. You’ve definitely earned your keep, Corporal Gregory.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be back in a few. Oh, I almost forgot. I found this in the gift shop. A scene from one of his movies was filmed here or something. The teen guy at the counter rambled. I thought you would like it.” He pulled a thin copy of On Writing by Stephen King from his back pocket.

  He flashed his smile before he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, leaving me gawking at the book in my hand.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Not in Kansas Anymore

  The moans woke me.

  “Not again,” I mumbled. Will had already awoken a few hours before. With a resigned exhalation, I rolled to check him, but his mouth was agape and he snored.

  I brushed back his sweaty hair and admired how he looked like a baby while sleeping. I listened as my vision adjusted to the semi-darkness. The clock beside the bed read 1:04 a.m.; it was too late for a night terror. His always struck earlier between nine and ten p.m. Usually, once was it. Fatigue, new places, weird sleep schedules…they attributed to his night terrors.

  I heard it again. It came from Reid’s area of the room, beyond the half-opened slider door. I rose and approached the doorway.

  Reid tossed and turned. “No…don’t…please help!” He writhed and groaned.

  He must have been having a nightmare, from his deployment maybe? I knew nothing about that experience, aside from what I had seen in movies and television shows and from the limited knowledge my father shared with me about his own demons. Reid appeared all too familiar with PTSD.

  The wretched pain in his voice persuaded me. I slipped closer to his bedside.

  “No!” he said, louder. I knew he wouldn’t wake Will at this time of night. Will was a light sleeper around daybreak, but in the middle of the night nothing could rouse him, except for a strong thunderstorm, and the storm had weakened a few hours before. Regardless, I closed the slider door. Instinctively, I sat beside Reid and laid my hand on his cheek. It was damp and warm. I rested my hand there, as it was my modus operandi for calming anyone…Harrison had loved my cheek caresses, as did Finn and Will. Touch soothed. God how I missed it, somebody touching me and not in the clinging kid way.

  “Hush,” I said. “It’s all right. I’m here.” I didn’t think before I stroked and said, “Think happy thoughts.” Like I always did for Will’s terrors. I wondered what Reid’s happy thoughts would be to pull him from whatever nightmare he faced.

  “Lo siento…Es culpa mía…¡Dios mío!” he said, breathless, locked in sleep. The glow of the light on the nightstand, which he must have left on, fell upon his features. His eyes were tightly closed. It wasn’t a terror then. Did adults get terrors? He would remember this. Will never remembered his terrors, only his nightmares. I knew little Spanish, but I deciphered “sorry” in his disjointed words.

  Reid’s whimpers turned to whispers, and his hand slid over mine. “I…” He grumbled as he squeezed mine hard. He switched to English. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Why?” His tears wet my fingertips.

  Images of burning bodies and exploding tanks, gunfire, flaming buildings, shells going off, and flying debris raced through my mind.

  I inched closer to him. I let his hand rest upon mine, and I moved my other one to his forehead. “Hush. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. You’re not there. You’re here in Kansas. Lots of cornfields, farmers, quiet.” Gosh, was I Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz? No sand or insurgents or tanks or bullets. I searched my brain for some theological or philosophical quotation but drummed up nothing. My almanac of words to live by tended to revolve around parenting.

  Nada. Nothing. Blank.

  “Help…,” he slurred in a painful gasp.

  What would be his happy thought?

  “It’s me, Audrey Jane.”

  I waited another long moment.

  My left hand dropped from his forehead and landed on his round, sweaty, and bare shoulder. He must’ve taken off his shirt when he’d gone to bed, but I couldn’t remember. He’d been awake, reading, when I turned in for the night. The feel of his naked skin sent a familiar twang through me, and I removed my hand. My other hand remained on his cheek. I couldn’t pull it from his grasp, which tightened around mine.

  His eyes shot open.

  The pain from the remnants of his nightmare resided in his gaze. I held his stare and smiled the best I could. “It’s me. Hush. It’s okay.” I slid my left hand to his free hand and squeezed. He squeezed back. I released a thumb and rubbed it along his wrist, tracing where I thought his tattoo would be. I fought the desire to stare at his chest.

  I felt oddly exhilarated and moved to pull away.

  He squeezed my hand again. Not hard. Not soft. It was the squeeze of internal longing, like the one of a lover who could not bear to part ways from their partner. He swallowed.

  “Audrey Jane,” he said slowly as he drew himself from the nightmare’s hold.

  I smiled deeper. “Happy thoughts,” I murmured.

  I shifted on the bed to give him space. He countered with sitting upright and keeping my one hand in his, with both of our hands firmly pressed to his cheek. He placed my other hand—still locked in his—on his chest, naturally drawing me closer. I didn’t want to pull away from the intimate connection.

  Dear God.

  I could smell him, he was so close. The maleness and sweat of him. I inhaled. His heart beat into our locked palms.

  Perhaps it was my need for soulful resuscitation. Perhaps it was my vulnerability. Or perhaps I liked him. Oh yes, I did like him, very much.

  He pulled me toward him, and I allowed it. His kiss was warm, heavy, and slow. It was goddamn heady, and I drank it in like a parched desert cactus. I parted my lips wider and allowed the stubble on his chin to brush my face. Tender lips caressed mine. Our hands rema
ined interlaced, one set on his cheek, one set on his heart. His heart beat quicker under my hand. His breathing deepened. God, oh, how I had forgotten what this was like. His mouth was inviting and stirred my dusty desires. A flicker of guilt danced in my mind, but I shushed it.

  He removed his hand from mine on his cheek and drew it to the base of my head, urging me closer for a deeper kiss. His touch tickled the fine hairs on the nape of my neck. He tasted like mint toothpaste and sleep. I reveled in his mouth upon mine. I found myself shifting my position, desire reaching another area of my body. I moaned as my breasts pressed against his chest.

  Before it went too far, he pulled away and stared at me, only inches from my face, dark eyes swirling with sentiment, a slight smile upon his lips. I exhaled. He held my gaze for a long moment while all I heard was the clock ticking on the nightstand. Then he fell on his pillow.

  “Good night, Audrey Jane.” He closed his eyes, a deeper smile upon his face.

  “Night,” I whispered.

  I bit my lips and drew my fingertips to them, wanting to hold on to the feeling of his mouth upon mine, the scratch of his light stubble, and the taste of his mouth.

  Instead of sliding away and returning to Will’s bed, I stayed beside Reid. Bold, crazy, or needy, I didn’t care. The feel of a man’s body beside mine in a bed was too consuming, just too…dammit, I needed it.

  I lay wide awake—just me and my racing heart.

  My thoughts went to Harrison, as I replayed what had just happened, and my chest tightened. I twirled my wedding band, the gold steadfast, infinite. My heart reminded me of my vows, but my mind told me this was okay. It was okay to move on.

  I must have fallen asleep but awoke to arms around my waist. Reid coughed from behind me. He murmured incoherent words, then readjusted. I glanced at the nearby clock. It read three o’clock.

  I needed to return to Will’s bed, though his deep snoring echoed through the thin slider door. He was out like a light. Lifting Reid’s arm, I began to wiggle from his grip.

  “Don’t go,” he said sleepily, deeply.

  My heart danced with his dreamy tone. His fingers traced my hip. I was wearing just a long T-shirt. It had been hot when we’d gone to bed, and my yoga pants lay beside my spot on the bed for a quick slip on in the morning along with my bra for modesty. So much for that.

  I was in a bed with a man, both of us half-naked. My mind fragmented with his caressing fingers as he lifted the hem of my T-shirt and found the edge of my panties. Lord, lord, lord.

  I missed a man’s touch. And Reid was a gentleman. Surely, if I swatted him away, he’d take no offense. But I didn’t swat him away. He kissed the back of my neck. “Audrey Jane…,” he cooed.

  My soul longed for nurturing, for human touch, for that personal connection of lovers. I squeezed his hand with my own instead. Then, partly chiding myself for it, I rolled over to face him.

  A racing heartbeat met my aroused nipples as our chests pressed together. His hand remained under my shirt, on my hip.

  “It’s been so long…,” he said to my own thinking.

  “Me, too.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  As I leaned in to kiss him, I said, “You should.”

  I moved my wedged hand between us to his cheek, and the other fell upon his own hip. Yeah, he was down to his boxers, too. Hard longing pressed against my belly. I could say no. I could roll out from beneath the heat under the covers…

  He returned the kiss, passionately. My mind was a dizzy mess of should or shouldn’t, desire and guilt, want or didn’t want—oh, I did want. Will was asleep, we were alone, and it had been a year. I had to move on. The world was going to hell around us, and who knew if we had more time. I needed this. An escape from the chaos.

  “But…,” he said as he came up for air.

  I didn’t beg and didn’t pull away. I answered with my mouth again, against his. We moved slowly, partaking in the touch of each other’s skin beneath trembling fingertips. His hand drew north under my shirt, caressing my breast. I gasped with the sensations. Passion and yearning had become a distant memory this year. Reid relit the flame. Even if it was just for this one moment. Maybe this was our end—the end of our country, the end of a journey with a man I might never see again—tears came to my eyes with both thoughts—dammit it all. I needed this. Seemed like Reid needed it just as much.

  I held him tighter. I could not get enough of his kisses, which on the kissing scale were oh-my-God amazing. A microsecond of concern passed through my brain—I had no protection, but I did have an IUD in place. Good enough. I doubted Reid carried condoms around in that backpack of his. I nearly snorted with the thought.

  He brought his face up for air. “Funny, am I?” he teased. He trickled kisses down my throat. Goosebumps rose on my skin.

  I was deliriously aroused and fatigued at the same time. “No. Just was wondering if you carry condoms in your pack, too.”

  He froze. “No. Sorry, I don’t. We can stop. I used to get screened for the army though, and well, I’ve always used protection since. Not that there’s been much since. I’m healthy.” Now a frown formed. “I’ll stop. It’s best.”

  Oh no, I ruined it! “It’s okay, I’m okay, too,” I quickly said, kissing his chin.

  My heart raced. I had blown it…there I was again, too responsible, too robotic. Why couldn’t I just embrace the moment? Because you have a family to care for, AJ, my mind hollered.

  “You’re quite more than okay, Audrey Jane. You’re like a taste of the divine.” His lips drew down over my T-shirt. He then slipped the shirt up, taking each breast into his mouth. I writhed below him with a silky groan.

  Responsively, I parted my legs and allowed him to touch me. He tenderly stroked the essence of me with his fingers, and I muffled my moan at the intimacy. My heart opened to him, bandages and all. Reid, please don’t break my heart, I wanted to say. Instead, I allowed my craving for physical connection, to be with someone, to fuel my moves. Still unsure if I was ready to move on, ready for this, I did it anyway. It was time to jump into the deep end.

  He rolled over top of me, drew down my panties. I shook with excitement and nerves. He kissed my hips, my belly, and then drew back to my mouth. For a long moment, we took a break from the kissing and held each other’s gaze as he stroked my face. Desire, attraction, and sincerity all blazed in his dark eyes as I allowed him inside me. I quivered beneath him.

  He slowly made love to me in the wee hours, our bodies rocking, in a nurturing connection. Kisses rolled over my skin as we swayed, and my fingers raked his finely chiseled back, arms, and shoulders. I gasped as he brought me to a new plane of pleasure. He muffled a moan as he reached his own peak. God, he felt so good.

  His mouth and body breathed life into me.

  We were two souls lost at sea for so long, finally finding an island amidst the chaos, for however long we might have.

  ****

  I awoke again, early, around five thirty a.m. In a few hours, we’d set out for Colorado. I wriggled free from Reid’s arms.

  “Don’t go,” he said, echoing his sentiment from a few hours before.

  “I should go lie with Will,” I said.

  “Yeah. You’re right. AJ, I…” He reluctantly removed his arm from around my waist, and I slithered out from beneath the blanket and sheet.

  I leaned down and kissed him. “It’s okay.” It was all I had. I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  After a restless thirty minutes in bed with Will, I sat at the desk, insomnia plaguing me.

  Qualms had returned with vivid lucidity after my lovemaking with Reid. I touched my lips, the hum of his mouth still upon mine. His lips had done more than just kiss my mouth. I shivered thinking of it, as if I could still feel him within me.

  Would I regret it?

  No, dammit, I would not allow guilt or shame to creep in.

  This trip, spurred by my fear of losing Finn, had been one filled with copious moments of frustration, mishaps,
exhaustion, and dare I think…enlightenment? Through the years since Will’s diagnosis, I’d assigned myself my own motto: I try; I survive; I love. Dammit, I tried. I tried so hard. I survived because I loved and because I had to.

  The bathroom light flickered, and I waited for the power to stay on. Outages were inevitable. We were getting closer. My lungs told me. I reached into my handbag and pulled out my inhaler for a puff. Thunder drummed again, louder. We’d finally reached the fallout zone, or at least the fringe of it. The man at the front desk had told us we could stay one night. He was closing in the morning, and everyone had to leave.

  I itched to be on the road. The lights stopped flickering.

  Saturated in my musings, I tuned it all out. The hum of the mini-fridge, the on and off cycling of the awful air conditioning unit, and Will’s snoring were filed away into the ambient noise folder. My eyes grew heavy, and I contemplated returning to the comfort of the bed. I already missed Reid’s warmth.

  I startled when my barely-charged phone pinged in the predawn hour. It pinged again. I grabbed for the phone. In my excitement, I pushed it off the table. It tumbled to the floor as if in slow motion.

  I fell to my knees, leaned under the dimly lit desk, and found it. Ping.

  Crap, another ping and it would go to voicemail. What the hell? When did its ring switch to a ping?

  The voicemail inbox was full. I had to get it—now.

  My brain clicked. The screen said, “Caller Unknown.” I answered. I half expected Sarah to have gotten through, but it was early for Pacific Standard Time. Early for anyone, actually. I’d given up on Dr. Martin. “Hello?”

  The line crackled in my ear, which was weird. I was used to phone calls fading or becoming muffled with quiet patches. Not crackling.

  “AJ?”

  It was a male voice. My stomach lurched. “Brandon?”

  Muffled words.

  My voice rose, and Will stirred. “Brandon? Brandon?” I nearly screeched into the phone. I moved and smacked my head on the underside of the desk.

  “I’m…,” he said.

  Crackles.

  “Brandon! I can’t hear you!” I pushed the phone harder to my ear, as if that could make me hear him better. Within the crackle, I listened for any word or syllable or breath. I righted myself, disregarding my throbbing cranium, and hurried to the window for better coverage. It didn’t help. My pulse beat in my head so loudly that I had to cover one ear with my hand to focus on the garbling on the other end.