Home to Wind River

by Lindsay McKenna

  He walked into the kitchen, rinsing the plates and flatware, transferring them to the dishwasher. “I like to catch the national news, but that’s about all,” he told his mother.

  “And I’d rather knit than watch it,” Jenna said.

  Lily rose and went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, pulling out a casserole. “Jake? I made some bread pudding for us for dessert.”

  He raised his brows, watching her bring it over to the counter. “Thanks. That was thoughtful.” Jake finished his duties and then helped her take down small bowls from the cupboard. “You’re spoiling me,” he told Lily and Jenna.

  “You’ll miss us when we leave?” Jenna teased him.

  Jake took the first two bowls of dessert, walking over to the table. “Yes, I will.” Much more than either of them knew. Especially Lily. For a moment, a flash of his childhood came to him, strong and sweet, the happiness of their family, him as a lively ten-year-old. That same sense as a kid that all was right with the world shifted through him as he gave Jenna a bowl and set the other one where Lily would sit.

  For a split second, he wondered if he could have that life again. The brutal reality of his symptoms instantly shattered that sliver of hope. No. It was impossible. As he walked into the kitchen, meeting Lily’s wide, beautiful eyes, that soft smile on her lips, he wanted that feeling back so badly, his heart ached.

  July 4

  Lily crept quietly out of her bedroom. It was one a.m. and she’d had a nightmare. Dressed in her knee-length green cotton nightgown, a white chenille robe over it, she had pulled on her slippers and decided to get up. The house was quiet, and she absorbed that wonderful feeling it always gave her. Tiptoeing past Jenna’s room, she headed down the passageway. There was always a night-light on in the kitchen, throwing just enough light that she wouldn’t stumble over anything.

  A movement caught her attention. Out of the shadows, she saw Jake. He was in a black T-shirt and black pajama bottoms, barefoot, at the stove.

  He turned, as if sensing she was there. Lily hesitated. Should she go back to her room?

  “Lily? What’s wrong?”

  Too late. She gulped, her heart speeding up as the deep shadows accentuated the powerful breadth of his chest and those broad shoulders of his. He looked endearingly like a little boy, his face sleepy-looking, dark strands of hair dipping down on his brow, uncombed. His masculinity was nearly overpowering to her interested body. Too often, she fantasized what it would be like to be held by this quiet, deep-thinking man. To feel the steel strength of his arms coming around her, holding her. “Nothing’s wrong . . .”

  He lifted a mug. “Couldn’t sleep, so I’m making my mother’s hot chocolate. Want some?”

  Mildly shocked that his demeanor wasn’t that of the gruff, walled Jake, she stood there uncertainly. He was even more appealing to her than ever before. Somewhere in Lily’s canting senses, she managed a strangled, “Why yes . . . sure . . .” and she found herself being pushed forward by invisible hands on her back. More than anything, she’d craved quiet time, alone time with Jake. It had never happened—until now. Even though she warred within herself—Jake was her employer—as a woman, she was drawn helplessly to him as a man. It reminded Lily of when she’d had a crush on an eight-year-old boy in grade school. Just the way the shadows and grayness moved across his upper body, his now-exposed upper arms revealing thick biceps, made her eager to be in his company. Cautioning herself, she halted a good six feet away from him, seeing the pan on the stove and the carton of milk, box of chocolate, sugar, salt shaker and spice that said cinnamon on it.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, holding his shadowy gaze. Lily knew that look; she knew when a man was interested in her. Her arms were folded across her breasts as he gave her a swift, intense look. And then that hunger in his eyes was gone. Did her hunger for him show? She hoped not.

  “Me either,” he rumbled, opening the cabinet and pulling down a second mug. “Must be something in the air tonight. Probably the fireworks at Wind River the three of us watched reminded me too much of firefights in Afghanistan, dragged up a lot of other stuff I’d rather forget.” He held up the bright blue mug.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  “No . . . thanks,” and he poured more milk into the pan, efficiently adding the other ingredients as well.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Looking around, she saw the toaster was out, the bread and butter nearby. “No. You?”

  “Yeah. Pop in two slices of bread into that toaster for me?”

  A warm, awakening feeling flowed into her lower body. “How much butter do you want on your toast?”

  “A lot.”

  “The fireworks upset you?” she asked, moving outside her comfort zone. Always reminding herself she was an employee, not an intimate partner to him, she knew it was a very personal question. She saw him barely turn his head, his profile sharp.

  “Yes. I went to bed and a nightmare hit me, if you want the raw truth. I figure you’d understand.”

  She managed a soft snort. “Jenna wanted to see the fireworks, so we both put ourselves out to be with her where she could see them. Because she doesn’t know much about our PTSD, she had no idea it might upset us. I had a nightmare, too.” She saw his profile relax, that strongly shaped mouth of his softening for a moment. “I used to get them three or four times a week when I first came home. It’s been slowly diminishing.” She pushed her hair away from her temple, watching the breadth of his back as he stirred the contents in the pan. “This is the longest I’ve gone without one.”

  “Have you had any since coming here?”

  “Yes, the first night and now tonight.” She blew out a breath of air. “But now, I can’t believe they seem to have slowed down so much, almost stopped.”

  He chuckled a little.

  It sounded like a drum to Lily. “What?”

  “When you and Jenna arrived, I stopped having my flashbacks and nightmares. This is the first since your arrival.” He turned, holding her gaze for a moment. “I was getting so I considered you and her my lucky rabbit’s foot.”

  Her mouth quirking, she said, “I felt the same way, that by coming here, the chemistry of the house, you and Jenna all conspired to make me feel—I don’t know ... safe maybe. It’s like the environment I grew up in as a kid.”

  “Something safe, warm and familiar. Right?”

  She watched him turn off the stove and then carefully pour the steaming liquid into the mugs.

  “Right.”

  But there was more, and Lily was afraid to voice her feelings to Jake because they were so damned intimate. Certainly not having an employer-employee discussion. She stepped forward, picking up the mugs and taking them to the table. The toast popped up.

  “I’ll get it.”

  She nodded and stood, watching him put water in the pan, then going to butter his toast. Deciding to sit down, she took a chair with her back to the living room, quietly absorbing every move he made. Jake was a big man, in top shape. The dark growth of beard shadowed part of his face, making him look dangerously appealing to her senses.

  He brought the toast over on a plate and sat down, his elbow near hers. “Sure you don’t want some?”

  Shaking her head, she placed her hands around the warm mug. “No.”

  “This is the way I have mine,” and he dipped part of the toast into the chocolate.

  “I’m surprised you don’t have some marshmallows around,” she teased, cautiously sipping the steaming brew. The chocolate was rich, sweet and tasty.

  “I’m not a marshmallow kind of guy.”

  “I didn’t think you were.”

  He gave her an amused glance. “Well, now that I know you’re a hot-chocolate-with-marshmallows woman, I’ll make a point to pick up some the next time I’m in town.”

  Her lips flexed and she felt that warm, sensual connection building between them once again. Her hair was decidedly mussed, and she wore a frumpy ch
enille bathrobe that certainly wasn’t sexy or alluring. And her simple, plain nightgown wasn’t anything to write home about either. “What? You think this kind of unexpected meeting is going to take place again?”

  “You have three and a half weeks to go here,” he said, giving her a thoughtful look. “Anything can happen in that time.”

  Groaning, she whispered, “I’ve really gotten spoiled, being able to sleep deeply while I’m here. This nightmare jolted me, reminded me that I’m not free of them.”

  “Most vets would give their right arm to have only one a month.”

  “I know,” she said, sad. Jake was hungry. He dipped his toast into his mug, and within ten minutes, it was gone. There was half a cup of chocolate left for him to drink, too. “How often do you get booted out of bed?”

  “Well, it’s been three years. I can usually count on a nightmare maybe every couple of weeks. I haven’t had a flashback in nine months. I used to get them three or four times a month.”

  She sipped the chocolate she held near her lips. “It’s nice to be able to share this with someone who understands.” His face softened even more. The shock that he wasn’t putting up his walls astounded Lily. She set the mug down, her fingers tightening around it a bit. “I know this is awfully personal, but you seem so different right now from the man who walks in that door at six every night.”

  Jake moved his jaw, looked away, then back at her. “I guess I could lie and say it’s because I’m sleepy. The truth is, Lily, I’ve been wanting a backwater moment with you, just to talk to you and find out more of who you are.”

  Her heart beat rapidly for a moment. His voice was like gruff velvet being pulled lightly across her supersensitized flesh. Blinking, the silence settled between them, but it wasn’t brittle or tense. “Funny,” she offered with a slight, one-cornered lift of her lips, “I was looking for the same thing. I didn’t think the man who walked out the door in the morning was the real Jake Murdoch. I know I’m really overstepping my bounds now, and maybe I should apologize. I know I’m here to take care of Jenna. I’m an employee.”

  “You are and you aren’t,” Jake rasped. “My mother dotes on you. I can see there’s genuine affection between you.”

  “As I’ve said, your mother is a lot like mine,” Lily said, fondness in her tone. “I enjoy her so much. This has been the best job I’ve had since getting out of the military. She makes it easy.”

  “I’m old enough now to appreciate my mother like never before.”

  “Me too.”

  The silence settled once more between them. Lily had a thousand questions for Jake, unsure what to ask and how to ask it. “I know military vets share something very special,” she began haltingly, searching for words she hoped wouldn’t screw up what she really wanted to say. “I guess ... I’ve been looking for a home since I couldn’t stay in my real one because of my symptoms.” She gestured toward the high ceiling. “Being here? Being with the two of you? It’s pulled me out of the hell I was slogging through since I got my honorable medical discharge. My parents wanted to help me, but I had no way to tell them how because I didn’t know myself.” She saw his mouth flatten, his gaze going to the mug held between his large, callused hands.

  “I had the same problem when I didn’t reenlist,” he admitted gruffly. “I knew I couldn’t stay with Jenna, even though she wanted that more than anything, wanted me to take over the grocery store.” He gave her a dark look. “Can you imagine how those aisles made me feel? My anxiety amped up by a thousand when I would walk down one. I was expecting to be jumped by the Taliban. Closed in, narrow places get to me to this day.”

  Groaning, Lily whispered, “I’ve had a number of my A-team friends tell me the same thing.”

  “I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t ignore it because every hair on my neck was standing up, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would rip out of my chest.” He halted and scowled. “How do you tell a civilian about that? How can they put themselves in our shoes and see a simple grocery aisle in a completely different context, where it means life or death to us? My adrenaline automatically goes through the ceiling. It’s not something I can control. I wished to hell I could.”

  She reached out, grazing the back of his hand, the dark hair across it. “I know. It’s the same for me, but in a different way.”

  “What happened to you, Lily? What gave you the symptoms?” he asked quietly, holding her startled gaze. “It’s a question I’ve wanted to ask you. I hope you can trust me enough to share it with me, but if you can’t, I’ll understand.”

  She felt paralyzed for a moment. “Jake . . . I can’t do it here. Not with your mother here. I–I don’t know what will happen if I start. I don’t know if I’ll lose it. I’m so afraid to give it voice. It will take me back to where I was when it happened.” She tilted her head, holding his sympathetic gaze. “I want to tell you, but I’m so afraid of losing control. I’ve come so close to that abyss, so close to falling into the black hole I see in front of me when I have a really bad flashback.... I’m so scared if I step forward, I’ll fall in and be swallowed up and gone forever. I can’t do it right now.”

  He reached out, gripping her hand, squeezing it gently and then releasing it.

  “You don’t have to go there, Lily. I understand. But you were an RN, so I couldn’t piece together how it might have happened . . . your symptoms, that is.”

  Swallowing hard, she felt the coldness beginning to creep into her toes and feet. It was a warning sign of a flashback beginning to stalk her. “I can’t . . . it’s already starting to hit me, Jake. Let’s talk about anything else. When I can, if I can, I’ll tell you, but not right now. I’m still too raw from it.”

  “Then let’s talk about Checkers.”

  Instantly, through her closed eyes, she saw her friend, the paint gelding. And she began to feel the tendrils of iciness that were starting up her ankles, numbing her, making her feel freezing cold recede. “Y-yes, Checkers.” She opened her eyes, sliding her other hand around the mug, seeking the warmth of the ceramic.

  “I’d like to take you riding tomorrow. Our first trail ride. I think you’re ready for it. You’ve done a lot of good ground work with him in the arena. And you look comfortable in the saddle.”

  She absorbed his low, mellow tone, which felt like the warm, rich hot chocolate being poured into her lower legs, ankles, feet and toes. The care vibrated in his voice, filled with an invisible caress, a support she hungrily embraced. “I–I’d like that.”

  “You can wear your gloves, your straw hat and your cowboy boots and break them in.”

  Lily realized what he was doing. She was like a raging bull, moving toward the red flag he was waving at her, trying to minimize the flashback. Intuitively, she knew Jake was purposely guiding her imagery, focusing her, getting her as far away from the brink of the black hole that still haunted and terrorized her. If only it would go away! Disappear! Forcing her mind, which was tumbling, trying to focus because that was the only way to get away from the stalking flashback, she said, “I’ll wear all my new gear.”

  “I was thinking of an easy trail. There’s a straight two miles that parallels our asphalt road. It ends up at two hills that have pine trees all over them. When you ride around the farthest hill, there’s a beautiful flower meadow about a quarter of a mile down the slope. I think you’d really like to see that.”

  “Will Checkers want to eat the flowers?”

  He chuckled a little. “Only if you let him. You’re the boss; you keep his head up with the reins. How about I drop by tomorrow at around eleven? You can make us a lunch and I’ll pack it in the saddlebags on my horse. I think you could use a couple of hours of sun.”

  “Sounds good,” she said.

  “We can have a picnic in a nice little spot off the slope of one of the hills. It will give you a view of the ranch.”

  The silence settled over them, and Lily didn’t feel the need to break it. Neither did Jake. He finished his coca and set the m
ug on the table. She was almost finished.

  “When will we be back?”

  “Probably by around one. Why?”

  “I have my volunteer time at the shelter from two to about five tomorrow.”

  “You should make it. Do you do any vet work there, considering you’re an RN?”

  “Sometimes I’ll take a dog or cat over to the vet for examination, but I’m just there to hold and calm the animal.”

  “We have a new small animal vet who just moved into town,” Jake said. “Have you met her yet? Dr. Ann Sharp?”

  “Yes, and she’s the best. I really like her.”

  “How do you handle the suffering you see there?” Jake wondered. “You were through a lot already in Afghanistan.”

  “I don’t know. Animals have always calmed me, and I feel love from them. I like giving my time over there because now they need my love in return. They’ve been thrown away, dropped off in the middle of nowhere to try to survive, and I want to be there to make a small difference in their lives.”

  “You’re still serving,” he said quietly, giving her a look of praise.

  “How do you mean?” She straightened up and pushed the empty mug away from her. Lily didn’t want this time with Jake to end. He was open with her for the first time.

  “Nursing is a service career. Right?”

  “Yes, it is. Just never thought of it in that way.”

  “Did you get that from your father or mother?”

  She smiled a little, remembering what he’d said about wanting to know her on a more personal level. “Let’s put it this way: When I was four, my parents gave me a Winnie-the-Pooh bear. I promptly bandaged it up with some of my mother’s head scarves. I don’t honestly remember it, but she has video of me blathering away about how Pooh broke his arm and I had to fix it.”

  A grudging smile pulled at his mouth. “So, any stuffed animal got the ER treatment after that?”