A Life Rebuilt

by Jean Brashear

  She burst into tears. “Look at what you made me do,” she said, whirling away and covering her face.

  And there it was, the nightmare of hurt he would create for her. “I told you I was no good for you, Jenna.”

  She wheeled around, eyes sparking. “You said I didn’t have to be sunny for you. Did you lie?”

  “No.”

  She brandished the note. “Then what is it that you ‘can’t do’ to me? Be real? Be honest? What is it you won’t share, that you hold up like a shield between you and the rest of the world?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  She lifted anger-bright eyes to his, and in them he could see the depth of her hurt. “You have no idea what I want.”

  No. But oh, how he yearned to.

  Nearly as much as he feared finding out.

  She fell silent, and the quiet hung like a dark, heavy cloud between them. “But you won’t ask, will you? Because doing so might force you to care, and you’re all about not caring, aren’t you? Except there’s the big, fat lie in all of this. You care far too much.”

  He flinched from the truth in her words.

  “My brother Diego nearly died from his injuries in Bosnia. The rest of his team did. He was on a mission of mercy to provide medical care to a bunch of kids he’d all but adopted.”

  Roman swallowed hard and looked away.

  “You lost people, too, Fayrene told me.”

  He flicked a glance at her but said nothing. Don’t, he begged silently.

  “Diego didn’t want to live. He nearly willed himself to die, but—”

  Roman closed his eyes so he couldn’t see. And he waited for the rest.

  “Diego had a whole big, loving family who refused to let him go. He fought all of us, but we were tougher.”

  Roman swallowed and struggled to remain still.

  “But you didn’t have anybody to fight for you, did you? You survived, but you keep trying to be dead.”

  “I should be,” he blurted before he stopped himself.

  Jenna took a step closer, and he could feel her body’s warmth. Felt himself leaning toward her as a flower seeks the sun.

  She took his hand in hers, holding it lightly. “Who died, Roman? Who took your heart with them?”

  He jerked his hand from hers and swung around to put distance between them. He made it only a few steps before she plastered herself against his back, her slender arms stealing around his waist. “Tell me,” she said softly. “You need to.”

  “No.” He shook his head violently. “I don’t.”

  She clasped him more tightly, and it should have felt like a restraint, like an unwelcome shackle.

  But it didn’t. He felt warmth, and he let it soak into him. He covered her hands with one of his.

  And held on.

  Inside he was shaking apart because the memories were coming too fast and he couldn’t shove them away. Couldn’t bury them.

  “They were children.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “Innocent kids. Orphans nobody wanted. They needed someone.” Every word was a stone on his heart. “Sayidah had the most beautiful voice, and Ahmed was…shy. But when he laughed—”

  He wanted to buckle then, but Jenna held on.

  More spilled from him. “The zealots didn’t like them being with an infidel, particularly when they saw Ahmed with a gun. They thought I had tainted the kids. I was warned, and I tried to leave them, but the children wouldn’t go. I ignored them, but they followed. They loved to hear stories of America. To make up their own. They would tell me about what we would do when the war…ended. When they came to visit me.” Every breath was a struggle. “Finally one day I relented. They gathered round me, and they even brought me pieces of the candy I’d given them. They wanted to share what they had with me, when I—when a piece of butterscotch was nothing to me but—” He fought the image that haunted every night and day. “A car came by, and I was so caught in the joy of seeing them and hearing the story Ahmed wanted to tell me that—” The words clawed their way up his throat until he thought he would choke. “I wasn’t paying attention to anything but them. I should have seen, but—”

  The weight of it would never leave him. He was so glad he couldn’t watch her expression as he showed her his true self—the man she thought she wanted. “The extremists opened fire on us. I was the only one wearing body armor. The children—their bodies were torn to pieces. Ahmed had been in my lap, and he— The shrapnel…” He tore himself from her grasp, roaring out his fury, his anguish, the bottomless depths of it. He was desperate to get away from her, from the images that clawed at his sanity. He bolted for the side of the garage where she couldn’t see him. He sank to the grass, his back to the wall.

  And he prayed for her to get the hell out.

  Nearly as hard as he wanted to plead with her, Don’t go.

  * * *

  JENNA WISHED FERVENTLY that Diego were here or Mama Lalita or anyone who would know what to do next.

  But Roman only had her.

  He’d been there for her when she desperately needed him. However inadequate she felt to the task, she was not going to abandon him. Cautiously she followed his tracks and rounded the corner, halting at the sight of him, this big powerful male with his ravaged heart.

  He didn’t lift his head as she approached, but at last he spoke. “You have to go.”

  When do you know you’re pushing too much, Diego? She had no idea. She only knew she couldn’t leave him like this or his shell would scar over again and never heal.

  “I can’t do that, Roman. See, I have this problem. I love you.”

  His eyes flew to hers, and in it she saw both his fear and his hope. Then his gaze hardened. “No, you don’t. You just can’t help taking on charity cases.” He let his head fall back against the wood, looking utterly weary. “Trust me, you don’t need me. Or this mess in my head.”

  “Maybe I don’t,” she admitted. “But I want you.”

  “It would be a mistake. You can’t count on me.”

  “I think I can. You’ve already saved me twice, even before last night. You rescued Freddie. You’re a born hero.”

  “Don’t say that!” He flinched as if she’d shot him. He pointed at the house. “That woman gave up everything for me, and I let her die alone.” From the pain on his face, he believed that. Then he said no more.

  “Tell me the rest.”

  “There isn’t any more. People die, that’s all.”

  “They do. People we love, whether we’re ready or not. So it’s wrong for you to live because others didn’t?”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not. Tell me what happened with her. Go ahead—show me how horrible you are.”

  His glare should have vaporized her on the spot.

  Listen to your heart—listen carefully, Jenna. Not to your head.

  Roman was hurting. And striking out because she was too close.

  Logic means nothing to someone in that dark place. When a life is lost and you played a role in that loss, however unintentional, it leaves a scar.

  “Tell me about her, your abuela.”

  He sighed. “Can’t you just leave?”

  She settled beside him, took one big hand in hers. “Apparently not.”

  He pointed to a corner of the yard. “Over there? That’s her prayer garden. She worked two jobs and did other women’s hair after hours, all to be able to feed and clothe a growing boy whose mother didn’t want him. And every Sunday after mass, she would fix a meal she shared with any lost soul she encountered. Then after everyone left and the kitchen was all cleaned up, she would take her few hours of pleasure in a life full of work and disappointment, over there in that corner.” He cut her a glance. “Mostly praying over me.” For a s
econd his eye lit with a flicker of humor.

  “Were you a handful?”

  “God, yes. I was the toughest of hombres, all full of swagger and bursting to prove how bad I was, and she—” His voice caught and he looked away. “She would never have had much money, but she could have been taking it easy by then, at least. Instead she had me. She took me in when no one else would.” His voice roughened. “And the second I could, I took off, seeking adventure and danger, and I left her behind.”

  “Children are supposed to grow up and leave.”

  His gaze was brutal. “Men are supposed to protect. She was here all alone, and she wrote me and she sent cookies and—” He cleared his throat. “And I sent her money and cards and flowers.” His voice was full of self-loathing. “But not myself. Which was all she wanted.”

  “Your job wasn’t one with a regular schedule.”

  “Don’t make excuses for me, Jenna. After I was wounded, I was in the hospital a long time before the military finally gave up on me and sent me away with some nice medals and an honorable discharge.” His eyes locked on hers. “She wanted me to come home because she couldn’t travel, but I couldn’t. I was so…” He tore his gaze away. “I couldn’t be with anyone, not even the one person who’d loved me all my life, so I hit the road for nearly a year, and I didn’t call and I didn’t write. Then one day I finally phoned, only to learn that she’d died four months before. She’d been sick even before I was wounded, but she never said a word, and even when she needed me to be here, she let me run—”

  He leaped to his feet, then jabbed his finger in her direction. “I failed her. I failed those children. I failed you. So don’t tell me I’m any goddamn hero.”

  She wanted to wrap him in her arms and soothe away the anguish in his eyes, but he was far beyond platitudes, and his pain was terrible and real.

  She cast about for the right words—and a notion smacked her right in the face. She could give him what he’d given her.

  “Maybe you’re not,” she said slowly.

  The light went out of his eyes.

  * * *

  “MAYBE YOU’RE NOT,” Roman heard her say, and he squeezed his eyes closed against the pain of what he knew to be true.

  But wished was not.

  “I happen to disagree,” she continued, her voice drawing closer. “But that’s not the point. Look at me, Roman.”

  He didn’t want to, didn’t want to see that she had finally accepted how very much he was flawed.

  But her next words surprised him. “The point is that you don’t have to be a hero to deserve to be loved. You didn’t kill your grandmother, and you didn’t kill those children. You’re just the one who got left behind to miss them. To be the one who never has the luxury of forgetting how it all happened. Your lot is to live with the reality and to try to find some way to forgive yourself—”

  “I can’t,” he interrupted, shaking his head violently. “I don’t—”

  “—when you know every one of them would forgive you.”

  “I—”

  “I talked to Diego about his experience.” She continued without letting up. “And he told me that you never forget that kind of loss, that at best, you reach an uneasy peace with it. That you learn to forgive yourself by accepting that, however much you regret what happened, you can’t change it. You can only seek ways to balance the scales.” She reached for his hand again and brought it to her chest, cradling it between hers. “Seems to me you’ve been doing that already, with Freddie and with me. With the Marins.”

  “But I—”

  “You can’t go back and save those children or your abuela, but they’re not the ones hurting—you are. How long do you have to suffer, Roman, before you’ve paid enough for events you couldn’t control?” Then she smiled at him ruefully. “Diego told me that I should be a little less me with you than normal, that sometimes my light shines too bright.”

  “Never.” That was an answer he didn’t even have to consider.

  “I wasn’t shining last night, but you were okay with it. Do you know what that meant to me, not to have to pretend with you?”

  He didn’t answer, simply stared at her solemnly.

  But he was listening.

  So she went on. “All my life I’ve believed that I was strong, but suddenly I was terrified that I was anything but. That I’d never come back to myself, that I’d always be weak and shaky.” Her eyes were warm and soft. “But you believed in me, and you stayed with me in that dark place. You helped me find my way out, but you didn’t expect me to magically be cured. You understood what it was like to feel powerless. That it’s okay.” She cocked her head. “But it’s not okay for me to be with you in your dark place? To walk with you as you find your way out?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “So you’re telling me I can’t love you enough to accept you as you are?”

  “Love?” he echoed, his heart giving one hard thump.

  “You’re not going to stand there and tell me you made love to me like that, and you don’t feel anything for me, are you? Because I will call you a liar, flat out.” Her eyes were bright with temper and spirit and I-dare-you. Then her voice softened again. “Don’t you want to come out of the darkness, Roman?”

  He was so damned tired he wasn’t sure he could take one more step. His gaze clung to hers as if it was the last hope in the world. “I do.”

  “You’ve done so much for so many. Look at how much you’ve done for Freddie. At how you rescued me and helped me heal.” She opened her arms wide and waited for him. “Please let me walk with you on your journey. I don’t care how long it takes, just let me be there.”

  “I’m not asking you to be my sunshine. Or to save me.” Though she would be, simply by force of her existence.

  “That’s good, because I don’t know if I can be that Jenna anymore,” she said quietly. “But I could probably manage being a candle, at least.” Her lips curved in a smile, but her eyes were wide with yearning.

  He’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, but he realized that what he was doing was hurting her more.

  It was he who would be the coward if he walked away now.

  He could help her heal, too—and heaven knows she was so stubborn that she would never give up on him, just as she’d refused to give up on Freddie or the Marins.

  With a relief so deep his head went light, Roman began to believe that maybe he could have this woman. That he wouldn’t be the worst thing that had ever happened to her, that there was hope for them, after all. He closed the gap and gathered her in, burying his face in her hair.

  Jenna clung to him, a ray of light piercing the darkness that had for so long been all that was left of his heart.

  * * *

  WHEN AT LAST HE REACHED for her, Jenna knew a gratitude deeper than anything she’d ever experienced.

  He wasn’t going to leave her.

  He was going to let her in.

  Please, please let me be worthy of him. Let me do this right.

  Maybe a good first step was to give him a break from baring his soul. Start finding that path back to normal. “Would you show me your home, Roman?”

  He lifted his head. “Yes.” But he didn’t release her.

  She didn’t mind. She was far from ready to let go herself.

  Her cell phone rang. She hated to answer it, but if it was her family, they’d worry.

  She looked at the display. “It’s the hospital,” she said as she took the call.

  “Ms. MacAllister? This is Sheryl. I’m Freddie Miller’s nurse. We’re happy to tell you that we’ve turned off the sedation and removed the breathing tube.”

  Jenna’s eyes went wide as she shifted her gaze to Roman.

  “Freddie is asking for the man named Roman. Do you know how we can r
each him?”

  She smiled broadly. “I sure do.” She finished the call. “Freddie’s awake, and he wants to see you.”

  “Me?”

  “Would you like me to go with you or—?”

  He pulled her into him and laid a devastating kiss on her lips. “Does that answer your question?”

  She smiled, and suddenly the day seemed as bright as diamonds.

  * * *

  WHEN THEY REACHED the hospital, they were directed to a different floor where Freddie had already been moved from ICU.

  “I should stay outside,” Jenna said. “I forgot my face looks terrible.”

  “You don’t want to talk to him?”

  “Of course I do. I just—”

  “Trust me. The boy has seen worse.” He hesitated, then made himself go on. “And I’d like you there.”

  Her smile was pure sunshine then. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  They walked inside, and Freddie’s head turned toward them. Roman waited, thinking of all the soldiers he’d seen who’d suffered head injuries. The boy had asked for him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have lasting damage. “Hi.”

  Big dark eyes studied him. Flicked toward Jenna, then back. “I don’t remember any of it, but the nurses, they told me you saved my life. That I’d be in the ground right now ’cept for you.” He frowned. “Why you do that, man? I ain’t nothin’ to you.”

  Roman could sense Jenna’s eagerness to speak, but somehow she restrained herself. “You’re not nothing to me, Freddie.” Words jammed in his throat. “How do you feel?”

  “They got me on some good drugs. I ain’t feelin’ no pain.” He glanced over at Jenna. “What happened to you?” His expression clouded. “Oh, no. Mako.” Tears rushed to his eyes. “I remember tellin’ him to leave you alone, but he didn’t, did he?”

  She left Roman’s side and went to the boy. She clasped his hand. “I’m okay, Freddie, really.” She smiled. “Thank you for protecting me.”

  The boy turned his head to the window. “Did it all wrong. You wouldn’t be hurt if—”

  “What happened to her was my fault,” Roman said, taking his place at Jenna’s side. “Not yours.”