“Mac giving you a hard time back here?” he asked, leaning against the side of the gurney, studying her in the gloom.
“Yes and no. He’s like all the pilots I know.”
“Mmm.” Craig pressed a small kiss to the back of her hand. “You had an odd look on your face. Does he remind you of Josh?”
Sabra’s lips parted. “Are you a mind reader?”
“I wish,” he said. “Just something in your eyes, was all. Maybe a look of loss.”
With a sigh, Sabra nodded. “When I woke up in the hospital, I started to realize a lot of things, Craig.”
He ran his fingers lightly across the back of her hand. “Like what, sweetheart?”
She held his worried gaze. Craig had had so much taken from him over the years, yet he was able to reach out and make her feel better. Every time he called her sweetheart, she wanted to cry. She tightened her grip on his hand, her voice low with feeling. “That a certain man in my life has taught me I can let the past go once and for all.”
Craig stared down at her, shaken. He saw tears gathering in her eyes. She was so beautiful lying there her hair dark against the pristine white of the pillowcase. Despite her injury, Craig felt as though Sabra hadn’t been wounded emotionally as he had been in the Iraqui crash, that her inner resiliency had somehow seen her through. He couldn’t explain why; it was just something he sensed. And for her, he was glad of that. “Josh loved you,” he said in a low voice, “but from what you’ve told me, he didn’t have the courage to act on it.”
“But I didn’t know that,” Sabra said wearily. “I realize now that I had fallen in love with him. I wanted to give myself to him, but that wasn’t enough.”
“Listen,” Craig growled, “any man worth his salt would go to his grave knowing he had everything if you offered yourself to him.” His mouth turned downward. “Josh was a guy who lived on the edge, Sabra. His way of life didn’t include marriage.”
She nodded, absorbing the intensity of his words. The burning anger in his eyes told her how much he was upset for her, for what she’d lost. In reality, she’d never had it to lose. “I guess I’m more of an idealist than I gave myself credit for,” she murmured reflectively. “Josh crashed into my life and made me look at other possibilities.”
“Such as what?”
“Such as marriage. Having children. I was so busy trying to be the son my father never had that I think I lost sight of a lot of other things that were important to me. They got pushed aside, Craig.”
“Josh made you aware of your femininity.”
“Yes.”
He ran his fingers along her smooth, high cheekbone, her skin soft and warm beneath his touch. “After the crash in Desert Storm, I got real clear on a lot of things,” he told her grimly. “I guess all the adventure of what I was doing for a living burned up in that crash. Living in a hospital for nearly a year afterward, going through the hell of one operation after another, I had a lot of time to think. It’s funny in a way, Sabra, but before the crash, I had a certain detachment from everything. When you fly, it’s easy to drop a load of bombs, or pull a trigger that will send a missile a couple of miles away to blow an aircraft out of the sky.” He shrugged. “The enemy shows up as a colored blip on your radar screen, not as a human being who has a wife, children and parents. It’s almost like a video game.”
“That’s pretty removed,” Sabra admitted quietly, seeing the torture return to his eyes.
“Yeah, well, the crash took care of that.” He managed a twisted smile and studied her. “What has this last mission taken away from you?” he asked solemnly.
The depth of his insight forever surprised her. Sabra realized again how Josh’s joking about everything had badly skewed her reality about men in general. Craig was not only thoughtful, but perceptive. She licked her cracked lower lip and whispered, “I’m afraid now.”
Tightening his hand around hers, he nodded. “I know what you mean. Life isn’t some promise hanging out there in front of you anymore, is it?”
She shook her head, feeling the fear within her. “You were right, Craig.”
“About what?”
“Remember you told me that because I’d never had a close call with death, I didn’t know real fear?”
He nodded and held her troubled gaze. “Reality is a son of a bitch, isn’t it?” He saw the same look in her eyes that he saw in his own every morning when he shaved in front of the bathroom mirror. It hurt Craig to realize that fact, and he wanted, somehow, to give Sabra back her previous belief that life would always be good, always be there. Sadly, he knew that once that veneer had been ripped away, it could never be put back in place.
“Isn’t it?” Sabra agreed. She settled his hand against her stomach, her hands over his. “I was so intent on protecting Jason,” she whispered unsteadily. “I don’t even remember being afraid for myself as I was running away from that helicopter. I was only afraid that I wouldn’t be able to protect him. This crazy thought was screaming in my head as I ran. I didn’t want someone telling Laura her son had died because I couldn’t do my job. The poor kid,” she murmured. “I crushed him so tightly against me he’s lucky he didn’t have cracked ribs.”
Craig moved a strand of hair away from her wrinkled brow. “You didn’t think of yourself. That’s normal, Sabra.”
Blinking away the tears, she held his sad gaze. “You’re the real hero in all of this, Craig. I know how much courage it took for you to get into that helicopter in the first place.”
His mouth contorted. “Wasn’t much choice, was there?”
“There are always choices,” Sabra said brokenly, “and you took the bravest. That helicopter was our only escape. If you hadn’t flown us out, Perseus would have an even bigger mess on their hands right now.”
He shrugged and nervously rubbed the top of her hand with his fingers. “I didn’t like the alternatives. I guess I traded one fear for another,” he said, trying to joke about it. “I wasn’t even aware I could have a greater fear than flying a helicopter, but when the chips were down, I didn’t want anything to happen to you or Jason.”
“I couldn’t believe your skill with that aircraft,” she said softly, holding his shy gaze. “I know enough about flying to realize that every aircraft is different, and if you don’t have experience flying it, it’s twice as hard.”
“Don’t give me more credit than I deserve, Sabra. Helicopters are basically the same. Maybe the control panel is set up a little different, maybe a toggle switch here or there is changed, but they all have a cyclic and a collective.”
Sabra refused to be detoured by his deadpan explanation. “You deserve a medal for your heroism, Craig. I know you’ll never get one. I know that no one, except maybe me, knows the true extent of your courage.” Her voice grew soft with tears. “I never realized what real courage was until I met you, until you showed me. In my eyes, you’re the most courageous human being I’ll ever meet.”
Craig felt heat move into his face, and he avoided her sparkling eyes, which told him she honestly felt he was a hero. The knowledge was at the same time euphoric and frightening. He hoped Sabra didn’t put him on a pedestal, because sure as hell, he’d fall off it sooner or later and end up disappointing her. He didn’t want that to happen, but he didn’t know how to give voice to his concern.
“Well,” he said gruffly, “I’ll just be glad when we get stateside. I don’t know about you, but home sounds pretty good right now.” Good and safe and filled with promise.
“You give my place a new look,” Craig said, making sure Sabra was comfortable on the sofa. They’d arrived over an hour ago, with Killian helping to bring over some of Sabra’s clothes and toiletries from her condominium in Fairfax, Virginia, not too far away.
Sabra smiled tiredly. “I feel safe here,” she murmured. The side of her neck was aching, but she didn’t want to take a pain pill. They made her groggy, and her mouth always got dry. She had already taken a long, relaxing bath and was dressed in her white
silk nightgown and white chenille robe. Craig stood, hands in his pockets, looking a little nervous. Well, so was she, she had to admit. It was early evening, the light of dusk filtering through the front drapes of his west-facing apartment. Snow was falling lightly outside, covering the lawn and bare trees with white. It was a far cry from Hawaii.
Craig moved to the sofa. Safe wasn’t a word he’d use in regards to Sabra. She wasn’t safe from him, but he didn’t think she realized that, and it was just as well. Her face was ashen again, and he attributed it to the long, draining flight. “What you need right now is a nap,” he told her.
“I think I do.” Sabra moved carefully, placing her stocking feet up on the couch and stretching out. The apartment was warm, and she closed her eyes. “Wake me in a hour or so?”
Craig crouched next to her and rested his hand on her shoulder. “You sleep all you want, sweetheart. You’re still healing.” He remained at her side until she fell into a deep sleep. Getting up on creaky knees, his body now feeling the full brunt of the crash, he went into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee. Luckily for him, he had some frozen dinners. He was hungry, though his stomach was jumpy. Rubbing that region, he hunted through the freezer, found a turkey dinner and pulled it out.
Sabra’s words never left his heart; he was a hero in her eyes. With a snort, he opened the package and tossed the cardboard container into the trash. Eleven men had died with him at the controls, leaving their wives widows and their children fatherless. They hadn’t called him a hero. Resting the palms of his hands against the kitchen counter, he dropped his head and stood a moment, feeling the emotions twisting within him. How could Sabra see him as a hero? And was she seeing him through honest, realistic eyes, or some kind of warped idealism?
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. He left the frozen dinner on the counter and went back to the living room to check on Sabra. She appeared to be sleeping soundly on the couch. He felt restless. He wanted to pace. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Where the hell were all these crazy emotions coming from? He’d never felt like this before. Sabra touched him like an ethereal rainbow with her luminous eyes, her soft mouth and her low voice laced with such vibrant feelings.
Forcing himself to leave the living room, Craig told himself he was just overreacting to the past few days. Funny thing, though; the virulence of his nightmares had ebbed considerably. Was it because he’d climbed back into the cockpit? Or been through another crash and survived this time, with his passengers alive? Shaking his head, Craig shoved the frozen dinner into the microwave and decided that life was crazy at its worst and at its finest. All he needed was Sabra. Did she need him as much?
Snow was falling thickly outside Craig’s large picture window. Sabra watched the flakes twirling lazily downward from the gray sky, which embraced the Virginia landscape. Absently, she heard Craig in the kitchen, putting things away after lunch. She felt tension in her shoulders and moved them slowly first one way, then the other. The strain between her and Craig was evident. She called herself a coward because she wanted to speak of her love for him, but was unsure how he’d receive such news. So she bit back the words.
Hearing him enter the living room, Sabra slowly turned toward him. How handsome he looked in a dark blue, long-sleeved chamois shirt and well-worn jeans. She saw the worry in his gaze and the tightness at the corners of his mouth. He’d been so nervous since she’d come to his apartment. Why?
“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked, gesturing toward the overstuffed sofa next to her.
“Sure….” Craig wiped his damp hands on his jeans and tried not to stare at Sabra. She looked beautiful and exquisitely fragile in a pale pink angora sweater with a cowl collar. The dark pink skirt she wore brushed the tops of her feet, which were covered incongruously with fluffy white slippers. The pink emphasized how wan she still looked, though she was bouncing back surprisingly strongly from her brush with death.
He eased himself down next to her. Craig had only allowed himself brief touches—an arm around her shoulder from time to time, a grazing touch of his hand on hers—in the three days she’d been at his house. What he really wanted was to take her to his bed and hold her forever after making hot, melting love with her as they had in Hawaii. Had that all been a pipe dream? Something that had arisen out of the strain of the mission? His throat constricted at the thought. Easing his hand along the back of the couch behind her, he turned and devoted his full attention to her.
“I’m afraid,” Sabra said with a slight laugh, “that I’m scared to death, Craig.” She rubbed her hands slowly together in her lap. Stealing a glance at his dark, frowning features, she saw his eyes lighten with surprise. “Well…maybe I’m being dramatic. I don’t know…”
“We’re both experts on fear,” Craig agreed slowly, allowing his hand to slide forward and caress her back. Her hair was shining and lustrous, curling around her shoulders and framing her face. “If you want the truth,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’ve been wanting to sit down and talk to you like this, too.”
Sabra saw amusement in his eyes. “You have?”
“Yeah.” He touched her hair briefly and forced himself to meet her unsure gaze. “I’ve got all these crazy thoughts and feelings running around in me. I’m not sure if I should talk to you about them or not. Sometimes I think it’s me. Sometimes—hell, I don’t know. Being around you, I feel like I’m walking on air, sweetheart. But then I get scared. So scared, my stomach knots up. Stupid, huh?”
She shook her head slowly. “Your stomach—my heart.”
“Oh?”
“Every time you look at me, Craig, my heart pounds. I…” Sabra raised her hands in exasperation. “It’s never done that to me before. Ever.”
“You don’t give me knots in the stomach,” he offered lamely. “It’s fear doing it.” He took a deep breath and held her clear, intelligent eyes. “Fear of losing something I don’t have a right to have, I guess.”
Sabra sat very still, gauging the pain in his voice along with the hope burning in the depths of his eyes. “What are you afraid of losing?”
He looked around the apartment. He was such a coward. Finally, he looked at her. “You,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. There. It was out. Fear moved raggedly through him as he saw the look on Sabra’s face. Her lips parted, and he groaned inwardly. How badly Craig wanted to kiss her. “I had this crazy notion,” he muttered nervously, “about us. I never believed anyone could fall in love with someone with just one look. It’s crazy. Dumb.” He pulled away and rested his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands between them. “I guess life is pretty crazy. I ought to know.” He laughed sharply, talking more to himself than her. “I saw you, and I felt my world crumble around my feet, Sabra. I was angry at being pulled for the mission, angry that you were going to be the leader and just angry at the world in general, I guess. But it wasn’t you I was angry at. It was me.” He hung his head and released a sigh.
Raising his head, Craig looked over at her. “I kept fighting how I felt toward you. I didn’t think I deserved someone as fine and good as you. I thought once I told you how much of a coward I’d been, how many lives I’d lost, you’d drop me.” His mouth flattened. “You didn’t, though.”
“Why would I?” she asked softly.
“Because,” he said harshly, “I’m not whole, Sabra. Part of me is run by that damn PTSD. I’m still afraid of flying. Every time I think that I climbed back in a helo, I break out in a sweat and get the same fear in my gut all over again.” Craig shook his head. “Nothing’s changed, not really.” He rubbed his hand together, feeling the dampness between them. “I have these moments of hope. Can you believe it? Hope. Me, of all people, feeling that emotion after everything that’s happened. You gave it back to me, you know.”
Leaning forward, Sabra reached out and settled her fingers against his arm. She felt the tension in his muscles and saw it clearly in his stormy, ravaged-looking eyes. “Craig, I love you.” Her voice
trembled dangerously as she said the words. Fear shot through her. What would he say? Would he tell her she was crazy? Swallowing hard, Sabra tightened her fingers on his arm. “I woke up in that hospital realizing I’d loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” She managed a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Just like my parents, I suppose. Just one look.” Taking a deep breath, she watched as he slowly straightened and turned toward her. His face mirrored shock. His lips had parted, as if to deny her halting words. Would he laugh at her? Think she was a world-class fool?.
“You—love me?”
She nodded and smiled a little. “How could I not?”
Craig sat very still, absorbing her words, her tear-filled eyes. Was he hearing things? He searched her face intently. “I’m no prize,” he rasped. “I’m a loser—”
“No!” Sabra gripped his hand. “You’ve never been a loser, Craig. Yes, you’ve been hurt badly—more than most—but you’re not a loser. If you think that, how do you explain climbing back in the same aircraft that nearly killed you before? Surely you knew the risks you took when we climbed on board with you. If you were such a loser, how did you manage to get that helicopter down in one piece, and us with it?” Her voice broke with feeling. “Do you think I love you because I only see your heart, your courage? I see what the war’s done to you, Craig. I accept that, too. I accept all of you, scars and all.” Her voice faltered. “I—I just hope you can accept me, the way I am. Josh once called me a piece of work, and I don’t know to this day whether he meant it as a compliment or an insult. He—he was just that way. You never knew where you stood with him.”
Whispering her name, Craig gently slid his arm around Sabra’s shoulders and brought her to him. Releasing a ragged sigh as she surrendered to him, settled her head against him, he pressed a kiss into her hair. How brave she was to admit her love. He soared on an inner euphoria at knowing she loved him despite all his problems.
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