by Cathie Linz
“Yes, that’s what this is about.”
“I suppose your mother told you.”
“Yes, she told me that you made an absolute fool of yourself. Oh, don’t go giving me that look. Like Marines never make fools of themselves.” She rolled her eyes. “Please!”
“I did not make a fool of myself,” he said stiffly. “The man took you bungee-jumping.”
“He did not take me,” she instantly corrected him. “Joe tried to stop me. In fact, he ordered me not to jump. Did he tell you that?”
“No.”
“Did you give him the chance?”
Her father gave her an offended look. “Of course, I gave him the chance. He said he took full responsibility.”
“He’s so full of…hooey!” she said in exasperation. “He is not responsible. Any more than he was responsible for the blizzard. Unless you plan on blaming him for that, too?”
“Of course not. The man saved your life.”
“And this is how you repaid him?” she demanded.
“I’d just found out my only child had jumped off a bridge.”
“I didn’t jump off a bridge, I jumped from a tower specially designed for bungee-jumping.”
He held out a hand in a clear order for her to stop. “I don’t want to hear the details.”
“No, you just want to jump to incorrect conclusions. Don’t confuse you with facts, you already know what you think.”
He eyed her cautiously. “I’ve never seen you this upset.”
“I’m furious with you!”
“Sergeant Wilder never said a word in his defense.…”
“He’d never do that,” Prudence said. “Joe doesn’t feel he deserves to be happy.”
Her father frowned. “Why not?”
She looked away. “He has his reasons.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”
“You could have come to me first, asking me about the bungee-jumping instead of going to Joe behind my back.”
“He’s in my command,” he growled. “I’ve got the right to question him.”
She stood her ground. “Not about his private life and mine.”
“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you,” he said, reaching for his fishing rod again. “You’re scaring away all the fish. I came here to get some peace and quiet after a rough day.”
“You came here because you feel guilty about what you did today.”
“Oh, so now you’re a mind reader? What?” he demanded as her eyes teared up. “What did I say?”
“Joe said that to me.” Her voice was unsteady. “For a minute there you sounded just like him.”
“Aw jeez.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Maybe you should go talk to your mother about this.”
“No, I’m going to go talk to Joe about this.”
“He’s a fine Marine, princess. He won’t disobey a direct order from his commanding officer, and I ordered him not to see you.”
“Then you’ll just have to rescind that order,” she said, glaring at her father, daring him to contradict her. “But first I have to find him.”
“Why do you do it, Wilder?” The question was repeated by a half dozen of his fellow Marines seated around a battered wooden table in The American Bar. The place was one of many local hangouts for Marines.
“Why? For the thrill,” Joe replied, wiping away the condensation forming on his icy-cold bottle of beer before taking several more healthy swigs.
“Forget why, how do you do it?” the guy next to Joe asked in amazement. “You get me even near a helo and I start to hurl.”
Rotor blades gleaming, flames shooting skyward. Don’t go there.…
Willing the darkness away, Joe quickly finished off his beer and reached for another.
“I can’t imagine bungee-jumping,” the guy continued. “How do you do it, Wilder?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Joe cynically thought to himself. How did he do it? How did he manage to convince dozens of fellow Marines, not to mention his superior officers, that he was a fearless daredevil who loved spending his off-duty hours bungee-jumping or tearing around on his Harley motorcycle or white-water kayaking alone in water so wild it seemed as if no one could make it through alive.
Alive. The risk-taking had always made him feel alive. Until he’d seen Prudence taking that “leap of faith” as she’d called it. Then he’d felt as if he was going to die. And now his commanding officer had not only ordered him to stop bungee-jumping, but he’d ordered Joe to stay away from Prudence.
Which was just what he deserved.
Now he wasn’t able to prove his courage by constantly testing the limits of his endurance. There was no point. Joe knew the truth. He was no hero.
“He’s not revealing any secrets,” the guy to his right said with a laugh. McCormick was his name. Joe only knew that because it was written in stencils on the man’s uniform pocket. These men weren’t his close buddies, but they were Marines and that made them his compadres tonight.
McCormick was right. Joe wasn’t about to reveal any secrets. And it turned out he had plenty—dark secrets he’d blocked from his own memory until now. He finished one bottle of beer and reached for another.
“Come on, Wilder, give us a few tips. I’ve heard you’ve got a real way with women.”
“You heard right. Look at the way Lucy hung all over him when she was serving our drinks,” the African-American guy on his left said. Joe squinted to read his name in the increasingly smoky interior of the bar. Or maybe it was his vision making things blurry. Too much beer and not enough sleep had never been a good combination.
“Come on, Wilder, tell us how you do it,” Mc-Cormick said.
By not giving a damn. By giving too many damns. By blocking out the memories. By reliving them vividly in his dreams every night.
How did he do it? How did he survive knowing that the only reason he was alive right now was that another Marine had died in his place? How did he survive knowing that he’d failed even at a young age with fatal results?
He had no idea. Distracting the guys with the promise to buy them all another round of beer, Joe smiled and cracked jokes while inside he felt himself sinking deeper into an abyss he saw no way out of.
“Hey, Danny!” a woman at the next table shouted to someone out of sight.
Joe felt the blood drain from his face as he flashed back to that nightmarish day so long ago—the water, a young child, terror. His voice. Yelling Danny. His brother’s name had been Danny!
Reality hit him like a land mine.
He needed more alcohol. Turning to order another round of beers, he saw Prudence.
“Hey look, there’s another stunning babe eyeing you, Wilder,” McCormick said from beside him.
“That’s Sergeant Major Martin’s daughter,” Joe growled.
McCormick gulped.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Joe,” Prudence said as she joined them, looking rumpled and completely out of place in her schoolteacher blouse and slacks. Looking sexy as hell. “We need to talk.”
Joe recognized that stubborn look on her face. She wasn’t going to be turned away easily. Fine. Nothing about this damn day had been easy.
“Can we go someplace else, someplace quieter?” she asked.
He sipped more beer before answering her. “No.”
She sighed as if he were one of her difficult students. “Then can we at least go sit at a table together?”
Joe shook his head, which made the room spin. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What do you say, guys?” This time Prudence aimed her request at the other Marines at the table. “Can you give the two of us a little privacy here?”
They scattered like pigeons.
But then she was a Sergeant Major’s daughter. Smart guys. Dumb him.
“I’m sorry, Joe,” she said, sitting down and pulling her chair closer so that she could speak to him above the noise of a Garth Br
ooks song blaring over the bar’s sound system. “I’m so sorry my father threw a hissy fit yesterday. He shouldn’t have done that.”
Joe almost choked on his beer. A Sergeant Major? Throwing a hissy fit?
Unaware or uncaring of her breach of military etiquette, she continued. “He should never have ordered you to stay away from me. That was very wrong of him.”
“He was dead right.” Joe’s laugh was harsh and bitter. “You’re better off without me.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Because of the helo accident? You’re not to blame for that.”
He’d heard it all before. She didn’t know the rest of the story, the ugly truth he’d just discovered about himself. It was time he told her. “But I am to blame for my baby brother’s death.”
His words shocked her. “Wha…at?”
“That’s why I get the shakes around kids,” he said in a flat voice, his face devoid of emotion. “You noticed it right off. ”
“I noticed you weren’t real comfortable around my students at first.”
“Not real comfortable?” His laughter was harsh and bitter. “Try scared out of my mind. Same thing at the cabin. It got worse there. The thing was, I couldn’t figure out why. I’d never had a problem dealing with kids before. But I realized yesterday at that school thing that the helo accident had dredged up something from my past.”
“What happened?” Her voice was quiet, her warm brown eyes gazing at him with sympathy and compassion instead of revulsion.
Joe had to look away. He didn’t deserve all the things she was offering him. “My baby brother drowned and I didn’t save him, that’s what happened.” His hard words contrasted with her softness as he fought the rising emotion clawing at his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. “His name was Danny. I’d forgotten that. Forgotten him, can you believe that?”
“How old were you when this happened?”
Her continued questions stabbed at him, making him shudder with the effort to keep himself under control. “I don’t know,” he said impatiently. “Four, maybe.”
“Practically a baby yourself. So a baby like you was supposed to somehow save your younger brother, is that the scenario you’ve set up for yourself? Where were your parents?”
Frowning, Joe rubbed his forehead. “I don’t remember. My family never talked about it. I didn’t even remember it until yesterday.”
Instead of backing away, she moved closer, putting her arm around his taut shoulders. “It’s not unusual for a traumatic experience to bring back similar memories. And if you don’t believe me, then you should talk to someone else about this. Your family, a close friend, or I can recommend someone.”
“A shrink?” He jerked away from her. “Forget it.”
“I can’t forget it because you can’t forget. The survivor guilt is eating you up inside, Joe. Part of you wants to die, too. You think I don’t know that?” she said with gritty sincerity. “Do you think I didn’t feel that way after my mom was hurt so badly? I did. But I got help.”
“You’re not a Marine” was his low slicing reply. “A Marine doesn’t need help.”
“What about love, Joe?” She faced him without fear, letting him see her love for him in her eyes and in her voice, baring her soul to him. “Does a Marine need love?”
Joe couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t let her see into the pitch-black darkness of his heart. Was she stupid? Couldn’t she see how unworthy he was of her love? What would it take to get that message through her head?
Joe knew the answer to that and he acted on that knowledge, sloughing off her words with a dismissive shrug and a mocking smile. “You think I’m not getting enough love? Think again, honey.” He snagged a willing barmaid in his free arm and tugged her onto his lap. “Hey, Lucy, tell my commanding officer’s princess of a daughter here that I’ve got enough love.”
“Don’t you worry about him,” Lucy purred, stroking Joe’s chest with her hands.
“Hear that?” Joe tossed a look of utter indifference toward Prudence before issuing her a curt order. “Stop following me, stop flirting with me. I’m not interested, okay? I’m not alone and I’m certainly not in need of love, so just leave me alone. What does it take to get through to you?”
Prudence sat like a block of ice, unable to believe what she was seeing or hearing. Why? Why was he doing this to her?
“Go away!” Joe bluntly growled, his blue eyes filled with fire. “Not you, honey,” he muttered to the barmaid on his lap, draping her arms around his neck. “You stay right where you are.”
“Glad to,” Lucy drawled, leaning forward to kiss him.
Joe kissed her back.
Realizing she’d lost her bid to save him from himself, Prudence stood so quickly she almost overturned the chair.
Who was she kidding? Joe didn’t need saving. She’d projected her own feelings onto him. She was nothing but a bother to him. How could she have been so wrong, so blind? She had to get out of there.
Keeping her head held high as she walked out of the bar prevented the scalding tears filling her eyes from spilling down her cheeks. Rejection. Humiliation.
This is what she got for being bold and taking risks—her heart stomped into itty-bitty pieces by a lean, mean Marine.
Chapter Twelve
Seeing the bruised pain in Prudence’s eyes had nearly brought Joe to his knees. He’d almost dumped Lucy off his lap and chased after Prudence before common sense reasserted itself.
“Oh, babe, you’ve got it bad,” Lucy the barmaid said, sympathetically patting his cheek. “You’re in love with that girl.”
“Sorry, Lucy,” he said with an apologetic half smile.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be if you don’t go after her,” Lucy replied, hopping off his lap to give him a challenging look.
“I can’t do that.”
Lucy just shook her head in the way of one who’d had her share of heartbreak and headed back to the bar.
He’d done the right thing in sending Prudence away, Joe reminded himself. She was better off without him. It would get easier as time went on.
But by Friday, as his nightmares intensified, Joe realized that things couldn’t continue on the way they were. He had to do something.
Know your enemy. A Marine Corps rule. Joe’s enemy was the guilt and the fear. He had to dig deeper, he had to own it and overcome it. Or he’d never get over it.
One thing Prudence had said was right on the money. He needed to talk to someone. And deep in his heart, Joe knew who that someone needed to be. He needed to call his dad.
Joe’s hands were sweating as he pushed the speed-dial button programmed into his cell phone. As soon as his weekend liberty had started he’d driven his Jeep out onto a deserted stretch of coastal road, so that no one would see or hear him if he broke down while making this call.
No, that wasn’t an option, Joe fiercely reminded himself. He couldn’t break down. His dad would be so ashamed of him. Bill Wilder valued strength and integrity in his sons.
Doubts filled Joe’s head, making his stomach burn. Maybe I should call one of my brothers instead.
He was about to hang up when his dad answered. “Hello?”
The sound of his dad’s bellowing, gravelly voice steadied his nerves. “Hey, Dad. It’s Joe.” Closing his eyes, he could easily picture his father. Similar in height and stature to Sergeant Major Martin, his dad had a grunt rifleman’s demeanor and the inquiring mind of a self-taught intellectual. He also had blue eyes and a wicked sense of humor—both traits inherited by all his sons. He just recently retired after thirty years in the Marine Corps.
“Hey, how’s it going, son?”
“Not so good,” Joe admitted, unable to keep up any pretense of small talk even for a short while. “I don’t know how to bring this up…”
“We’re Marines, son. You don’t have to go stepping on eggshells around me.”
“It’s about Danny.” The words came out in a rush, then Joe’s mouth dried up an
d he couldn’t speak.
The utter silence on the other end of the phone line told him that his dad was shocked. His dad was rarely at a loss for words.
“I’m sorry.” Joe’s voice was harsh and unsteady.
“I didn’t think you remembered anything about Danny.” His dad’s voice sounded just as shredded as his.
Slowly at first, in a jumbled tangle of half sentences, Joe told him about the helicopter accident and his feelings of guilt and how that had triggered his panicked reaction to kids, which had in turn finally triggered his repressed memory about Danny. He ended by whispering, “I didn’t save him, Dad.”
“Save him?” his father repeated. “Joe, you were just a little kid. I was the parent. I was the one who should have been looking after you both. For God’s sake, I’m the one who should be filled with guilt, not you. I never talked about it, the family never talked about it. That was my decision. It was probably the wrong decision, I can see that now. But I was so consumed with guilt that I couldn’t stand to talk about it, so I locked it up. My baby son drowned on my watch. My fault. No excuses, no exceptions.”
Joe was stunned to find that his dad, his infallible dad felt guilty.
“What? You thought you were the only one to ever experience guilt?” his dad asked.
“No,” Joe replied, thinking of Prudence. “How did you recover?”
“You don’t so much recover as you continue on. You can’t allow the regrets and the guilt to do you in. You can’t go down that road, son.”
“Too late. I’ve already halfway down that road,” Joe replied.
“Then about-face!” his dad barked like the drill sergeant he’d once been. “Turn around right now, before it’s too late.” His voice softened and vibrated with intensity as he continued, “Listen to me, son. Accidents happen. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right. Danny’s drowning was an accident. The ground just gave way next to that creekbed. I’ve relived that moment over and over again in my head. If only I’d gotten to him faster, if only I’d kept him further away from the creek.”
“Yeah,” Joe agreed huskily. “Those ‘if only’s’ are tough.”
