by Ciana Stone
“It’s a bad idea for you to work with Jasper Jacks.” He knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but he also knew she wanted honesty from him and he believed what he said.
“It’s my job,” she argued.
“Yeah, it was your job back then and it almost finished you. You sure you want to open the gates of hell again?”
“I have to.” Etta walked to the table, pulled out the chair adjacent to him and sat. “And you have to help me. We have to help him, Deacon. Look what he gave. He deserves to be saved and I don’t mean just physically freed from that hell. We have to help him free his mind from it.”
“It won’t bring back the dead, Etta.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“I do. Will you help me?’
“When have I said no to you?”
She smiled and got up to tend to the food. Deacon watched as she served up two plates and brought them to the table. She poured them each a glass of iced tea, took a pan of bread from the oven, then raked the thick slices onto a plate that she set on the table.
“Looks good.” He commented. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I hate eating alone.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. Thank you.”
After that, there was no talk. They ate and when they were finished, they both worked to clean up the table, put away the leftovers, and wash the dishes.
“Want a drink?” he asked.
She looked at the bottle he pulled from the pantry. “Are you serious? That’ll make your hair fall out.”
“Pretty decent shine.” He poured himself a drink and looked at her again.
“What the hell. Pour me one.”
Deacon poured her a glass, handed it to her, and then made his way to the porch. An old-fashioned porch swing hung on one end, its wooden frame padded for comfort. Etta sat with her legs curled up to one side, leaning against Deacon. He kept the swing moving gently and in silence they watched the last of the light fade from the sky and the stars appear.
Etta finished her drink and put her head against his shoulder. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
“If you need.”
“I do.”
“You tired?”
“I am.”
He stopped the swing and stood, waiting for her. She took his glass from him. “I’ll wash these and set up the coffee maker. Do you have it on a timer?”
“There’s supposed to be one. I don’t use it.”
“I’ll set it. What time?”
“Four.”
“Talk about getting up with the chickens,” she grumbled and headed for the kitchen.
Deacon took off his boots and left them in their customary place beside the door. He then went into the bedroom, turned back the bedcovers and lay down on his back. A few minutes later, Etta entered, kicked off her shoes, turned off the light, and climbed onto the bed.
She snuggled up to him, resting her head on his chest and for a while, they were quiet. When she spoke, it was in a whisper.
“Why wouldn’t you be with me, Deacon? Back then?”
He had always dreaded her asking but had been waiting for her to do so. Even after all this time, he regretted having to answer for fear that it would hurt her.
“Because you were damaged and looking for something or someone to make the pain stop. Not me, just someone.”
It was a long time before she spoke again. “I would have loved you.”
“You do love me, Etta.”
“Yes, I do. I always will.”
“I know, and I’ll always love you.”
“I wish—”
“Be quiet, girl, and go to sleep. I’m not meant for you or you for me in that way, but we’re a perfect fit for this.”
“You’re my best friend, Deac. You know that, right?”
“I do. Now go to sleep.”
It wasn’t long before the sound of her breathing changed. Deacon lay awake long after that, thinking about what he’d read in Jasper Jack’s file, and worrying that this time, Etta might be taking on more than she could handle. She just might be diving into a pool of hurt that would end up finishing her.
He wasn’t sure he could handle that, so he’d do as she’d asked and try to help. But his help also included intervening if it looked like she was in danger of being hurt. Because what he’d said was true. He did love Etta, and had sworn to look out for her until the day she no longer needed a guardian angel.
And that day had not yet come.
Chapter Four
This wasn’t the first morning JJ had spotted Dr. Whitestone coming out of Deacon’s house. It just didn’t click in his mind, the two of them, but apparently, they were involved. He shouldn’t care, but he did, and he stewed on that all morning until time to head to her office for the first session of the week.
He’d been there for four weeks, working the ranch. Every Tuesday and Thursday, he reported to Etta’s office. She asked him the same thing every time. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
Each time he said no because that was honest. There wasn’t anything he wanted to talk about. Talking didn’t solve anything. She always just nodded and said, “Fine, then let me ask you some questions.”
The questions were always the same. All about his capture, imprisonment, torture, and escape.
Try as he might, he could never make it through the questions without losing it. Panic started to build and the only way he could deal with it was to get mad. Which he did. Every time.
The first week, both days he stormed out. In week two, the first day he stormed out, and day two, he picked up a chair and threw it through a window. She didn’t even flinch. She just looked at the broken window, typed something on her damn tablet, and then said he could leave.
Week three when he showed up, she wasn’t there. Either day. Week four, he made it through all the questions about his capture, but lost it when she asked about his injuries. This time when he threw the chair, it was into a bookshelf. Again, she didn’t react. She just typed on that damn tablet.
Now, it was week five. JJ walked into her office. She was sitting in the same chair she always chose, the one closest to the window. She looked up when he entered.
“Good morning, Mr. Jacks. I hope your day has gone well so far.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He wondered if they were always going to be stuck in the Mr. Jacks and Dr. Whitestone stage, where everything was stilted, formal, and uncomfortable. If so, then he was never going to get back to his unit.
“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
There it was, that damn question. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the surge of anger that boiled up and spewed right out of his mouth.
“Hell yes there is. This—whatever this is, isn’t doing a damn bit of good, so if this is all we’re going to do, I’m never getting back to my unit and that’s the only fucking reason I agreed to this.”
“Ah, so that’s your goal—to get back to your unit?”
“Come on. You know it is.”
“And how do you plan to accomplish that?”
“By getting you to sign a paper saying I’m fit.”
“And you will get me to do that how?”
“Well, how the hell would I know? It sure as shit isn’t by answering the same questions over and over. What the hell good is talking, anyway? It doesn’t change a damn thing.”
“No, it doesn’t. Nothing will change what happened. But unless you can talk honestly and openly about it, without being crippled by the memories, you’ll never return to active duty. Right now, you’d only be a liability to the others on your team, therefore, at this point in time you’re no good to them and you won’t be until you can face what happened and not let it hurt you anymore. So, let me ask you again, Mr. Jacks. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
As much as he hated it, he knew she spoke the truth. There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to think about tha
t time without feeling like he either wanted to blow his brains out or find a dark place to hide.
He wanted to be himself again, but didn’t believe the endless talk was going to get him there, so he did have a question and it was the one that was the most important.
“Yes, I want to know, and I want a straight answer. No shrink speak. Can you help me get back to being me?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Then tell me what you want me to do.”
For the first time, she smiled. Then she set aside her tablet, stood, walked to the door, and opened it. “Let’s get started.”
JJ was momentarily blinded by the beauty of her smile, but recovered and bounded to his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”
They left her office and made their way to what looked like a big garage, which turned out to be just that. Inside were tractors, four-wheelers, utility vehicles in various sizes, a couple of motorcycles, and other farming vehicles.
She yelled out to a man on the other side of the garage who appeared to be working on a mower. “George? Can I take one of the UTVs?”
“Sure.” He stopped what he was doing, disappeared through a door, and emerged a few seconds later to meet her halfway. “Here you are.” He handed her the key.
“Thanks, George. Which one?”
“You betcha. And the one on the far end. Just serviced it.”
“Okay, thanks again.” She tossed the key to JJ and walked over to climb into the passenger seat.
“Where to?” JJ asked as he started the engine.
“Out of the garage, take a right, third building on the right.”
He drove as directed and stopped in front of the building. “Back up to that loading door.” She pointed and then got out.
JJ followed orders and waited. The door lifted to reveal Dr. Whitestone and another man at the control of a small bobcat with a lift. He drove it over and plunked the box onto the bed of the UTV.
“Thanks, Mitch,” Dr. Whitestone thanked the man.
“You bet, Doc.”
She climbed back into the UTV with JJ. “Okay, at the end of this drive, take another right and when you come to the fork, go left.”
After that, she didn’t say another word. JJ looked around as he drove, appreciating the quiet. It was rare to meet a woman who didn’t feel the need to fill every moment of silence with talk, but Dr. Whitestone was one of those rare women.
He cast a quick look at her. It would have been a lot easier if she were unattractive. He wondered if she could tell he found her appealing. Was it wrong to have the hots for your shrink?
As if reading his thoughts, she turned and looked at him. “Almost there. I’m guessing that as a SEAL, you have no issues with water.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good.”
With that, she looked away. He paid attention to where they were headed. There was a rise ahead and the land beyond was more barren than the rest of the place he’d seen. Barren and dusty.
Bare and dusty. That’s when it hit him. He felt a wave of sick heat that started on the soles of his feet and washed up through him. He could feel it, feel them. Knew that just over that rise they were waiting. Waiting to take him.
Back to hell.
He stomped the brake and tried to catch his breath.
“You’re not there.” He could hear her voice, but it wasn’t powerful enough to stop the rising panic.
“You’re not there.” This time her voice was stronger. “Look at me. Look at me, Jasper.”
It took every ounce of his will to turn his head and look at her and when he did, his gaze fell prisoner to her.
“You’re not there.” Her voice was soft but filled with such assurance that he mentally reached for it. “You’re here. With me. And together we’re stronger than they are. Stronger than what they did to you and stronger than what they left you with. Do you hear me? We’re stronger. You said you wanted to be you again. Then trust me.”
He wanted to agree, but his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He could feel sweat dripping off his brow, stinging his eyes and rolling down his face. He could feel his breath, labored and fast, and the way his guts clenched.
He wanted to be stronger, but it was too much. “I—can’t…”
“You can.” She took his face in her hands. “You’re stronger. We’re stronger. Just listen to me. Only me. Breathe with me. Just like me. Watch.”
That much he could manage. Just barely.
“In.” She breathed in a long inhale.
Their locked gaze was his lifeline and he clung to it, letting her voice resonate in his mind.
“And out.” Her exhale was even longer. “Do it, JJ. Breathe with me. Nothing is more important. Nothing. Breathe.”
“In.” Again she inhaled.
This time he did as she ordered.
“Out.”
His breath was shaky, and his body trembled, but he did it. Over and over. He lost track of everything. There was only her eyes, their breath, and the feel of her hands on his face.
All at once it hit him. He wasn’t shaking anymore. He wasn’t sweating, and his heart wasn’t racing. It shocked him into losing the rhythm of their breathing. To his surprise, she nodded and removed her hands from his face.
“You’re stronger than you know, Mr. Jacks. Don’t forget that. Now, let’s get moving.”
That’s it? That was all she was going to say about it? She’d just gotten him through what might have been a grand scale panic attack and that’s all she had to say? He didn’t know what to think. Women didn’t act that way.
“Mr. Jacks?”
Her voice propelled him into motion and a few seconds later, they reached their destination. That’s when he realized she’d taken him in a circle around the property. The water of the lake glistened under the midday sun.
“Drive on down to the shore.”
Once there, JJ parked and turned off the engine. Dr. Whitestone got out of the UTV and motioned to him. “You see those poles? One there and the other there?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m going to cordon it off for a swimming area. Some of the employees have kids and the owners said it would be okay to set up a swimming area for them.”
“And?”
“And we have rope and floats in the box to use.”
“We?”
She cut a look at him. “You said you don’t have a problem with water.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good, then let’s get to it.”
With that, she walked to the back of the UTV, sat down, took off her boots and socks, put them in the back of the UTV, and then stood to strip off her baggy shirt. Beneath it was a tank top. She tossed the shirt on top of her boots and then unfastened her jeans and stepped out.
JJ nearly swallowed his tongue. She was wearing running shorts. Skintight running shorts and a tank top. Now the questions that had run through his mind were answered. No, she wasn’t fat and no, she wasn’t skinny. What she was, was hot.
God help him. She was hot as a match and she was screwing Deacon. Fuck.
“Well?” She looked at him.
“All I have underneath this is my underwear.”
“And?”
He would have argued, but what would he say? Instead he stripped down to boxer briefs as she dumped the contents of one box on the ground. She grabbed one big roll of rope and a bag of floats and headed for the lake. “Come on.”
JJ followed and helped her secure one end of the rope to a big post buried in the ground at the shoreline. She stretched out the rope, walking it along the shore. When it was taut, she dropped it and returned to tear open the bag of floats.
“Okay, you start on this one and I’ll get another. Just space them equidistantly on the rope. A knot before and after each float to hold it in place. It’s gonna be a bitch with the rope being so long.”
He nodded and she turned away. JJ tried not to look in her direction as he worked. She secured another rope a
t the post on the opposite end of the shoreline, stretched it out, and then started putting the floats in place, tying a knot, feeding a float onto the rope and then another knot.
It was a lot more tiring that he imagined. Every knot required dragging the entire length of rope in to create the knot and then after the rope was fed through the float and it was in place, dragging the rope again to create another knot.
He wondered how she was faring and turned to find her watching him as she worked. She had to have seen his scars, but she’d not reacted. Was that because of her training? He continued to look at her. She nodded and looked away. It wasn’t until both lines were completed that she spoke.
“Okay, swim this one out and secure it. I’ll do the other.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He walked over to the post where the rope was secured and started pulling it toward him, letting it drift in the shallows at his feet. Once the entirety of it was in the water, he took the end, waded out until he was deep enough to swim, and then lowered himself into the water.
*****
Etta watched as he swam out into the lake, headed for the next support pole. She hadn’t anticipated the attack that had come on during the drive and had been thinking about it the entire time they’d been working on the ropes. It had to have been the landscape. At least that’s the feeling she got from him. Something about the appearance of the land reminded him of some part of his capture or imprisonment and had triggered a panic attack.
What gave her hope for him was that his training was so thorough and following orders so ingrained into who he was that he’d been able to relinquish control to her and get through the attack. She hadn’t lied when she said he was stronger than he realized. It took some people months or years to accomplish what he had today.
She was going to talk to Deacon about it. He said Jasper, or JJ as everyone called him, was able to stay focused on a task for longer periods of time now, but that physical labor alone didn’t seem to be enough. Etta paid attention to Deacon’s impressions. He was rarely wrong, and as strong an empath as she was, if not stronger.
Jasper had taken a huge step today. The question was, would he be able to do it alone, or would he need assistance and for how long? That was the one downside to her ability to help people like him. Her empathic nature allowed her to share their feelings, to be part of them and to absorb them, lessening their damaging impact. Take that away from the equation and they were left on their own, unwilling or unable to tap into their own strengths to accomplish the same goal.
