He cried out again. “No! Get back!” Then he swung his massive arm back, away from his body, slamming her across the chest. A harsh gasp was forced from her as he hit her squarely, sending her reeling across the room.
Claire actually became airborne, flying a few inches off the ground before landing on her side and skidding. Her slide was halted when she hit the door jamb hard with her shoulder. A cry escaped her lips and she came to a stop, stunned, on the far side of the room.
* * *
LUKE WAS SUDDENLY AWARE, but he was very disoriented. Seconds passed. He realized he was kneeling in his bed. His entire body was wet—almost as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. He had hit someone; he could still feel the vestige of the contact on the back of his right forearm. He knew there had been two cries. That was what had awakened him—either the contact or the sound of the muffled cries. His heart thundered in his chest and he was breathing hard, as though he’d just sprinted a mile. More seconds passed as he shook his head, trying to clear it.
Then he heard a sound—like a faint sigh. With crushing apprehension, he turned toward the sound, and in the dim light from the open doorway, he saw her. She was curled next to the wall by his bedroom door, crumpled like a little doll. Her eyes were huge as she stared at him.
“Dear God, no.” His harsh words were quiet now but at least as mournful as before. “No, please, no!” He scrambled to his feet, nearly overwhelmed by a wave of nausea as he rushed to where she was lying. “Claire...Claire, please...”
She cringed when he reached out to her. He knelt beside her. His touch was gentle as he placed both hands on her upper arms, trying to help her sit up. “Oh, please, no,” he repeated. “Honey, are you hurt?” His accent was stronger than usual, and the words were plaintive. “Please, tell me if I hurt you.” He ran his hands across her upper arms and back, searching for evidence of injury and fervently praying he would find none.
* * *
“LUKE, I’M OKAY. It’s okay.” Seeing that he was alert again relieved Claire enormously, and she was able to focus briefly on herself. She would no doubt have bruises on her hip and shoulder, but she hadn’t hit her head and knew from years of experience falling repeatedly on the ice that she was not seriously injured. “You didn’t hurt me, Luke. I’m okay.” She repeated the reassurances several times, hoping to convince and trying to console.
Finally, he accepted that she was, indeed, all right. The look on his face changed from terror to shame, remorse and a different kind of fear. He rose slowly and moved stiffly away from her.
As Claire studied him, she detected that a barrier or curtain seemed to crash down, separating them. That was when she became aware that he was only wearing raggedy gym shorts. Although his size and strength were obvious to anyone who came in contact with him, it was the first time she’d actually seen his heavily muscled chest and arms. She swallowed and stared. The raw power evident by his size and bulk was truly fearsome.
Still a little shaky, she stood. “Luke, I’m okay. I promise, you didn’t hurt me.” She was relieved that her voice seemed much steadier than she actually felt. Although she wanted to go to him, she sensed his withdrawal and knew he would recoil from her touch. Instead she placed a hand on the door frame to make certain her wobbly legs would keep her upright.
He stared at her for a moment longer, as if trying to ensure she was being truthful. Finally satisfied in that regard, he turned his back to her, walked to the far window and opened it, allowing the cool air in. He leaned his head against the window and said quietly, “Please go.”
“Luke, you were having a nightmare. Can we talk—”
“No. It’s over. Please go.”
“But, if you talk to—” she pleaded.
“Claire, I need you to leave, now. Please go to bed.” His voice was weary and the words were emotionless. He continued to stare out of the window. “We can talk in the morning.”
Sensing his pain but feeling shut out, Claire felt tears form in her eyes. Reluctantly she slipped out of his room, closing the door and leaving him alone.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING was gray and significantly cooler, closely mirroring Claire’s emotions. After returning to her room, she’d had a great deal of difficulty going back to sleep. When she’d first been awakened by Luke’s cries, she’d assumed it was nearly dawn. But she’d been surprised to see that it was only two o’clock. She spent the next hours tossing in her bed, alternately listening for more indications of Luke’s night terrors and trying to think through what to do to help him.
Her emotions had run the gamut from deep despair that their relationship was over, to quiet confidence that in the morning they would calmly and sensibly discuss what had occurred. In that scenario, she would convince Luke to share the nightmare and together they could identify the possible causes. Her mind raced, trying to remember all that she had studied about veterans’ health problems. She wondered about what he might have seen or heard or done—what he’d been exposed to during his multiple deployments in the Persian Gulf. She recalled that he’d actually been in Afghanistan for a while and wondered if he was experiencing PTSD.
As the night progressed, she became more and more certain that she could help. After all, she was an expert in taking care of the mental and emotional problems that often accompanied children with severe health issues. Translating that knowledge to caring for a healthy young man couldn’t be that difficult, could it? She knew that it was vital to draw him out the next morning. He needed to talk to her, to trust her.
She could help him. She would help him. She knew that he cared for her—he loved her.
So he would listen.
At about four, she’d finally dozed off, sleeping fitfully. She awoke a few hours later to the gray gloom from the bedroom window. She showered and dressed casually in worn jeans and a light blue blouse, grateful that the bruises she’d expected were hidden. She pulled her hair back in a pony tail and put on her glasses. Glancing in the mirror, she decided that she looked better than she felt. Fortunately, the poor night’s sleep wasn’t obvious.
She knew Luke was still in the apartment as she could hear him through the closed door. She sensed that the next minutes were among the most important in their relationship. Finally, eager to see him and talk to him, she took a deep breath, said a short prayer and left the bedroom.
* * *
LUKE WAS SITTING at the table, as she’d expected he would be. All four of the computers were active. He only glanced at her as she entered the room. He didn’t speak, but returned his attention to one of the monitors.
Claire studied him for a moment and was discouraged by what she saw. He looked terrible. He was still wearing the ratty gym shorts from last night, but he’d thrown on an equally ratty, faded T-shirt. He hadn’t shaved and his hair was lank and uncombed. His eyes were red-rimmed, with dark spots under each. She suspected he hadn’t slept at all.
“Good morning.” Claire tried to sound cheerful, but the greeting came out flat.
“Morning,” he replied gruffly. He didn’t look up.
Trying to regain normalcy, Claire moved toward the kitchen. “Have you had breakfast?”
“No, I’m not really hungry.” He waited a span and evidently thought he needed to add something. “You go ahead.”
“How about coffee?” She looked at the nearly empty coffee pot; its contents closely resembled sludge. “I can make some fresh.”
Luke frowned at his drained cup and then glanced at Claire. “Yeah, okay.” His focus moved to another of the computers and he tapped at its keyboard. His manner was dismissive; it was blatantly obvious that he didn’t want to talk.
The silence grew awkward as Claire puttered in the kitchen making coffee and Luke appeared to study his computers. When the coffee was ready, Claire poured two cups and carried them to the dining area, placing o
ne in front of Luke before sitting down across from him. She watched him for a couple of minutes. His brow was slightly creased and he seemed to be working very hard to maintain his concentration and ignore her.
Needing to start a conversation, she finally asked, “Is everything all right with the moving missile?”
“Yeah, we identified it and were able to pinpoint its source. We’re pretty sure where it’s going.” He continued to type. “At any rate, it’s in the government officials’ and diplomats’ hands now. We’ll probably be hearing about new disarmament ‘talks’ in the news over the next few days.”
“Oh.” She took a sip of coffee. “So nothing to worry about, then?” She wasn’t particularly concerned; she just wanted him to talk to her.
“No. Pretty much the same old stuff.” A soft ping from one of the computers caught Luke’s attention. He shifted to a different screen, moved the mouse and clicked on an icon. “Good,” he said absently, then returned his attention to the monitor he’d been checking previously. He clicked a few more keys and then glanced across to Claire. “Just got a response from Bridgette—you know, Brad’s fiancée. I sent her a note earlier asking if you could stay with her for a while.” He gestured to the computer. “She just sent me an email saying that would be fine. She said she’d love to have you.” He looked away again.
Claire was stunned. The feeling in her stomach was similar to what she’d felt the previous night when she’d been slammed against the door jamb. Actually this pain was much worse. Almost a minute passed before she could respond. “You want me to leave?”
Finally, Luke stopped typing. His eyes rose to hers and his hands moved to rest in his lap. “Yes, Claire, I do.” His face was expressionless. He licked his lips and seemed to want to say something else, but decided against it.
“But, why?” She blinked hard several times, determined to avoid tears. “Luke, if it’s about last night—I swear, you didn’t hurt me.” She moved close to where he still sat and tried to add a little humor into the discussion. “When I was skating, I fell ten to twenty times each session. Talk about bruises, sprains, cuts and whatever. I promise that was much harder...” The corners of her lips rose a little as she tried to smile, but the smile fell flat when he only continued to stare.
After a moment, he shook his head in denial, but his expression warred with his words. “Look, I have a lot to do in a short while—getting ready to leave and all. It would be best for me to not have to worry about you.” His eyes were tormented and couldn’t hold hers. Finally, he looked at his coffee and added, “You should stay with Bridgette until you’re allowed to go back home.”
“Luke, if it’s the nightmare, maybe if you would tell me about it—”
“No! I’m not going to talk about last night...except to apologize again.” His tone softened slightly as he continued. “I truly regret... I think you know I would never intentionally...” His jaw clenched and abruptly he pushed away from the table and stood. He picked up his coffee and started to his room. Without looking back he said, “You can pack while I shower and dress. I’ll drop you by Bridgette’s on my way to work.” He closed the bedroom door without waiting for a response.
Claire no longer tried to stop the tears. They flowed freely as she rose and returned to Brad’s room and hurriedly packed her belongings.
She was dry-eyed, however, when Luke emerged from his room a half hour later. He had showered and dressed in his “office” uniform. Despite the haggard lines around his eyes, undoubtedly due to his lack of sleep, he looked beautiful to her, and she had to bite her lip hard to keep the tears that were threatening again in check.
Luke looked miserable when he carried Claire’s bag to the door of Bridgette’s apartment. When Bridgette answered his knock, he gave her a quick hug, a muttered “thanks” and a promise to be in touch before retreating to his borrowed vehicle.
He didn’t even look at Claire.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CLAIRE AND BRIDGETTE shared many similar values, experiences and interests. Since both were nurses and both were in love with military officers, they had a great deal to talk about. Whereas Claire was quiet and reserved, Bridgette was outgoing, and she quickly made Claire feel at ease and ready to talk.
Over coffee the first morning, Claire learned that Bridgette’s father was a career Army officer and her family had followed him all over the world. His last assignment had been in Korea and Bridgette had migrated to Seoul after completing her nursing education in the U.S..
Bridgette took a sip of her latte. “About a year after I got here, Dad decided to retire, and he and Mom moved home to Kansas City. Of course, they assumed I would go with them, but there was a development—Bradley Littlejohn.” She beamed when she mentioned his name. “Brad is an Air Force captain and he’s absolutely crazy about me.”
Bridgette sighed and peered at her new friend over her coffee cup. Claire could see that because of her happiness, Bridgette wanted the same for all her friends.
“Okay, I’ve talked enough. Your turn. Luke didn’t tell me why he wanted you to stay here. Yesterday, you both seemed like...well, like things couldn’t be going better. Did you guys have a fight or something?”
“No, not really.” Claire stared into her coffee cup. “Luke told me he needed me to stay here because he has a lot to do. He was going to be busy and...” Claire wondered if she looked as despondent as she sounded.
Bridgette persisted. “Do you think he was getting cold feet? Maybe because your relationship was moving too fast?”
“No, that’s not the problem. I think he was fine with our relationship. He was very happy—that was pretty obvious—until...” She sighed and told Bridgette about Luke’s nightmare and what had transpired the night before.
“It’s not about having a relationship at all...” She stared at her hands. Her words were quiet. “I think he’s afraid of himself. He thought he’d hurt me. He hadn’t of course—well just a couple of bruises...but it scared him—a lot. That plus whatever is giving him the nightmares. He was in pretty bad shape, but he wouldn’t talk about it...” She stopped. “I feel awkward discussing it with you, like I’m sharing something personal, but I want to help him. Besides I’m mad at him for pushing me away. I believe—no, I know he loves me, but he’s afraid...”
Bridgette was sympathetic. “Don’t worry. I know how he talked about you before he even asked you out—he was hooked on you from the beginning. And I saw the way he looked at you when he dropped you off—I’ve never seen a more unhappy man.” She actually smiled then. “He’ll come around.” She patted Claire’s hand and said, “He’s not stupid. He knows that you care about him. Besides, he can’t go through the rest of his life alone because he’s worried about what he might do in his sleep.”
* * *
BRIDGETTE WORKED EVENINGS at the base hospital’s emergency department, and during the next few days she spent the daytime hours with Claire, shopping at the base stores, going to yoga class, jogging and having coffee or lunch with other friends. The evenings tended to be very lonely and while Bridgette was at the hospital, Claire spent time working on her data analysis, reading and occasionally trying to watch television. She checked on Jessica’s recovery, followed up on the children at Samsung, and called her parents daily.
Often, though, her mind turned to Luke. She tried to imagine what he was doing and wondered if he was as unhappy as she. In contrast, she rarely thought about the reason for her confinement on the base. She felt safe, although very restricted, in the highly secure environment, and chose to ignore the fact that there had been two serious threats to her life.
On the fourth morning she spent at Bridgette’s, the pair was again sipping coffee on the small patio behind the apartment. The weather was still a little cool but the sky was clear. Inevitably, the topic of Claire’s relationship with Luke came up.
“So,
did he call last night?” Bridgette asked as she turned her face toward the morning sun.
Not needing to ask who “he” was, Claire shook her head in disappointment and said, “No. He hasn’t called. I haven’t talked to him since he dropped me here on Monday. He’s sent a couple of emails—really brief and to the point—telling me when my passport would be in and saying he’s still waiting to hear from one of his colleagues about my adoption.” She sipped her coffee.
“One kind of fun thing is that Tony Mancini—the marine who works with Luke at the embassy—has stopped by several times to see Jessica. They’re actually coming here tomorrow to take me to lunch.” She was smiling. “After I got the email, I called Jessica and she told me that Tony is really cute and sweet and funny and he seems to be crazy about her. I think it’s one of those ‘opposites attract’ things...”
“So, speaking of guys being crazy... What gives with Luke not calling or coming by? I would have thought he’d cave by now.”
“Me too... Or at least I had hoped so. I’ve thought about trying to come up with something, a reason to call him, but...”
Bridgette shook her head and sighed, “Men...”
They didn’t speak for a few minutes. Suddenly, Bridgette put down her mug and slapped the table with her hand. “I know what you need—let’s go shopping!” Her green eyes sparkled. “Let me think... Purses or shoes? I know of about five different shops on Itaewon where we can get some great shoes at terrific prices!”
Claire brightened considerably. “I haven’t been to work in nearly a week and I’d love to get out and go somewhere off base.” She looked at her watch. It was just after ten. The idea of a shopping trip to Itaewon with Bridgette was hugely appealing. She drummed her fingers on the patio table and thought out loud. “I think it’ll be safe to leave Yongsan for a couple of hours, don’t you? The attacks were both at night and besides, they knew where I would be.”
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