by Zoe York
At the twelve weeks to go mark, she found a new normal. A month had passed since they’d said goodbye. Sometimes she walked to the corner of the compound where she could see the air field where they’d stolen one last embrace before she was picked up by a local driver, and he got on a helicopter to take him back to war. But most of the time, she didn’t dwell on where he was and how long it had been since she’d heard his voice.
She poured herself into work instead. She was smarter about when she grabbed sleep and what she ate, making sure she had enough rest and fuel to get her through long shifts.
To get her to the end of her contract, and to Sean on the other side.
Their wedding rings were in the wooden box in her locker. She resisted the urge to take them out and put hers on. Most of the time. She celebrated the end of the tenth week out—moving into single digits—with a bottle of beer and a night of wearing her ring as she wrote him a dorky almost-seven-week-anniversary email. Seven weeks married, Ten weeks to go.
They had this.
He sent her an equally dorky note back, promising an “all out bash” to celebrate their twentieth-week anniversary once they were home and together again. All the Granny Smith apples she could handle. He warned he was heading into the field again, and she shouldn’t worry.
So she didn’t as she fell asleep with her phone pressed to her chest and a ridiculous smile plastered on her face.
A WEEK LATER, Jenna nodded as Sami talked about the new ultrasound machine that had just arrived, but she’d stopped listening somewhere around the details of the soft tissue imaging capability. It was Thursday, and Sean had said they’d be back from the field today.
She felt like a toddler obsessed with a promised activity.
She could hardly stand another second of chatter because she had email to check and—
“Jenna?”
She winced. “Sorry.”
Sami just laughed.
Everyone knew she was over the moon about Sean, and she didn’t let it affect her work—except for right now. She flushed. “I just…”
“You haven’t heard from him in a week.” Her medical director shooed her toward the door. “Go check your email. I promise I understand.”
Sami’s wife was a doctor, too, back in Canada with their two kids. And this wasn’t his first placement overseas.
After telling Sami in a rush that she’d see him tomorrow, Jenna ran from the hospital to her tent. She opened her locker and pulled out her phone.
No messages.
The crash of adrenaline slamming into disappointment was enough to rock her back on her heels.
Damn. So much for managing her expectations in a healthy way.
Hands shaking, she carried her phone to her bed and lay down. It took ages for her pulse to stop racing, but when it finally did, she carefully composed yet another uplifting email.
Another week passed. Jenna had sent two more emails then took a break for a few days. She was starting to sound mopey, and that wasn’t what she wanted.
She’d started obsessively reading the news, scanning for any updates about the Canadian mission across the border. No news was good news, she told herself.
Then one day, there was news. And it was awful.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JENNA SCRUBBED HER FOREARMS, all the way up to the elbow, then rinsed and repeated. She was dead tired, and so snappy she was afraid she might say something she’d regret to the wrong person—really, anyone—if she didn’t get a good night’s sleep soon.
Taking a deep breath, she blinked her scratchy eyes as wide open as she could and tipped her head to the ceiling and then to each side, stretching her neck. It was the end of her shift. Sleep was right around the corner.
She wasn’t looking forward to going back to her tent, though. It was only April, but the temperatures were soaring. It was hot and sticky now, even at night, and before she could fall into a reluctant, shallow slumber, she’d spend an hour searching the internet for Sean’s name.
Nothing ever came up, but it had been more than a month since his last email. Something was wrong. Surely this was too long to go without contact, but… she wasn’t sure. And she couldn’t ask anyone, not without revealing far too much.
“I think you’re clean now,” Milly said, bumping hips as she joined Jenna at the scrub station.
“Yeah.”
“You were a cool cucumber today. You handled that breech birth like a pro, well done.”
Jenna gave her a tired smile. “Thank you.”
“Go get some rest.”
She nodded and headed for the door, but before she got there, it swung open. Sami gave her a grave look. “Jenna, I need a minute.”
Shit. If he was going to jack her up for being a sad, miserable bitch, could he at least wait until she was halfway rested? Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Right now? It’s just that—”
His mouth tightened into a white line, and she cut herself off.
Silently, she followed him to the front office.
He waited for her to move inside and then closed the door behind her. He gave her another hard look. “I just got off the phone with my wife,” he finally said. “There’s a news story breaking back home.”
He wasn’t reprimanding her? Then Jenna’s brain caught up to her heart, already pounding, as she figured out where Sami was going.
“It just came out in the last half hour, and I knew you’d see it when you checked the news yourself, but I thought you should hear it from a friend first.”
Even as pain and fear exploded in her chest, she felt her face frowning and heard herself say, “Hear what?”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Captain Foster was injured. He’s now back in Canada…”
A dull roar filled her ears. Sami’s mouth kept moving, and her eyes translated some of his lip shapes to words. Stable. No details. Significant injuries. Recovery.
The next thing she felt was a sharp, piercing pain, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.
“Jenna…” Sami put his hands on her shoulders. “Say something.”
“I…” More blood spilled against her tongue. She’d bit her lip.
She needed a computer. She needed to read the news. She wasn’t going to process it properly if he told it to her.
She wasn’t going to be able to hear a medical report on her husband, her brain couldn’t handle that. “Show me,” she finally managed to spit out, and Sami handed over his phone.
The article was brief but still shocking enough to make her heave.
Three weeks ago, there had been an incident.
Three weeks.
She’d worked and slept and worried and written him, but she’d never known. She hadn’t felt it. Shouldn’t she have felt something? She was his wife.
“I know you two were close. I thought you’d want to hear it from a friend.”
Jenna blinked up at her medical director. He didn’t know they were married.
Nobody knew.
“Yes, we’re close,” she whispered. He’s my husband.
All this time, Sean had worried that something would happen to her if they told anyone they’d married. That it would compromise his job.
“I’ll need to go home,” she finally said, not bothering to acknowledge the look of surprise on her boss’s face. “How much notice do you need?”
SHE FELL asleep in the office the next morning. Someone had covered her up and pinned her pager to the blanket. When she woke, the first thing she did was reach for her phone in a panic. She’d left it in her locker while on duty for months, but no more.
He hadn’t called her. Yet.
But he would.
She hit refresh on the search results page and saw the same dozen articles she’d read the night before. They were basically the same six paragraphs with minor variations. An explosion on base had injured a Canadian Forces captain, a reserve officer from a unit in Wiarton, Ontario. There was a service picture and a brief biography
that noted his endurance running career.
At the end, in the most benign of add-ons, it mentioned that Captain Foster was recuperating at home with his family.
His family.
But not his wife.
“How are you doing?” Sami asked when he brought her a cup of coffee. “Do you need anything?”
She didn’t know how to answer that. She needed out of her contract, and that wasn’t possible, not without putting women and children in danger. She glanced down at the phone in her hand. “I can’t find anything about his injuries online.”
Sami hesitated before leaning back in his chair. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I offered. And I won’t do anything underhanded. I’m going to call his commanding officer and express my concern, having met Captain Foster on his transit through this camp.”
She let herself imagine that would actually work.
But she was bitterly disappointed the next day when Sami shook his head. “Tight-mouthed over there. No details. Just that the news reports are accurate, and they appreciate our concern.” He hesitated before adding, “I’ve put in a request for a replacement for you. But it might take a few weeks.”
Mariya and Milly covered for her as much as they could, and when she was needed, she worked harder than ever, driven by guilt and fear and some unspoken negotiation with a higher power that if she did what she could here, someone else would take care of Sean back home.
Prayers were all she had, because he didn’t reach out.
For all she knew, he had amnesia.
She’d already tried to contact him. His phone number didn’t work, and none of his family members had listed phone numbers. Oh, for the straightforward days of landlines and phone books.
The military was no help, either. She called again and again, only to get the same brick wall of no information.
“I appreciate what you are saying,” Jenna said through gritted teeth. “But I have a marriage license that promises I do know him. I’m happy to fax it to whoever needs to see it. And I’m not asking you to tell me anything about his condition, just to pass a message on.”
“Ma’am, you will need to contact the Canadian Forces member yourself, directly. And as this is not the first time you have contacted us, I need to remind you that everyone has a right to privacy. You are not an authorized next of kin for any member of the Canadian Forces. I cannot help you.”
The line went dead, and Jenna almost threw her phone across her tent. There went another twenty dollar phone call that had done her no good.
She wiped a lazy drop of sweat from her brow and swallowed back the tears she refused to let fall.
Her pager went off, and she stuffed her feelings down, deep inside. This was the only way to get through the day now. She’d turned herself in an automaton. She took a quick look at the message, then washed her face and headed for the hospital.
Sami was coming out as she approached the front doors. “I was coming to see you,” he said, his expression not giving anything away.
“Yeah?” She stopped abruptly, dust kicking up around her.
“I’ve secured a replacement midwife. She’ll be arriving in two weeks.” He searched her face. “It’s the best I can do, Jenna.”
She nodded numbly. Two more weeks. She just had to survive fourteen more days of work, and then she was going to be on a plane back to Canada.
To Sean, and whatever the hell was going on in Pine Harbour.
Because she’d made him a promise. She was his wife, no matter what.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
June
Pine Harbour
THREE WEEKS after her arrival in Sean’s home town, Jenna had to face two unhappy truths: she was zero help to her husband in his current mental state, and the pie at Mac’s was no longer an acceptable form of therapy.
She could deal with the latter point more easily than the former. She found a therapist in Wiarton who could see her once a week, and she started walking every evening. Sometimes Chloe or Olivia came with her, but often she walked on her own. She explored every street in the small town, and figured out the fastest way to get from Dean’s little house to the still-freezing-cold beach where the town dipped down to the natural harbour on Lake Huron which gave the town its name.
Grace checked in with her every few days too. Jenna clung to her friendships with these women, to the new routines she was forging, because after a week of decent visits with Sean, everything between them had gone downhill.
And counting in weeks had been reassuring when she first arrived, but now they were nearing the twelve week mark post-trauma. She’d been here for four weeks. Pretty soon, she’d be counting in months, and that shift felt depressing.
She focused on work to distract herself. By the start of June, Jenna had her documentation submitted to the provincial midwifery college. She had to take an online course while her registration was being transferred from British Columbia to Ontario. In another month or two, she’d be registered and able to apply for local jobs. She was purposefully keeping herself from doing any active job hunting, though, since most positions were further afield than she wanted and the lure of that escape would probably be attractive to her at this point.
Very attractive, if she let herself admit how frustrated she was getting with Sean.
The closest they’d come to a real, meaningful conversation had been weeks ago. In the time since, he’d been cold and hard to her, and some days, hadn’t been up for a visit at all. She’d gotten used to his cryptic texts. Today’s not a good day.
She hated she couldn’t do anything to relieve the migraines.
She hated that her visits taxed him. She didn’t want to be a drain in any way. She wanted to give him room to recover, but she also ached to see him for the twenty-two hours a day she was away from him. Stretching it to forty hours between visits physically hurt her.
And in the crazy yo-yo swing between feelings, she’d come to resent going to Dean and Liana’s house to see him. The beautiful home Sean had turned into a voluntary prison.
Anger surged through her, unexpected and harsh.
He obviously didn’t want her to meddle in his care. It wasn’t her place. She told herself to be respectful of boundaries and understand he could choose the care he wanted—or didn’t—and he was smart enough to be making good choices.
She told herself a lot of bullshit.
He needed something else.
And his brothers, as well meaning as they were, weren’t helping.
She took a deep breath and marched up the porch. She knocked loudly on the front door, then stepped back and propped her hands on her hips for a second before clasping them behind her back.
No need to be confrontational.
But when the door swung open, her mouth opened and words poured out.
“I’m here to collect Sean and bring him back to my place. Your place. Your old place, I mean. This isn’t the right environment for him, with you doting on him.”
Dean gave her a long, slow blink. “Hey, Jenna.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “Hi.”
“So you…willingly…want to live with the grumpiest man on the peninsula?”
Want wasn’t the right word. Needed, maybe. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t suggested this to him yet.”
She flushed with guilt. “No.”
Dean grinned. “That’s the Foster way. Come on in.” He stepped out of the way and hollered up the stairs to Sean. “Yo, bud! Your wife is here!”
That had stopped embarrassing Jenna somewhere around the fourth visit, but it hadn’t stopped making her feel funny in a different way, deep inside. There was a long stretch of silence. Then they heard a grumble, followed by, “Yeah. Coming down.”
What? Jenna started for the stairs, but stopped when Sean rounded the corner on his own. Well, not totally on his own.
&
nbsp; He was holding a cane.
Using it, even.
He didn’t look at her. His gaze was fixed on a point on the wall high above her. She could only imagine how much concentration it took for him to ignore the swirling disorientation that was his constant vertigo.
But he was doing it. Step, step, step.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and switched the cane to his other hand before grabbing the bannister and with a lot more grace than she expected, he sat down.
It was a little thing, really.
But he sat down fluidly. No hesitation. Was he aware he’d done that?
She beamed at him as he took the stairs on his bottom, and when he stood in front of her, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so proud.”
She could scarcely believe what she was seeing. Proud didn’t even touch the surface of how she felt. “I am,” she said, her voice cracking. Damn feelings.
His jaw flexed as he switched the cane again and leaned against it.
“You’ve been practicing behind my back.” She smiled to soften that statement. “How? Here?” Maybe she was wrong about this being a bad place for him to recuperate. He’d made more progress than she’d ever have suspected.
“Here. Owen Sound for physio. Some strength training, too.”
How had she not seen it? She looked at him through fresh eyes. He was standing stronger, and his face wasn’t pinched in pain, either.
Dean cleared his throat. “Jenna was saying—”
“Nothing important,” she interjected.
Sean’s brother gave her a confused look.
Now wasn’t the time to change his routine. Not when he was finally on the path to recovery.
“It can wait.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “Okay, Mr. Mobile, offer me a coffee or something.”
SEAN WATCHED Jenna eye the fancy cane sugar cubes Liana liked. She looked at them three times, each time convincing herself she didn’t need them. She’d been cutting back, he’d noticed. His old self would have understood, and encouraged her.
Now he had to keep himself from reaching out and putting one in her cup for her. Life was too damn short to deprive oneself of a sugar cube in one’s coffee.
