Devlin's Grace

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  The remote mask no longer existed. Emotion replaced apathy. Devlin’s dark brown eyes burned with an inner candlelight, warm and bright. Tears heightened the effect and the expression on his face reminded her of a sleepwalker who couldn’t quite accept awakening.

  As he stared into her eyes, the air between them kindled with energy. Power sang around her and Gracie reached out. Devlin raised his palm and she touched it, her fingers very aware of the potent emotion present. “If you love me…” He spoke in a husky voice.

  “I do,” Gracie said.

  His fingers brushed her lips. “Hush,” he said. “Let me say this. If you love me, then it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t deserve it, but I’m glad. Gracie, you make me hate myself less because you see some good in me. To you, I’m not a devil or evil. I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want to make you think you had to give back anything, but I love you, too. I’ve loved you almost from the first day. I dreamed of a woman in Iraq, one who looked a lot like you, but you’re better than she ever was. I love you, babe, more than I know how to say or show.”

  Devlin’s words penetrated her consciousness and her pain vanished. In its place a brilliant joy rose, so bright it blotted out everything else. Blinded by tears and joy, Gracie leapt at him and he caught her in his arms. He hugged her against him and she wrapped her arms about him, tight. She cried against his chest as he crooned endearments to her, love words she cherished. Her declaration of love banished his traumatic memory and after a time they parted long enough to wash their faces.

  Refreshed, they linked hands. In harmony, they talked as they walked. Devlin bought a big bowl of homemade ice cream with fresh out of season strawberries. They shared it, savoring the creamy delicious taste. He fed her from the spoon and Gracie loved it.

  “What now?” he asked as they idled on the porch of one of the authentic old cabins in the homestead part of the park, rocking in the shade. “Is there anything else you want to ride or do?”

  “We need to pick up our old time picture,” Gracie said.

  “Is there anything else you want to do while we’re here?”

  In her mind, she gazed out over Branson, over all the theaters and attractions and clutter. Gracie imagined the usual traffic snarls on 76 Country Boulevard and the lines for the best restaurants. “No,” she said. “I don’t unless you do.”

  Devlin took her hand and stroked it. His fingers played up her arm.

  “Nope.”

  “Then let’s go home and make love,” Gracie said.

  A grin blossomed across his face. “I like the idea,” he said. “Which place?”

  Since August, they’d divided their time at first one apartment then the other. Once or twice Devlin hinted they should give up one and share expenses. Gracie liked the idea, but she resisted change. If her parents made their once or twice a year visit, she’d have to explain, and if she moved to his place, it made the trip to campus farther. Although she’d promised to think about it, she hadn’t. But now Gracie promised herself she would consider it.

  “Yours,” she said on impulse. “But we need to stop by mine so I can get some clothes and stuff.”

  His smile lit up her heart. “Planning to spend the night, babe?”

  “If you’ll let me,” she said teasingly. So far, she’d resisted. He’d slept in her apartment more than once, but most of the time, Devlin left before dawn. And although Gracie visited his place, she’d never spent the night before even though he’d asked if she would.

  “Anytime you like,” Devlin said. “Come on, I’ll go get the picture and we’ll hit the road.”

  On the way out of the park, they lingered for a few minutes in the Ozark Marketplace, a last ditch effort to sell merchandise. As Gracie browsed a rack of clearance t-shirts, she glanced up to find Devlin watching her with intent eyes. “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing, I just like to look at you, darlin’.”

  Flattered, she smiled. “Why?”

  “Any woman loving me must be worth a second glance,” Devlin said. “So you really love me?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Gracie said. “I love you, Dev.”

  She traced his lips with one finger and he kissed her, oblivious to other customers.

  All the way back to Springfield she thought about the things she’d do with Devlin. The girl once embarrassed by any mention of masturbation who wouldn’t admit to anyone she occasionally indulged in the act now daydreamed about sensual pleasures. Discovering new ways to delight Dev appealed and so she spent more time than she should to find them. At the bookstore, she’d spent more than a few stolen moments reading some of the sexual help books and she bought her own copy of The Sensuous Woman. Riding behind him on the bike, body pressed against Devlin, Gracie entertained wicked thoughts from what she’d read. She planned a few things she wanted to do, too.

  As they rode, though, her thoughts turned from the carnal to caring. Gracie loved Devlin, body and soul. When he cracked a smile, her heart danced with joy. Doing small things for him delighted her and she wished she could somehow take away his burdens. She enjoyed cooking the simplest dish for him, fixing him a sandwich or making coffee. Her urge to mend his shirts, rub his back, even bake his favorite cake might go against the grain of most 21st century women, but Gracie didn’t care. Call her old-fashioned, but she wanted to do what she could for her man. But she drew the line at picking up his dirty socks.

  Every shift she worked at the bookstore Gracie saw books she’d like to buy Devlin. At the discount and dollar shops her fingers itched to toss items in the shopping cart for him, little things like sunglasses or a candy bar or a back scratcher. She resisted the urge to buy them. Her budget didn’t stretch very far and until now, Gracie feared he might somehow be offended although the times she indulged, he liked the small tokens of affection.

  Until now, Gracie hadn’t considered he must share similar desires. From the first, he’d watched over her like a guardian angel, providing rides and watching out for her. There’d been a few little surprises too, like the ring he’d bought her in Eureka Springs.

  As each mile retreated behind them, Gracie wished he’d go even faster. Her usual insecurities had blinded her to the reality, but the knowledge Devlin loved her too empowered her. She schooled herself to remember, though, he wasn’t going to shape shift into a romance hero. Devlin would remain Devlin, sometimes taciturn, often brusque. And, Gracie mused, she wouldn’t want him any other way.

  She stuffed a duffel bag with a change of clothing, her nightgown, a pair of slippers, an extra pair of sweat pants, her basic toiletries, and the discount paperback she’d bought at work. She picked up her the backpack with her college books, too. When she hoisted both over one shoulder the combined weight sagged so much she almost lost her balance. Devlin took it from her with a sigh.

  “Did you pack enough stuff?” he asked, with one eyebrow lifted in query. “Good thing I’m strong. Hope it doesn’t tip the bike over.”

  Teasing always made her defensive, but she tried not to whine when she said, “I need all of it.”

  Devlin’s expression turned from amused to serious. His dark eyes gazed down into hers. “Hey,” he said. “I know. I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”

  Even though he had, a little, Gracie said, “You didn’t.”

  She didn’t think she fooled him because he frowned. “Okay. Let’s go if you still want to come over.”

  Gracie managed a nod and locked the door behind them, worried now she might’ve tromped right down the middle of their new and still fragile romance. As if he read her mind, Devlin cupped her chin in his left hand before they mounted the motorcycle. “Baby, don’t be upset. It’s been a long day and a good one. It’s a lot to process, but I love you.”

  His three words revived her mood and she lifted up on tiptoe to steal a kiss.

  Chapter Seven

  Her notions of a romantic evening included lit scented candles, a pair of chilled wine glasses,
and a bottle of good wine or even champagne. Gracie’s dreams of chocolate covered strawberries and shared bubble baths faded with speed. Devlin’s place lacked a tub and as they entered to find the place in total masculine disarray, she doubted he could offer any of the other amenities either.

  “I’m sorry it’s such a mess,” Devlin said as he scooped up three or four dirty socks from the living room floor. He grabbed two empty soda cans and a trio of empty beer bottles from the end table by the couch, too. “I’ve been lazy the last couple of days and I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “I can tell,” Gracie said. She wandered into the kitchen and cringed. Dirty dishes stacked in the sink emitted a sour odor and the single trash can in one corner stank. Through the doorway, she caught sight of his unmade bed, the covers in a tangle. Two choices loomed – she could gripe about the mess or she could help clean it up. As a confirmed neat freak, Gracie put her bags down on the mostly clean kitchen table and headed into the bedroom ready to put things to rights. She stripped all the covers off and started over, but when she caught sight of something in the corner, she halted.

  “Hey, Devlin?” Gracie called.

  “Yeah.”

  “Come here for a second, would you?”

  His voice drifted back over the sound of water filling the sink in the kitchen. “Sure, give me a minute.”

  As she waited, Gracie gazed at the image he’d captured on canvas. A small girl with dark eyes and a sweet face stared back, fragile as a young fawn. Gracie guessed her age as six or less. Devlin came into the room and stopped short. “Oh,” he said.

  “Did you paint her?” she asked. “Who is she? She’s lovely.”

  He twisted the dish cloth he held between his hands but didn’t flinch. “I don’t know her name, but yeah, I painted her. I killed her, too.”

  A tiny gasp escaped between her lips before Gracie could prevent it. His calm admission shocked her and she couldn’t figure out what to say. Before she floundered, Devlin sat down on the edge of the unmade bed. “Sit down,” he said. She joined him, wishing she’d never asked about the watercolor. “I’m not going to freak out on you this time. Don’t look so scared.”

  Gracie managed to open her dry mouth. “I’m not, Devlin, just surprised.” Stunned, shocked, or horrified would be a better choice of words, but she left them alone for now.

  With features hardened into a harsh mask, a serious face he met her glance. “I told you I did terrible things, babe.”

  He had, but she hadn’t imagined anything like this. “So you really killed the little girl?”

  “I did.” Devlin spoke in a very quiet tone, voice calm as a cloudless sky. “But it wasn’t on purpose and it wasn’t my fault. I don’t like talking about it, but I’ll tell you so you can quit looking at me like I’m some serial killer.”

  If she did, she didn’t mean it. Her emotions snarled worse than kite string on a gusty day as Gracie struggled to understand, to deal with it. It’d be easier if he displayed any emotion, though. “Dev…”

  “Don’t,” he said in voice sharper than a knife. “Let me tell it. It’s damn hard enough to do, but I need to tell you how and why.”

  Gracie settled down on the bed and faced him. “Okay.”

  “We spent days heading for Baghdad and we fought all the way. We dodged bullets and bombs, suffered through sand storms, everything. And it got hard to tell who the enemy was, because some of the Iraqi forces came out wearing civvies. And some of them, called Fedayeen used kids for human shields. They’d fire on us and when we hit ‘em back, they grabbed a kid and put them out in front. It didn’t take long for us to figure out what they were doing, but this was the first time. A guy next to me got hit and so I fired back, blind. I never saw the kid until too late.”

  His voice cracked as he spoke, calm yielding to despair. Emotion surged into Devlin and almost swamped him. Gracie watched the mask he wore crumble to reveal his naked anguish and without conscious thought, she reached out to take his hand. His skin radiated cold and Gracie wrapped her fingers tight around his.

  “Through the smoke and all the confusion,” Dev said, “I saw her, the prettiest little girl standing there, blood soaking through several places on the dress she wore, a denim jumper and a white blouse. She stared at me as if she couldn’t believe I’d do something so bad to her, then she toppled over to the ground. The Iraqi bastard didn’t even bother to see if she was dead, just left her there like trash.”

  Devlin quivered, his body racked with silent sobs as he remembered. Gracie moved closer and put her arm around him. Although he leaned into her, he continued with his story.

  “I would’ve done something if I could,” he told her in a voice brittle as shattered glass. “But we moved on and I couldn’t. I painted her because I thought it might help. She haunts me, not like a ghost, just the memory of her refuses to leave. And I’m telling you, babe, trying to exorcise my demons.”

  She hurt for him and tried to offer comfort. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t intend to shoot her.”

  The darkness in his eyes increased as he shook his head. “I pulled the trigger and I watched her die.”

  Her quiet life, her small battles paled in comparison to his experiences. Gracie saw through his eyes and she wanted to look away, to deny it all, but couldn’t. Her daydreams of romantic candles, sweet chocolates, and champagne evaporated against the stark reality of war. Her love condensed down to basics, to a desire to succor and comfort Devlin, to remove his pain, an impossible task. Beneath his shirt her fingers stroked his physical scars and wished she could touch his inner anguish. Tears rained from Gracie’s eyes. “You didn’t kill her, though. The fe-fe-day…”

  “Fedayeen,” he said.

  “They took her life. You didn’t.”

  Misery blanched his face white. “I didn’t save her, either.”

  “You couldn’t.”

  Devlin’s sigh moved like the wind between them. “No.”

  Understanding dawned. “It eats you alive, doesn’t it?” Gracie asked him, voice soft and still. “The little girl plus whatever else you did, it devours you. You’re not the devil, but you’re running from him.”

  Something shone in Devlin’s eyes, ancient and heavy. He nodded. “You got it, babe. No one’s ever quite figured it out before now. Oh, others who served, they know, but you’re the first civilian who understands.”

  Gracie hurt, her soul wounded by the revelation. “You’re in a hell you made yourself,” she said, “and afraid of ending up in the real one.”

  His twisted smile shattered her heart. “Yeah, pretty much. Ever since I got back I’ve walked in the fiery pits, burned for my sins, and tormented myself probably more than any demon ever could. I’ve hated every day, hated each night, and sometimes wondered why I bothered to stay alive.”

  “Devlin…”

  “There are names for being this fucked up,” he said. “PTSD’s one of them.”

  When he broke off, Gracie opened her mouth to say something, but Devlin quoted what she thought was the Bible but wasn’t, not quite.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” Devlin intoned, “I will fear no evil, for I am the meanest son of a bitch in the valley.”

  As he spoke he broke away from her. Devlin came to his feet and stood, as remote as if he were on an unknown island. He laughed, without mirth, a bitter dry hoot reminding her of rattling bones. “I don’t remember who quoted it first, but I understood it. Later on, I adopted it as my motto. I have to be the meanest – otherwise, I’ve no doubt the devil will claim me as his own and damn me to hell, a worse place than the one I’ve made for myself.”

  In such a wild mood, exposing the darkness within, he scared Gracie, but at the same time, she grasped his mercurial emotions were a response to his earlier vow of love. His feelings jumbled together, potent and tangled, so intertwined he couldn’t separate them. Fear knotted its way into love, love created need and hunger. Desire, anger, and guilt add
ed to the emotional stew. Gracie’s love trumped her own anxiety, and she embraced him. As her arms circled his body, Devlin stiffened, and then relaxed to gather her close. He held her tight.

  Moments passed. Devlin sighed with such force he shuddered. “It can’t be easy,” he said to her.

  “What?”

  “Loving me.”

  Over a space of hours, they’d gone from strolling lovers in a pleasant interlude to drama to declarations of love then descended into the mire of deep emotions, thick as mud. Out of the scattered fragments of thought, mind, and heart, Gracie pulled out a laugh. It rang out like church bells and ignited Devlin’s faint grin. “Easy?” she asked with a smile. “No, it’s not easy, but it’s worth it.”

  With an expression naked as a newborn, he shook his head with wonder. “I’m glad you think so, Gracie. Sorry it’s not the kind of evening I thought it’d turn out to be.”

  “It’s still early,” Gracie said. “Go take a shower and I’ll pick up your place. Then we’ll start over.”

  Devlin traced the line of her cheek with a slow finger. “Sounds good to me. Thanks, babe, for not running away.”

  “I don’t run,” Gracie said. “Not easy, anyway.”

  As he showered, she straightened the bed and smoothed the covers. Gracie finished washing the dishes he’d begun and made the living room neat. By the time Devlin emerged from the tiny bathroom in a cloud of steam, the apartment was no longer in shambles. He greeted her with a quiet smile, naked as Adam in the Garden of Eden. His lean, scarred body immediately aroused her, all the more because Gracie knew from his expression he’d sloughed away some of his inner darkness for now.

  Devlin glanced around the bedroom and grinned. In place of the candles she’d wanted, Gracie had draped the single bedside lamp with a thin kitchen towel to soften the illumination. The muted light set a similar mood, and she’d found a Mannheim Steamroller CD among Dev’s collection so delightful music created some background ambiance. Her earlier desire stirred and with a racy little witch walk, hips swaying, Gracie walked over to him. Without a word, she touched his chest then dropped her hands lower to cup his manhood between her palms. His cock came to life with speed and Devlin kissed her, without artifice and with nothing between them but basic want and sheer need.