The Soldier's Homecoming

by Patricia Potter

  He’d obviously learned nothing from his previous experience with a journalist. Although Jenny wasn’t anything like Dinah, they both had an obsession with their jobs. Jenny made no attempt to hide that her career was the most important thing in her life.

  How could he fight that when he had absolutely no idea where his own future lay?

  Still, he didn’t know when he’d smiled as much or felt so lighthearted. She made every hour an adventure.

  He heard the murmur of a television next door. So Jenny Talbot couldn’t sleep either. He barely resisted knocking on the door.

  He located his book, a spy novel from his favorite author, put on a comfortable T-shirt and his skivvies and slid in bed.

  He kept his eyes on the time, until the numbers on the motel clock turned 2:00 a.m. The murmur from next door had faded away. He put the book down and turned off the light, trying to think about the story he’d been reading. But he couldn’t remember a damned thing.

  He used to be able to grab sleep under the worst conditions, but two years in hospitals and rehab had robbed him of that ability. Now that he had time to sleep, it eluded him. It was a paradox.

  He finally started to drift off when he was startled awake by a scream from Jenny’s room. He was instantly awake and on his feet. He rushed to the adjoining door and opened it when he found it unlocked.

  The room was dim. Light came through a half-opened bathroom door.

  Her body, clothed in a T-shirt, was folded up tight, as if she were hiding. Her face was wet. “Help her. Have to help her,” she cried over and over again. He remembered her telling him she had nightmares.

  “Hey,” he said gently. He knew only too well the perils of waking someone suddenly from a nightmare. “Hey there, Jenny,” he crooned as his hand rested softly on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Everyone is safe,” he said, although it wasn’t true. They weren’t safe in the world she was in at the moment. He ran his hand down her arm as easily as he could. He wanted to wake her but not abruptly.

  “Rick... Rick...” The cry was plaintive.

  Travis felt a flash of jealousy. So there was someone in her life. Most likely someone without scars all over his body. He willed the thought away. “Jenny,” he said a bit louder.

  Her body jerked. Her eyes opened wide. Wet with tears. Confused. It took her several seconds before she realized where she was.

  “Travis?” she said in a shaky voice. Then she sat up and leaned against him. His arms went around her.

  “Last time I looked in the mirror,” he said, suddenly aware that his army T-shirt and skivvies were precious little protection against an arousal that was starting to make itself known. He reluctantly dropped his arms and moved away. “Do you want me to turn on another light?”

  “No.” She sat up straighter, pushing a curl from her face. “I’m sorry I woke you.” She tried to brush the tears away and looked upset with herself.

  “You didn’t. I was reading,” he lied.

  She tried to smile. “Another night owl.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to sleep.” He didn’t add that she was one of his reasons.

  “I’ll be okay now,” she said. “It was just a nightmare.”

  “A pretty nasty one, I would guess. It’s the one you told me about?”

  She nodded.

  “Is that why you sleep with a light on?” They had been honest with each other since they met. He didn’t see a reason to hold back now.

  She nodded again.

  “Can I get you something? A glass of water? A coke from the machine in the lobby?” Damn, but he felt helpless. He hated the feeling.

  She gave him a flicker of a smile. “No, but thank you.” Her eyes were still luminous with the tears. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked vulnerable.

  “Will you be all right?” he asked. It was a stupid question. He knew she wouldn’t be all right. Not for a long time.

  “It’s gone now,” she said. “I don’t know what sparked it. There’s never a reason.”

  “I have them, too,” he confessed. “I think anyone who’s seen the shit we have...” He hesitated, and then he added, “Can you tell me about it?” And who in the hell was Rick?

  She shook her head. “I’m okay now,” she said. “Really, I am. Thanks for waking me, but you’d better get some sleep. You’re driving.” She tried to smile.

  He hated to leave. She still looked vulnerable with those unruly red curls framing eyes that were just too damned green and still full of moisture. “Go then,” she ordered.

  “You’re bossy, you know that?”

  “I’ve been told that. But I need to take a shower.”

  He pictured her naked, standing under a hot shower.

  He needed a cold one. Again. Damn but he wanted to help. He wanted to hold her, reassure her and wipe away the remnants of the nightmare. But he sensed it wouldn’t be welcomed.

  He left before his thoughts led to action.

  * * *

  AFTER TRAVIS LEFT for his own room, Jenny stood up. She was unsteady. Reliving those moments in Aleppo had sapped the strength from her. After several slow steps, she regained her balance and made her way into the bathroom.

  Once there, she peered into the mirror. She looked terrible. Her hair was a mass of curls, and her eyes were bloodshot. Her T-shirt was wet with sweat. How could Travis help but be repulsed? She was grateful that he broke off the nightmare, but she was embarrassed about her weakness, about how she looked, about maybe delaying his trip again.

  She’d always taken pride in being independent, not beholden to anyone, but now he’d seen her at her worst. She shouldn’t care. This was a short interlude in her life. A pause before returning to what she did best. Be an observer, a recorder.

  Suddenly, that didn’t sound so great.

  She took a hot shower. Then she washed the sweaty T-shirt. There wouldn’t be time to dry it before leaving later that morning, and there was no hair dryer at this motel. She squeezed the shirt as dry as possible and then spread it out on the chair. Maybe she could do the same thing on the back seat of the car.

  When she finished trying to tame her hair, she put on another large T-shirt for sleeping and went to look out the window. No mountains in sight here. These were the plains. The moon was at crescent. Wisps of clouds drifted across the midnight blue sky. No sign of dawn yet.

  She didn’t want to try to sleep for the few hours remaining before resuming the trip. She was too full of colliding emotions, thoughts and impressions.

  She took up one of Travis’s books on the healing power of horses and sat in the rather uncomfortable chair to read.

  * * *

  TRAVIS HADN’T SET the clock nor his phone after he’d returned to his room. He’d relied on his internal clock. It seldom failed him.

  It did this morning, however. He didn’t wake until seven thirty. He didn’t hear any sounds from Jenny’s room and hoped she’d been able to sleep. He dressed and left to get coffee.

  To his surprise, she was sitting in the breakfast room, engrossed in a newspaper. Her plate was filled with a waffle, some fruit and a bagel. There was no evidence of last night’s trauma.

  He found the paper plates and poured batter into a make-your-own-waffle machine. Then he collected some fruit. He got a cup of coffee while he waited for the waffle to finish.

  When he approached Jenny’s table, she looked up and gave him one of her blinding smiles, although he detected a nervousness about it. Even embarrassment. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said.

  “No need. I’ve had nightmares and flashbacks of my own. I’ve had two years to come to terms with them.”

  He knew better than to ask her how she was. Her eyes were tired, and he realized she probably hadn’t gone back to sleep that morning.

  “You haven’t slept,” he concluded.
/>   “Do I look that bad?”

  He shrugged. “I can honestly say no, you don’t look bad at all, although your eyes look tired.” He paused. “It doesn’t seem to affect your appetite, though. What are you reading?”

  “The Lubbock newspaper. I’m an addict,” she added. “I have to grab any newspaper in sight wherever I go.”

  “You looked like you were devouring it.”

  “That’s probably an apt description. I even read the obituaries. They tell stories of individual lives, even if it’s just a short notice. Were they a veteran? Did they go to college? Marry? Have fifteen children? Eight dogs? I read one once that had been written by the deceased. It was full of wonderful humor and made me wish I’d met him.”

  He shook his head. She was the only person he’d met that actually read strangers’ obituaries.

  He took a big gulp of coffee and then a taste of the waffle.

  She raised an eyebrow as he did and frowned. “It...lacks a certain something,” he said.

  “You forgot to put the good stuff on it, like butter and syrup.”

  “I didn’t forget. I’m not much on anything sweet, except, maybe, those cinnamon rolls yesterday.”

  “Sugar is good for energy, and I need some this morning,” Jenny replied. She hesitated and looked around. The room was empty, except for the two of them. “About last night...”

  He shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “Yes, I do. It might happen again.”

  “I’ve had my share of night sweats,” he repeated, closing the subject.

  Twenty minutes later, they were back on the road, both with coffee to go. They zipped through Lubbock and headed east.

  As usual, she remarked on the number the cattle they passed, or had to stop to read a historic sign. After a while, she was quiet. He glanced over and saw that she was asleep, with one of the equine therapy books in her lap. She didn’t wake up until they were close to Abilene.

  When she figured out where they were, she said, “I’ve been asleep that long?”

  “I don’t think a hurricane would have waked you.”

  “Certainly not one in the middle of Texas,” she shot back.

  He chuckled. “It’s time for you to go back to work. You’re navigator for the last leg. We’re going off the interstate again.”

  “Is that a promotion or demotion from cruise director?”

  “Let’s call it a parallel adjustment.”

  “That sounds like military speak.”

  He smiled but didn’t answer.

  “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

  “Look for the signs. We keep on this interstate until you see US 85. We turn south there.”

  She picked up her cell phone and started typing.

  “No car museum in Abilene?” he asked.

  “No, but there’s an old army fort,” she said with a little bit of a dare in her voice. She was reverting back to the usual cheeky Jenny.

  “I think there will be a lot of forts along our way in the next week.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  She was silent for a moment, and then she said, “It suddenly seems odd that I have seen more of countries tens of thousands of miles away than in my own. Even when I was a travel writer, I always wrote about other countries. I love history, including American history, but for some reason, it seemed too familiar, and I wanted to see and experience places that were unfamiliar.

  “I suspect that’s why I loved Raton and the hat cemetery,” she continued. “It’s different and fun and yet, in an odd way, says so much about the country. Quirky and imaginative and determined. Building that pass was not easy. Traveling those trails from Missouri all the way to California took more courage than I have.” She sighed. “That’s why I’ll bug you all the way to stop at places that look interesting.”

  “And then go back to the Middle East?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  He nodded. She feared that he was thinking she wasn’t paying enough attention to the subject that brought them here. But she was a fast reader and had finished his binder.

  She was silent for a few minutes as she looked at the map, and then she glanced back at him. “Thank you for interrupting the dream this morning,” she said.

  “Do you have them often?”

  “Not too often. Usually when I’m tired, or emotional because of something I’ve seen on television... I keep thinking I might have been able to do something to help that little girl. Why didn’t I charge out and pick her up?”

  “I thought you were hit by shrapnel?”

  “But there might have been time.”

  “Might?”

  “Everything happened at once. I don’t remember...maybe because I don’t want to know.” It sounded like she hadn’t admitted that to anyone before.

  “Somehow, in the short time I’ve known you, I don’t think much frightens you.”

  She averted her eyes. “I’d better start paying attention to the turns.”

  “Might be a good idea,” he agreed.

  For the next fifty miles, Jenny concentrated on the map. There wasn’t much to see except ranches and farms. According to her phone’s GPS, they were in the central plains. They occasionally passed through a very small town. They stopped at a service station to get gas. In lieu of real food, they picked up some bags of snacks.

  It was midafternoon when they entered Killeen, home to Fort Hood. They headed to a motel recommended by Dr. Payne, where Travis had already made reservations for two rooms.

  It was nicer than the one in which they’d stayed earlier, and the parking lot was half-full. Dr. Payne had told him that motels were fully occupied with visitors to Fort Hood. It actually had a restaurant, business center and swimming pool.

  This motel had given them adjoining rooms, too. It made communication easier, but it also increased the temptation level.

  She went into her room and checked it out before returning to the car. She scooped up the T-shirt that had dried in the back seat and transferred Travis’s binder, his books and her own carry-on into her room.

  After unlocking her side of the connecting door, she channel surfed and caught up on the news for a few minutes. Then she turned to the horse therapy book she hadn’t finished.

  Her room phone rang, and she picked it up.

  “Dr. Payne invited us to dinner tonight at the home of the dog trainer, the one who trained Andy’s Joseph.”

  “That’s terrific.”

  “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll call you an hour before six. That’s the invite time.”

  “What about you? You must be dead tired after last night and then driving today.”

  “I never need much sleep,” he answered.

  “If you don’t need sleep, we can always look around the city,” she said. “I’m sure I can find some intriguing out-of-the-way places.”

  She heard him chuckle. “Damn, but you’re incorrigible,” he said. “Okay, I probably do need a few hours of sleep.”

  “Is that what I have to do to get you to do what you should do?”

  “Now that’s one heck of a convoluted sentence for a writer.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said proudly. “I had to work on it.”

  The chuckle turned into a burst of laughter.

  It was a lovely thing to hear, even on the phone. Then she panicked. She’d never felt this way before. Not for anyone. She didn’t want to feel that way. Warm. Confused. Happy just to joust with him. Content with silence. Stimulated by conversation.

  He made her lighthearted in a way she couldn’t remember being before.

  “I’ll call you at five,” he said. “I have directions to the dog trainer’s home. Dr. Payne said it would take about thirty minutes.” He hung up
then. He was probably as disconcerted as she was over the growing intimacy between them.

  She looked at the clock. It was a little after three, but her mind was too busy to sleep. She went into the bathroom and found a shiny, clean bathtub and a small bottle of bath oil on the counter.

  She let the water run until it was deep and hot. The bath oil filled the air with a floral scent. She slipped into the water, leaned back and closed her eyes.

  She tried to think of the future, of her shoulder getting better and of returning to the Middle East, but the prospect didn’t hold its usual allure. Travis’s half smile and intelligent hazel eyes kept interfering. He wasn’t like other officers she’d met. He wasn’t too bossy. He had a sense of humor, and he was tolerant. And he had a slow smile to die for.

  He was also wary. It had been in his short comment about his former fiancé. It wasn’t helpful that the woman was a journalist. She obviously had no depth if she didn’t see what she was losing.

  And it was probably the reason he’d been reserved in their first meetings and when he’d, on occasion, reverted from friend to stranger. Why did she care? In a couple of weeks, she would be gone. She had to concentrate on earning a living again. This trip had given her more than a few ideas to pursue if she couldn’t get back overseas as soon as she hoped...

  She woke to cool water and suddenly panicked. She had drifted off. What time was it?

  She almost leaped out of the tub. She dashed into the room to check the time. It was nearly five.

  She selected the one good blouse she had and the pair of black slacks. She ran a brush through her hair and used two large ornamental hairpins to keep it back from her face. She then added a touch of lipstick.

  The phone rang, as she expected, exactly at five.

  “Hi,” Travis said. “Have a good afternoon?”

  “A wet one.” She hesitated. “I went to sleep in the bathtub.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Will you be ready in fifteen minutes?”

  “Already am.”

  “You are one unusual woman.”

  “I’m usually the first to arrive at parties. You said it’ll take us half an hour to get there?”

  “Yeah, so we have some time. Do you want to get a glass of wine in the lounge?”