by Karina Bliss
“And his mental state?” she asked instead.
“There will be scars,” Kyra answered, “though psychological disorder isn’t inevitable. As a Special Forces soldier Sergeant Davis already has stronger physical and psychological resilience than most former hostages. Which is how he survived.”
“Bloody-mindedness, you mean.” Jules managed a smile. Who’d have thought she’d end up celebrating that particular trait?
Her cell rang, the ordinary sound incongruent with the conversation. Automatically about to pick it up, Jules paused. It could be Lee. If he had amnesia and didn’t remember... Her heart beat hard against her ribs. And if he did remember, he’d hate her. Conscious of Kyra’s scrutiny, she braced herself and took it out of her suit jacket. “Jules Browne.”
“You didn’t call me,” Mark said.
Mark. She’d completely forgotten about him. “No, I...” She couldn’t deal with this right now. “But I will,” she promised. “Soon as I can.” Jules hung up on him.
Kyra was digging in a bag. “Here’s some reading material on hostages post release.” She handed over a sheath of handouts. “In a nutshell what he needs most initially is uninterrupted time with loved ones. The army’s role is as an information resource and to help with practicalities—having Sergeant Davis’s death certificate revoked, for example. We’ll also act as a gatekeeper with the media.”
Dear God, she hadn’t considered publicity. “How much attention is Lee’s story likely to get?”
“Returned from the dead after nineteen months’ captivity by the Taliban.... Interest will be huge.”
Maybe she deserved this, Jules thought numbly. Woman accepts ring she wasn’t entitled to. It was a pebble in the pond and the ripples kept getting bigger and bigger. She must have looked stricken, because the other woman smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll give you coping strategies.”
That would be a fast car and a full tank of gas. “Thank you.”
“You’ve been grieving his loss for nineteen months, and moving on with your life. There will have been changes in his absence, of circumstances, possibly of heart.”
There was a question in Kyra’s voice.
Jules chose her next words carefully. “We have outstanding issues that make a long-term future unlikely.”
“I can organize counseling—”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jules didn’t naturally confide in people. Besides, this music could only be faced alone.
“It’s natural to focus on the problems associated with reintegration, but many former hostages describe positive benefits...closer relationships, more emotional involvement, stronger personal values, increased assertiveness.”
This time, her smile was forced. “Lee never had a problem with assertiveness.”
Kyra grinned. “Less then.”
The desk phone rang. Would Lee call her office? She needed to work out time zones. Conscious of Kyra’s scrutiny, she picked up and managed a brisk “Jules Browne.”
“Your ten-thirty has arrived.”
“Thanks, Margie.” The breath she’d been holding left her lungs in a rush. “Put them in the boardroom. I’ll be there in five.”
Hanging up, Jules wiped her damp palms on her pencil skirt. “I’m sorry, but I have clients waiting.”
“I understand. Better to take a holiday when he’s home.”
Except Lee wouldn’t want her in his life.
Jules walked the other woman to the door. “One more question. Will his complete memory ever return?”
“It depends on the severity of the injury, which is unknown. But given the time that’s passed since the original trauma, it’s unlikely.”
And didn’t that just leave Jules with one hell of a dilemma.
CHAPTER THREE
“SO I GUESS I should fly over, too, if your friends are?”
Lee appreciated the offer, but the nervousness in his older brother’s voice made it easy to turn the suggestion down. Rob’s idea of adventure travel was eating pawpaw at a tropical resort; flying to a war zone would give the guy hives.
“Meet me on the tarmac in Auckland next week with the rest of the family,” Lee told him. Pushing aside his empty meal tray, he lay down in bed with the borrowed cell. “Tell me about Dad.”
“He’d be over the moon right now,” Rob burst out, then added soberly, “Six months, mate. You only missed him by six months.”
“Yeah, well, shit happens.” State the obvious, why don’t you? “Hopefully somewhere Dad knows I made it. Who knows, maybe he even put in a good word for me.”
“Yeah.” Rob cleared his throat. “I had his funeral taped if you ever want to see it.”
“What?”
“And your memorial service.”
“Rob, that’s just weird.”
“I did it for Uncle Vaughan.” Dad’s ninety-year-old brother in the U.K. was past the age of long flights. “He requested it.”
“Uncle Vaughan was always weird, too,” Lee said.
“You’d be surprised how many people who pooh-poohed the idea have since asked for a copy,” Rob said defensively. Clearly he’d got flack for this.
“I guess genealogy requires the chronicling of the bad as well as the good,” Lee replied. Genealogy was Rob’s hobby.
“I knew you’d understand.”
Lee steeled himself. “I hear Dad had a heart attack?”
“Died in his sleep. Jules found him when she went to wake him.”
“Wait.” He pushed himself higher on the pillows. “Jules was with Dad when he died?”
“They were on holiday in Tasmania...doing a road trip. Against my advice, incidentally, but I don’t hold her responsible—at least not anymore. To tell the truth, Lee, I was a bit rabid initially. It was the shock, wanting someone to blame. But Jules was terrific to Dad after you died...ha...it’s going to take a while to stop saying that. Of course, Connie—” their sister “—got her nose out of joint when Jules supported Dad’s move into a retirement home, but only because Con felt guilty not having Dad live with her. Though why she’d think he’d want to when she has a houseful of teenagers is beyond me.”
Lee felt his brain starting to spin. “Back up. Jules talked Dad into moving to a retirement home?”
“She helped him with all the research. He was really depressed when you died...there I go again...and Jules suggested he cash in, downsize and have some fun.”
“Did she,” he said flatly. Dad had always hated the idea of an old folks home and, like Rob, wasn’t much interested in travel. Jules had met his father once...how had she inveigled her way into his life? And after having dumped Lee, why the hell would she want to?
“You’ve talked to her, right?” Rob asked.
“I’m working up to it.”
His brother picked up the hard inflection. “You’re okay with your buddies giving her the ring, aren’t you?” Rob laughed nervously. “Dad was on board with it. Hell, we all were. She’s become part of the family.”
“I have no problem with Jules being given the ring, Rob.” It’s her accepting it that bothers me. But that was for her to explain.
“Well, that’s a relief. Anyway, that’s why she and Dad were in Tasmania. They’d done Hawaii the year before. Connie and I were getting twitchy about Dad spending all his savings, so you could have knocked us down with a feather when his estate amounted to two hundred thou.” He cleared his throat. “Which brings me to something I nee
d to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“With you being dead, Dad’s estate was split between me and Connie. Obviously we’ll reimburse your share...but...it’ll take a couple of months to sort. I spent mine on an office upgrade, and Connie and Phil bought a bigger house.”
“I’m not in any hurry for Dad’s money, Rob.” A thought struck Lee. If he’d been confirmed dead through a DNA sample, there would have been no delay in selling and distributing his estate. All his toys gone. The paddleboard, the kite surfer and surfboards, his designer clothes. His Harley-Davidson.
Oh. Shit. “I left half of everything to Jules.”
Updating his will pre-tour came automatically, and with the ring in his pocket he’d wanted to provide for the woman he loved if he didn’t survive Afghanistan. He hadn’t anticipated a rejection. Blindsided, brokenhearted and just plain furious, he’d headed straight from her house to the military airbase for his last deployment. Changing his will hadn’t even crossed Lee’s mind.
“That’s when we knew she was a good sort,” said Rob. “When she insisted on giving her share to Dad.” Lee’s father had been his other beneficiary.
The magnitude of Lee’s relief was frightening. He didn’t want to hate her. He’d loved this woman, had intended to marry her. “So you and Connie also inherited my estate after his death?” He tried to imagine Rob or one of his sister’s sullen teenagers in his Italian leather jackets and winced.
“Well, actually, Lee,” Rob said apologetically, “Dad spent the money you left him to pay for the trips with Jules. They did Tasmania, Hawaii and a week in Queenstown. And he treated us to some family trips, as well. But when he died there was one hundred and seven thousand, six dollars and eighty-two cents of your estate.” Rob was an accountant. “And Dad bequeathed it to—”
“Jules,” Lee finished. “And let me guess,” he added bitterly, “this time she took it.”
“In his will Dad said that he believed you’d have wanted her to have it. He absolutely forbade her to give it to us.” There was no resentment in Rob’s tone. “Of course, now she’ll have to return it,” he added, “but I doubt she could have spent much in the past six months.”
Lee resisted the urge to remind his brother that he and Connie hadn’t been slow spending their father’s estate.
“Besides,” Rob said, “if you two are getting married she’s just had a head start on ‘what’s yours is hers’ anyway.” The confirmed bachelor laughed heartily.
Lee didn’t join in. “One question, brother,” he said. “Does my sweetie still have the same phone numbers?”
* * *
“JULES SPEAKING.”
Her husky voice shivered down Lee’s spine like a caress in the dark. An onslaught of mixed emotions prevented him from replying and he stared blankly at the view from his window—the shipping containers used as living quarters, American attack helicopters and transport planes.
“Hello,” she said, then swallowed audibly. “Lee?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is that you?”
He clutched the borrowed cell phone. Who would have thought his name on her lips could still resonate. “Yeah, it’s me.... How are you, Jules?” His instinctive default to small talk amused him. So that’s what would survive with the cockroaches after Armageddon.
“I’m so glad you’re alive...so glad,” she stammered, and he didn’t doubt her sincerity. Getting himself killed a few weeks after she’d rejected him couldn’t have been easy for her. She would have felt guilty, even regretful. Not because of her answer—Lee didn’t kid himself on that—but because of her delivery. Maybe she’d even thought she loved him when he was never coming back. That would constitute a perfect relationship for Jules. Love without commitment.
“I hear we’re engaged,” he said abruptly, because he needed this over with. “You’ll have to fill me in on the missing details.” He’d had long, lonely hours to review his part in their last meeting and it hadn’t been pretty, either. An admission of wrongdoing from her along with an apology for deceiving everybody and he’d seriously consider letting her off the hook. Assuming she reimbursed all his money and hadn’t screwed over his dad.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t going to forgive her.
“Hang on, I’m in the bank.” Her voice faded as he heard her talking to someone else. “Will you...it’s my...a couple of minutes privacy...thank you. Lee, I’m here.” He heard her take a fortifying breath. “I understand you have amnesia and that some memories are hazy.”
Not that hazy, sweetheart. And the particular one she referred to was tattooed on his heart. But like the New Zealand Inland Revenue Department’s catchy slogan, it was his job to be fair. He hadn’t heard her side of the story yet, after all.
It struck him that playing along was the perfect way to test her integrity. “I’ve also got big gaps before the ambush,” he lied. “Which means I’m relying on people I trust to set me straight.” And if that wasn’t an opening for a confession he didn’t know what was.
A second passed, then another. “What’s your last memory of us?” she said.
Disappointment made him cruel. “Making love,” he said grimly. “Lying in each other’s arms afterward. You telling me you were happy.” All true of their final night together. Before his morning proposal. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“The same,” she said and his bitterness dissolved every flickering regret he had. She was going to try to brazen this out.
“But obviously,” she added, “I can’t hold you to any kind of commitment after what you’ve been through. I’ll return the ring.”
Yeah, you’d like this to be easy, wouldn’t you? “And what if I want there to be an ‘us,’ Jules?” he challenged. “What if I want to take up where we left off?”
Silence had echoes; Lee had discovered that in captivity.
“You think we might have a future?” she said.
All credit to her acting skills, she almost sounded hopeful. “I still have strong feelings for you,” he said through gritted teeth. Anger. Disillusionment. Disgust. “I’m being discharged from the hospital in four days, and fly in Sunday New Zealand time. Come meet me.”
“At the aerodrome?” She hesitated. “I’d rather our first meet be private.”
I bet you would. Except that wouldn’t suit his purpose nearly as well. “I can organize privacy,” he reassured her. I can, but I won’t. Lee layered some sensitivity into his tone, the sensitivity she’d once accused him of lacking. “Please...I need you there, Jules.”
Another hesitation. “Of course, I’ll be there.”
After they finalized details for Sunday, she said, “And Lee, I’m so sorry about your dad. We spent a lot of time together and—”
“I understand he left you my estate.”
“You’ll get it all back, every penny.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Only...not quite yet.”
This just got better and better. “Are you saying you spent all my money, honey?” he said mildly.
“Not spent...invested. But don’t worry, I’ll reimburse you within a few weeks. And in the meantime, I’ll spot you.”
It took all Lee’s self-control to keep his tone even. “Kind of like paying interest?”
“Yes.” Jules sounded relieved. “Let’s think of it as interest.”
Oh, baby, you have no idea what interest I’ll charge. Unable to stand another minute of this bullshit he cut the convers
ation short. “Listen, Jules, I’ve gotta go...the doctor’s here,” he lied. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Will you call—”
The click of the line as Lee cut the connection was akin to losing him all over again. “Goodbye,” Jules whispered. Replacing the cell in her purse, she dropped her face into her hands in the loan officer’s partitioned open-plan office and released her shock at this first contact with Lee in smothered sobs.
Now that she’d heard his voice she could truly believe he was alive. And instead of confrontation, she’d been offered tenderness and a second chance. She couldn’t think about that, because Lee deserved the truth and she was going to give it to him. But not over the phone.
She’d spent last night downloading all the studies she could find on hostages. Common post-release challenges included insecurity, feeling misunderstood, difficulty relating to loved ones and readapting to social conventions.
Less common but entirely possible were post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), withdrawal and attempted suicide. All the studies stressed that the key to successful reintegration was a secure environment and the support of a close network of family and friends. Chirruping, “Hi, honey, you don’t remember this, but I rejected your marriage proposal,” couldn’t be construed as helpful.
She’d have to wait to see him in person before could she gauge his ability to handle the truth.
The loan officer returned as she was dabbing away her tears with a tissue she’d dug out of her handbag. The other woman took one look at Jules’s face and faltered.
“It’s okay.” Briskly, Jules blew her nose. “This is good news crying.” She encouraged her with a watery smile. “I’m hoping you’ll continue the theme.”
“Sorry.” Awkwardly the vibrant blonde returned to her desk. “I’ve double-checked with my manager. As good as your income is, it only just sustains your existing mortgage payments. Borrowing an additional one hundred and ten thousand against the house, well, the numbers simply don’t stack up.”
