Twins Under His Tree

by Karen Rose Smith

  Mitch’s gut tightened. “I have a new career now. I was told surgery could cause more damage than I already have.” He flexed his fingers just thinking about it.

  “Look, Mitch. I know about survivor guilt. Most of us carry it. Maybe it’s time to lose it and reach out for something you deserve to have. If you don’t want to go back to trauma surgery, that’s your decision. But Eric might be able to restore full use of your hand.”

  Mitch heard a noise and swung around. Lily was standing there and had obviously cleared her throat to make her presence known. She was holding her cell phone and probably looking for a quiet place to make her call.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she told both of them. “I was just trying to find—”

  “A little quiet?” Matt filled in with a smile. “That’s hard to do around this crowd.” His grin faded, then he became serious. “Tony’s wife told me you lost your husband to Afghanistan. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Lily replied, looking down at her phone where a picture of her twins stared up at her.

  Matt tapped the card Mitch was still holding. “Don’t lose that. Call him anytime. Just mention my name.” Then he strode down the hall to the bedroom.

  Lily’s blue eyes found Mitch’s. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt. I overheard a little. This doctor could repair the damage to your hand?”

  If Mitch was going to even think about doing this, he had to run it through his own mind first. “The risk could be greater than the rewards.”

  “But if you could return to surgery—”

  “Lily, I don’t think this is the time or place to have this discussion. Can we just table it for now?”

  “Does that mean you’ll want to talk about it later?” she challenged.

  Not only was Mitch hesitating to start a serious relationship with Lily because of her memories…but also because of his. She might want too much from him, a closeness he didn’t know how to give. She was pushing him now, and that made him restless and uncomfortable. So he was honest with her. “I don’t know. I need some time to think about what Matt said. I might want to research this doctor. I might not want to discuss surgery at all.”

  He saw the hurt on Lily’s face, and he knew he was closing her out. But this was sacred territory to him. She didn’t understand the ramifications of everything surgery could stir up. Not only memories of his time in the hospital and rehab, working to change his specialty to endocrinology, but also the cause of it all. He didn’t talk about that to anyone.

  More gently, he told her, “I’m going to set up the kindling in the fire pit. After Santa leaves, we can toast marshmallows with the kids.”

  “I’m sure they’ll like that,” Lily said, much too politely.

  He left her in the hall, believing that after the marshmallows were toasted, she would leave.

  Lily opened one side of the French doors and stepped outside onto the red-and-gray brick patio. It was huge, running along most of the back of Mitch’s house. But three high stone walls framed the outside of the patio, giving it a protective feel. Mitch, Jimmy and Matt sat by the fire, talking, mugs of hot coffee in their hands.

  She walked over to them, zipping her parka. “The kids want to come out and sing Christmas carols before they all go back to the bed-and-breakfast.”

  “Tell them to come on,” Mitch said, rising to his feet.

  Lawn chairs were scattered across the bricks, where after Santa’s arrival and departure some of the older children had toasted marshmallows for the younger ones under their parents’ watchful eyes. Now the fire had died down and short flames licked at the remaining logs under the mesh fire screen.

  Lily didn’t have to convey Mitch’s invitation to the guests inside. As soon as she turned toward the door again, all the children and adults who had gone for their coats poured out. Light from inside shone on the closest section of the patio. The rest was lit by a half moon and so many stars she couldn’t count them all if she tried. For Mitch’s guests who lived in cities, this had to be a treat. Those who lived in more rural areas knew how to appreciate the beauty of the winter night.

  Jimmy’s little boy, who was eight and had Rudolph painted on one cheek, grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her toward his mom and dad. “Stand over here,” he told her.

  She did and found herself beside Mitch.

  The night was turning colder and a light wind blew over the stone walls, but she felt protected in the cocoon of the patio, although her breath puffed white vapor in front of her.

  Beside her husband, Robin suggested, “Let’s take hands.”

  A hush fell over the group and even the little ones reached for a hand on either side of them. Lily found one of her hands in Mitch’s, the other holding Jimmy’s. She was emotionally moved in a way she couldn’t even begin to express, especially when Maya’s sweet voice began “Silent Night.” Lily’s throat closed as she tried to sing along with the words.

  All is calm. All is bright.

  How these men deserved calmness and bright.

  Instead of holding her hand now, Mitch swung his arm around her shoulders.

  What was he feeling at this moment? What had this night meant to him? Would he talk to her about it? Would he talk to her about the possible surgery?

  Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.

  She suspected all the men were thinking about fallen comrades and maybe how lucky and grateful they were to be alive…to be here together. She thought about the Purple Heart medal tucked away in her jewelry box and how well Troy would have fit in here tonight.

  After the last verse of the Christmas carol, moms and dads herded up children and one by one thanked Mitch for his hospitality. She heard him say, “It’ll be your turn sometime. Then I’ll be thanking you.”

  He’d gone to a lot of trouble to put this weekend together and it showed.

  Inside the house again once more, Mitch saw his guests to the door. Lily stowed food away while he made sure Jimmy accessed his van without difficulty.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Mitch told Lily when he returned to the kitchen.

  Actually she’d been grateful for something to do. She knew what she wanted to happen next, but she wasn’t sure how Mitch felt. “There’s not much left. A few pieces of chocolate cake, a half dozen cookies. Some guacamole and a bag of corn chips.”

  She covered the remainder of the cake with plastic wrap and set it on the counter. “Matt was a great Santa.”

  “He’s always the life of the party,” Mitch replied.

  The echo of “Silent Night” and the picture of the group gathered outside would be lasting. “Jimmy’s a remarkable man. Robin explained a little of what their life is like since he became paralyzed. They’re both courageous people.”

  “She stuck by him when he wasn’t sure she would.”

  “She loves him.”

  “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  Mitch’s decisive words seemed to echo in the kitchen. Lily didn’t know if he was going to ask her to stay the night, but if he wasn’t, she wanted to discuss the surgery on his hand.

  He was standing by the counter perfectly still as she moved closer to him. “Nothing can change what happened to Jimmy in Iraq.” She took Mitch’s hand and ran her thumb over the top of it. “But maybe you can change some of what happened to you.”

  Mitch pulled away from her, his expression closed. “I told you—surgery could have repercussions.”

  “I understand that. But a consultation would do no harm.”

  “I’d have to take time off.”

  “The practice slows down over the holidays,” she reminded him.

  His jaw became more set. “I don’t want to be a guinea pig. I don’t want to be given false hope or become a statistic.”

  “You haven’t even met this doctor. You don’t have the information you need to make an informed decision.”

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “Lily, I don’t want to argue about this.”
>
  “Fine,” she said agreeably. “We don’t have to argue. I’m merely making a few observations.” Then stepping even closer to him, laying her hand gently on his tight jaw, she whispered, “I care about you.”

  The tension in his body was obvious in his granite-like expression, the squareness of his shoulders, his legs defensively widened. Did it come from more than this interchange between them? After all, although he’d never admit it, this had to have been an emotional day for him.

  Looking deeply into her eyes, he seemed to try to see to her very essence. She stood silent, holding her breath.

  Then he covered her hand with his. They stood that way for what seemed like hours. The ice maker in the freezer rumbled as it made new ice. The heating system pinged as it battled against the cold night. Lily could feel the pulse in Mitch’s jaw jumping under her palm.

  Finally he dropped his hand and wrapped his arms around her. When he kissed her, his raw hunger excited her need, ratcheted up the desire that had been building between them, told them both that coming together again would be an explosion of passion.

  After Mitch broke the kiss, he leaned away slightly and asked, “Will you stay tonight?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” she replied a bit shakily.

  Moments later, sitting on the corner of the bed in Mitch’s room, her earrings in her palm, Lily ended her call with Ellie. She’d switched on one of the dresser lamps when she’d entered. Now as she glanced around, she saw Mitch’s minimalist taste reflected here, too. The bed’s headboard was dark pecan, as were the dresser, chest and nightstands. The lamps were a combination of wood and black iron, with the dresser top uncluttered. Yet the multicolored rug beside the bed looked handwoven. The afghan on top of the brown suede-like spread seemed to be hand-knitted.

  Rising to her feet, she walked to the dresser and laid her phone and earrings there. She hadn’t packed an overnight bag. Because she hadn’t wanted to think tonight was a sure thing?

  When Mitch entered the room, her body knew it. She didn’t turn around but rather raised her gaze in the mirror.

  He came up behind her, his eyes on hers. “Everything’s okay at home?”

  She nodded.

  Sliding his arms around her, he pulled her tight against him. “We both smell like wood smoke,” he growled against her ear.

  Feeling him strong and hard against her body, excitement coursed through her. Her breaths became more shallow, and already she was tingling in the places she imagined he might touch.

  “Wood smoke can be sexy,” she teased lightly.

  “You’re sexy,” he returned, his hands covering her breasts.

  Lily trembled from head to toe. At that moment her need for Mitch was go great, she felt she could melt in his hands. Even though she’d stopped breast-feeding, her breasts had remained larger than they once were. Now as they lay cupped in Mitch’s palms, she was grateful for every sensation, every nuance of feeling. Yet she understood that feeling would be so much greater with her clothes off.

  “Undress me,” she requested with an urgency that Mitch could obviously hear.

  His low chuckle vibrated against her back. “Sometimes making out can be more scintillating with your clothes on.” His hands moved down her stomach to the waistband of her jeans.

  “Aren’t we going to do more than make out?” she asked.

  His answer was rough against her ear. “Eventually.”

  Mitch’s foreplay was driving her crazy. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed with him, their bodies naked and exposed to each other’s hands and mouths.

  Before she realized what Mitch was going to do, her jeans were around her hips, held up by his thighs. His hands slid inside her panties and cupped her. She’d never felt like this—on the verge of an orgasm without even a kiss.

  “Do you know how often our first time together plays in my mind?” he asked with an erotic rasp to his words.

  She had those same pictures in her mind. The continuous loop the visions made came to her at odd times and could make her blush.

  His finger slipped inside of her and she moaned, needing to turn and face him.

  But he wouldn’t let her. “Watch in the mirror,” he commanded.

  There was something so sensual about what they were doing, and the way they were doing it. She’d never watched herself enjoy pleasure. When she lifted her gaze to his and stared at their reflection, his fingers started moving again. Her breath caught. She stared into his eyes as her body tensed and then released in swirls of muscle-melting sensations.

  After the orgasmic release, she lay her head back against his shoulder. He held her tightly.

  After a few moments of letting her catch her breath, he said, “Let’s take off those boots. They make your legs look like a million bucks, but I think they could be dangerous in bed.”

  They undressed each other beside the bed, and this time—unlike the first—they did it by the glow of the lamp. If Mitch had given her pleasure to blunt the experience of what she was about to see, it hadn’t worked. All of her senses seemed even more sensitive to everything that was revealed. His body was hard and muscled and strong, attesting to his workouts. Silky black chest hair formed a Y, arrowing down his flat stomach, around his navel. But red scars from surgery streaked his side. The heel of her hand slid over them as she sifted her fingers through his chest hair.

  “Lily,” he breathed, “we can just get in bed—”

  “No.”

  She wanted to see. She wanted to know. She needed to feel.

  His shoulder and arm were mottled with zigzagging scars, bumps and ridges, and she could only imagine the pain of his injury. She kissed the arm that he kept covered the whole way down to his wrist. Then she took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips.

  He again murmured, “Lily—”

  He’d undressed her first, but now she finished undressing him. When he kicked his jeans and briefs aside, she rested her hands on his hips and gazed up into his eyes.

  Then he was kissing her and his tongue was in her mouth and hers was in his. She couldn’t seem to reach far enough to explore or hold him tight enough against her to hear the beat of his heart. She wasn’t even sure how they managed moving, but they fell or rolled onto the bed, so hungry for each other they didn’t have enough words or touches to express it. Mitch’s fingertips stroked her face. Her hand passed down his thigh and cupped his arousal. They were frantic to kiss each other all over, to explore erogenous zones, to stoke their desire to the limit. Mitch’s scent had become familiar to her and now it was like an aphrodisiac she couldn’t get enough of. The intensity of their foreplay made her body glisten, her heart race, her limbs quiver in anticipation of release. She didn’t want to admit how, at that moment, Mitch blotted out everything else in her world. She didn’t want to admit to having this mindless passion she’d never felt before. Yet she had to face what was happening, how deeply she was falling, how inexorable their attraction was.

  “I need you,” she confessed with sudden tears closing her throat.

  Mitch reached for a condom, prepared himself, then rose above her. He took her hands, one on either side of her head, and interlocked his fingers with hers. When she raised her knees, he entered her with a thrust of possession that made her gasp. Her climax began building from the first stroke. She wrapped her legs around him, swimming in pleasure that was bigger than the ocean, wider than the universe, higher than heaven.

  “Open your eyes and look at me,” Mitch commanded, and she knew why. He wanted her to make sure she knew who he was.

  “Mitch,” she cried, assuring him she did.

  His rhythm became faster. She took him deeper. The explosion that rocked them both should have blown the roof off the house.

  But it didn’t. It simply left them both breathless and gasping and exhausted from a union that had been months in the making.

  Lily lowered her legs, loving the feel of Mitch’s body on hers. She wanted to postpone the “where do w
e go from here” moment for as long as she could.

  At first, Lily didn’t know what had awakened her. A shout. Groans.

  Mitch wasn’t in bed with her.

  Another shout and she finally was alert enough to know what was happening.

  She grabbed Mitch’s flannel shirt from a chair and slipped it on as she ran from his bedroom to the guest bedroom next door. Mitch was thrashing in the bed, calling a name—Larry. He was drenched in sweat, breathing hard, eyes open but unseeing.

  Lily had learned about post-traumatic stress disorder but didn’t know whether to awaken him, or whether to get too close. She’d read about the cut with reality that occurred when flashbacks became more real than life itself. What had triggered this? Being with fellow servicemen who knew what war was about? Sitting around the fire? Talking about surface life yet never going too deep?

  Grabbing the metal waste can, she banged it against a tall, wrought-iron floor lamp. The noise was loud and seemed to penetrate Mitch’s nightmare. He sat up, eyes open with awareness now, and stared at her still holding the waste can.

  When he passed his hands down his face, rubbed his eyes and forehead as if to try to erase everything he’d just seen, she slid into the bed beside him and attempted to fold her arms around him.

  He prevented her from doing that and pushed away.

  “Everything’s fine now, Mitch. I’m here.”

  “Your being here doesn’t change what happened over there.” His voice was gravelly with regret, sadness and too many memories.

  “Maybe it’s time you tell me about it.”

  “You don’t want to hear this, Lily.”

  When she clasped his shoulder, he flinched, but she didn’t remove her hand. “I might not want to hear it, but you need to say it out loud. You need to talk to somebody about it, and right now I think I’m the best person. Just stop fighting your subconscious, Mitch, and let it out.”