Sergeant Darling

by Bonnie Gardner

  Patsy took his hand and struggled to her feet. She stumbled and Ray took her in his arms and held her for a moment, then he guided her slowly to her room.

  He’d never been in her room before, Patsy realized, but he knew just where to go. Not that there were that many options in her two-bedroom duplex. He led her to the bed, switched on the lamp and pulled down the coverlet. Then he sat her down on the bed and knelt to remove her shoes.

  “Lie down,” he said and Patsy complied, wondering at the gentleness with which he was treating her as he pulled the covers over her and tucked her in.

  She didn’t deserve this, but she wanted so much to have him there. She wanted him so much.

  Then he lay down beside her, on top of the covers, and placed his hand, so warm, so alive, on her hip. “Now, go to sleep,” he said. And surprisingly, she did.

  IT WAS STILL DARK when Ray felt a slight shifting of the mattress and a movement at his side. He turned and watched as Patsy slowly lifted the sheets and crept out from beneath the covers. She stopped in front of the window and adjusted the blinds. She remained there, watching as the night slowly became day. He, in turn, watched the light slowly reveal her face. She appeared to have reached some sort of inner peace.

  Ray continued to watch, in Patsy’s bed, until she sighed and turned.

  “Are you all right?” Ray whispered.

  She started, drew a quick breath, and stopped, her hand pressed against her upper chest. “I didn’t know you were awake,” she said.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you. You seemed so lost in thought.”

  “Memories, you mean?”

  “Yeah,” Ray said huskily. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you okay?”

  Patsy shrugged and made a wry face. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

  Ray reached for her, and Patsy came to him, taking his hand and sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped with her scant weight, and Ray rolled slightly toward her. “It was not your fault, Patsy Pritchard,” he told her firmly. “You didn’t make that man drink too much. You couldn’t have known that he’d be at that particular intersection at that specific moment. You didn’t give him his car keys and tell him to drive.”

  Patsy sniffed, but she seemed to understand and accept, what he was saying.

  “You are not guilty of anything except being a normal mother and wife.” Ray pulled her down to the bed and drew her close to him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked her sleep-tousled hair. He wanted so much for her to know that he cared.

  And that he understood.

  “It was nothing but chance. Pure, awful, bad luck,” Ray added to make his point. “Would you like to tell me about them?” he asked her gently.

  She was quiet for a long time, then Ray heard a half sob. “I miss them so much,” she whispered.

  “And you should, but it would help for you to talk about them.” Ray swallowed. He wasn’t a psychologist, but he’d taken enough psychology courses in school to know that it wasn’t good to suppress emotions. Still, it was obvious that Patsy had held her feelings inside for so long, she’d have a hard time letting them go. “I am a good listener,” he offered.

  When Patsy still didn’t comply, Ray tried again. “Tell me about Ace.”

  She did.

  THE SUN WAS WELL UP in the sky by the time Patsy finally finished her story. She couldn’t believe that she had told Ray as much as she had, but the telling had been cathartic. For so long, she had held everything in, afraid that talking would open a Pandora’s box of guilt and recriminations that she’d been unwilling to let loose. Maybe, she should have done this a long time ago, she mused.

  “I have pictures,” she found herself volunteering. She’d stopped looking at them long ago because every time she did all the pain and grief came rushing back. Now that Ray had helped her exorcize her demons—though she’d hardly call her darling Alice and Jesse demons—she thought she might be able to do it.

  “I’d love to see them,” Ray said, stretching as he rose from the floor where they’d finally wound up, sitting side by side, backs against the rumpled bed. He reached down and offered her his hand.

  He’d laid his glasses on the bedside table sometime during the night, Patsy noticed. His polo shirt was untucked and rumpled from sleep, and a dark smudge of beard darkened his cheek. He radiated strength, confidence and vitality. Patsy took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet.

  Ray’s hand felt warm and strong, and it sent shivers of delight running from Patsy’s arm to her heart though they’d held hands many times before. How had she happened to get so lucky to get the chance to know him? How fortunate for her that Aunt Myrtle had bought him at the bachelor auction. She chuckled at the thought of it.

  “That’s beautiful to hear,” Ray said quietly. “Almost like music.”

  “What?”

  “Your laughter.” Ray touched her cheek. “And that smile’s not too shabby, either.” He stroked her skin and Patsy, greedy for more of his touch, leaned in to his caress.

  “Thank you,” she finally murmured. What did you say to the man who had single-handedly changed your life? By doing nothing but listening.

  “The pictures are in here,” Patsy said, reluctantly pulling away from Ray’s caress. She could stand there all day and feel him stroking her, but for some reason she wanted to—no, had to—look at her family album. It had been so long. Still holding his hand, she led the way to the hall closet, then opened the door.

  “Up there?” Ray pointed to the stack of books on the top shelf.

  Patsy nodded. Would she be able to do it? she wondered as Ray reached up and collected the pile of albums she’d all but thrown up there when the mere sight of them had caused her so much pain.

  The stack teetered and the top album slipped. Patsy caught it. To her surprise, it just felt like an ordinary book, something she touched every day. Still, this was special: the record of her family almost to the last day.

  She rubbed away the accumulated dust of years of disuse and neglect and then pressed it to her chest. It seemed to throb with life and love.

  Ray took her elbow. “We’ll go into the living room and sit down.” He steered her into the other room, sat on the couch and drew her down to sit on the cushions beside him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again, as Patsy savored the anticipation of seeing the dear faces she hadn’t been able to look at, but hadn’t been able to forget, either. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Smiling softly, Patsy shook her head. “Yes, I do. I want to. And I thank you for bringing me to this point.” She flicked a speck of dust off the dark green fabric cover, then she drew in a deep breath and slowly lifted the cover and opened the book.

  On the first page was a photo of her and Ace, the two of them dressed up for the senior prom. She smiled. Lord, they looked so young.

  “Wedding pictures?” Ray asked, breaking the reverent silence.

  Patsy laughed, and surprisingly, it felt good. “I guess this is the closest thing to a wedding picture I’ve got, but that’s from Ace’s senior prom. He and I eloped on prom night.”

  “Right,” Ray said. “Good-looking couple.”

  “Yes, we were,” Patsy agreed, turning the pages, exclaiming delightedly as each picture brought back another memory. How wonderful to be able to see them all and not to hurt.

  She turned to Ray. “Thank you so much for bringing me to this moment. I didn’t think I would ever get here.” Not that she’d tried in recent years.

  She was so glad that Ray Darling had come into her life. So happy that he’d helped her finally come to the realization that there was more to living than her job.

  How could life get any better?

  THOUGH PATSY had seemed to weather the emotional storm of last night and this morning, she still might need him, Ray thought. So he fed Tripod, let her outside, and now he was in the kitchen frying bacon while Patsy showered herself awake.

  How he wished he wer
e in there beside her.

  But, considering all that Patsy had been through in her life, not to mention, last night and this morning, there was no way he would rush her. He’d wait for her to make the first move, and if she never did, he’d just have to live with it.

  He put some coffee on, and the air was soon filled with the fragrant aroma of morning. He might have slept some last night in Patsy’s bed, but he hadn’t slept well. Most of the night he had lain there and watched her sleep, and it had been one of the most arousing experiences he’d ever had. This morning, his body ached as though he’d spent the night in a sleeping bag on the rocky floor of some chilly Middle Eastern desert. Not that he’d ever been to a Middle Eastern desert; he was just using his imagination.

  And his imagination had been working overtime recently, thinking about what he’d been missing in his life—not the desert experience, but Patsy. He poured himself a mugful of dark, rich coffee and brought it to his mouth. He took a sip and swallowed.

  “Oooh, it smells wonderful in here,” Patsy exclaimed as she entered the kitchen.

  Ray hadn’t heard her come in, and he looked up, startled. She was wearing some sort of cotton robe, damp in places and so thin that it showed off the figure beneath as if she were wearing nothing at all. She was toweling her hair dry as though it were an everyday event to walk into a room half-naked in front of a man.

  A very interested man. He’d imagined what she would look like, but his imagination had not come anywhere close to the perfection in front of him.

  He put his mug down and forced his attention back to the cooking bacon. “This is about done. I’ll just drain the bacon, and cook up the eggs, and then we can eat.”

  Patsy padded over to the coffeepot and poured herself a mugful. Then she opened the fridge and took out some milk. She put some in her mug and brought it to her lips. As Ray had, she breathed in the aroma before drinking. He felt a stirring in his loins and he did what he could to discourage any outward demonstration of his ardor. That was proving more difficult by the minute.

  Leaning against the counter, Patsy sipped her coffee and watched him as he poured off the grease and introduced the eggs to the pan. They were both rewarded by the satisfying sizzle as the eggs hit the hot grease.

  “You know, a woman could get used to this,” Patsy murmured, watching him over the rim of her upraised mug as he expertly scrambled the eggs.

  “Used to what?”

  “Having a man cook for her.” She put her mug down and arched a pale eyebrow, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. “How did you get so familiar with the workings of a kitchen?”

  “I’m familiar with the feeling of being hungry, therefore, I’m familiar with the experience of filling me up,” Ray answered flippantly. He shrugged. “I eat, therefore, I cook.”

  “What’s your specialty?” Patsy asked as she reached into a cabinet for plates.

  “Microwave dinners, actually,” Ray said. “I get home so late most days that I don’t have time to get into anything too complicated. I am getting fairly proficient in the art of grilling, though.”

  “You’ll have to show me some time,” Patsy said. “I either burn stuff or take it off too rare.”

  “Well, for now, you’ll just have to make do with eggs.” Ray scraped the scrambled eggs onto the plates, added the bacon and some toast and they adjourned to the table to eat.

  IT HAD BEEN SO LONG since Patsy had sat across a breakfast table from a man that it should have felt strange, but with Ray, it felt familiar, right. She loved his rumpled, unshaven look, his glasses spotted with bacon splatters. In fact, it had her thinking about things, other than what was on the plate in front of her.

  He must have noticed the grease on his glasses, for he took them off, blew warm fog onto them, then rubbed at them with a paper napkin. He put them back on and watched her eat.

  Patsy ate her breakfast, brunch really, and wondered what would happen next.

  “You are a real lifesaver,” she declared as she pushed her plate away. “I hate to wait for breakfast to cook, so I usually end up eating cereal.”

  “Then why did you have all the proper ingredients stocked in your refrigerator?” Ray countered.

  Patsy had to laugh. “Oh, I always plan to use the stuff. I regularly resolve to eat better, but then I usually end up going through the fridge once a month or so, tossing the old stuff out, and starting fresh. You’re lucky, I just did that last week.”

  Ray swallowed what he was chewing and looked at her. “Thank goodness for small favors,” he said dryly. “I don’t suppose you have any steaks stashed in there, do you?”

  “Not hardly. There’s not much of anything to cook for two.” Patsy wondered if, by his words, she was correct in assuming that he wanted to spend the rest of the day with her, that he might want to stay long enough to grill those steaks he’d mentioned.

  “Why don’t you go take a shower while I clean up the kitchen?” she asked. “After all, you cooked. The least I can do is straighten everything up.”

  “I can go home and shower, if you think you’ll be all right.”

  Patsy felt a twinge of disappointment. “I was hoping that later, you would show me your grilling technique. You did ask about whether I had any steaks here.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Ray said, “I’ll go home and change, then I can come back with some steaks and I’ll give you that grilling lesson you requested.”

  “Works for me,” Patsy said, smiling. For a weekend that had started out pretty awful, it seemed to be turning out pretty well.

  Chapter Eight

  Patsy sat in a lawn chair in the backyard, Tripod dozing comfortably at her feet, and watched as Ray prepared another meal for her. She smiled. How long had it been since she hadn’t had to fix a meal for herself? She couldn’t remember the last time. Well, except for that dinner at Aunt Myrtle’s.

  She hadn’t even been certain that Ray would return after what she’d put him through last night. That he had, told her more than anything he could have put into words.

  She liked that.

  More than that, she liked Ray. It felt so good to have someone in her life, not someone who was linked to her by blood, but someone who chose to be there. Aunt Myrtle might have fixed them up, but Ray had been the one to keep the relationship going. He’d been the one who’d pressed and pushed and taken every opportunity to insinuate himself into her life. And she was so glad that he had.

  The aroma of well-seasoned meat wafted through the air and she moistened her lips. “Are you sure I can’t do something to help you?” she called.

  Ray turned, grinned, and said, “No, you take care of people all the time. When was the last time anybody took care of you?”

  Funny how they’d both been thinking the same thing. Patsy shrugged. “I don’t know. But I love that you’re doing it now.”

  After so many years of being afraid to remember, afraid to care, Patsy reveled in the novelty of having someone else to think about. The only regret she had was that Ray could leave her at a moment’s notice.

  Not by choice, but because of the very business he was in. Radar was in one of the most dangerous career fields in the air force. Not only could he be hurt or killed in a battlefield situation, but even his training exercises were riskier than those of most of the servicemen she ministered to. She had lost count of all the broken bones, lacerations and other such injuries she’d witnessed at the clinic that had happened as a result of routine training right here on base.

  But, she forced herself not to dwell on that. She tried to make herself think of only the here and now. Ray was here now, and she enjoyed being with him. Wasn’t that enough?

  For now, maybe, it was.

  Patsy leaned over to pet the dog, and thought again about how domestic the scene felt.

  A woman could get used to this.

  Patsy leaned back in her chair and smiled. Instead of running away from the possibility of a real relationship, as she’d done for years, she actua
lly wanted to stay for more.

  RAY SPEARED THE STEAKS and dropped them on a platter then used the spatula to remove the vegetables he’d grilled. He might not be a gourmet cook, but the couple of things that he did cook were better than average, if he said so himself.

  He turned to where Patsy was relaxing in the dappled shade, the dog at her feet, and announced, “Soup’s on. Come and get it.”

  Patsy looked up and slanted a sly smile in his direction. “Now just how did you manage to cook soup on the grill?” she asked. “Didn’t the broth keep running through the grid, putting the coals out?”

  Setting the plate on the picnic table in front of Patsy, Ray did not dignify the silly question with an answer. There had been a time when he wouldn’t have understood that simple flirtatious remark. There was a time when he would have tried to explain.

  Thank God he’d learned more than warfare since joining the air force. “I’ll let you figure that out all by yourself,” he said, taking a seat.

  “No, thank you,” Patsy said. “I’ll just eat.” She picked her chair up and hurried with it to the table. “It smells delicious.”

  “You know, there was a time when I would have taken your statement about the broth literally,” Ray said, and Patsy arched an eyebrow. How could such an intelligent man misunderstand a remark like that?

  “I was a smart kid,” Ray went on. “Remember when I told you’d I’d gone to the University of Washington?”

  Patsy nodded. “You clammed up about it, and I tried not to pry. I was curious, though. Did you get into trouble there or something?”

  “No,” Ray said. “I was too young to get into trouble.”

  “Too young? Just how old were you when you graduated?”

  “Seventeen.”

  Patsy almost choked on the piece of steak in her mouth. She grabbed for her glass of soda and took a big swallow. “You were a smart kid.”

  “One eighty IQ,” he said simply. “I taught myself to read before I even entered kindergarten, and my parents were afraid that I’d be lost in a classroom of thirty kids, so they decided to home school me. My mom was a teacher, but I exceeded her abilities by the time I was twelve. That’s when they sent me to a private high school known for academic excellence, but I tested out of there in two years and went on to college when I was fourteen.