Shaken

by Kariss Lynch

  “Don’t be mad, Kayles.” Sarah Beth’s voice lingered in her mind, but Kaylan couldn’t accept it, wouldn’t accept it. She didn’t have to surrender everything, but she had. And she’d died broken.

  Why, God? Why?

  Nick released her. “You’re up.”

  The walk to the podium felt like a walk to the hangman’s noose. Ominous music built, and her hands grew slick on the cold crutches. Her heart beat a doleful cadence, building in intensity the closer she drew to the podium. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

  She stopped at the steps. Closing her eyes, she imagined the heat of Haiti, the rainbow-colored tap-taps hauling sweaty, boisterous people from one end of the city to the next. She imagined the paintings of brilliant color, the smell of the ocean, the welcome feel of Rhonda’s home, and the laughter of twenty young mothers. In the midst of it all stood Sarah Beth, alive, whole, thriving, because she never felt more in her element than when she helped people.

  Opening her eyes, Kaylan took a step and then froze. On the big screen was a picture of the two of them in Haiti, heads thrown back in laughter. She’d uploaded it on Facebook the day before the quake. Spinning around, she searched for a door, an escape. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this. I just can’t,” she whispered to the Tuckers.

  Ramming into the side exit, she escaped into the rain. One or all of her brothers wouldn’t be far behind. And Nick. But she needed to be alone. Rounding the corner of the church, she sank down, her dress soaking in a puddle and rain drenching her face, replacing the tears she desperately wished would come. Her crutches clattered to either side. Behind her the voices of Nick and her brothers called her name, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. For the first time in her life the people she loved most felt distant, unreachable.

  The only voice she could hear in the downpour was Eliezer’s. “You should never have come to Haiti. Your fault. This is your fault. Her death is on your hands. Curse you, and curse your God.” She covered her ears, but his voice shouted from within her. It wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t forget.

  Kaylan tilted her face to the sky, welcoming the deluge. Maybe it would wash her away. It was her fault. She couldn’t save her best friend in Haiti, and she had just failed to honor and love her in death.

  She had failed again. Her fault. All her fault.

  Worry consumed Nick. He didn’t recognize this Kaylan: despondent, unable to give to those closest to her, running away from difficult circumstances. He followed her from the church while the pastor stepped up to smooth over her absence.

  “Kaylan!” The howling wind and rain diminished his shout and the calls of her brothers, who followed behind. He rounded a corner and found her sitting in a ball, huddled against the side of the church. The picture of a broken woman.

  “Kaylan?” She stirred but wouldn’t look at him. He took off his soaked coat and placed it around her shoulders. The icy rain instantly soaked through his button-down. He slipped his arm around her, and she fell limply against his shoulder. A spasm of fear shot through his gut. She hadn’t regained her weight yet, and her willowy body was frail, as if the earthquake had shaken her very being.

  Micah stuck his head around the corner and met Nick’s eyes. Seth and David bumped into him, and Micah hustled them back around the corner. Her family was including him, allowing him to operate within their inner workings. He prayed he didn’t let them down.

  “Remember the dance studio over Christmas break?”

  He nodded against her hair, relieved that she was finally talking. Lord, help me know how to respond.

  “I didn’t realize that would be the last time we danced together. If I’d known, I would’ve appreciated it more, made it less about getting over Pap’s stroke and more about being with her. She was strong, you know? I needed her, but I think in a lot of ways, she didn’t need me.”

  “What do you mean? You were her best friend. You two were like peanut butter and jelly. She loved you.”

  Kaylan went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “We were supposed to be in each other’s weddings. We had it all planned, although I fought her on wearing a hot-pink maid-of-honor dress.” He couldn’t hide his chuckle. “We were going to have kids at the same time, a boy and a girl, so they could grow up, get married, and we could be mothers-in-law together. We were going to be those old women on the Southern porch watching the sunrise, gossiping into the evening hours, and sipping sweet tea with lemon. We were going to save the world. We were superheroes when we were young.”

  “Let me guess: Sarah Beth always wore pink.”

  “Always.”

  It occurred to him that she hadn’t cried at all, not since he’d found her in Haiti or brought her home. Nothing.

  “And what color did you wear?” The rain had let up a bit.

  She turned her head and met his eyes, her own radiating pain. “I’ve always had a thing for blue.”

  “Have you?” He smiled and ran a finger down her face, resisting the urge to kiss her. It wasn’t the time. Right now it would be an overflow of his heartache, his attempt to heal her.

  “Kayles?” He needed to get her out of the rain, but he needed her to talk to him more.

  “Hmm?”

  “What happened in the earthquake?”

  Her body went stiff as a wooden board, and she pulled away from him, allowing the wall to take her weight. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I think you need to.” He kept his voice gentle, low, hoping she would trust him enough to let him into her pain.

  “I can’t, and I won’t.”

  “I understand losing someone, Kaylan.”

  “Not this you don’t. You couldn’t. You weren’t there, Nick. Only Sarah Beth would understand. And she’s . . . she’s not here anymore.” Her green eyes darkened a shade.

  “Kaylan, let me help you.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked away.

  “You can’t help me.”

  “Kaylan.”

  “You don’t get it. It’s my fault! She would be here if it wasn’t for me.”

  Her fault? She had mumbled that as they’d worked on her leg right after they’d found her, but he had figured she was tired and hallucinating. None of this could possibly be her fault. How could she think that?

  He cupped her face, waiting for her to relax and meet his eyes. Hers reflected the storm, building and blowing, angry, confused.

  “Listen to me. None of this is your fault.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head, giving up her fight against him and resting her head on his chest. “You don’t understand. Sarah Beth.” Her voice held a hopeless cry. “It’s my fault.”

  The thunder rolled, and Nick knew the storm was far from over. The quake had ended, but the aftershocks lingered, shaking the foundations of everything Kaylan knew or thought familiar. He wondered when she would move past it, if she ever would.

  Where are You, Lord? I don’t know how to help her. Help me be the man she can lean on. Help her to talk to me. Heal this.

  The rain came again with a fury, sheets soaking them to the bone. He held her, shielding her with his body, powerless to stop the deluge.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  NICK CHOMPED DOWN on gum and grit. The flavor had long since faded. He couldn’t move. Micah was stationed on a rooftop across the street. The Marine platoon they were teamed with would come through any minute. So far, the night had been quiet.

  A pebble danced in front of Nick as the ground rumbled and the convoy rolled into view. The long night of waiting and watching was over. Only one other vehicle had slipped through during the night, slowly, but that was to be expected in this bumpy pass.

  Nick held his post. His legs and back twitched from lying on his stomach beneath the hide.

  “Move, Hawk?”

  “Hold until they roll through, and then we’ll jump the convoy and head back into base with them.”

  “Copy.” The radio fell silent. Nick peered through the scope. Dawn was right ar
ound the corner, and Nick strained to hear unnatural sounds in the early-morning stillness. This wasn’t the way he liked to attack. SEALs worked at night, made the first move, and then slipped out while the bad guys tried to figure out what hit them.

  A flash blinded him, and he jerked his head from the sniper scope as the lead vehicle in the convoy exploded. Men jumped and flew from the interior.

  A disarray of cussing, yelling, and disbelief burst from his radio. He slammed his head into the scope scanning the area, sure he had left a bruise. How had they planted an IED? They had scanned the area all night, all during the operation.

  “Bulldog?”

  “Nothing. Man, there’s no way. There’s no way.”

  There was a way, and Nick’s stomach lurched. He radioed to base as the area around them rattled with gunfire. Militants in tattered tan clothing emerged from the desert surroundings. An ambush. The truck in the night—it had to have dropped an IED. He smacked his gum, praying the flyboys would be here soon. They needed a fly over, stat.

  He popped his gum and took aim, leveling three men in seconds. He felt nothing. His buddies were dying, and it was his fault. He should’ve paid more attention to the truck. Another explosion rocked his view with yellow and orange and smoke.

  Nick woke in a cold sweat. He licked his lips and tasted salt. Sliding into a shirt, he stretched, careful not to wake Micah on the air mattress. Sleep would elude him the rest of the night, and sunrise wasn’t far away. Maybe spending the morning with Kaylan would ease the dreams. His time with her was limited. His commanding officer had granted him and Micah personal leave for family reasons with the admonition that they could be called back at any time if their Support Activities team required immediate deployment. Either way, he would have to leave in a few days.

  He tiptoed down the stairs and started the coffee, inhaling the scent of snickerdoodle. His dreams triggered a new awareness. He understood Kaylan, not just because he had lost both of his parents, but because she must see Sarah Beth the way he saw his dead buddies. He still wasn’t sure what Kaylan meant when she said Sarah Beth’s death was her fault, but if she felt the responsibility he had over those explosions, then he understood.

  Nick understood the way of the warrior, how to face combat and loss and devastation. But Kaylan? She’d never had to face anything like this in her life. She hadn’t signed up for war but had found one anyway. She’d never expected to lose her best friend, but it had happened. She’d held her as she died. He imagined holding Micah in his arms, bloody and bullet-ridden. Would he be able to recover? No. Kaylan was internalizing it, bottling it up, and he understood, at least in part—enough to help. She had become an unwilling soldier in a battle against nature, and she was losing.

  The floor creaked, and Nick angled his body to the door. Micah leaned against the door frame, his hair sticking out at odd angles.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “They’ll pass.”

  “What do you see?”

  “Those we lost. My screwups.”

  “You gotta let it go.”

  “It’s not so much that I haven’t let it go. I just relive it when I dream. One of these days they won’t seep into my subconscious, but some of the images are still too real. Stuff like Haiti or a deployment makes ’em worse.” He rubbed his eyes then met those of his sleepy best friend. “What’re you thinking, Bulldog?”

  “I’m thinking it’s time we call a family powwow. Without Kaylan. It kills me. She’s my baby sister, Hawk, but she won’t talk to me.” Micah blinked back tears. “If the family’s okay with it, I want you to do whatever is necessary to help her. I don’t relive things like you do. You may be able to help her better than any of us can.”

  “Of course. I’m not running this time. She won’t get rid of me easily. We’re just going to have to work it around training for this upcoming deployment.”

  The sunrise peeked through the window in the breakfast nook. Nick poured two cups of coffee and turned toward the sunroom. Kaylan would be up by now. It was odd she hadn’t come for a cup of coffee.

  “She’s not in there, man.”

  Nick waved him off. “She doesn’t miss a sunrise.”

  “She does since Haiti. She told me the colors don’t look the same.”

  Nick walked to the sunroom, hoping to prove Micah wrong. The empty loveseat and end table devoid of Kaylan’s Bible and journal stopped him short. Color broke over the tree line, and Nick knew the road ahead was long. The girl who had gone to Haiti over a month before hadn’t returned whole.

  He set down one of the mugs and looked around. The sunroom was Kaylan’s favorite room in the house, and he felt close to who she had been here. It was where their relationship began to blossom again. He remembered their banter and quiet conversation in the early morning hours the week before she left for Haiti and he returned to work. They had discussed theology, Haiti, Sarah Beth, and Kaylan’s family. They had talked about her internship and his military career. They had sat in stillness, watching the early reds and oranges spill over the dark lake. The scent of her lavender body spray and vanilla shampoo lingered. He ached to hold her, to return to the playfulness that characterized her in the few days before she’d left for Haiti.

  A muscle jerked in his jaw as he took a sip of coffee. Lord, I need Your help right now. This family just trusted me to help Kaylan get through this, and I can’t let them down. I can’t fail Kaylan.

  He would help her get back to normal, or at least find a new normal. Any other possibility was unthinkable.

  Kaylan rubbed the sleep from her eyes at the top of the staircase. The morning light filtered through the blinds, and she turned away from its glare. Too bright. Voices drifted from below, and Kaylan moved toward the hushed tones.

  Nick’s voice traveled in the quiet house. “I think we may need to consider that Kaylan will never be back to normal . . . ”

  His voice faded and then her dad chimed in. “I know someone she can speak to at the hospital if necessary.”

  Kaylan froze. They were pawning her off to a shrink? She would never be normal again? Kaylan felt pain like she hadn’t since Haiti, but this time it wasn’t the pain of loss; it was the pain of betrayal. She needed their support, their help, their love, but they didn’t understand.

  Her feet carried her down the stairs without conscious thought, and she stood behind the couches until Nick noticed her. He paled, and the family grew silent, all eyes shifting to her. Anger boiled inside, ripping through her.

  “Have you given up on me? Am I not worth helping?”

  “Kaylan . . . ”

  “Save it, Nick. I don’t want to hear it. I’m sorry that I’m messed up right now. I’m sorry that I’m not the happy, carefree daughter and sister who used to live here. I’m sorry that rubs off on you. But to pawn me off to a shrink, to say I’m ‘abnormal,’ it’s not fair. How could you? You can’t . . . ” She swallowed back tears and her hands balled into fists. “You can’t understand,” she whispered, and her voice cracked.

  “Sweetheart . . . ”

  “No, Mom.”

  She turned, intent on making a retreat to the stairs and back to the safety of her room.

  “Kaylan.” Nick caught her arm and whirled her around on the staircase landing. She wilted. No anger, no pain. Just numb. “Hear me out.”

  “Not now.” She pushed against his chest as he tried to pull her close. Emotion fled. “I need you to be there for me, not collaborate with my family. I’m not crazy. I don’t need a shrink. I just need my friend.” She turned and dashed up the stairs. Slamming the door to her room, she slid down against it and hugged her knees. Alone in the dark, again. How would she ever move past this?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  THE LAP OF water against the dock soothed Kaylan’s anger. She’d avoided her family for the last few hours, something she’d never felt the need to do before. The very fabric she had depended on her whole life was unraveling. Her family thought she needed to b
e fixed, Sarah Beth was gone, and Nick . . . Nick was collaborating with her family. The home she had returned to no longer felt like home. The ones who could help the most remained in Haiti.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth on the edge of the dock. What she wouldn’t give to take the boat or Jet Ski out onto the lake, but everything was still winterized.

  “Kaylan, can I speak with you?”

  She whirled at Nick’s slow steps and deep voice. Her foot slipped and she swung her arms, attempting to regain her balance.

  “Kaylan.” He dove for her and missed. Water enveloped her head, and the cold ripped through her body. Her leg twinged. Water wrapped around her, constricting her lungs, and she grew still. For a moment she wondered if this was how Sarah Beth felt as the ceiling rested on her chest and death encroached.

  Another splash and bubbles surrounded her, the white foam lapping her hair. Strong arms locked around her waist, propelling her to the surface. Her head broke through, and she inhaled hard, recognizing an unfamiliar stinging in her lungs. Coughing consumed her. As air filled her lungs, the weight vanished.

  “Why didn’t you swim?” Nick’s anger pushed hers to the surface.

  “I was about to.”

  “No, you weren’t. I had to jump in and get you. I thought you hit your head or something. But you were just content to stay down there. Why, Kaylan?” He yelled, and the sound brought her family from the house and onto the back porch.

  “I don’t know, okay? You wouldn’t get it. Leave me alone, Nick.” Her teeth chattered. She shoved away from him and swam to the ladder, pulling herself out of the water. The cold air seeped through her wet clothes, and chills racked her body.