‘Your wife briefed us,’ the rescue team leader acknowledged, taking the scoop from Ben and prepping Tomas for the flight.
‘Good.’ Ben nodded. ‘Tomas went into cardiac arrest a third time. I had to improvise, using a water camel as a breathing tube. I’d recommend administering a sedative for the flight, and using a bag valve mask to force air into his lungs.’
Accepting the team’s hurried gratitude, Ben and Thea moved out of the way as the helicopter took off, the snow around them swirling in a mass of chaos. Then the chopper flew away and the snow dropped down silently, deadly, as an equally heavy silence shrouded the two of them.
Wordlessly they exchanged skis and snowboard. Thea felt exhausted. The rescue had been draining and all her body wanted to do was make it back to the cabin and crumple into bed. But trepidation stayed her.
‘Are you going to tell me what that was all about?’ she asked at last, as she skied slowly away.
He remained silent.
‘I only came on this trip with you because you asked me to. You promised me honesty and you asked for my help,’ she reminded him desperately. ‘Well, I’m here, fulfilling my promise. Now you need to fulfil yours.’
‘Fulfilling your promise like the fact that for five years you kept our baby a secret from me? You’ve had a chance to mourn what we lost. But you denied me that chance.’
The words hit her with such force she struggled to breathe. He couldn’t really be throwing that at her now, could he?
‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head, devastated. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘This isn’t about the—the baby,’ she managed to stutter out. ‘This is about you.’
‘What do you want from me, Thea?’ His voice was low, deep, uncompromising. Yet his eyes were ringed with red, glistening.
It took her by surprise. He was a soldier—he saw war, saw lots of things. That he should be so affected by the loss of their baby caught her off guard.
‘I don’t know.’ Thea closed her eyes to hold back her own tears.
He dipped his head. Saying nothing. Busying himself with the snowboard.
Then, in silent unison they skied back down to their cabin.
‘You’re leaving, aren’t you?’ Thea asked as they headed inside.
‘I have to,’ he told her. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You can’t protect everyone. Even though you might want to,’ she whispered as he turned to face her. ‘Just don’t go getting yourself killed out there.’
‘I don’t intend to,’ he replied gruffly, tilting her head up and kissing her salty tears. ‘But I do intend to come back for you.’
Her throat felt closed. ‘Then you know where to find me.’
But deep down she knew he never would. What Ben needed to do was the one thing he could never do. To open up. To talk about his emotions. But he was Army—through and through. Bottling everything up and hoping he never got shaken.
They stayed in each other’s arms for only minutes, but it felt like hours, and she clung to him for as long as she could. When he tore himself away to pack up his belongings and leave the cabin she knew she couldn’t watch him leave. Their final embrace would be the memory she held on to—not the sight of him walking out through the door.
Quickly, she stumbled back and into her room. She didn’t hear Ben leave, but she felt it when the cabin was suddenly empty. Deep down she knew she would never see Ben Abrams again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BEN EYED THE solid wooden door and, squaring up to it, offered three deep, uniform raps with his knuckles.
‘Enter.’
The rich, commanding voice threatened to send him walking away. Instead Ben placed his hand firmly on the door and stepped determinedly inside.
‘Hello, Dad.’
Ben knew it would wind the old man up—him marching into his barracks office, in uniform but without an appointment, and not addressing him as Colonel. It wasn’t intentional but it was too bad. This wasn’t about his dad. This was about him. And about Thea.
This was the next crucial step in his plan to win her back. Not that it was much of a plan. Despite being in the military, he’d spent much of his career winging it, making up his own medical procedures as he went along in the desperate need to save a life. The only difference this time was that by winning her back the life he would be saving was his own.
He stared across the desk, prepared to see the inevitable disappointment. However, the man behind the desk looked surprisingly drawn, unusually thin beneath the dark tan from the Afghan sun. He peered over his glasses, and Ben registered a flicker of shock as he made himself stride in confidently.
‘I heard you weren’t in Afghanistan.’ Ben stood in front of the desk. The etiquette drilled into him from childhood even now precluded him from sitting down until invited. ‘I didn’t believe it.’
‘I came back a while ago.’ His father gave an imperceptible gesture and Ben pulled out a chair and sat down accordingly.
‘You weren’t planning on being redeployed the last time I spoke to you,’ Ben challenged.
He had crossed paths with his father at their last camp, a couple of weeks before Ben had been caught in the IED blasts. Yet Thea said she’d seen his father at the hospital soon after Ben had been transported back.
‘Things...changed.’
Could his father really have given up his command for him? No, he was being fanciful, caught up as he was in his drive for information. There had to be a more logical explanation.
‘I understand you passed your Medical Board Assessment today, clearing you for active duty? Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’ Ben inclined his head.
He’d been in there less than an hour ago, but why should he be surprised that his father already knew the results? The Board probably had the Colonel on speed dial.
‘However, I won’t be returning to active duty. Tomorrow I’m going to tender my resignation from the British Army,’ he announced quickly, without fanfare. ‘I’ll be handing my official letter to my Commanding Officer.’
‘I see.’
The Colonel looked grim, and Ben felt a rush of irritation.
‘I’m only coming to forewarn you now as a courtesy, Dad.’ He intended to emphasise that it had nothing to do with his father’s position as Battalion IC.
‘May I ask what has precipitated this decision?’ his father asked stiffly.
‘This isn’t the life for me any more,’ Ben answered simply, surprising even himself with his confidence in his decision. ‘I’ve enjoyed it for twelve years, but it’s time for me to move on to new things. I’m not running away.’
He wanted to get that in before his father leaped to his own assumptions. He knew it was true. He was running towards something. Towards a new life, a new future, and the only woman he’d ever loved. He just had to convince her that he’d changed enough for her to love him too. Not that his father would ever understand any of that.
‘I have never known you to run away, Benjamin. Not in the twelve years you’ve served your country and not as a boy.’
Ben certainly hadn’t been prepared for his father’s apparent acceptance. He sat, shocked, as his father continued. Awkwardly, but with the resolute glint in his eyes that Ben recognised so well.
‘I know you better than you realise, Benjamin. So I understand why you waited to pass your Medical Board before tendering your resignation. You wanted to see your recovery through and you were determined to pass. Because now you can be satisfied that the decision to leave is all yours—no one else’s.’
‘Right...’ Ben frowned. ‘Thank you.’
Of all things, his father’s understanding, his acceptance, was the last thing he’d expected. He stood up to leave, almost forgetting why he’d wanted to come.
Abruptly he stopped. Turned. ‘Did you visit me in the hospital?’
His father hesitated. ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged after a moment. ‘I suppose your young lady told you?’
So Thea had seen him. Ben was shocked.
‘She’s Daniel Fletcher’s sister, I understand?’
‘Yes,’ Ben ground out.
He didn’t want to discuss Thea with his father. Didn’t want any shadow cast over her. Not by his father—not by anyone.
‘She has nothing to do with my decision to leave the Army.’ It wasn’t strictly true, but he wasn’t leaving for Thea. He was leaving for the life he wanted away from the Army, which happened to include Thea.
‘Sir James tells me she’s a very accomplished young trauma surgeon,’ his father continued levelly.
‘She is.’ Ben felt a rush of pride, momentarily loosening his tongue and making him forget who he was talking to. ‘She’s one of the most gifted trauma doctors I’ve known.’
She was also caring, compassionate and strong. So strong. And he might have thrown all that away just because he had thought closing himself off emotionally was the only way to be strong. She’d shown him how wrong he was. She was the reason he was now able, for the first time in his life, to ask his father questions he would never before have been able to. She had made him realise that this was where he’d learned to suppress his emotions—from his father. But he still didn’t understand why his father had shut them out.
‘Was I the reason you returned from Afghanistan? Gave up your post?’
‘Benjamin, I don’t think this is the right time for this conversation...’
‘Was I?’ Ben pushed, refusing to back down.
‘I... I thought I’d lost you, son.’ The Colonel jutted his chin out defiantly but suddenly, if only for an instant, he stopped looking like the driven, emotionless, inflexible Army Colonel Ben knew, and Ben caught a fleeting glimpse of a shaken, frightened, uncertain father.
And then it was gone.
But still, it had caught Ben off guard and unsettled him.
‘Where has all this compassion, this emotion been for the last twenty years?’ he bit out in frustration. ‘Where was all the grief when my mother died?’
He expected his father to shout, to reprimand him for his insolence. Instead the old man offered him a sad smile.
‘I was trying to do what was best for you. For us.’
‘By getting rid of all traces of her?’ Ben shook his head. ‘By never discussing her?’
Thea was right—it wasn’t healthy for anyone to bottle things up. His relationship with his father was a mess. He had no idea if it could ever be repaired—or if his father would ever want to repair it. But Ben did know that he was going to do everything in his power to salvage his relationship with Thea. She was good for him. She’d helped him heal when he’d never known he was broken. He was never going to find it easy to express how he was feeling, but he now knew he had to try—for himself as much as for Thea. She made him want to be a better person.
‘How did you think pretending she’d never existed would help?’ Ben urged.
For a moment he thought his father was going to shut down, he could see the old man struggling, but—incredibly—the Colonel met his glower.
‘I thought keeping the past behind us would help you to move on. I thought it would help me too.’
To Ben’s horror, his father faltered. He had never seen the old man struggle to control his emotions—any emotions—before.
‘I was wrong. I’m...sorry.’
So Thea had been right along. He needed to tell her that. Needed to tell her how he felt. Everything. Before it was too late.
If it wasn’t already.
‘I have to go. There’s someone I need to talk to.’ Ben stalked to the door, hauling it open and striding outside just as his father’s parting words reached his ears.
‘Perhaps one day you’ll allow us to start to rebuild our relationship?’
Ben turned back, the closing door still giving him a visible line to his father.
‘One day.’ He nodded. ‘I’d like that.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THEA SANK DOWN onto the bench to change out of her flight gear. Exhaustion was a daily occurrence these days. She’d told her colleagues nothing more than that Ben had returned to active duty, but as though they’d sensed the depths of her sorrow they had sent as many call-outs as they could her way in order to keep her busy.
She was grateful for the work. It kept her distracted, draining her physically and mentally, so that when she went home to her empty cottage she barely had the energy to sleep, let alone mope or cry.
Deep down she knew Ben was never coming back. As much as he loved her—and she now knew he did—she couldn’t compete with the ghosts of the men he had lost, the ghost of Daniel. But it wasn’t just the ghosts. It was more about the fact that Ben could never open up to her about it, that he was so emotionally closed off to her even after everything they’d shared. It meant that there could be no future for the two of them.
Stepping out of the shower, she started drying herself. It was an effort to get dressed. If she could have stayed here, slept in the rec room and waited for her next shift, she probably would have done.
She stepped out of the locker room and straight into a solid, well-built body.
‘Ben?’
She felt her chest start to bubble and expand as hopeful anticipation jangled wildly. She ruthlessly stamped it down. She’d been here before with Ben. Twice. She couldn’t put herself through it a third time. She had to be absolutely certain.
‘What are you doing here?’ She was proud of how even she’d managed to keep her voice.
His response, however, wasn’t as measured.
‘Looking for you.’
Her traitorous heart gave a leap of joy before she muffled it into submission.
‘I was also signing some paperwork with Sir James.’
‘What paperwork?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘My release forms. From the time I spent here on a consultancy basis.’
Of course he was. He’d need to be cleared in order to go back out on tours of duty. She was an idiot. Thank God she hadn’t given in to the urge to race to him.
‘When do you ship out?’
He fixed her with a look.
‘I don’t.’
Thea felt her legs start to weaken but she held her ground. She was relieved. Knowing he was back out there was her worst fear. Still, she felt sympathy for him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said sincerely.
Ben frowned. ‘What for?’
‘The Medical Board? You weren’t cleared for active duty?’
His slow, wide smile made her heart falter. It was genuine, but gentle.
‘I was cleared for active duty. My recovery is better than textbook.’
‘You’ve been incredible.’ She’d seen it for herself but it was still impressive. And so typically Ben to make such a startling recovery. She bunched her shoulders. ‘But you’re not shipping out?’
‘I quit,’ he said simply, his eyes never leaving her face.
‘You...quit? The Army? For good?’ She was having a hard time getting her head around it.
‘For good,’ he confirmed patiently.
It was the news she had been longing for—the news she’d never expected to hear. ‘What changed your mind?’
‘You did,’ he answered honestly.
She shook her head. She needed more than that.
‘Shall we talk in private?’ Ben asked, indicating the main office.
With a nod of acquiescence Thea managed to make her legs move towards the quiet room. Stepping inside, she sat down on a chair and looked at him expectantly.
&
nbsp; ‘What I have to tell you...’ Ben sat in front of her, taking her hands in his as he leaned in. ‘Well, it isn’t going to be easy to hear.’
‘Because it’s about Daniel?’ she acknowledged.
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t think you have a choice, Ben.’ She tried to quell the anxious jangles. ‘I think you need to tell me—whatever it is. I think everything inside you is all hopelessly bound together, and until you actually say the words you’ve no chance of ever untying it in here.’ She tapped the side of his head, as if to illustrate her point.
He nodded, but stayed silent, his hands still holding hers.
Thea watched their two sets of hands, together but not quite entwined, unable to draw her gaze away. Eventually the silence weighed too heavily.
‘You have to tell me, Ben. Whatever it is, I can handle it—as long as you’re the one who is telling me.’
‘Are you really sure you want to do this, Thea?’
She swallowed hard. No turning back now.
‘I’m sure.’
Ben nodded, taking a moment as if to compose himself, then starting.
‘You once asked me why I really married you. I told you that part of it was a promise I made to Daniel.’
Thea nodded.
‘You never quite understood—never could see the significance—and I don’t blame you. But the truth is I made that promise to him the day he died.’
Thea felt as though wheels were spinning in her head.
‘The day he died?’ she repeated slowly.
‘I’m sorry, Thea. I should have explained it to you a long time ago. When he made me make that promise Dan was dying.’
It sounded as though Ben was trying to talk with a tongue too thick for his mouth. As if it was an effort for his mouth to form the words.
‘Pardon?’ Thea swallowed hard. A deathbed promise? Had she really been prepared to hear this?
‘We’d been heading to the front line. There had been a battalion manoeuvre and there were thousands of soldiers out there. Hundreds wounded. They couldn’t get the injured back through the lines to our field hospital fast enough. A few two-man medical teams chose to advance, to try to help as many as we could in the field—stabilise them until they could be moved back.’
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