Frowning, Bay listened, absorbing everything. She began to relax, the sound of his voice dampening her anxiety. She stared at their hands. “There’s more,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “I know there is…”
Moistening his lips, he rasped, “Bay, you’ve been through so much. We have time, and we can talk about this more as you start getting those memories back.” He instantly saw anguish in her eyes. He felt terrible.
“You held me,” Bay said, her voice stronger. “You made my nightmare go away….”
Trapped. Gabe flexed his mouth, holding her haunted gaze. “What do you want, Bay? Just tell me and I’ll go through hell to get it for you.”
Gabe had no idea what to do now. The damned doctors said to let her memories come back on their own and then talk about them, not the other way around.
Bay managed a shy look and whispered, “Will you hold me tonight? When I go to bed? I hate taking those sleeping pills. I wake up in the morning, and I feel like I’m split into pieces. It takes me half a day to feel somewhat whole again.”
Given Bay’s trauma, he thought about the repercussions of sleeping next to her. What if she woke up thinking he was going to rape her?
“I don’t know, Bay,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.
She hadn’t been told about the rape—yet. The medical people had told her that she’d injured herself, but hadn’t said how. Would Bay figure it out on her own? It was coming sooner than later. The man she saw in her nightmare was either her torturer or her rapist. Or both. Gabe wanted to curse, to get up and run to hell away because he felt inept at handling all of this. He didn’t know what the right answer was for her anymore.
Bay’s hand tightened over his. “In my heart, it feels right, Gabe. I mean…if you don’t want to, I know it’s a silly request. Friends don’t usually sleep together.” Her expression was filled with confusion, uncertainty.
Ah, hell. Gabe turned her hand over, gently holding her long, spare fingers. “We’ll try it, okay? And it’s entirely up to you, Bay. You’re in control here. All I want to do is help you, baby, not scare the hell out of you. Or hurt you.”
Instant relief came to Bay’s eyes. A flush flowed across her cheeks, and she suddenly appeared shy, the way she was before they’d ever kissed the first time.
“Thank you…”
*
EVA-JO JOINED BAY in their mother’s five-acre garden that afternoon. Bay crawled down the rows of beans on her hands and knees. The beans were almost ready to pick, and she was pulling weeds alongside her enthusiastic, nonstop-talking sister.
Gabe hated weeding but grudgingly worked at it, a couple of rows away from the women. He heard Eva-Jo prattling away, her hands gesturing everywhere. Even from where he knelt, weeds in hand, Gabe could see Bay was getting tired of her sister clinging to her and the endless, ongoing chatter.
It was nearly three in the afternoon. Pushing to his feet, Gabe walked between the rows over to Bay.
Eva-Jo looked up, smiling gaily. “Look, Gabe! Look at all the weeds I’ve pulled!”
He forced a warm smile. “You’re good at weeding, Eva-Jo.” Gabe turned his attention to Bay. She had stopped and rested back on her heels. There were tiny beads of perspiration along her hairline. She looked exhausted. Holding out his hand, he murmured, “How about a nap?”
Bay lifted her hand and took Gabe’s. “Definitely.” She smiled gently over at Eva-Jo. “You beat me, Squirt. You got twice the amount I did.”
Preening, Eva-Jo yelled, “Yipppeeee!”
Gabe pulled Bay to her feet, and she dropped her last handful of weeds into her sister’s huge pile. “Let’s go,” Gabe urged Bay, guiding her toward the gate half an acre away.
At the cabin, Bay went straight to her bedroom. Gabe hung out in the kitchen, washing his dirty hands. Exhaustion lapped at her, and she pushed off her shoes and lay down. As soon as her head nestled into the pillow, she fell asleep.
Gabe was out in the kitchen making dinner for them when Bay emerged two hours later. He heard her coming down the hall and twisted a look over his shoulder. She seemed confused, scrubbing her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen table and sat down.
“How was your nap?” he asked, rinsing his hands and drying them on a towel.
“Interesting,” she mumbled.
That got his attention. Gabe turned and poured her a cup of coffee he’d just made. “Want to talk about it?” He slid the cup in front of her.
She gratefully took the coffee. “Thank you.”
Bay was always thoughtful of others, always aware of other people’s contribution to her. It was one of the many reasons Gabe loved her so damned much. Searching her blue gaze, he saw something new in her eyes. What was it? He stilled his impatience, waiting for her to speak.
“Gabe, I remember more things about Camp Bravo….”
His heart skidded. He put the towel on the table and sat down opposite her. “What do you recall?”
“Hammer. I remember the faces of all the SEALs in your platoon now.” She managed a bit of a triumphant look. “It’s as if you mentioned it, and then the rest of it just downloaded as I woke up a few minutes ago.”
“You mean, it acted like a trigger?” He was thinking in sniper terms.
Nodding, Bay sipped the coffee, thoughtful. “I think I remember everything about those four months now.” She launched into specific experiences.
Gabe sat there, wondering if her memories included their relationship. He hoped so. Bay’s eyes were lighter, her voice stronger as she recounted everything in the next hour about those four months she’d spent with his SEAL team. Gabe was shaken by the amount of memory dumped. And scared. It was only a matter of time before she remembered her assault. Dr. Torrance had said one memory might come back, and it might be months before another returned to the survivor.
“Well? Is that right? Am I remembering correctly?”
“You’re on the money, Bay.” But she remembered nothing about them. Gabe swallowed his disappointment and smiled because he could see how excited and hopeful Bay was. “That’s great.”
Her face became radiant beneath his praise. Heat sheeted through his chest, wrapping around his strongly beating heart. It was the light in Bay’s eyes that lifted him, smothered him with hope. Real hope. At that moment, Gabe wanted to reach out, gently cup Bay’s cheek and kiss her. But the fear of her other memories stopped him cold. Instead, he took a drink of his coffee, burning his tongue.
*
GABE SAT SHELLING peas and dropping them into an aluminum bowl sitting in his lap. It was early August, and the dog days of summer were upon them. The family of women was all busily canning in the kitchen. Large mason jars of the bright orange, sliced carrots and green beans were on the table in front of him. A sense of peace pervaded Gabe. Though Bay had regained some of her memory in early July, her mind seemed to have stopped giving her any more information.
Gabe lived in hope of her remembering them, their engagement. He’d been able to lay with her on some nights when she asked him to. He fought himself not to touch her in any intimate way. God only knew how badly Gabe wanted to make love to her, but he knew it couldn’t happen. The rape hung over him like a damned Sword of Damocles, a threat in both their lives.
He heard the women’s collective laughter, a slight smile pulling at his mouth. Poppy was a tour de force, there was no question. And her daughters were just as happy as she was. Gabe compared his own childhood to Bay’s. He remembered her fondly telling him about the cabin, about her parents. Being here, he felt a special appreciation because Bay had had an almost idyllic childhood. Maybe that was what gave her the backbone, the confidence and clarity for what she wanted out of her life.
Bay was going weekly for counseling sessions in the nearest town south of them, in Dunmore. She had no clue the woman was a rape crisis counselor, only that counseling was part of her recovery. Progress was being made, though.
Sometimes, he’d silently walk in on Bay, and
she’d whirl around and gasp, her face going white with terror. The counselor told him it was a PTSD reaction. Now, he made noise to make sure Bay heard him coming, so he didn’t scare her to death.
Gabe finished the bowl of peas and took them over to the counter. Tonight, the four of them would share a family meal at Poppy’s home. She’d asked him to gather enough peas for the meal, and he had. Moving out the kitchen door, Gabe ambled to the screened-in porch. He sat down in the old, red wooden rocking swing at one end of it, tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
“Gabe?”
Bay’s soft voice was close. He opened his eyes. She was standing before him, holding out a glass of ice-cold lemonade toward him. “Mama said you’d earned this.” And she smiled.
Their fingers met and touched, the glass frosty and wet. “Thanks.”
Bay sat down next to him. “This has been the most fun I’ve had since getting home,” she admitted. “I love to can fruit and vegetables.”
He tasted the tart and sweet lemonade that Eva-Jo had made earlier. “You’re happy.” It was said simply, but it was the truth. They locked eyes, and Gabe died a thousand deaths, wanting to love her when she gave him that tremulous smile of hers. It was getting tougher to lie at her side. She was completely unaware of the strain on him. And Gabe wasn’t about to tell her.
When he held her, she slept deeply. Bay was regaining her weight, eating well, and her eyes were far clearer than they’d been in July. He’d sell his damn soul to see her healed. He’d sleep with her and never touch her if that would get her back to being herself. Gabe never thought of himself as a monk, but now, he was one. Life held so many damned torturous twists and turns.
A dark green Chevy truck filled with cut wood chugged noisily up the dirt road to the main cabin. Gabe remembered that Poppy had wood being delivered today. She had a woodstove, not electric baseboard or natural gas or propane to heat the two cabins. Gabe had never met the man she’d hired to deliver it.
Bay frowned and looked toward the truck. She was jumpy about anything she didn’t recognize. Always on guard. Alert. Tense. He reached out and briefly touched her shoulder.
“I think that’s the guy who cuts the wood for your mother.”
Frowning, Bay said, “I’ve never seen this truck before.”
“He usually comes in the late afternoon when you’re napping, that’s why.”
The truck stopped. The man climbed out and walked around the front of the vehicle.
Bay choked. The glass dropped out of her hand as she leaped to her feet. It felt as if someone had hit her in the chest with a fist. The man had black hair and a black beard. When he lifted his hand in hello and looked up at them, she gave a guttural cry.
Gabe sprang to his feet as her glass of iced tea shattered on the porch. Her choking cry was like that of an animal knowing it was going to die. The shrieking sound seared through him as he reached out to grip Bay’s arm. And then, just as suddenly, her knees buckled. Jesus!
Making a lunge, Gabe caught Bay before she collapsed onto the deck. He heard Poppy yelling at the wood man. Eva-Jo raced out on the porch, shaken and panicked. The wood man halted, his brows shooting up in surprise, his expression confused. Breathing hard, Gabe managed to gather Bay into his arms. She’d fainted. He turned, seeing Poppy race out the door, her eyes wide.
“Something happened,” he growled. “Let me get her to your bedroom.”
“Yes, hurry!” Poppy looked fearful. Her glance went from Bay to the wood man standing at the bottom of the porch, nonplussed by the sudden flurry of unexpected excitement.
Gabe cursed under his breath. That man had somehow accidentally triggered something for Bay. Dammit! He pushed the door to Poppy’s bedroom open with the toe of his boot and quickly laid Bay down on the quilt covering the full bed.
Poppy ran in, panting. She went over to her wan daughter. “I’ll get a cold cloth.”
Gabe made sure Bay was breathing all right, tipping her head back to open her airway. He sat down facing her, picking up her limp, cold fingers. Jesus, what the hell had just happened out there? He anxiously watched her face as he opened the collar around her neck. Bay was waxen, her lips slack, her breathing shallow.
Poppy ran back in, thrusting the cloth into his outstretched hand. “I’m calling Dr. Evans,” she said, her voice off-key.
“Do that,” Gabe called, gently bathing Bay’s forehead with the damp cloth.
Eva-Jo ran in, sobbing. “I-is Baylee okay? Is she hurt?”
Gabe turned, seeing her anxiety. “She’s going to be all right, Eva-Jo. Can you get me some water for Bay?” He had to get her out of here, her sobs loud and upsetting even to him. He felt badly for Eva-Jo, who leaned so heavily on Bay for emotional support.
Feeling Bay’s pulse with his two fingers, Gabe felt it bounding and leaping. What had scared her so badly that she fainted? Bay wasn’t the kind of person to faint. Hell, she’d faced life-and-death combat with him and was as steady and cool under fire as he was. Her fright told him something about the extreme trauma that had triggered it.
The wood man pounded on the screen door, the sound reverberating through the house.
“Hey, Miss Poppy? What’s goin’ on in there? Can I help ya’ll?”
Irritated, Gabe wanted to tell him to shut the hell up. His voice made Bay tense again, even in unconsciousness. Gabe had never seen a reaction like this in his life. Should he be doing something else for her medically? He pressed the cloth against Bay’s face and neck.
Bay moaned. Her lashes fluttered. She felt a cold cloth on her brow, felt someone’s warm hand gripping hers. Feeling as if she were spinning out of control, she opened her eyes. Gabe was staring down at her, fear reflected in his eyes. Fear for her. Heart pounding, she heard another man’s voice. Oh, God! It was his voice! Weakly, she pushed herself up on her elbow, jerking her attention toward the open bedroom door.
“Hey, Miss Poppy?” the wood man called.
Gabe turned as the man in the black beard peered around the corner of the door. He opened his mouth, but his words were cut short.
Bay gasped, scrambled up against the headboard, shrieking and throwing her arms over her head to protect herself.
“Get out of here,” Gabe roared, leaping to his feet and moving toward him, his fist curled.
The man blanched. His eyes went huge, and he quickly left.
Bay sobbed, moving into a fetal position. It was then the whole memory of her capture, tending Taliban injured soldiers and Khogani raping her, occurred. Bay slid down on the bed, crying wildly.
Gabe stood helplessly, unsure what to do. He dropped the cloth, and he pulled Bay into his arms. She shrieked, fighting him, lashing out.
Staggering back, shocked, Gabe blinked. She must have remembered everything. The horror showed on her face. He couldn’t stand to watch her curled up, trembling violently, whimpering like a hurt animal, her hands over her head, trying to hide.
Wiping his mouth, Gabe cursed softly. He walked to the other side of the bed, crawled across it and, in one motion, slid his hand beneath Bay’s neck and beneath her thighs. It took all of his strength to lift and turn her directly into his arms. He didn’t care if she fought him or not—Bay had to feel safe.
Poppy raced into the room, her eyes filled with tears. She halted. “What can I do?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” Gabe growled, holding Bay against him, her weeping tearing him apart. “She saw that man. It triggered… God, I don’t know what the hell it triggered. A flashback, probably.”
Poppy stared at her daughter curled up against him, her face pressed against his neck, her hands covering her face, weeping as if her soul was being torn apart. “I’ve got Doc Evans coming. He’ll be here in about thirty minutes.”
Nostrils flaring, Gabe rasped, “Okay. Keep that guy with the beard the hell out of here. And don’t let Eva-Jo in.”
Nodding jerkily, Poppy said, “I’ll make sure. Just holler if you need anything? Anything else I
can do, Gabe?”
His mouth drew into a tight line. “No.”
The door closed. Thank God, Gabe thought, focusing fully on Bay. She hadn’t fought him. Once he got ahold of her, she collapsed against him, weeping ceaselessly. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard, one leg on the floor, one on the bed. All Gabe could do was croon softly to Bay, slip his fingers gently though her hair and hold her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BAY SLOWLY OPENED her eyes. It was dark. And she was warm in her own bed. But her throat was raw, and she felt beaten up inside. The bedroom door quietly opened. She turned over on her back, looking toward it. Recognizing Gabe’s silhouetted form, she relaxed.
“I’m awake,” she croaked. Her head ached. Her whole body felt dismantled, torn up and then hastily cobbled back together again. The light from the hallway was just enough for her to see Gabe walk around the bed. His eyes glittered with unknown emotion. She could feel his worry. As he sat down on the bed, his hip resting against hers, Gabe reached out and barely touched her cheek.
“What happened out there this afternoon, baby? What set you off?”
Struggling, Bay pushed herself up into a sitting position with Gabe’s help. She leaned against the headboard, drawing the blanket up around her waist, suddenly cold. His hand came to rest next to hers, and she slipped her fingers in his grasp.
“The black beard,” she whispered tiredly. “The man bringing in the load of wood. I saw the beard and…and—” her voice broke and she fought to speak. “Gabe, it was Mustafa Khogani. He raped me.” She lifted her hands, pressing them in shame against her face.
“Ah, baby, come here….” Gabe moved closer, pulling her gently into his arms so she could lay her head on his shoulder. Taking the blanket, he drew it up around her shoulders, trying to keep her warm. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” Gabe whispered, his voice cracking. He rested his cheek against her hair, moving his hand gently up and down her back.
Bay shut her eyes tightly, trying to speak. Her throat tightened. She forced the words out, her voice hoarse, stumbling over the memories in the cave. Her voice shook with grief as she told him of the child Khogani had not helped. She spoke in rapid-fire sentences, as if she couldn’t get words out fast enough, or it would eat her up alive. And all the while Gabe’s arms surrounded her, holding her strong, holding her safe. Bay was engulfed in anxiety and paralyzing fear as she recounted her captivity to him. She’d feel Gabe tense. Feel him tremble. Or, he’d murmur soothing words to her and hold her closer, as if trying to sponge away some of her terror, her grief and pain.
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