“I want to thank you again for last night. For holding me and listening to me extoll the virtues of Captain Jack Tucker.”
Tucker. Google, here I come.
“But…”
Sky didn’t like that hesitation. But I think you’re an asshole? But I think you’re a scatter-brained asshole? But I think you should take a hike? But I think you should find another vet?
“But I wasn’t really being fair. People tend to only remember the good things about someone after they die.”
Wait a second. Did this mean The Man, The Proud, The Marine had a flaw?
“So I think you should know I came very close to filing for divorce.”
Chapter 16
Sky choked on his water. Daisy slapped him on the back, but he waved her away. She should have waited until he’d swallowed before hitting him with talk of divorce. All she knew was she’d awakened this morning and realized how unkind she’d been last night. Lying in his arms and talking about Jack, as if everything had been perfect. Oh, everything had been perfect with Jack at one time. Until he’d returned from Iraq.
Sky was still speechless—a rarity—but he signaled for her to keep talking as he attempted to clear his throat. It would take Daisy a little while to think of him as Sky, but they were definitely friends now. They’d slept together hadn’t they? Well, they hadn’t slept together, but they’d slept together.
She took his arm and continued walking through the surf. “Jack changed after his tour in Iraq. I didn’t see it right away, but he started drinking more than he ever had before. That was my first clue. He’d never been much of a drinker and suddenly it was every night. And we started fighting. A lot. Something we’d never done before. I asked him if it was PTSD and he was furious with me.”
Sky had another coughing fit and stopped walking. He pulled away from her to cover his mouth. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, but he kept waving her away, so she figured he was okay. Then he cleared his throat a second time and waited for her to continue.
“I tried to talk him into going for counseling, but he said nothing was wrong. He could handle it. He wouldn’t take advantage of anything the Marine Corps had to offer. ‘Counseling is for pussies,’ was how he put it. If I had a problem with our marriage then maybe I should get some counseling. Now I wish I had. I started pulling away from him and, God, I felt so guilty about it, but I couldn’t continue like that.”
Sky pulled her to him for a hug, but she pushed back and looked up at him. “You know, talking to you like this, it seems so cut and dried. He had a problem. I should have made him get help. Simple. But it snuck up on us. It wasn’t as clear as talking to you about it now. Our life together changed gradually. Even the sex. I finally knew something was truly wrong when…”
Daisy opened her mouth, shut it, and then turned to look at the ocean. She shook her head to try to clear it and turned back to him. “Anyway, we stopped having sex.”
Daisy paused and searched Sky’s face. He swallowed. Hard. But he didn’t say a word. Just looked at her, his crystal clear blue eyes not giving away anything. Either it didn’t shock him or he was very good at hiding his feelings.
The dogs barked madly at them to throw the ball, but Sky remained hypnotized, not even blinking. Daisy bent down, picked up the ball, and threw it out into the ocean. She turned back to him and continued. He hadn’t moved.
“Jack was the most virile man I’d ever known, but he started having problems. Couldn’t, you know, perform.”
Sky swallowed. This time his Adam’s apple bobbed. Repeatedly.
“He blamed it on the alcohol. No doubt that was part of the problem, but it was all mixed up together. I couldn’t see it as clearly as I can now.”
“Aw, Daze…” Sky, who was finally able to speak again, reached out and caressed her arms, slid his hands down and took her hands in his. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”
“Let me finish,” she said. “It feels so good to finally talk about this.” She let go of his hands and turned to gaze at the horizon. He slid his arm around her shoulder and squeezed gently. “He moved out of our bedroom. Into the guest room.” She felt Sky flinch and turned her head to look at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Not the room we shared last night. We lived at Cherry Point, remember? Don’t worry, it’s even a new bed.”
Sky exhaled an obvious sigh of relief.
Daisy went back to gazing at the ocean. “When it came time for him to deploy again, this time to Afghanistan, I knew he shouldn’t go without some kind of intervention or treatment. One night we had a huge fight. He yelled and I screamed right back at him.”
Sky stepped in front of her, incredulous. “You?”
Godiva nudged the soggy ball into her hand and then barked until Daisy responded, blindly throwing it into the water.
“I got so angry at him, I threatened to go to his CO and tell him Jack needed help. That he shouldn’t fly. He told me if I ever stabbed him in the back like that, he’d leave me. And you know what? That started to sound like not such a bad idea. Because I was on the verge of offering him an ultimatum. Either seek help or I would file for divorce. I feel bad about being angry with him when he deployed, but I’m still angry.”
She could see her pain reflected in Sky’s eyes. On a visceral level, she felt he was getting this. Maybe he had some kind of military pilot sixth-sense about it. All she knew was it was the first time in several years, she felt someone understood what was in her heart and soul.
Sky cleared his throat again. “Hard to be angry with someone who’s dead, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” It felt so damn good to be able to admit it.
“But it’s a very normal reaction. We just feel guilty for feeling that way.”
“Are you angry at someone who died?” she asked him.
“I’ve heard people say that.” He took her hand and started walking again.
Daisy couldn’t put her finger on it, but something had just shifted. Had she hit a nerve?
“Anyway, it was like he became another person. He was no longer the man I’d loved and married. He became a stranger. I never knew what would set him off. And I’d vowed to love him in sickness and in health so…” Her voice trailed off. “It was very confusing.
“After he was shot down, I questioned whether his PTSD, or whatever it was, played a part. I mean, his co-pilot died with him that day. I’ve always wondered if his state of mind caused them to... Did it keep him from making a split second decision that allowed the RPG to destroy the helicopter? I don’t know. I’ll never know.”
Sky remained uncharacteristically quiet as they strolled through the water, the waves kissing their toes.
“The board of inquiry stated it was unavoidable. He was trying to cover Marines who were pinned down when it happened. I mean, they gave him a posthumous medal for bravery, but I’ve always wondered if I—”
Sky stopped and pulled her into his arms. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be carrying this around with you. That’s a lot to think about. To worry about.”
He pulled back, his compassionate look stroking her. “But Daze, you can’t second guess this thing. Nothing’s going to change. And it’s not your fault. There’s no way you can blame yourself for any of this. If he was unable to perform his job, his CO and his squadron mates would have known. His co-pilot would have known. We get pretty close to our HACs, honey. That’s the pilot in charge, the Helicopter Aircraft Commander.”
“I know what a HAC is.”
“Trust me. Mikey would know if there was something wrong with me and I’d know the same about him. Maybe Jack’s symptoms only affected him when he was home with you, because he felt safe. You know, he could let down his guard. Come here.”
Her tears started and Sky wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back soothingly.
This is what Daisy Schneider had needed for the past two years. Someone to hold her. And listen to her. And let her share things she’d never given voice to. Someone to literally let her cry on their shoulder. And stroke her back. And tell her everything was okay.
And that Jack’s death was not her fault.
Sky kissed the top of her head and rocked her. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart.”
He held her like that, letting her cry, until Belle dropped the ball at their feet and barked. Daisy pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”
Sky threw the ball, then turned to her. “For what?”
“For everything you just said and did. Thank you.”
Sky shrugged. “Tell me something, Daze. Did you ever go talk to anyone? Like see a counselor. I mean, that sounds like some pretty heavy stuff for you to handle all by your lonesome.”
“No, I figured what was done was done. I’d just concentrate on moving on. But when you called me uptight and—what was it, joyless?—it made me realize a lot of things.”
Sky winced. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m glad you did. It woke me up to the fact that I have been behaving like an ice queen. I have been joyless. And I apologize for last night. For lying there with you holding me so sweetly and me talking about how wonderful my life had been with Jack. That was unfair to you. But again. I appreciate your letting me talk about him. Because I did love him.”
Sky took her hand and turned toward home. “It’s okay. I’m glad it helped.”
“Anyway, I hope you can better understand my hesitation to date you. First of all you’re a helo pilot. And when you told me you’d been involved in the Blanchard attack, it freaked me out. Not only that you felt obligated to your friend’s fiancée, but also that you’d been in combat. ‘Killing terrorists who needed to be killed,’ I believe is how you put it.”
She stopped walking, searched Sky’s face. “Does it bother you?”
“Taking out the tangos? No. It was kill or be killed. Period. End of story. Doing what I had to do to defend the ship and the lives on board does not bother me in the least.”
“That’s good. Because I might be able to get past the fact that you’re a helo pilot, but I could never deal with someone with PTSD again.”
Sky swallowed. Cleared his throat. “Daisy, I’d never dream of hurting you.”
“There was a time when Jack never would have dreamed of it either, but things changed. The alcohol wasn’t the only clue something was wrong. There was also Jack’s dreams. How could I forget about his nightmares?”
Holy shit.
Ho-ly shit.
Sky focused on looking Daisy in the eye, but his brain was busier than a three-legged cat trying to cover up its crap on a hot steel flight deck during flight ops. He couldn’t decide which issue to tackle first:
Mr. Perfect wasn’t so perfect?
Talk of divorce?
They’d stopped having sex?
But the vote was unanimous. Jack’s nightmares won First Place, hands down.
I could never deal with someone with PTSD again. That’s what she’d said. Ho-ly shit.
“He started having bad dreams right after he returned,” Daisy said, taking Sky’s hand and walking again. “I figured that was pretty standard stuff considering what he’d seen in Iraq. Some of his missions involved civilians. It was apparently a little hard to spare them when the Iraqis used them as human shields. He’d wake up crying. I’d hold him and calm him down and he’d fall back asleep. He didn’t even remember them in the morning.”
Sky’s pulse raced and cold fingers of dread climbed up his spine. He focused on keeping his face immobile.
“I should have wised up right then and there. I mean, Family Services told us that could happen. You know, those groups that lecture everyone after a deployment about how the transition back home can be difficult. Your spouse may be changed, household dynamics may be different, blah, blah, blah. You know.”
“Yeah, we get that every time we return from a cruise. Not that I have a family waiting for me to have dynamics with, but I know what you mean.”
“I should have talked to somebody. But I felt I’d be letting him down if I went behind his back and shared these intimate details about him. Like I was betraying him. Again talking to you now, everything looks crystal clear about what I should have done, but it was pretty murky when we were going through it.” She turned to the dogs that had caught up with them. “Hush, Belle.”
Sky picked up the ball and threw it out to sea, sending both dogs on a mission for the next few minutes. “So you’ve been carrying this around with you for what? Two, three years?”
“Yes.” She stopped and looked at him. “Can you imagine him giving up sex?”
“With you? No.” Sky had been unable to react when she’d initially told him because he was pretty sure he’d swallowed his tongue.
She gave a little half laugh. “I haven’t had sex in close to three years.”
Sky didn’t dare open his mouth to speak. Nothing good could come from it. Because that was pretty much how he felt at the moment, even though it had only been eighteen days. Plus nine hours. And those pesky thirty-four minutes. But who was counting?
But three years?
She slid her arms around his neck and snuggled against him, which just about brought him to his knees. Desire punched him in the gut when he was supposed to be nurturing or something.
“So my offer still stands. I’m ready when you are.” And then pulling back from him she said, “But Sky, I admire what you’re doing. I really do. It means a lot to me that you care enough about Jack’s memory to honor it. Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek.
Sky was speechless. Honor?
Jack had lost the honor of being The Man, The Proud, The Marine, and had regained his status as a jarhead-grunt-asshole-son-of-a-bitch as far as Sky was concerned. To make Daisy suffer like that. What was with the guy that he wouldn’t get help for his obvious PTSD? Jack’s symptoms were as plain as the nose on his face: heavy drinking, fighting with—but not having sex with—his awesome wife, nightmares…
Suddenly Sky felt a tad more compassion for the jarhead-grunt-asshole-son-of-a-bitch. Godiva dropped the tennis ball at his feet. He pulled out of Daisy’s arms, picked up the ball, and threw it as hard as he could toward home. Then he took Daisy’s hand and followed.
Examining himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, Sky convinced himself he hadn’t lied to her. She’d asked him, “Does it ever bother you? Killing terrorists who needed to be killed?” No, it did not bother him. Firing Hellfire missiles on a suicide fishing boat and killing the al-Qaeda bombers on board had not caused him to lose a minute of sleep.
Losing a tail rotor, crashing into the ocean, and not being able to save Daniel? That was what inhabited the frightening world between him and peaceful slumber.
Sky rinsed, spit, and went to find his cat to give her a pill before bed.
Daisy stood at the patio door, letting the dogs in for the night. Sky wrapped himself around her back and kissed the top of her head, then buried his nose in her silken hair. God, he liked everything about this woman. And as George had said, she smelled damn good too. “Everything secured for the night?”
“Mmmmm,” Daisy murmured. “Let me go wash up. Thanks for staying again.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You can plan on me staying and holding you every night until you throw me out.”
They cuddled in the guest room bed. Like the night before Sky was fully dressed and lay on the comforter. Well, he’d relaxed a little. He’d taken his shoes off tonight. He felt a little safer tonight knowing Daisy Mae was in the house. Surely she’d come snuggle with him after the lights were out—and the evil doctor had fallen asleep. That cat was so funny about Dr. Daisy.
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“Thanks again for today, Sky.” Daisy lay on her side, her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her, his fingers playing in her hair.
He kissed her temple and something came loose in his heart. Her blond hair spilled across the pillow and over her shoulders. But he wasn’t getting the sexual rush he usually did. Something was different.
Holy shit. He got it. This wasn’t about sex anymore. It wasn’t about the conquest or the rush. He cared for her. Deep down in his bones. But did he really want to get that involved? Part of him wanted to wrap her up and marry her tomorrow. And another part wanted to run away as fast as his legs could carry him.
He stroked her hair. “I have a better picture now of how you saw me when I stumbled into your clinic spouting off like an idiot. I mean the military thing, not the idiot thing. I can see why you wouldn’t want to get involved with me.”
She lifted her head so she could meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sky, but I’m still not sure I want to get involved. Can’t we keep this simple? You said you’re not looking for anything serious and I’m certainly not ever going there again.”
“Maybe you’d better define ‘getting involved,’ because in my book, you lying here in my arms in a bed in your house, well, I consider this ‘getting involved.’”
“Well, I’m all for this, for, okay, sex. And I thank you for holding me and listening. But I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Daze—”
“Wait. Hear me out. I’m never going to give my heart away again. Just so you know. The way I loved Jack when we married? Well, I think a love like that only comes once in a lifetime.”
“Oh, so that’s it. The love of your life dies, so your life is over. You’re what thirty?”
Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) Page 15
