Possessing Elissa

by Donna Sterling

  When they reached their destination, she gaped in astonishment at a huge, two-story stone house. A spaceship wouldn’t have surprised her more in this primitive village.

  A convent, she deduced, or maybe a mission. Two slim nuns in white stood talking near the front door, and another worked in the garden. Elissa’s elderly guide approached the nuns and spoke in low tones while gesturing toward Elissa.

  A stern-faced nun addressed her in halting English. Elissa recognized her accent as French. The nun didn’t smile; her look was more distrustful than even the villagers’. “Your name?”

  “Elissa Sinclair.”

  “You come with soldiers, aui?”

  Remembering the colonel’s warning about this region’s chronic military upheavals, she firmly asserted, “They’re only helping me search for my...my husband.”

  “Your husband?” She glanced down at Elissa’s left hand, which bore no ring. “This husband...he is not a soldier?”

  Remembering the colonel’s fear of blowing Jesse’s cover, Elissa floundered. If Jesse was here, would they know he was a soldier? He would have been wearing a uniform—wouldn’t he? Could it have been burnt or torn beyond recognition...?

  The nun’s thin brows rose. “It seems you do not know. Maybe you can tell me his name?”

  Again Elissa stared, nonplussed. Would they know his real name—or the one he’d used when he worked undercover? The colonel hadn’t told her the name Jesse’d used; he hadn’t wanted her to know it, or to speak to these people at all. He hadn’t felt comfortable “compromising security” any more than was strictly necessary.

  “I...I call him Jesse,” she finally answered.

  “We have no ‘Jesse’ in our hospital,” she stated. “No strangers here at all. You and your soldiers can go away.”

  Disappointment, awful in its power, racked Elissa with piercing pain. “No, please, wait!” she cried. “You might know him by another name. I’m not sure what, but... He’s tall and dark, and he’s missing a finger.” She couldn’t leave this place without him. Digging wildly in her purse like the madwoman she’d become, she yanked out her wallet and fumbled through the pictures until she came to one of Cody. “Look, sister, look! Do you see this chin? Jesse has the same chin! Yes, and his eyes—they look very much like these—not the color, but the shape. And his nose...you might recognize that nose....” She looked up from the photo with a soul-deep desperation. Like a victim sinking in quicksand, she glanced at each woman around her, from face to unreadable face in a speechless plea. If he wasn’t here...if she couldn’t find him...if she never saw him again...

  Something in the nun’s gaze lost its granite edge. “Come inside, madame,” she murmured, “out of this heat.”

  Amazed that her body could respond when her mind and heart whirled in the throes of agony, Elissa allowed herself to be guided into the side entrance of the stone house and through its cool, dim interior. Vaguely, she was aware of other nuns, other people, but she couldn’t focus on them.

  “One of our patients,” said the nun in a conversational tone as she led the way down a corridor that smelled of illness and antiseptic, “is a man who worked in our village. A good man, who helped us save lives.”

  She stopped outside a door and rested her hand on its knob. “In monsoon rains he went out into jungle alone to find a lost child. He sucked poison from snakebite in an old man’s leg He gave his own blood to save a dying baby. We would never turn him over to soldiers, madame. Never.” The passion in her voice left no doubt about her devotion. “Our boys found him wandering. I do not know how he managed to walk. He is badly hurt.” As she pushed open the door, her gaze bore solemnly into Elissa’s. “By the time they brought him to us, he was unconscious. He will not wake.” Softly, she added, “But in his sleep, madame, he calls your name.”

  Trancelike, Elissa approached the bed, which was wired with life support tubing and monitors. There lay a man, obviously comatose, his face heavily bearded and scabbed, his body and head swathed in bandages.

  Jesse.

  “You think you have found him,” whispered the nun, her voice choked with sorrow. “His body is here, yes. But his soul, I think, is not.”

  14

  SHE COULDN’T SPEAK, not even a whisper, so tightly clenched was every muscle in her throat Nor could she cry; her emotions ran too deep for tears.

  But she could touch him-at long last she could touch him—and that realization almost undid her. She lay trembling fingers against the only smooth, uninjured skin on his face—along his protruding cheekbone, just above the gaunt hollow darkened by his overgrown beard. As her fingertips rested there, a fierce love washed through her...and a profound, unearthly awe.

  She’d only touched this man once before. A year ago.

  These large, dark hands that lay bandaged at his sides had not stirred her to feverish passion in these past couple of weeks. These wide, pale lips had not kissed her into sweet delirium. These eyes, now dosed, had not glinted with seductive intent as he’d whispered to her beside his bedroom hearth. These arms had not crushed her against him.

  No, all the while she’d been falling deeper in love with him at his brick cottage on Isle of Hope, this man had been lying here, still as death, thousands of miles away.

  “Oh, God, Jesse,” she whispered through an aching throat, “you reached out to me and I...I...” The ache grew too sharp to continue. She had done much worse than merely turn him away—she’d deliberately urged him on toward death.

  Her tears began then—bitter, recriminating tears—and sobs that violently shook her. She lay her face against his chest and cried with every ounce of energy left in her—cried for the mistakes she had made, for the time she had wasted, for the love she had withheld.

  She had told him she didn’t love him.

  “I’m so sorry, Jesse. If only I’d believed you.”

  “Don’t cry,” soothed the nun, stroking her hair. “You cannot blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done. We tried everything.”

  But in her heart, she believed she could have made a difference...or else why would he have reached out for her in such a powerful, compelling way? She had wanted to know his goal, his unresolved business. He had tried to tell her—it was life itself.

  “Come, have some tea,” urged the nun, “and maybe something to eat You are much too pale.”

  Elissa wouldn’t go; wouldn’t move from his side, not for a minute. What was it the colonel had said to her? You never say die, do you. Lifting her head, she gazed at Jesse’s deathly pale face and swore not to say it now. There had to be a way to bring him back She would move heaven and earth, if need be. “I have to call the colonel,” she said. “He’ll bring doctors, medicine, equipment...”

  “No, no, you must not tell the soldiers!” cried the nun.

  Elissa frowned, uncomprehending.

  “When our boys found him, he was wearing a soldier’s uniform, or what was left of it We do not know why. If he is American soldier, there are those here who would kill him. If he is not, the American army might kill him as spy!” The nun shook her head. “You must not tell the soldiers he is here. It could mean death for him—and much trouble for us.”

  Elissa covered the nun’s hand with her own. “There will be no trouble from the soldiers, I promise. Colonel Atkinson is a good man. We can trust him.”

  “But it will do no good, asking for more doctors and medicine. The doctor who works here with us studied at your American universities. He said we cannot move him. His condition has worsened in these last few days. We called a priest to his side, madame. Your husband... he is dying.”

  “Find the woman who has the radio,” instructed Elissa. “If I don’t call the colonel or he doesn’t find me, there will be much more trouble for this village... believe me.”

  With a sharp intake of breath, the nun paled, nodded and hurried off to find the radio.

  HE WAS NO LONGER speeding through the long, dark tunnel. He now drifted weightle
ssly, barely moving at all. He’d lost all sense of time, or maybe time had simply lost its meaning. The drifting calmed him, lulled him. Lessened the pain...

  The darkness began to flicker into colors, shapes, sounds. Like a three-dimensional movie, forms took shape. His mother, his aunt, his family. Scenes played out. His life, he realized, every moment, thought and emotion. Hurtful ones, mostly, in his early life. Loneliness, anger, shame.

  As he grew, his defenses toughened, and even those emotions lost strength. He lived life on its surface. Never deep, except when he faced danger and adrenaline pumped him full of emotion. Only then did he truly feel. There was plenty of danger to keep him going, mission after mission.

  And then suddenly, there she was—Elissa. Like a dam bursting, emotions gushed in fierce, unstoppable currents—warm, deep emotions—flooding every corner of his soul. Elissa. He’d had to leave her for another mission. His last mission. A hellish one made more so because he had tasted a richness he now craved.

  The pace of his remembering slowed, and he saw himself boarding the plane for home. The premonition of death had been riding in his gut and now sharpened as he stepped on board. He read Elissa’s letters, longed to see her and the son they’d made. Then the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, talking about engine trouble. The plane rolled, angled into a dive. Panic broke out among the men.

  But then the aircraft leveled out. The pilot announced that the problem had been fixed. “Relax, boys. You’re on your way home.” The men cheered and joked with giddy relief.

  Jesse knew better. They had to leave the plane or they’d die. He strode down the aisle to the cockpit and informed the pilot of the danger. He couldn’t pinpoint the problem, though; he couldn’t explain. The pilot muttered bland assurances and strained to see through thickening fog.

  Jesse went back to the men, his sense of impending disaster throbbing. “Prepare to jump.”

  They stared at him in disbelief.

  “But we’re going home, sir.”

  “The danger’s over.”

  “No need to jump now, sir.”

  He reworded his terse command into a direct order. As the men exchanged stunned glances, he prepared his own gear and moved to the emergency exit.

  “B-but that might be hostile territory below, sir,” stammered a young soldier.

  “We’ll head north,” he told him. “I have contacts....”

  “But we’re headed home, sir,” said another.

  They weren’t responding to his order.

  “You always said you wouldn’t expect us to do anything you wouldn’t do, sir.”

  “Yeah—you go first.”

  He felt the danger nearing. Angry, determined, he opened the hatch and shouted for them to obey. The plane took another roll, lurching him forward. He felt himself falling, falling. He yanked his cord, his chute burst open, and he was jerked upward by the billowing canvas. An explosion thundered above him. Pain struck like a poisonous spear. His hand...his hand had been hit by the debris.... And then a pain jolted through his head. Images jumbled. He tried hard to hold on to the survival skills that had kept him alive for the last fifteen years—he had to shrug free of his gear, trek to familiar ground—but darkness pressed in on him. Darkness that grew ever deeper...

  “Jesse!”

  Was that Elissa’s voice? It spiraled through him with a glowing, visceral warmth. But it couldn’t be her. She hadn’t wanted him. Hadn’t loved him enough. She’d sent him toward his death....

  The colors and shapes faded into a dim, solitary point. Gradually, though, it brightened and grew...this time into a brilliant white beacon. Irresistibly, it drew him.

  COLONEL ATKINSON SPENT the evening with Elissa by Jesse’s bedside, uttering profuse apologies for not having believed her sooner, praising her courage for sticking by her convictions. “You did it, Elissa. You found him, and now I’ll make damn sure he gets the best care that money and rank can buy. We’ve got the finest specialists in the world standing by. We’ll airlift him out of here in the morning.”

  Elissa nearly cried with gratitude. The colonel believed there was hope...virtually promised that Jesse would pull through. For the first time since she’d found him, sweet hope buoyed her up. She fell asleep in a chair beside his bed, holding tightly on to that optimism.

  A shrill ringing startled her awake—an alarm on some monitor—and a young nun shouted into the intercom in rapidfire French.

  “What is it?” cried Elissa, stumbling half dazed from the chair. “What’s happened?” It didn’t take medical training to soon understand—the monitor at Jesse’s bedside had ceased graphing its rhythmic peaks and valleys...and now hummed, showing a steady, flat line. His heart had ceased to beat.

  Elissa stared in numb, horrified disbelief. How could this be? The colonel was going to airlift him out of here this morning...he’d get the very best of help....

  The room burst into activity—nuns, nurses and doctors swarmed around, yelling instructions to one another, pushing her aside as they clustered around Jesse. In a haze of shock, she realized they were administering emergency treatment, trying to jolt his heart into action. She heard counting, buzzing, banging and occasional muffled sobs.

  Then all of it stopped...and there was only weeping.

  All but one doctor had backed away from the bed, Elissa realized. “It’s no good,” someone whispered, “he’s gone.”

  Gone.

  She somehow found her way to Jesse’s side. Everyone, everything, faded from view but the man lying so still before her. “Don’t do this, Jesse.” The voice she heard was her own—quiet, but steady. “Come away from that light. Come away from it, do you hear? I was wrong to send you toward it. It’s not time for you to die. Come back to me!”

  Hands clutched at her, tried to pull her away. She shrugged them off, reached for Jesse’s face, held it between her palms. “We could have a life together. A good life. You and Cody and I. You can raise him, be his father. He needs you. Cody needs you, Jesse!”

  She gazed down hard at him, willing him to respond. Her desperation turned into anger. “You told me you’d defy death itself for a lifetime of loving me. If you meant it, Jesse, do it now,” she ordered, her teeth clenching. “Do it!”

  “Madame, he cannot,” murmured a sad voice from behind her. “You must let him go.”

  “Did you lie to me, then, Jesse?” she cried, ignoring the nun’s somber words. “Did you lie to me, damn you?” In her mind’s eye, she saw him frowning. But not the slightest movement disturbed his face.

  As suddenly as it came, her anger left her. She swept her hand into his hair, and her voice broke. “No, you didn’t lie. You never have. You never would.” Anguish welled up to choke her. “Please, Jesse, please,” she said, sobbing. “Come back to me. I need you. I love you. I love you!”

  Although the liquid heat in her eyes blinded her, she saw him quite clearly with her heart. As the distant hum of a monitor broke up into slow but distinct beeps, a harsh wheezing sound erupted from the bed. An indrawn breath.

  And Jesse opened his eyes.

  Epilogue

  IT HAD BEEN A DAY of surprises. A month of them, actually, Jesse reflected, as he lathered soap across his chest and let the steamy, pulsating shower beat against his deeply scarred back and shoulders.

  He still hadn’t gotten over the shock of waking in that hospital to find Elissa at his side, swearing that she loved him. Some things are just too good to take in all at once; he planned to savor that surprise for a long while to come.

  When he had realized the lengths she’d gone to and the danger she’d faced—grateful though he was that she found him—he damn near kicked the colonel’s butt for letting her. The only thing that stopped him, other than his deep respect for the man and his rank, was the fact that he knew how hell-bent stubborn the woman could be. The colonel might make his Special Force commandos quake in their boots, but he hadn’t really stood a chance against Elissa Sinclair.

  Or rathe
r, Elissa Sinclair Garrett. A fission of warmth, pride and something too profound to define spiraled through Jesse. She was his now.

  He’d married her before they’d even left the hospital, though the marriage so far had been in name only. It had taken weeks of full-time therapy in the finest Georgia hospital to get back the full, fluent use of his body. His mental faculties, however, according to the astonished doctors, remained as sharp as if he hadn’t lost consciousness at all during his month-long coma.

  Jesse smiled. As far as comas went, his had been a relatively pleasant one. Damned pleasant

  And if the doctors wondered at his quick recuperation, it was only because they hadn’t gazed into Elissa’s eyes to see what awaited him there. They hadn’t suffered the temptation of her kisses...the sweet, intoxicating ones that made him push himself harder than his therapists recommended. He ached for more than her gazes, for more than her soul-stirring kisses. He wanted to possess her, his wife, entirely.

  He would do so tonight.

  They’d be alone—without nurses, therapists, doctors or well-meaning friends—for the first time since he’d woken from the coma. He’d made sure of that by booking a suite in an out-of-the-way Savannah hotel where no one would find them.

  Not an easy task when the colonel had invited soldiers from all corners of the globe to surprise him with a reception today. Men he hadn’t seen in years showed up, embarrassing him with stories of how he’d saved their lives or rescued them from danger. As if they hadn’t all done their part at some time or another to keep his butt alive.

  But Elissa had taken in all their nonsense, glowing up at him as if he were some hero.

  Her parents had been there, too, listening to the tributes. Her mother, with eyes very much like Elissa’s, cried and hugged him. Her father made a toast, welcomed him to his family and called him his son. Warm, unfamiliar sensations had crowded Jesse’s chest.