by Unknown
got. Cynthia lost her husband in Iraq. I’m the one who
called 911. She’s my responsibility.”
The woman swallowed a few times, and then dropped
her gaze. She punched a few keys on the computer. She
waved her hand toward a set of double doors on the other
side of the room. “She’s in cubicle three.”
He pivoted without a thank you and headed down the
hall.
He stopped outside the third cubicle and observed the
woman resting in bed. Face as white as the pillowcase,
her hands repeatedly clutched at the blanket.
“I’m Dr. Anson, assigned to Ms. Jenks’ case. And you
are?” With a sigh of resignation, Mike turned to the man
who'd come from behind and now stood next to him.
“Major Spencer.”
“Related to Mrs. Jenks?”
“No. Mrs. Jenks’ husband was killed overseas
recently. She tripped and banged her head on my Jeep. At
the moment, I’m responsible for her welfare.” Careful to
keep his voice soft, he nonetheless slipped into his
authoritative tone.
Dr. Anson’s lips pursed. “Hospital rules—”
“Damn your rules, Doctor. The Army takes care of
their own, and Cynthia Jenks is Army.”
9
Pam Champagne
Expecting dismissal, Mike braced himself for an
argument. Dr. Anson regarded him for a few moments
before nodding. “Shall we go see the patient?”
They walked through the parted curtain and each
moved to opposite sides of the bed.
Dr. Anson leaned over to shine his pencil-like light in
Cynthia’s eyes. “Are you awake?”
She blinked several times and opened her eyes. It
seemed to Mike she had difficulty focusing on the doctor.
“What happened?”
“You’ve had a slight accident. You’re at Memorial
Hospital.”
Her brow puckered and she rubbed her temple. “I
have a terrible headache.”
Dr. Anson shot Mike a glance then shifted his
attention back to Cynthia. “Mrs. Jenks, what were you
doing on the Hope River Bridge at two o’clock in the
morning?”
The rhythm of Cynthia’s breathing increased. Mike
recognized a plea for help in her gaze. A need to protect
her came out of nowhere. “Cynthia and I made plans to
meet there…to discuss her husband’s death. She needed a
friend, and I’m always willing to oblige. Isn’t that right,
Cynthia?”
If the hospital discovered she’d considered suicide,
they'd admit her for psychiatric observation. He saw no
crazed look in her eyes; just a grieving woman with
nowhere to turn. Having been in the same position, he felt
a psychiatric hospital was the last place she needed to be
right now. His empathy stirred long buried fears.
The doctor glanced up from his paperwork and
peered over his glasses. “At two o’clock in the morning?”
Mike shrugged, ignoring the man’s skepticism and
sat on the mattress next to Cynthia. “My shift at the base
isn’t over until one.”
The doctor cleared his throat and returned his
attention to the chart. Mike chanced a peek at Cynthia,
who watched him from the corner of her eye, her arms
10
Bridge of Hope
crossed in a defensive posture.
One of Mary Jo’s sayings popped into his head. Little
lies never disappear. They only grow into bigger ones.
Mike grabbed the bull by the horns. “What about the
test results, Doctor?”
Dr. Anson stuck his pen in his pocket and focused on
the patient. “A few bumps and contusions. Nothing
serious enough to keep her here. That is, as long as she
won’t be alone for a few days.”
Cynthia struggled to sit up. “I—”
Mike placed his hand on Cynthia’s arm and squeezed
a warning. “She's staying with me.”
The doctor frowned. “I haven’t said I'll release her.”
He squinted at Cynthia, his bushy eyebrows drawing
close together. “Ms. Jenks, I have a few more questions.
Regardless of what Major Spencer has told me, I have
doubts. Standing on the Hope River Bridge in the early
morning hours makes me wonder if you were
contemplating suicide. Unless you can convince me that
wasn’t the case, I can’t in good conscience let you leave
the hospital.”
Cynthia swallowed and almost choked on the lump in
her throat. She blinked to make the sparkles of light
floating in front of her eyes go away. What should she do?
Tell the truth? Or a partial truth? If she told the doctor
her dead husband had convinced her not to jump off the
bridge, he’d lock her up for sure. She now wondered if
she’d have been brave enough to end her life.
Who was this kind man who’d lied for her? He’d said
he was Major Mike Spencer. Not a name she knew.
“I’ve already told you—”
“It’s all right, Mike,” Cynthia interrupted. “Dr. Anson
should know the truth.” Or at least part of it. “I was
despondent last night. It’s been difficult accepting my
husband’s death. When Mike called, I jumped at his offer
of someone to talk to. Like he said, we made plans to meet
on the bridge…” Her gaze darted away from the doctor
and latched onto Mike. His smile gave her courage to
11
Pam Champagne
continue. “The air grew chilly while I waited, so I started
back to my truck for a sweater and tripped…that’s all I
remember.”
“Hmmm…” The doctor wrote a few notes on the
clipboard. “Since Major Spencer has taken you under his
wing, I’ll let you leave.” Dr. Anson directed his attention
to Mike. “May I see you for a moment, Major Spencer?”
Cyn strained her ears, but couldn’t understand their
muffled conversation. Was Dr. Anson trying to convince
Mike that she should be locked up?
Cyn fought not to flinch when Mike strode into the
room, his face tense. She pressed herself into the pillows
when he brought his face close. “Swear to me on Peter’s
grave that you’ll never again think about taking your
life.” “I won’t. I promise,” she managed to croak.
“I’ll arrange for counseling, and you will attend every
session.”
Cynthia balked, shaking her head. “No! I don’t—”
He leaned so close that his breath warmed her chilled
lips. “Dr. Anson suspects we’re lying. You’ll do it, or I’ll
rescind my offer of a place to stay. ”
She slapped his hands away and scuttled to the edge
of the bed. “They’ll treat me like I’m some sort of a lab
specimen.”
Mike rose and moved away. “For the time you’re in
therapy, that’s what you’ll be. Do we have a deal?”
Did she have a choice? “I guess. As long as you cool it
with the testosterone. I don’t like to be manhandled.”
She sucked in her breath at the pity shining in his
&
nbsp; eyes. “Trust me. I have no intention of interfering in your
life any longer than I have to.”
****
She was so damn tired she couldn’t keep herself straight in the seat. Her head bumped against the
window every time she nodded off.
“Are you cold? Mind if I call you Cindy? Cynthia is a
mouthful.”
12
Bridge of Hope
“Call me Cyn.” She hadn’t meant to bark the words.
Slouching lower in the seat, she fought back tears. “I’m
sorry. Must be the pain medication making me irritable
and weepy.”
He glanced over at her and smiled. “No problem.
We’re almost there. Katy will be thrilled to have a guest.”
Cyn lurched into an upright position. “I didn’t realize
I’d be imposing on a family.” God! How stupid to think a
good-looking man Mike’s age—he must be at least thirty-
five—would be single.
Mike chuckled. He turned left onto a narrow country
road. “I’m no longer married. Katy’s my daughter. She’s
eight going on twenty-one.”
The implications of his statement bounced around
her brain like ping pong balls. What happened to his wife?
Warmth flooded her face. She’d always had a knack for
shoving an arm, along with both feet, in her mouth. “I’m
looking forward to meeting her.”
His voice softened. “She’s precocious—sees and
understands more than any eight-year-old should.”
“Who takes care of her while you work?”
“A neighbor comes to the house and stays until I get
home. What about your family? Parents? Brothers or
sisters? Surely, they know the situation. Will they be
coming to Fort Drum for the funeral?”
Her nerves danced and anxiety coiled around her
stomach. “No,” she forced herself to reply. “My parents
were killed in a car accident while Peter and I were on our
honeymoon. I’m an only child.”
Mike reached over and squeezed the hand clutching
her stomach. “I’m sorry.”
She had no appropriate response.
“Where are Peter’s folks located?”
More pain. “His father died when Peter was a kid
and his mother passed away soon after we graduated high
school. That’s when Peter joined the military.”
“So it’s always been you and Peter against the
world?”
13
Pam Champagne
She shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”
“Have you made arrangements for his burial?”
She shut out his words. The pain in her heart was
more than she could bear.
“Cyn?” Mike persisted. “Peter’s body will be arriving
at the base soon. You have to make plans.”
“I…I can’t. Once he’s buried…” She turned toward
the window, tears dropping fast.
14
Bridge of Hope
Chapter Three
Mike pulled into the circular drive and stopped in
front of the garage door. Cyn fumbled with her seatbelt
until he reached over and released it. The warmth of his
hand threatened to bring on more tears.
“Hey, it’s all right,” he whispered. “You need some
sleep. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”
Birds chirped as if to encourage the new morning.
Cyn breathed deep of the honeysuckle-scented air and put
away her emotions as best she could while Mike fished his
keys from his pocket. Before he inserted it in the lock, the
door flew open. Her jaw dropped at the gorgeous brunette
standing on the threshold. Mike rested his hand on Cyn’s
back and urged her forward.
“Doreen, I’d like you to meet Cyn. She’ll be staying
with Katy and me for a while.”
Cyn’s nose twitched at the smell of burning wax. A
glance into the living room confirmed her suspicion. A
bottle of wine sat between two glasses on the mission-
style coffee table. On both sides of the couch, matching
end tables held round pink rose-scented candles,
providing the only light in the room. She didn’t need the
scowl on Doreen’s face to figure out she’d ruined their
plans.
Mike flipped the overhead light on and blew out the
candles. “Sorry you had to spend the night. Everything all
right with Katy?”
“Of course. We get along great.”
Cyn stared transfixed at Doreen’s hand curled
around Mike’s arm. The woman’s red nails became
splotches of blood on his BDUs. She hyperventilated.
15
Pam Champagne
Mike fought the panic welling in his own lungs. Cyn’s
eyes grew wide as she gasped for air. He recognized an
anxiety attack. Shaking off Doreen’s hand, he rushed to
her side and grasped her shoulders. “Take a deep breath
and let it out slowly. That’s right. You’re doing fine.”
Putting his arm under her knees, he picked her up and
carried her to the couch. “That’s it. Slow and deep. I’ll get
some water.” After one look at Cyn’s pale face, he took off
for the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water from the
refrigerator and returned to a nightmare.
Doreen loomed over Cyn, her face twisted with anger.
“You think this will work? Mike’s smart. He’ll see right
through your phony act.”
Cyn began to gasp again and shrank against the
couch cushions. “I…I’m not…can’t breathe…”
Mike exploded. He strode to Doreen’s side. “That’s
enough! You have no idea what’s happening here.”
His faithful neighbor and babysitter drew herself to
full height, hands on her voluptuous hips. “I know a scam
when I see one. This,” she pointed a finger at Cyn,
“woman has managed to worm her way into your home.”
Mike’s fists clenched. He had no one to blame but
himself for this. He’d known, almost from day one that
Doreen had more on her agenda than just taking care of
his daughter. He should have nipped it in the bud, but
he’d procrastinated, happy with the convenience of a
babysitter right next door. “Listen carefully, Doreen, I’m
only going to say this once. This woman’s husband was
killed three days ago in Iraq.”
The shock, and perhaps regret, that came and went
on Doreen’s face didn’t soften his anger. She directed her
attention to Cyn. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“Look at me.” The guilt-ridden expression on
Doreen’s face when she turned to him made him sick. He
had no pity for someone who’d used his daughter as a
means of worming her way into his affections. “I don’t
need you to look after Katy. I’ll drop a check in your
16
Bridge of Hope
mailbox.”
He went down on one knee to hand the water to Cyn.
Concerned at her chalk-white face, he dismissed Doreen
from his mind. “How are you feeling?”
With shaky hands, she held the bottle and swallowed
a mouthful of water. Tears dripped from the corners
of
her eyes. “I hurt.”
Christ. Perhaps she should have spent the night in
the hospital. “Where?”
She shook her head, blond hair swinging from side to
side. “Peter’s never coming back,” she managed to choke
out before she began to cry in earnest. Twisting her body,
she turned to face the back of the couch.
Mike relived the pain she was experiencing. He sat
on the edge of the cushions and rubbed her back, trying
not to notice the bones protruding in her shoulders. “Cry
until there are no tears left. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
She was so thin. Peter had only been gone a few days
so he doubted that was the reason. He suspected
loneliness might be the culprit. No family and no friends
that she’d spoke about. Even with a husband who was
crazy about her, she needed friends, other outlets.
Military wives usually banded together. The loss of
someone else’s husband was like losing one of their own.
Why hadn’t she made friends with the other wives?
Mike didn’t realize Cyn had stopped crying until her
soft, even breathing dragged him out of his thoughts.
Running his hand over her silky hair, he tucked a loose
strand behind her ear and covered her with an afghan.
He rounded the corner into the kitchen and stiffened.
“Why are you still here?”
The smile on Doreen’s red lips slipped away. “I need
to talk to you, Mike…to apologize. I don’t know what
came over me to behave like that.”
Mike cocked an eyebrow. “No? I’m not dumb,
Doreen.” He waved a hand toward the living room. “Wine
and candles? I suppose you wanted to sit down and talk
about Katy’s homework.”
17
Pam Champagne
Her gaze skittered away. “I never tried to hide my
feelings. I’d hoped—”
Mike cut to the chase. “I’m sorry for not laying my
cards on the table from day one. I’m not looking to get
involved with a woman—any woman. It’s nothing
personal.” For something to do, he picked up the sponge
on the sink and wiped the countertops. Take the hint,
Doreen. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.
“Oh. How about the grieving widow?”
