High-Stakes Holiday Reunion

by Christy Barritt

  Christopher came around to her side of the booth and pulled Ashley’s sleeve up. The feeling of his fingers against her skin caused shivers to shimmy up her arm.

  “They seem nice,” he muttered. “Nothing like a small town.”

  “I still love small towns,” Ashley said as Christopher dabbed some ointment on her wound. She tried not to flinch. She’d never been a very good patient.

  “You always did.”

  “One day, that’s where I’ll move.” She tried to keep her thoughts focused on anything but her wound. It stung as Christopher sprayed something on it.

  “Why not now?”

  “I wanted to stay close to David.” Because he’s my son. She kept those words to herself.

  He glanced up at her, his green eyes making her heart do an unwilling flip. “You really love him, don’t you?”

  She nodded, refusing to let the tears escape from her eyes. “More than life.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.” Christopher pressed a bandage over the cut and pulled her sleeve back down. Ashley could finally breathe again when he slipped back over to his side of the booth. He could not have this effect on her. It just wasn’t healthy.

  She licked her lips, changing the subject. “That was close back there.”

  He nodded and his eyes clouded. “Too close. Every lead we follow hasn’t brought us any answers, just more questions. There’s something we’re missing.”

  “I wish I knew what.” She felt practically willing to give her life to find out. Without answers, she was no good to anyone.

  Another waitress appeared. Ashley’s stomach growled, so she didn’t waste any time perusing the menu. She ordered salmon served over fettuccine. Christopher picked the catfish with fries.

  She glanced out the window and saw fat flakes of snow had begun to fall again. The overhead music began a soft rendition of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” “Two snowfalls in four days? That’s gotta be a record around here.”

  Christopher followed her gaze out the window. “Maybe people will have their white Christmas after all.”

  She twirled the ice in her glass of water. “I keep forgetting that it’s only a few days away.” Her gaze focused on Christopher. Maybe this would be a good time to talk about him, to at least find out some answers to the haunting questions about him. “Do you miss being a SEAL, Christopher?”

  His gaze darkened, but he didn’t look away. “At times.”

  “Why do you always get that pained look in your eyes whenever you talk about being a SEAL?”

  She expected him to deny it. Instead, he shrugged and pushed his water away. “There were some rough times, Ashley. My days over there were filled with purpose and adrenaline-pumping adventure. But I’ve seen things that you don’t ever forget.”

  She couldn’t even imagine the things that he’d experienced. “Have you tried counseling?”

  “A few times. All they want to talk about is PTSD. I don’t see how that helps anything.”

  She cleared her throat, venturing into ground she wasn’t sure she wanted to cover. Some little voice inside seemed to nag at her to take the leap, anyway. “People told me I had PTSD after my car accident.”

  His eyes widened. “Your car accident?”

  She nodded. She didn’t like to talk about it, but sometimes she knew she had to. She knew her story could help other people. “Yeah, I was hit head-on by a drunk driver.”

  He blinked and leaned toward her. “Really? Why didn’t I hear about this?”

  “I told people not to tell you.” It was the truth. At least she’d gotten that much out. Maybe she’d take baby steps closer and closer toward the total and complete truth of the situation.

  “Why would you do that?” A touch of hurt stained his voice.

  “I didn’t want you coming back to check on me out of sympathy. Besides, I didn’t feel like I could handle seeing you emotionally. I already had enough other things on my plate at that point.” She twirled her ice around again.

  He frowned. “Tell me about what happened.”

  She closed her eyes a moment, hating to relive any part of the tragic ordeal. Most people were blessed enough to block out those painful moments. She’d been wide awake during the accident and even afterward when the EMTs pulled her broken body from the car. Thankfully, David hadn’t been with her. “I shattered my pelvic bone, broke two ribs, my collarbone, and my leg basically snapped.”

  He grimaced. “I had no idea.”

  She nodded tightly. “I have all kinds of screws holding me together now. It was rough, to say the least. Doctors put me in a medically induced coma for a while. After that, I had months of therapy. Every time I got in a car, I had panic attacks. I kept remembering the accident. I kept waiting for another one to happen.”

  “You seem to do well now.” The way he looked at her made her feel like he didn’t see anything or anyone else besides her.

  She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands. “Physically, it took a lot of therapy, but for the most part I feel like my old self. Emotionally, it took a lot of talking.”

  “Talking?” His head tilted.

  She locked gazes with him. “I found a support group. Whenever I would feel that panic rising up in me, I’d find someone to talk to. I prayed a lot. I tried to look for the good around me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I found that some of the best therapy involved simply being positive. I clung to the good instead of the pain. I could have been killed. I could have ended up in a vegetative state. I had to remember to be thankful.”

  Their food came, and they lifted up a brief prayer before digging in.

  Christopher’s eyes met hers from across the table. “I’m sorry you went through that, Ashley.”

  She nodded and swallowed her bite of pasta. “I don’t talk about it a lot. It was a rough time in my life. But I believe that good can come from the worst situations.”

  A smile crept across his lips. “I’ve been thinking that exact same thing recently. God seems to keep sending me those reminders.”

  “I’ve realized that He doesn’t always let us see the entire game plan, but He gives us the next step at just the right moment. He gives us enough to keep us going and to keep us trusting Him. I think it helps to find purpose in our tragedies, to find a way to use them for good.”

  His smile widened. “You’re absolutely right. I couldn’t agree more.” He pointed to her food. “Do you remember that time we tried to make that gourmet meal?”

  The remembrance was bittersweet. This was the first time they’d reminisced about what used to be between them. She nodded. “It was awful. I knew when we—if we—got married, that one of us was going to have to learn to cook or we’d be getting lots of takeout.”

  Silence passed between them. Tell him, an inner voice seemed to say.

  What better time than now? What better place than here in public where he was sure to keep his emotions under control. He had to know the other part about how the accident had affected her.

  She opened her mouth, determined to push the words out.

  But a glance out the window showed her that Denton had shown up with another vehicle for them.

  She shook her head. She’d have to wait. Again.

  Eventually, she wouldn’t be able to put off telling him the truth.

  THIRTEEN

  Ashley threw her head back into the pillow, trying to adjust to being in another new safe house. She didn’t even know where this one was. She hadn’t asked.

  Her mind raced and sleep eluded her. There were too many thoughts demanding her attention. Thoughts about Christopher. Thoughts about Josh. Thoughts about David. With each breath, the stark reality of each situation deepened; it became darker and more confusing.

>   She turned over again, wishing she could escape the painful reflections, when a sound caught her ear.

  She stiffened as she listened. What was that? Had someone gotten into the house?

  Another yell zipped through the air, this clearly with the word, “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”

  That was Christopher. He was in trouble.

  She grabbed the gun on her nightstand and threw a sweatshirt on over her yoga pants and T-shirt.

  The gun trembled in her hands as she got closer to the door. She couldn’t just stay in the bedroom while her friend could be in danger.

  “Get back! Everyone get back!”

  Her spine stiffened again. What was going on? His words weren’t making sense.

  Her throat dry, she pulled the door open. A dark hallway greeted her. Despite Christopher’s yells, the house was surprisingly absent of any movement. She took her first step, staying close to the wall. Sweat sprinkled across her forehead.

  She could do this. Whatever situation she met with in the living room, she could handle it. She just had to think with a clear head and remain calm.

  “Liam!”

  She took another step when a shadow appeared at the end of the hallway. She raised her gun.

  “Don’t shoot,” a voice urged. “It’s me. Agent Johnson.”

  The guard, she realized.

  She relaxed her arms, but only for a moment. “What’s going on?”

  He stepped closer and nodded toward the living room. “He’s having a nightmare.”

  Some unknown emotion clutched at her heart. “A nightmare? That’s what all that yelling was for?”

  He nodded. “I’m trying to figure out if I should wake him.”

  She fully lowered her gun. “Let me.”

  Her heart panged with compassion. The war had played games with Christopher’s mind, hadn’t it? These were more than nightmares. These were night terrors. He hadn’t come back from the war unscathed after all.

  She crept into the living room. The lights were off, but her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could make out the furniture. She walked to the couch and knelt there.

  She watched Christopher for a moment. His muscles twitched like he was fighting some kind of invisible battle. His breathing was heavier than normal. The blanket had been kicked off.

  She knew she needed to be careful. When she woke him, she had no idea what kind of mental state he might be in.

  Gently, she put a hand on his shoulder. His arm was hard and solid beneath her. She gave a little shake. “Christopher. You need to wake up.”

  “No! It’s going to blow!”

  She closed her eyes, but only for a moment. “Christopher, you’re having a nightmare.”

  “Get down!” His entire body jerked under the weight of his dreams.

  She shook harder. “Christopher, wake up.”

  Suddenly, he sat up on the couch. He grabbed a gun—where had that been?—and pointed it directly at her. “I said get down!”

  His eyes were wide, his breathing heavy.

  Ashley stared at the gun, how it was aimed directly at her face. Her throat went dry and time turned into gel. “It’s Ashley, Christopher. You’re having a bad dream. You need to wake up.”

  “I said get down!”

  “Christopher, it’s me! Snap out of it.” Cold fear sprinkled over her forehead.

  At once, the trancelike state cleared from his eyes. He put his gun down and lowered his head into his hands and let out a moan. “What are you doing?” he mumbled.

  She wasn’t sure who he was talking to—himself or her. She put her hand on his knee and stared at him. “You were having a terrible dream.”

  He rubbed his face. “Yeah, I was.”

  She sat beside him on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. “I never want to talk about it.”

  “Maybe I should have said, do you need to talk about it?”

  He was quiet, and she let him have his moment. She rested her hand on his back. She could feel his racing heart pulsating throughout his body.

  He rubbed his face again. “Every time I close my eyes, I go back to Afghanistan.”

  “You go back to the war.” Grief clutched her heart. Life could be so hard sometimes; certain moments were so difficult to get through. The even harder part sometimes was when you didn’t know what to do to help.

  He rested his face in his hands, the burden he was carrying evident in his every movement. “I wait for another explosion. I wait to find another body or to hear another cry of despair from someone who’s lost a loved one.”

  “That wears on you after a while, Christopher.”

  “I can’t get the images out of my head. I can still hear it, smell it, feel it.”

  “You know you’re back here now. You’re safe.” She wanted more than anything to be able to comfort him, to help take away some of his pain.

  He nodded before leaning back on the couch, still staring straight ahead. “On a conscious level, I do. On a subconscious level...that’s a different story.”

  “I’m sure being here in this situation with me hasn’t helped anything.” As she said the words, her heart sank with realization. She’d burdened him with too much by asking for his help.

  He reached over and cupped her cheek. Some of the heaviness left his gaze, replaced with a tantalizing swirl of emotion that threatened to lure her in. “I want to be there for you. I’ve always wanted to be there for you, Ashley.”

  Her throat tightened. Christopher had no idea what he was saying. He was still groggy from sleep and nightmares. And it didn’t matter, anyway. His actions had spoken louder than his words. Now wasn’t the time Ashley wanted to talk about it, though. Now she just wanted to help him get through this moment.

  Her hand covered Christopher’s. Despite her logic, she fought the emotions that wanted to rise to the surface. What would it be like to give him another chance—to give them another chance?

  No, she couldn’t do it. Her heart wasn’t ready for it.

  She pulled his hand down but didn’t release her grip on it. “You should rest, Christopher.” She pulled the pillow onto her lap. “I’ll stay with you.”

  Surprisingly, he didn’t argue. He settled back down into the couch. She ran her hands through his hair, trying in some way to comfort him.

  After a while, his breathing evened out, and he went back to sleep.

  * * *

  Christopher awoke feeling better rested than he had in weeks—maybe even months or years. He sat up, trying to gather his surroundings. Had he really been sleeping that hard?

  Finally, the room came into focus. The safe house.

  Last night flashed into his memory. The nightmare. Ashley being there. Mumbling things he wouldn’t have said in his normally guarded state.

  All of that confirmed to him that he was in no place to pursue a relationship—with anyone. He’d pulled a gun on her, for goodness’ sake. His mind was messed up. Would it ever recover?

  He glanced over. Ashley was cuddled against the side of the couch, sleeping soundly. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and his pillow was in her lap.

  That’s why he’d slept so well last night—because it had been so comforting having someone else there for him. He’d been so alone for so long. Having someone else actually watch out for him for a change was a nice feeling.

  But he couldn’t get used to it.

  He’d really appreciated the way she’d opened up to him last night about her accident. He felt like they’d taken a major step forward in their relationship. Even when he’d brought up their past, she hadn’t gotten all teary eyed, but she’d actually smiled.

  God made all things work together for our good. He was
working in this situation, too, wasn’t He? Maybe He’d never restore their relationship to what it was, but maybe they could actually be friends again. Maybe God had brought them together, each to help the other heal.

  Was the accident the big secret that she’d kept from him? He didn’t know. The news had come as a shock. He wished he’d been able to be there for her. He couldn’t even imagine how tough those months of recovery must have been....

  Ashley’s eyes fluttered open and a sleepy smile crossed her face as she pushed herself upright. “Is it morning?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it sure is.”

  The haze cleared from her eyes, and she squeezed his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. Terrible. I’m not sure.” He sat up straighter and raked his hands through his hair. “Sorry you had to see that.”

  “Don’t apologize.” Her focus remained on him. “You have nightmares like that a lot, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “I wish I could say no, but I do have terrible dreams. Even if I’m not in Afghanistan physically, I just can’t seem to leave mentally.”

  “That’s a big burden to carry.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Someone else could help you carry that burden, you know. It might not seem quite as heavy.”

  He glanced at her. “You mean a shrink? No, thanks.”

  “Talking to someone isn’t a sign of weakness.”

  “I know you’re trying to help, Ashley, but I’m fine.” He stood and ran his hands through his hair again.

  “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m there for you, if you need me. Like I told you last night, talking to other people about what I was feeling really helped me to heal. That, and a lot of prayer.”

  His heart lurched. Talking to Ashley sounded like a really good idea, at the moment, at least. But did he really want to go there? To open himself up like that? Some of the wounds he had were deep; some of the memories seemed permanently painful.