Mitch and I spent the night out in the meadow the day after we got the news. It’s become our secret spot, our go-to place, our sanctuary. We took a blanket, a little food and some bottles of water along with birthday condom number two, and we simply enjoyed each other.
I’ve spent quite a lot of time this week figuring out if I want to be one of those who go to Jacksonville to participate in opening the new medical center. I want to help others, but my priorities have changed. I no longer want the high-paced, high-strung life of an E.R. doctor. I want to be able to ride horses, gaze at stars and participate in my own life more than I did before.
Tonight, Mitch is surprising me with something for my birthday. What, I can’t possibly imagine, since we’ve spent every credit we had on condoms. He just told me to come to the mess hall at eight o’clock and to not eat first.
I’ve decided to dress up for the occasion with a borrowed above-the-knee skirt and cap sleeve blouse. Amanda lived on base so she has tons of clothes and, thank the Lord, we are the same size.
I walk into the deserted mess hall to find Claire waiting for me in the front. She gives me a big smile and escorts me back to a private area that dances with light from several flickering candles that I notice are from our candlelight service. I see a beautifully set table for two which she takes me over to. She holds out the chair for me before placing a napkin in my lap. The room is darkened, so if I didn’t know it was an army camp mess hall, I would think I was in a five-star restaurant. The table has an elegant tablecloth and is set with beautiful china and crystal.
I look up at Claire with a million questions that she doesn’t answer. She simply leans down to give me a hug and says, “Enjoy your night, Kay. You should know he planned the entire evening. And you deserve it more than anyone I know.” She walks back into the kitchen as a single tear slips out of my eye.
I can’t believe that this woman—the mother of the man I loved, the man who may still be out there somewhere—is helping Mitch with this wonderfully romantic evening for my birthday. She is the one who deserves this, not me.
A minute later, the door swings open again and Mitch comes into the dim light of the candles. He, too, is dressed up, wearing khakis and a polo shirt. He looks gorgeous. He smells gorgeous. My eyes follow his every step, his every move as he walks over and deposits a few more plates on the table. If I didn’t know how much effort he put into this evening, I would jump into his arms and beg him to take me home this instant.
As if reading my mind, or maybe just the expression on my face, he says, “There’ll be time for that later, doctor.”
I blush of course, and along with my face, my insides heat up and tingle at the certainty of whose strong arms will be wrapped around me again tonight.
I take in his cleanly-shaven face for the first time. Although I also like his rugged look with the three-day stubble, spiffed-up Mitch is quite a delectable sight. “You look . . . this is . . .” I try to express my appreciation, but the words don’t seem to come out.
He smiles and grabs my hands, pulling me up out of the chair as he lets his eyes wander over my body. “I see that we both borrowed clothes for the occasion,” he says. “You look stunning, Mikayla, absolutely beautiful. I love seeing you in a skirt.” He leans in and whispers, “I look forward to running my hands up under it later.”
He kisses my forehead and pushes my speechless body back down into my chair. “But first, a birthday dinner,” he says.
I finally allow my eyes to focus on the dish before me. It’s a plate of chicken, potatoes and green beans. And it looks delicious. “Oh, Mitch, it looks wonderful. It’s incredible what you’ve done here. These dishes . . . the fancy linens . . . you’ve made this into a real date. Our first date,” I say.
He looks proud of himself when he says, “You’d be amazed what you can still find in the houses on base. Apparently, there’s not a big demand for china and crystal these days. But, I figure you only turn twenty-eight once so I wanted to make it special. Claire even taught me how to cook.”
My jaw drops. “You cooked this?” I ask, surprised at this man’s growing list of talents.
“All of it. I even plucked the feathers off the chicken.”
“And they let you do that? I mean, with the rations and all?”
“Let’s just say there are certain perks to being tight with the mess hall manager, who also happens to be the colonel’s girlfriend.” He leans down to kiss me before taking his own seat, which is right next to me and not across the table. “There’s more, but you’ll have to wait.”
More what? More food . . . more surprises . . . more of him seducing me? Oh, yes! All of them, I hope.
After we eat the delicious meal that he has expertly prepared under Claire’s tutelage, he clears our plates and turns my chair away from the table. He walks over to get something out of the dark corner of the room.
A smile, that I’m sure he can hear as well as see, lights up my face when I see him come back with a guitar. I’ve never had anyone serenade me before. Even though Jeff played, he didn’t ever play for me; he played to keep his fingers dexterous.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Mitch plays several songs, all my favorites, from those he has played at The Oasis, and none of which I ever told him affected me. He must have watched my reaction every time he played a song in order to compile this playlist. How he continues to get in my head amazes me. How he keeps burrowing deeper into my heart fascinates me.
How much I realize I love him scares me.
When he puts the guitar down, I crawl up on his lap, not even caring how unladylike I must look in my skirt. “Thank you. That was the best birthday present I have ever gotten.” He reaches up, putting his hands in my hair, holding it back from my face. His eyes are burning into mine; they are filled with emotion, with desire . . . with love? Every thought in my head is about this man. Every fiber in my body is fine-tuned to this man. Every breath I take from here on out is because of this man. “God Mitch, I lo—”
His lips crash into mine before I get the chance to finish my declaration that was spontaneously falling from my mouth. Oh, God. Was I really going to say it? I can’t say it. I can’t say it until I know that he loves me and not the person he was trying to find.
We spend the next few minutes tasting each other as if we haven’t done it a hundred times before. Every kiss, every touch, every feeling is like the very first time with him.
Suddenly, he pulls back, laughing because my lips refuse to part from his so easily. “Sweetheart,” he mumbles into my mouth, “I can’t wait to get to this part of the evening, but there are a few more things we need to do first.”
He stands up with me in his arms and places me back onto my chair. Then he sits back down in his own chair. And does nothing. So I say, “Uh, Mitch?”
“You don’t think I’m going back in the kitchen like this, do you?” He motions to his lap. “I’m pretty sure Claire is still back there. So, just give me a sec. Jeez . . . so impatient,” he teases. “Hey, before I forget, Don said we should go by the store tomorrow and you can pick out something for your birthday, courtesy of him. He did specify, however, that it not be a condom since he’s running low.”
When he finally, uh, calms down, he heads back to the kitchen only to emerge with a birthday cake, candles flaming and all, and he serenades me one last time.
I stare longingly at the chocolate confection, practically drooling over the memory of what things like this taste like.
“I told you . . . friends in high places,” he says, feeding me a forkful of heaven as if it was our wedding cake. I can’t speak. I can only relish the delightfully sweet taste as my eyes roll to the top of my head.
On our second piece of cake, Mitch brings up what has plagued my thoughts all week long. “Have you thought about what you are going to do when the colonel says it’s safe to leave? Have you thought about Jacksonville?”
I nod my head, taking another bite. “Yes, I have, you?” I don’t wan
t to tell him my plans before he tells me his. I don’t want to influence him in any way.
He chuckles and shakes his head at me. “Well, do you want to share what you’ve been thinking?”
“I don’t know, do you?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Okay, I’ll go first.” He puts his fork down and grabs my hand. Then he places our joined hands on the table. “I’m not really sure yet, to be honest. There’s still so much I don’t know. Until I know about my dad and my brother’s family . . .”
Until he knows about the woman he was searching for.
I close my eyes and attempt to control my shaky breathing.
“Mikayla, look at me please.” He squeezes my hand until I look into his eyes. “I don’t know what I plan to do yet, but I do know that whatever it is, I want to do it with you.”
I want so badly to believe this. But, it’s not lost on me that he hasn’t even alluded to being in love with me since that night under the stars. Maybe he wasn’t talking about me back then after all. Maybe he still has doubts about whether or not he can love me after his memory returns. Is there any truth to the words John spoke at the softball game last week about me being someone he bides his time with until he gets his memory back?
He must see my frown. “What is it, sweetheart?” he asks.
“I just can’t help worrying that you won’t feel the same once you remember everything.”
He runs his fingers down my arm and looks me square in the eye. “Mikayla, I can’t think of anything in this world that would have me not wanting to be with you.” He stands us up and nods to the door. “Now, Claire said she’d clean up, so what do you say we go celebrate your birthday and make good use of the one condom we have left?”
Chapter Twenty
Sleepy arms tighten around me as I wake up. I smile when I realize I’ve slept in Mitch’s arms all night. “Morning, old lady,” he says into the back of my head. “Can I call you that now that you are officially older than me?”
“By about ten minutes,” I say, referring to our three month age difference. “And not if you want me to play with Little Mitch ever again.”
He laughs. “Little Mitch? Is that what you call it?” He wiggles himself into my behind. “I’d prefer Big Mitch if you’re taking suggestions.”
After we shower and go for breakfast, Mitch and I go to the PX to cash in on my promised birthday gift from Don.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite couple,” Don says when we walk in. “They got a name for you yet? You know like KayMit or something?”
“Ugh . . . no, Don,” I say. “And I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing, Doc. Go ahead and take a look around. I got some pretty jewelry and some new clothes in last week. Pick whatever you want. It’s on the house. Well, almost whatever you want.” He looks at Mitch. “You tell her the rules?”
My face heats up when I remember what I’m not allowed to get, and I walk away rolling my eyes at them as they laugh at me.
“Isn’t she adorable when she blushes?” Mitch asks him.
“That she is, son. You got yourself a real keeper with that one,” Don replies. “Too bad she doesn’t have an older brother for me.”
Their voices become more distant as I walk around the store perusing the aisles. Hmmm . . . what do I want? I pass by row after row of useless housewares. I look through his selection of books. I check out a few pretty tops that catch my eye. Then I see something across the store that makes me laugh.
As I quickly walk over to the food aisle, it dawns on me that I’m having a happy memory of Jeff without feeling the least bit of guilt.
Mitch must see me beeline to the food section. “Find something you like?” he asks, making his way across the store to join me.
“No, not really. I’m not going to get this, but it did make me laugh.” I take the box off the shelf and turn it over and over in my hands, examining all sides of it. “It was just a silly nickname Jeff had for me. I’ve told you my middle name is Katherine, right?”
“Of course,” he says. “It’s a beautiful name.”
“Well, Jeff said early on when we first got together that I must be pretty special for my parents to have put a K in all three of my names. So he started calling me Special Kay.” I hold up the cereal box that reads ‘Special K’ in big red letters. I continue to stare at it myself as I tell him the rest of the story. “It became a joke between us. He started buying boxes of it every time we went shopping until he had a cabinet full of it. After a while, it was almost like a habit for him. I was no longer just Kay to him, I was Special Kay. It was sweet.”
I smile as I place the box back on the shelf among a few various other cereal boxes. When I turn to look at Mitch, I’m shocked at what I see. It looks like all the blood has drained from his face and he’s leaning over, his hands bracing himself on his knees as if he might fall over. His breathing is shallow and quick, like he just ran a race.
“Mitch! Are you okay?” I walk towards him.
He looks up at me and says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.” He runs out the front doors of the store. I go out after him just in time to see him lose his breakfast into the bushes that line the side of the building.
“Let me help you,” I say, walking over to him. “Maybe you got some bad food at breakfast.” I put my hand on my own stomach to see if I feel any gurgling.
“No!” he shouts, pointing at me to keep my distance. “I just need to get home.” He doesn’t even have the strength to look up at me as he slowly walks away.
The girlfriend in me wants to follow him home, rub his back and nurse him back to health. But, the doctor in me knows I have to go over to the dining hall and warn the others. “I’ll run over to the mess hall to get you some water and see if anyone else is ill.”
“No, you don’t need to get me anything. I’ve got water at home,” he says from across the lot.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say, heading in the opposite direction. I quickly make my way to the mess hall and find Claire to tell her what happened.
“Nobody else has complained that I know of,” she says. “We served the same food all morning, for several hours and as far as I know, nobody else has gotten sick. But maybe you should check the clinic just in case.”
“It’s my next stop.” I fill a few bottles of water before heading out. “And thanks for everything you did for us last night, it was very special.”
“Well, you’re a special girl,” she says, giving me a hug before I reach the kitchen door to leave.
At the clinic, Holly tells me she’s been there since seven this morning, but that nobody has come in with any kind of stomach trouble. I ask her to keep an eye out, explaining what happened to Mitch. We don’t sit and chat, even though I know she wants to hear about last night. I just want to get to him and make sure that he is okay.
I know how some men can get about women watching them throw up. They think it emasculates them somehow, so I knock on his door instead of barging in. He doesn’t answer right away so I knock again. I call out his name. “Mitch?” Still no response. I try the handle only to find it locked.
What?
We never lock doors around here. He must really be embarrassed that I saw him vomit. I knock louder, but then it dawns on me that he wouldn’t be getting sick here in his apartment. He wouldn’t risk stinking up the place. He would have gone over to the latrines, or out in the woods maybe. “Mitch!” I yell into the steel door.
Finally, I get a response. “Go away, Mikayla. I’m sick.”
I quickly glance down both hallways to see if there is anyone else around to appreciate the irony in this situation. Then I say, “I’m a doctor, Mitch. I think I can handle it.”
“I don’t want to get you sick. I’ll be fine here by myself.”
“You won’t get me sick, Mitch. I’m sure you just ate something bad. You do realize I’m around sick people all day, right?” I roll my eyes at the fact that I even have to remi
nd him of this.
“Go home, Mikayla. Just let me sleep it off. I’m going to bed now.”
“Mitch!”
He doesn’t reply.
“Mitch!” I knock on the door again, but he must already be back in his bedroom. I shake my head. I don’t quite understand why he doesn’t want me here. Maybe he doesn’t want me to view him as weak, seeing him sick. I remember how much he hated to stay at the clinic those first few days before we cleared him to leave.
I’m sure that’s all it is. I decide to go back to the clinic to see if any other cases have come in. But before I go, I tape a note to Mitch’s front door telling him where I’ll be if he needs me.
~ ~ ~
“So, he still won’t let you see him?” Holly asks.
“Nope. Not for two days now. He must be pretty sick. I guess I can appreciate the fact that he doesn’t want his new girlfriend seeing him like that. I mean, if I were throwing up or worse . . . Ugh! I don’t think I’d want him to see me. Kinda takes the romance out of it, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess. But two days? Jeez, I hope he’s getting enough fluids. What does Austin say?”
“What can he say? I guess Mitch has been keeping to himself, sleeping all day and Austin works nights, so there’s not much going on there. I’m sure he’ll be better in a day or two. These bad stomach bugs usually don’t last too long.”
I busy myself going on rounds the rest of the day. I visit Kelly and that adorable little baby. I check on a few of our residents with high blood pressure issues. I drop by Timmy’s apartment to see how he and his mom are holding up this week. I do everything I can to keep from thinking about lying in bed with Mitch. Sick or not, I want to be next to him.
Jamie comes to relieve me when my shift is over.
“Trouble in paradise so soon?” she asks.
“What are you talking about, Jamie?”
Finding Mikayla Page 18
