by Roslyn Bane
Shelly ran a hand over Kris’ neck, “You looked pretty involved with the book. Is it good?”
“It is. Thanks for picking it up at the library for me.”
“It was easy enough. I picked up several. They’re on your desk. You know, Kris, we can afford to buy books.”
“But they get read once and I get rid of them. The library is fine.”
“Suit yourself. Do you want some cold wine? I was going to get a gin and tonic.”
“I’ll take one of those. That should stay cold longer.”
Shelly smiled. “I don’t intend to let the ice melt.”
Kris dumped her wine into the grass, and a few minutes later Shelly handed her the drink “Is it okay that you have that off?”
“Yes. They said I could spend some time out of it. I just finished some of the exercises.” Kris sipped her drink and looked at Shelly. It was obvious that something was bothering her. Shelly’s brow was furrowed, and her jaw clenched several times. “Shelly? Did you have a rough day?”
“We were swamped. Things are hectic, but everyone is getting along. I have a couple of big presentations coming up. It helps that I’m ahead of schedule.”
“When are they?”
“They’re both in four weeks. I might have to put in some long days though, as we get closer to crunch time, especially if there are any changes. I was working on the presentations at night before you came home. That’s how I was able to get ahead.”
“No problem. I know you had your share of nights alone when I worked late.” Kris leaned over and kissed her. “I didn’t kiss you when you got home.”
“You could make it up to me.”
Kris lifted a brow, “I could? How would I do that?”
“You could kiss me again.”
“I could.” Kris stood up and straddled Shelly’s lap, encircled an arm around her neck and kissed her softly at first, and gradually increased the intensity. She shifted on Shelly’s lap, her hand soft on Shelly’s breasts. Shelly broke the kiss, “Don’t do that baby. Not unless we’re going to go to bed. I can’t get all worked up and have nothing happen. I’m having a hard enough time sleeping next to you and not touching you. It’s been three weeks since you came home. I’ve tried to be patient…”
“Now. I want you now.” Kris shifted in her lap and started to slowly rock against her. “Now,” she muttered as she covered Shelly’s mouth with her own. “It’s time.” Kris stood and took Shelly’s hand and led her inside to their bedroom. She shivered as Shelly’s hands grasped her hips and slowly drifted across her stomach. She ran her hand down over Shelly’s back and gently cupped her ass pulling her close. “Let’s go to bed. I want to make love with you. Afterwards, I want to fall asleep with your arms around me and wake up and do it all over again.”
Shelly pulled her close, nipping at her lower lip. Before releasing it, she stroked her tongue gently across it. “That sounds like a great idea.” They embraced, their kisses soft and tender soon grew urgent as their hands tugged at clothes, and traveled over the newly exposed skin. Shelly pulled Kris’ bra cup down freeing her healthy breast to lavish attention on it. Kris moved to take her bra off, and Shelly stopped her. “Leave it there.”
“What?”
Shelly murmured, “Just leave it.” Shelly took Kris’ left hand, lifted it so it rested on her shoulder. Leaning forward she kissed her lips, her chin, her neck, and drifted down to her chest and abdomen. They lay in each other’s arms and explored their bodies. With soft caresses and breathless kisses, their bodies moved together and their cries filled the air as they welcomed each other home.
Chapter Twenty
NORTH CAROLINA
“HI, MAJOR. WELCOME BACK to Camp Lejeune. You’re attached to the Wounded Warrior Regiment, Battalion East. You’ll be assigned to us as you recover. Your quarters will be with us in the medical barracks. Your treatment and rehab will be at the Warrior Hope and Care Center. We have advanced physical training equipment, a lap pool, underwater treadmill, rock climbing wall, and reconditioning, aerobic and training rooms. You’ll see family members and kids around the facilities too.”
“That’s good to know,” Sam replied as she looked around the unit.
“We’ll help you get settled in your quarters.” The man showed her the schedule. “Your first PT session is at fifteen hundred today.”
“Thanks.” Sam nodded her head and signed her name in the checkin log.
***
Sam was walking to her counseling session, one hand tight on the cane the other holding a folder as a female naval officer approached from the opposite direction. Her left arm was in a brace, and Sam recognized her instantly. The woman’s eyes opened in surprise and she smiled.
“Sam, you’re looking good. When did you get here?”
“Kris, it’s good to see you. I got in a few hours ago.”
“Are you coming in here? It’s a group session.”
“I am.” Sam held the door open for Kris. She’s walking faster. You can tell she’s feeling better. They entered, and Sam saw ten chairs arranged in a circle. Most were already filled, so they sat opposite of each other. Almost immediately the session started.
“Hello, everyone, I am Commander Renee Abbott. I am a clinical psychologist and one of the counselors here at the naval hospital. We have several new faces today so let’s do quick introductions. Tell us what you want and how you ended up here, and we’ll get started.”
They slowly went around the room introducing themselves. Sam listened and observed the others. Everyone was in the Marine Corps uniform except the psychologist and Kris.
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Kris Matthews. I was injured in Afghanistan, Helmand province. I don’t remember how. My arm was injured. Like most of you, I spend a good portion of my day in therapy. I spend about half my day back at my command. I’m doing some of my normal job functions but certainly not all of them. I am a physician, a surgeon. Unfortunately, my left arm is my dominant arm, so until I have full function I won’t be operating. I joined the battalion about three weeks ago, and like most of you I passed through Bethesda on my way here.”
Sam noticed a slight accent. She’s from up north. Not far north. Mid-Atlantic maybe. Being in uniform, and not a hospital gown, changes everyone’s appearance. Kris looks fit and healthy, despite the brace on her arm and the lingering pallor. Her hand isn’t swollen and bruised. Hair’s a little long, past the collar. Well, I’m sure she’ll get that back in regs. Not like she doesn’t have other things to worry about. God, her eyes are bright blue. Kris’ gaze locked on Sam’s, she smiled, and Sam felt an unfamiliar tug deep inside. Sam smiled back and realized she was smiling for the first time in months.
Soon it was Sam’s turn to introduce herself. “I am Major Sam Davies, I’m a helicopter pilot.” She patted her right leg. “I lost my leg over there. I arrived this morning and I’m wondering if I will get back to my normal duties. My squadron is still over there and will be for a while.”
“Okay. Thank you, everyone, for your introductions. At our last session, we were talking about flashbacks. Have any of you been able to identify what your triggers are? Is there anything that you realize you see or hear or maybe even smell that causes you to relive an event?”
After several minutes of silence, someone spoke up. “I had a flashback the other day. I was home and getting ready to start washing the car, and all of a sudden I was back in Afghanistan. I saw the lead vehicle in our convoy hit the IED again, instantly gunfire was everywhere.”
“Do you know what triggered it?”
“I think it was my neighbors. It’s a couple of guys, and they were joking, calling each other…rude names…talking about the latest Fast and Furious movie, and BAM I was back on the side of the road under attack.”
“Why do you think that triggered you?” Renee asked.
“I’ve been thinking about that. And it seems like the guys in my vehicle were talking about seeing that movie right before the explosion. At l
east I think that’s what they were talking about. It’s not that we weren’t paying attention. We were. You can’t be out on patrol for eight, ten, twelve hours and not talk about something. You talk and pay attention and do your job.”
“That’s right. Is there any chance you feel guilty about the explosion happening while your crew was discussing the movie? Do you think you could have spotted the IED and stopped the vehicle before it hit?”
“I…I…don’t know.”
“Think about it. Could you have been able to spot the IED?” Renee probed.
Sam looked around the room, everyone appeared to be holding their breath.
The sergeant gasped out loud “No! No! We were too far back. We wouldn’t have been in position to see it.”
“Excellent. Now tell me, Sergeant, if you were not in a position to see the device, and you didn’t have a reason to stop the convoy, is there any way you could have prevented the explosion?”
“No.” Relief flooded her voice. “No, there wasn’t.”
“Now that you know the trigger perhaps you can look back at the incident and interpret it differently. We can dig into this more in a one-on-one session. Does anyone have any questions? I want all of you to remember, even when things seemed to have gone wrong, it doesn’t mean that it was necessarily preventable by you.”
A short while later, the session broke up, and Sam headed for her physical therapy appointment. Several hours later, she showered, ate her meal and soon afterward fell into bed exhausted.
***
“Kris, do you understand what we’re going to try today?” Renee asked her.
“Yes. We’re going to try hypnosis to see if it will help me get my memory back.”
“Do you think it’s important that you get back any memories that may be missing?”
Kris was quiet for a moment before she answered, “Although I don’t recall getting injured I don’t think there is a large block of time missing either. If you think this will help my recovery, I’ll give it a try.”
“Do you believe in hypnosis?”
“It’s been proven to be beneficial. I’ve had no experience with it.”
“Fair enough. Do you have any questions about it?”
“Yes. How will you know if what I remember is the truth?”
“I do have some information from your colleagues on what happened on the days around the time you were injured. I think it’s a good place for us to start. Are you ready?”
“I am.”
“Well let’s get started. Where would you like to sit?”
“The recliner.” Kris sat down, put her feet up, and wiggled around until she was comfortable.
Renee handed her a pair of dark glasses with tiny lights attached to the inside of the lens. “Put these on and close your eyes, lean back and relax.”
Kris looked at the glasses carefully, and inspected the wire that attached near the hinge, “What’s this do?”
“It’s a light display. The lights will flash and help you to relax, some are red, some green.”
“No gold watch?”
“Not unless you want one.”
Kris slipped the glasses on, took several deep breaths and closed her eyes.
“Kris, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to take several deep breaths and slowly count backward from twenty.”
“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen….” She took a deep breath. “Sixteen—” Kris became silent.
Renee watched as Kris became still, her breathing slow and steady, her face slack, hands limp in her lap. After ensuring that Kris was comfortable and felt safe she started to question her.
“Tell me about your mission in Afghanistan.”
“I was at a field hospital. It’s a small emergency room of ten beds, two surgery suites, and a pre-op and post-op area. It allows us to give medical care to injured troops as quickly as possible. We can expand to handle more, as the demand arises. As patients come in, we bring them to the emergency area and treat them until they begin to stabilize. Those that can’t wait go right to the operating room Afterwards they’re flown out to one of the higher level of care hospitals. If they don’t need to be evacuated, we treat them until they’re strong enough to get back into the fight. Sometimes, if they needed further care we didn’t even wake them up from their anesthesia before they were shipped out.”
“So, you were at the front?”
“Close to the front.”
“What type of things did you see there?”
“We saw Marines, soldiers who’d been injured. Explosions, IED’s, shrapnel, bullets. Vehicle accidents, appendicitis. Burns. We saw everything.” Kris spoke clearly.
“Did you only work on coalition forces?”
“No. Anyone who was with NATO. The ANA, ANP. Civilians. We worked on the Taliban fighters too.”
“Who are the ANA?”
“Afghan National Army and the Afghan National Police.”
“You helped civilians?”
“Yes.”
“Children?”
Renee watched as Kris’ hand fisted. “At times. They get sick or hurt. The Taliban takes over a village. They shield themselves with civilians. Sometimes the kids step on IED’s. If they can make it to us they have a good chance of surviving.”
“Did you ever go out to any of the villages?”
Kris stuttered, “Y…yes. If it was safe. We would do a medical mission. Primarily checkups on the women and children. Sometimes it was the first experience they had with a trained physician or nurse.”
“How did you help?”
“We gave them vaccinations, treated minor burns and sprains, dispensed medicine. We did physical exams. If they were interested, we taught them first aid.”
“Did the villagers accept you?”
“Not at first. We had to build trust. And there was always the fear that the Taliban would find out the villagers accepted our help and would retaliate.”
Renee softened her voice, “Did you get close to any of the villagers?”
“We started to recognize each other.”
“But did you become friendly with any of them?” Renee noticed Kris’ foot start to bounce and her pulse visibly showed in her neck with each beat. “Kris? Did you become friendly with any of the villagers?”
“I got to know a few of them.”
“Tell me something about them.”
“They’re all so poor. So many of these people have very little…a roof over their head, a mattress, a chair, and table if they’re lucky.”
“Tell me about them. Their personalities. Tell me about someone you were friendly with.”
Kris was quiet for a minute. Renee watched as Kris shifted slightly in the chair, her breathing rate picking up, and she cleared her throat. “There was this woman, Waseema, a girl actually. About fifteen, they don’t keep track of birthdays like we do. She was a child bride. She’d been married about four years. She had a daughter, Yagana, who was a toddler, with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Waseema was afraid of us at first, like all the villagers. But when Yagana was ill she brought her to us. The baby had an ear infection and high fever. We gave her some antibiotics. After that, whenever we came to the village Waseema came by. She knew some English and started to learn more. She acted as an unofficial translator for us.”
“She trusted you?”
“Yes. She wanted to see what we were doing. She tried to help out. She said she wanted to be a nurse. Several of the nurses and I were teaching her how to read.”
“It sounds like you were fond of her.”
“It was like she was a younger sister. She was determined to keep her daughter healthy and safe.”
“Kris, you mentioned that civilians came into the camp, and at times into the hospital. How did they get there?”
“Our medics would bring them in. But they’d get there any way they could, cart, car, truck, bus.”
“Bus?”
“Yes. We would som
etimes get buses of injured in at a time.”
“When was the last time a bus of injuries came in?”
Kris fisted her hand again, and her feet flexed, “Right before I came home.”
“What happened?”
“We received a call from the gate that a bus was coming and was full of injured children. Security, the guards, had to check and make sure that it wasn’t rigged to explode. As soon as the bus stopped, we were ready and waiting. It was about twenty children. The Taliban had attacked their school, and as coalition forces closed in, the Taliban tried to blow up the school. It was horrible. Most of the girls had been raped, some had…”
“Had what?”
“Some of the girls had been circumcised. Everything had been cut off, most were bleeding still. With the explosion many lost limbs…had, disfiguring burns. Many were killed instantly. We helped the few who were left.”
“It sounds horrible.”
“It was. We lost a few.” Her breath hitched, and her voice grew tight. “We did amputations on several of them. Their legs or arms were too mangled to save.”
“What about their families?”
“Sometimes there was a parent with them. Rarely.”
“Doing amputations on children must be particularly disturbing. Did you do many?”
“Yes, too many.”
“The day you were hurt did you see any children?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Think about that for a moment.”
Kris grew silent. Her right fingers stroked along her left arm as if she was cradling something. “Yes, two girls. We had done amputations on them a day earlier. But it wasn’t enough. We had to take them back in and take off more.”
“That sounds hard. How did it go?”
“They …” Kris’ voice broke. “One died. The infection was too much. These aren’t strong children. They’re already malnourished. Some have nothing left to fight with.”
“What happened after that? If a child dies, what does the unit do?”
“Same thing as with anyone. They’re cleaned. We have a team that cleans the Afghanis according to their customs.”
