by Sue MacKay
Moisture filled her eyes. That had to be the nicest, kindest thing anyone had said to her in a long time. Her family had learned to keep those thoughts to themselves after she’d broken down one day saying they were undermining her efforts to be strong and capable alone. That had hurt them but since then they’d all tried hard to follow her wishes. Now, after a simple comment from Sam, nearly a stranger, she understood she’d been wrong. ‘I’ll be doing my damnedest to keep anyone, especially my family, from hearing any such news.’ Suddenly she missed her mum and dad, her sister and those nieces so much her arms ached to hold them and her heart slowed with sadness.
‘You’d better.’ Sam’s voice had become gruff, deeper and darker, full of an emotion she didn’t recognise. Maybe he cared more about what happened to people than he’d admit.
‘Sam?’
‘Better get on with the last patient.’ He quickly turned to snatch up a piece of paper from the nearest desk and headed to a man and his son, waiting quietly.
Sam was in a right old pickle. That page he’d grabbed was the score sheet from last night’s medics’ snooker contest, not notes about any patient. Maddy chuckled. Sam in a stew was like a small boy trying to decide which flavour ice cream he was going to have.
* * *
Downing his water, Sam nodded to the sergeant behind the bar. ‘Another thanks, Randy.’ No such thing as drinking too much water out here.
At long last the day was over, and unless, touch wood, there were any incidents during the night, he was free to do as he pleased. That did not include kissing Maddy, something that was becoming a bit of an obsession since the idea had first struck. No, he needed to find another way of letting his hair down and eliminating the pent-up needs keeping him on tenterhooks since he’d gone and told Madison he’d be worrying about her.
‘Up to some rock?’ Jock leaned a hip against the bar.
‘Exactly what I need.’ An hour getting lost in the guitar with the band would knock him into mental shape. ‘Boyse and Carter around somewhere?’ The drummer and xylophonist were integral to their band.
Jock, the voice and other guitarist, nodded. ‘They’re on their way over.’
‘Show time, then.’ Sam stood up. Friday nights in the officers’ mess were his favourite. He’d play his guitar and try to get lost in the music, something not always possible since the quality of music depended on who was stationed on base at the time. There’d been some clangers in the past all right but tonight he’d have no trouble getting immersed in the music.
As he settled on a stool and picked at the guitar strings, tightening two, he glanced across to the corner of the room where a group had gathered with Madison in the centre. Of course. Not that she looked overly comfortable, wasn’t putting on the charm or being too friendly with any of the men. When she glanced his way and met his gaze she nodded and gave him a knowing smile.
Knowing what? Racking his brain didn’t toss up any ideas of what that had been about.
‘You joining us?’ Jock nudged him.
‘Try and stop me.’ For the next half-hour Sam played whatever tune the other band members started, letting himself go in the rhythms of rock music. His mind was blank apart from the keys he played, the strings he strummed and picked. The music flowed over him, eased the tension he’d been carrying since Madison’s arrival on base.
Ah, Madison. Snap. The tension was back. He scanned the room. There. Parked on a stool, a soda in one hand, her feet tapping in time to the music, and a smile of pure happiness lightening her face. For the first time she appeared to have no worries in the world. Then she looked his way and stood up with a determined expression and placed her drink on the counter.
Now he remembered. ‘Hide the microphones.’ Last year at school. The senior’s social, Maddy and her pals on stage.
‘She can’t sing?’ Jock asked into the silence that came with the end of their current song.
Her voice had been strong, alluring, sweet, but having her up here beside him...? Not happening.
‘She doesn’t know a C scale from a fish scale.’
Don’t drop a bomb on me tomorrow for lying. If Maddy picked up a microphone he was leaving. One guitar down wouldn’t matter, the other guys could make great music without his input, while having her standing beside him, belting out words in a voice made for an angel, would stir him up even more. Wouldn’t matter if she was in tune or not.
‘Let’s do something heavier,’ Jock said, and started banging out another rock song.
Maddy’s face lit up some more, and that smile would now blind a city with its intensity. Her feet were done with tapping; now she was moving on the spot, her hips swaying and her arms moving above her head in time to the music.
Sam needed a drink—fast. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, his throat so dry he couldn’t even squawk along with Boyse’s singing. Just as well. The guys would fire him on the spot.
‘Get that down your throat.’ A can appeared in his line of vision.
He nodded thanks to Jock. Still couldn’t talk. How was it his mate seemed to know what was going on in his head almost as soon as he did? Damn but that cold liquid was good. Wet in the right places, cooled the heat in his throat, even tasted wonderful. Did absolutely nothing to chill down the heat tightening his groin.
‘Can I join in?’ Madison stood in front of him, that supple body the only thing his eyes could see.
Of course he nodded agreement; of course he did. Damn it.
Boyse called out the next song, and began the beat. Not a tune Sam had been expecting, but with a bit of luck it would be beyond Maddy. She’d sung the light girl band music that got everyone up dancing. He began playing his guitar, refusing to watch as she stepped between the guys to stand legs wide, head back and a microphone to her mouth. He did not see her lips almost swallow the mouthpiece. He did not feel apprehension and awe alternatively cool and heat his skin. No, not at all.
And then the first words came out of her mouth and Sam forgot to play, forgot where he was, forgot everything but Madison.
So much for thinking she couldn’t sing rock. She was rock. She owned the song, took it from ordinary to sensational. She moved with it, became it, striding, swaying, dancing from one edge of the band to the other and back again, her head tipped so far back it seemed impossible she wouldn’t crash into something or someone. Where was her long hair when he needed it to be hanging behind her?
He knew his mouth had fallen open and his eyes were wide, felt his lungs stall, his stomach sit still in shock, and the beat of his heart was so out of whack with the song it was awful.
What happened to sweet? What was spilling out of Maddy’s mouth was raw emotion. Deep, husky notes that played his senses like a bow on violin strings, that lifted goose bumps on his skin and sent prickles of heat down his spine. This was nothing like her speaking voice. She’d stepped into the song as though she’d experienced what was behind the words. Maybe she had. Maybe they’d hit on the one song she could relate to so deeply.
And then—And then she took it up a level. Sam’s gut tightened. Where did that come from? The drama behind the words filled the air, stopped everyone except the band in their tracks, drinks frozen in hands on tables or halfway to mouths. Sam’s guitar rested on his thighs, his fingers slack against the strings. He was beyond playing, had lost the ability to pick a tune. This was not a one off—Madison would sing every song as though she’d lived it.
As she proved again and again over the next thirty minutes. She had the room mesmerised. The guy behind the counter was out of a job while she sang. Sam reckoned every male fell in love with her during those loud, emotional, magical minutes.
But not him. Of course not. Somehow he finally managed to play his guitar, keep in tune and not look like a three-year-old with a plastic toy. Somehow he didn’t give Jock an elbow when he co
cked a knowing eye at him and said, ‘If that’s not knowing her scales, what is it?’
Sam didn’t have an answer. What could he say that wouldn’t dig a bigger hole for him to fall into?
Four days and counting.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MADDY WAS BUZZING. Joining the guys for a few songs had been a blast. She hadn’t sung as though there was nothing else in the world but the message in the song for a long time.
Come on. That’s not how she’d sung at all. Neither had she ever before. Tonight she’d poured every painful emotion possessing her into each word and note. The fire that had destroyed everything good about her life had strangled her with deeper, harsher emotions. Tonight she hadn’t been able to stop them expanding through her. But at least she’d faced them, hadn’t run away.
And she was buzzing. How did that work? Because she still carried the agony of losing her granddad, the anger at Jason’s rejection, still bore the sadness of not knowing if she’d have a child one day. The big unknown.
Like she was drugged or something, the buzz did not fade as she recalled the infections that had run rampant through most of her body as her burns had seemed to take for ever to heal. Chest infections, kidney issues and stomach problems from the endless antibiotics she’d swallowed. But the worst by far—a tubal infection that had refused to clear up for months. No one had been able to state categorically whether infertility would be a result. According to the gynaecologist there was only one way she’d find out for certain, and the woman hadn’t sounded very positive. Another mark against her already uncertain future. Something else she couldn’t ask a man to accept.
Madison refused to let the familiar desolation shove her high away. Tonight had been good for her. She’d let a lot of pain go during that short span of time where she’d poured everything into the songs and forgotten where she was. Right now she was on top of the world. She would probably crash tomorrow but tonight she’d enjoy the ride. It was the first in a very long time.
Reaching for her water bottle, she glanced around the noisy room. Laughter and jokes were coming in every direction from the officers she was starting to get to know. No sign of Sam, though.
The band had set their instruments aside to take a few drinks on board and he’d been the first to the barman to grab a water bottle, but now he was nowhere in sight.
The buzz faded a little. She wanted to share it with Sam, not these people who didn’t understand her. Sam understood her? Since when? Yes, she thought he did, at least a little bit, because of the grief she’d noted in his eyes when he’d let his guard down.
‘He went outside.’ Jock stood beside her.
She looked into the understanding gaze locked on her and whispered, ‘Thanks.’ But what if Sam didn’t want to talk to her? Why should he? ‘Maybe I’ll wait and see if he returns.’
Jock tilted his head at her. ‘Yellow doesn’t suit you.’ He said it quietly, calmly, not menacingly or cheekily. Just a nudge in the right direction according to Jock.
She slid off her stool, tightened her grip on her soda bottle and said, ‘Thanks again.’
Her skin squeezed tight in the cooler outdoor air, and for a moment she couldn’t see beyond the line of light thrown from the open door. As her sight returned to normal she looked around. No sign of Sam. But he’d be out there. It was where he went when he wanted to be alone. So go hunt him down.
He was walking, head down, hands stuffed in pockets, covering the track that followed the perimeter with a slowness that seemed foreign to the man she was getting to know. So far she’d only seen a guy who tackled things without looking over his shoulder.
Madison hesitated, familiar doubts nodding at her. ‘Yellow doesn’t suit you.’
Yes, thanks, Jock, got that message, but what if Sam tells me to go to hell, to get out of his face? She’d do as he demanded. But she didn’t want that. They had started something over the last few days; a friendship based on next to nothing but one she was grabbing with both hands. A friendship with someone who was unaware of her history, had no compunction about asking the hard questions because he didn’t understand the ground he was treading on. It had been a long time since anyone had treated her without first pulling on kid gloves. Other than the army, of course. The military didn’t care about things like that, only demanded loyalty, hard work, and obedience. A balm for her prickly nature. And now Sam seemed to be approaching her from a different perspective to either of those. An approach she liked, appreciated, wanted more of. She felt there might be a cure for her in there.
So, take a deep breath and go talk to the man. Or walk in silence with him. Whatever. But do something. He won’t mind. He’ll walk away. He’ll... She stepped after him.
‘Maddy, thought you’d be lapping up the crowd’s attention for a while yet.’
If he thought that’d turn her around he was wrong. She kept walking towards him. ‘It was fun.’
‘But?’
I’d like to be with you. ‘Why aren’t you inside with your band buddies?’ When his mouth tightened, she swore under her breath. She’d just flipped the question back at him. ‘Let me start again. It was more than fun. Singing with you and the guys was incredible, and I loved every moment. I’d forgotten what it’s like to let rip without thought of anything else.’
‘How many years since you last sang to an audience?’
Madison got the feeling he was really asking what had made her stop. ‘Too many.’ Had he seen through her usual façade?
She had thrown herself into the music, put everything out there for the first time ever. Could be because she was so far from home, from where her nightmare had begun. Whatever the reason, it had been liberating, and she yearned to be able to tell someone—Sam?—about her insecurities. I’m trapped until I do. Madison gasped. That was true. Until tonight she hadn’t seen that. Already, coming to the Peninsula was proving to be good for her.
But standing here with Sam, already the shutters were closing. When he said, ‘Tell me more,’ she swayed on her feet, like she rocked on the edge of a precipice, tightening her muscles around the pain and anger, wishing the words would escape across her tongue.
She took the easy option in answering his question; the tried-and-true one, the safe one. The only one she trusted. ‘You know what it was like. When I was studying and doing long shifts as part of my training, there wasn’t any time for much else.’ Only Jason, and he’d put the kibosh on her singing, saying it belonged in the shower, if at all. She gasped. He had been a bit of a control freak, come to think of it. ‘Guess I just forgot to sing.’
‘That’s a waste.’
‘Thanks. I wouldn’t win one of those TV singing shows.’ She didn’t hit every note perfectly, lost her way in the tune sometimes.
‘Maybe not, but you’d get a standing ovation. When did you start singing rock? I mean—’ he was shaking his head with something resembling disbelief ‘—your voice is ideally suited for that genre. It’s so expressive. Unbelievable.’
Her lungs swelled up, her heart stretched to almost bursting at his compliment. That it was genuine she was in no doubt. A step closer to him. There was wonder in those sunny eyes. Wonder for her. And somewhere deep, deep inside her, another knot of pain, of anger and confusion, slipped loose and began to unwind. One coil at a time the tightness that had held her upright for two long years was slackening off and she wasn’t falling down. There just might be a future for her that held some of the hopes she’d had when growing up. She might be able to dream again.
‘Maddy.’ Sam reached for her and tucked her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her.
Against her cheek she felt his lungs rising and falling faster than normal, matching her quickened rate. Under her palms, resting against his waist, muscles were tightening. Breathing deep, she savoured the mix of aftershave, sweat, man. Sam. Clutching at his
shirt, she leaned back to peer up at his face, seeing the lines carved out by grief, by the determination that must’ve been behind him becoming a surgeon, the humour that hid his feelings, and the loyalty he had for those he cared about.
If she dropped all her defences and let him in then what? They didn’t have a future together. She didn’t know him well enough to trust him with everything. He could still wreck her. But...
* * *
Sam held Madison tight against his hungry body and absorbed her into him. Her heat, softness and those curves, the surprise that had sparked at him when he’d told her what he thought of her voice, her hair tickling his chin. This is Maddy.
Desire rolled through him, tightened him. This is what he wanted. Now. With no thought to the consequences. Shock stunned him. He followed a rigid line when it came to friendship and relationships, never deviated, and yet here, tonight, he wasn’t; couldn’t haul up the usual defence mechanisms. His body was afire with need.
To hold her wasn’t enough.
It was too much.
Turmoil churned his gut, fear chilled his blood. This hug had to be enough. They couldn’t have a relationship, not even for one night, because he suspected that once he let his guard down with Maddy he’d never be able to pull it back in place. And he had to.
He wasn’t free to fall in love and marry, not when the guilt kept him hogtied. How could he be happy when he’d taken that from William the day he’d talked him into a final tour with the army before he married his fiancée? William hadn’t been keen to delay marrying Ally for another six months, but he’d given in to Sam’s plea to go to Afghanistan with him. Now Sam could not move forward, could not be happy and take enjoyment from life when William and Ally couldn’t. There were many obstacles to him settling down, and they were all in his head. Didn’t mean they were any less real.
