She looked at him and tipped her chin. “Did you eat?”
Vic shrugged. “Haven’t had much of an appetite.”
“They’re not worried about you not eating?” She sat up, crossing her legs and sitting on the edge of her bed. She felt fuzzy, like she needed a shower. But she didn’t want to leave him. It was a stupid fear but she was terrified to let him out of her sight.
“I’ll eat if I get hungry.” He reached for the tray and pulled it closer. “You eat. I’m good.”
She lifted the pale plastic lid of the domed tray. “Wow.” Three pieces of French toast, two slices of bacon, and two hard-boiled eggs. She frowned, then immediately changed the direction of her thoughts.
Vic caught her. “What?” he asked.
She hesitated, hating herself for being so unsure around the man who’d always made her laugh. “I was just thinking the hard-boiled eggs were kind of messed up to give to a guy with only one hand.”
Vic blinked for a long moment then busted out laughing. He reached for her, pulling her close as he laughed. She smiled and wiped at her eyes.
“You scared me,” she said softly. She swallowed. “The next time, can you give me a little more information than Hey babe, I got blown up?”
“Well, I… wasn’t really sure what to say. I’m usually not at a loss for words and… well, yeah.” He held up his bandaged arm.
Her expression softened. “Does it hurt?”
Carponti snorted. “No. They’ve got me on so much morphine right now they could probably cut off my other hand and I wouldn’t feel anything.” He held up his good hand. “Not that I want to test that theory or anything.”
Nicole smiled. And his wife, his beautiful wife, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.
* * *
With one kiss, she banished any awkwardness he’d imagined between them. He didn’t want it to be awkward. He wanted his wife to curl into bed with him and… Well, the doc had said he wasn’t authorized to have sex yet but that didn’t stop his imagination.
She ran her fingers over his cheeks. Something so simple. He closed his eyes and let the tingling sensation run through him.
She cupped his face and he was conscious of the fact that his jaw was covered with bushy red stubble. “But you’re okay. And that’s what matters.”
He just sat for moment and looked at her. Savored the feel of her hands on his body, even if it was just his face. She was touching him. She was here and she hadn’t run screaming from the room at the sight of his bandaged hand. He covered her forearm with his good hand. Her skin was warm and soft and real beneath his.
He was suddenly really glad she wasn’t a drug-induced hallucination. “I can’t believe you got on a plane that quickly.”
She smiled. “It was a long flight.” Her fingers drifted over his cheek.
She was touching him. She wasn’t horrified by the missing hand. His thoughts kept repeating, over and over. Fear made him still, prevented him from reaching for her and pulling her close again. He was afraid. Afraid she was in shock. Afraid she was still adjusting to the idea of his missing appendage.
Missing body parts were a big adjustment, or so he’d been told. There weren’t any briefings that could prepare you or your spouse for this. At least, none that he’d attended before. Maybe there were now.
Nicole looked away and slipped her hands from his face. The loss of her touch physically hurt him.
But he didn’t say anything. Because he didn’t have the words to bring her back.
She started sorting through the bag of things that had apparently come in with him from Iraq. He had no idea what was in that bag, but he wasn’t entirely sure she should be going through it. He didn’t want her stumbling across a bloody uniform or worse.
She pulled a small plastic bag out and held it up. His dog tags glittered muted silver in the fluorescent light along with his missing wedding ring. She pulled out his wallet and a clump of fabric. Carponti flushed and said nothing.
Somehow his sewing project didn’t seem funny right then.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered, holding out his hand for the baggie. He took a deep breath, then dumped the contents onto his lap. His dog tags jingled against his wedding ring. He maneuvered the plain gold band onto his finger, then managed to use his thumb and pinky to get it back where it belonged.
Nicole hadn’t noticed but it was a small victory for him. It felt right having his ring on.
She turned back toward him, her lips curled faintly. “You didn’t honestly expect me to sit in Texas and wait for you, did you?”
“I don’t know. We never really talked about something like this.”
She glanced down at his bandaged arm, then pushed the tray out of the way and climbed over his legs until she straddled him. And just like that any chasm he’d imagined between them was gone and Carponti was lost in the sensation of his wife’s body against his in all the right places. Okay, maybe not all the right places, but close enough.
“So listen,” she said, crawling up his body until her knees rested on either side of his ribs. “This sucks but it’s not the end of the world.”
“You’re going to get in trouble with the nurses,” he said. He rubbed his hand over her hip, urging her a little closer.
“Since when do you care about following the rules?” She smiled and rocked against him even as she slid her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much, Vic.”
The block of fear around his heart melted and thawed.
“So the good news is that everything from the waist down is still intact.” He smiled wickedly up at her. “Want to take it for a test run?”
She rocked against him gently and cupped his face in her hands. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” she whispered against his mouth. “But no sex until after the wound is healed. I’m not violating any doctor’s orders and risking you getting sick.”
Carponti pouted. “Seriously?”
Nicole wrapped her arms around him and nestled closer, a laugh shaking through her body and into his. Laughing with him was almost as good as sex. Okay, not really, but it felt so damn normal. “Not until the docs give you the green light.”
Carponti angled his body and pushed the nurse’s button before Nicole could stop him.
“Can I help you?” The nurse’s voice was scratchy over the speaker.
“Yeah, I need a note from the doctor so I can have sex with my wife.”
“Vic!” She tried to snatch the handset.
“Um, I’m sorry, sir. Can you repeat that?”
“Sorry, ma’am.” Nicole grabbed the button. “Ignore him. He’s high. We’re sorry, ma’am.”
She put the button out of reach, then snuggled up to his side. “That poor nurse,” she said, laughing quietly.
“I’m serious.” He rolled toward her and cupped her face. “I missed you.” He swept his hand down her side. “All of you.”
“I missed you, too. But no sex until the doctor says so.”
Carponti sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun.”
“It’s only a little longer.”
“I have to be careful for the first few weeks so the wound can heal. Are you honestly telling me we’re going to wait weeks?” Carponti pouted for a second and then blurted, “Oh shit.”
“What?” Nicole was instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”
Carponti lifted his bandaged hand. “This was my right hand.”
“Yeah?”
“I, ah… pursue certain pleasurable activities with my right hand. Now I’ve got to learn to do it with my left.”
Nicole buried her face in his shoulder and laughed. “There’s something so wrong with you.” But her voice broke and a shudder ran through her.
The emotions snapped inside him as her tears wet the hospital gown. He held her close and let her cry, so goddamned grateful that he was there to hold her. The thought of her crying on his grave threatened to choke him. “I’m okay, babe. I’m okay.”
&n
bsp; “I know.” She leaned up and sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I just… I’m just glad you’re here. I don’t care about anything else. You’re here. You’re okay.”
“I mean, I’d rather be elsewhere—”
She slapped his chest gently. “You know what I mean.”
He smiled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
He held her for a while. The noise from outside the hospital room faded away and he fell into sleep, holding the one person in the world who mattered most to him.
Chapter Eleven
He woke up to a gentle kiss on the side of his mouth. He turned and nuzzled his wife. The doctors didn’t like her sleeping in the bed with him but he didn’t actually care. For every night over the last week she’d waited until the late night nurse had completed her rounds and then she’d crawled into bed with him, careful not to bump his arm.
He slept better when she was with him. Her weight against his side was comforting and solid and real.
She’d stayed with him and he counted his blessings every single morning when he woke up and she was there. “Good morning,” she whispered, nestling closer.
“Morning.” He kissed the top of her forehead, savoring the quiet warmth of her body against his.
As hospitals went, Landstuhl Medical Center was pretty good. Food wasn’t bad, nurses were nice when they weren’t irritated with Carponti’s antics.
The door opened and Nicole tensed. Carponti’s arm tightened around her to keep her from leaving the hospital bed.
“You’re going to get in trouble,” she whispered.
“Don’t care.”
The doctor walked in. Carponti grinned. “Good morning, Doctor Kevorkian.”
The doctor’s face flushed red beneath his white hair. He did not look amused. “My name is Doctor Goldstein, Sergeant. I’ve told you that about six times.”
“Well, yeah, I heard you the first five times. But Doctor Kevorkian has such a nice ring to it.”
Nicole was crying in hysterics next to him, trying to catch a breath to talk.
His wife’s hand shot up to cover his lips. He kept talking but it was muffled beneath her palm. “Just ignore him,” she said. She looked up at him. “Stop before you give the man a heart attack.”
Carponti turned his wide-eyed expression on his wife. “What?”
Nicole’s face was lit up with a brilliant smile. “The doctor does not share your sense of humor. What can we do for you, sir?”
The doctor’s flush retreated a little bit with the knowledge that at least one person in the room wasn’t clinically insane. “Looks like we’re going to release you.”
Carponti stilled. Nicole dropped her hand from his mouth and slipped from his embrace.
“Okay.” She climbed out of the bed and pulled on a sweater and paid close attention to what the doctor said. She asked questions Carponti didn’t hear over the loud buzzing in his ears.
Somehow, things had reached stasis in the hospital room. He felt safe here. He’d learned to get his pants down with one hand. Started getting used to the idea that he was suddenly left-handed. But now? Now this was like jumping out of the airplane without a parachute. Being released? He wasn’t ready to face the world. Not like this. Would people stare? Yeah, they’d stare. Hell, he’d stared every time he saw someone with a missing limb. He’d felt like an ass doing it but it was just so… different.
And now he was about to be released into the wild? He wasn’t ready for that.
The doctor left and Nicole turned, a stack of papers in her hands. “They’re going to bring all your medication up so we don’t have to wait in the pharmacy,” she said softly. Concern was written all over her face and he loved her for it.
But Carponti couldn’t find a single thing to say.
* * *
She wasn’t used to her husband being quiet. Before, when her normal had included mundane tasks like getting groceries and paying bills, she’d always assumed her husband’s silence meant he was getting into something. Mischief and all that. Now? Now a new silence emanated from him and she was not used to it at all.
She read over the discharge paperwork, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. His head was down, his shoulders slumped.
She didn’t think he was getting ready for a joke.
She set the paperwork down and climbed over the bed. She slipped behind him and dropped her legs around his hips then wrapped her arms around his waist. She simply sat there, leaned against him, and said nothing. Hoping that her actions were enough because she wasn’t sure she could say anything without the tears breaking through again.
After a long moment, he leaned back against her, his hand sliding over her forearm.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered when she was sure her voice wouldn’t crack.
“I know.”
“But?”
He paused for a long time, his thumb rubbing along her skin. “I don’t have any pants. I am positive that if I go strolling around the medical center in my gown, I will give at least six sergeant majors a heart attack.”
She laughed then and this time, tears didn’t come. She laughed and simply held onto her husband because he was okay. He was a little shaken up, a little unsteady, but he was okay. If she kept telling herself that often enough, maybe she’d start to believe it.
“I can go to the PX and buy you some clothes.”
“Just pick me up some sweatpants, okay? Nothing fancy with buttons or anything?”
She crawled around and stood in front of him, her arms draped around his neck. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you always dress like a million bucks and you’ll probably find some very uncomfortable, starchy clothes that will make me itchy.”
“You’re always itchy in real clothes. It’s like you have an aversion to them.”
He grinned. “I do. Dress pants are a lot harder to get off when we’re getting ready to do the horizontal tango.” He held up his bandaged arm. He slid his hand down her side, resting it on her hip, and urged her close to nibble on her lips. “You have no idea how turned on I am,” he murmured against her mouth.
Her throat went dry. She wanted very badly to kiss him. To feel his mouth on hers, his tongue slide against hers. But she was terrified that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
And there was a fear, nestled deep inside her, that he wasn’t as okay as he was pretending to be. And she’d be damned if she was going to do anything that would risk getting him hurt or sick or keep him in the hospital any longer than he’d already been here.
“Me too,” she whispered. “But doctor’s orders.”
He made a growling sound deep in his throat. “I’m going to find someone with the first name Doctor to write me a note.” He stroked his hand over her hip and tiny bolts of electricity hummed through her. God, but she missed him.
“I’m going to go buy you some clothes before I do something stupid,” she said, slipping out of his arms.
“Define ‘something stupid’?” he asked, his eyes glittering in the fluorescent light.
“Stupid as in lifting up that all too sexy hospital gown and riding you off into the sunset.”
“Oh, I definitely think we should do something stupid.” She scooted off the bed before he could grab her. “Not funny,” he said.
“It’s a little funny.”
He lifted said hospital gown, revealing a very healthy erection. Nicole’s body ached for him. She released a shuddering breath. “We can’t, honey.”
“First I lose a limb and now you’re going to leave me like this? What kind of wife are you?”
She laughed and finished getting dressed. “I’ll be back in a little bit with clothes.” She palmed her wallet and her phone and paused.
“So do you, ah, want to go home right away?” he asked.
She looked up at him, watching his expression carefully. “Do you?”
He glanced down at his bandaged ar
m. “I don’t know. I mean, we’re already here and we always talked about coming to Europe. I suppose we could travel a little bit before going home?”
She tipped her head and studied him. “Are you up for that?”
“I mean, I’m not skiing the Matterhorn any time soon but there’s no reason why we can’t ride the trains around Germany for the holidays, right?”
There was something in his voice, something that whispered to her that he wasn’t cracking any jokes. She leaned in quickly and kissed him lightly. “I’ll be back in little bit.”
“I’ll be here. Learning a new skill.”
She paused by the door. “Huh?”
“Learning how to masturbate with my left hand.”
She laughed and ducked out of the hospital room before he lured her back to that far-too-tempting bed. He was making jokes.
It was a good sign.
* * *
Carponti stood in the middle of the hospital room in fuzzy new blue sweatpants and t-shirt. The new shoes were rigid on his feet but they’d break in easily enough. It felt strange, being in real clothes again. Even stranger when he forgot to reach for something with his left hand because he kept forgetting that his right was no longer there.
There was a tingling in his phantom limb but he could manage it. He wasn’t due for his medication for a while longer. But the pitch in his stomach had nothing to do with the medication or lack of food.
He was fucking scared. Scared of facing the world and the staring eyes and the stolen glances full of unspoken relief that it wasn’t them.
His wife’s arms came around him from behind and he covered her hands with his one.
“You okay?” she asked. Her voice vibrated through his back.
“Yeah,” he said lightly, hiding the panic twisting inside him. “So it looks like I’m on convalescent leave for, oh, the rest of the year.” He turned and pulled her close. “When do you have to be back at work?”
She tipped her head up and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ve got the greatest boss in the world. She told me to take my time.”
He held her close, loving the feel of her body against his. He brushed his lips against her hair, hoping this celibacy was going to end soon. But it was enough, for now, that she was here and things were as normal as they would ever be again. “So I was serious about going sightseeing around Germany for the holidays. There’s a little town down south called Rothenburg ob der Tauber one of the nurses told me about. Supposedly it’s like this little Christmas village and stuff.” He shrugged. “Since—well, I kind of didn’t make it home for Christmas—maybe this will make up for it.”
I'll Be Home for Christmas Page 10
