Loved by a Soldier: A Military Romance Collection

by Alison Mello

  When he came to, he took a step back in horror as Alison sobbed. He rushed to her in an effort to comfort her, and she recoiled. He took off his soaked t-shirt and wiped her bruised nose. He gathered there was nothing he could do or say that would be pardoned. If she called the cops again, as she should, he would be locked up this time, and they would probably throw away the key. As he listened to her sobbing, Zachary got flashbacks of the combat zone and the women who wept by the corpses of their sons and husbands. For an instant, he thought Alison was a brat who had no idea what real pain was. She lived in a peaceful world, in a bubble, where all meals were guaranteed, not being raped daily by militias or watching her child get molested. She had no right to cry. She was clueless to the real world.

  That was when it hit him. It was time to let go. Time to get real help before he ended every good thing in his life.

  ***

  He stood at the entrance of his cut-rate motel room, wearing a red baseball cap that concealed his eyes. With his arms folded across his chest, he gazed at the parched ground, anticipating his next move. Dark clouds had conquered the morning sky, signifying a wet day ahead. He felt his freedom slipping away at the sound of every siren that blared by. He was as gloomy and deserted as the weather portrayed. All night, he thought of Dr. Clark and her proposal yet hesitated to reach out. She worked for the court. He couldn’t possibly trust her, no matter how much she assured him. He mused over his last session, recalling every word he admitted to her. He was very private, and sharing his innermost thoughts was something he wasn’t accustomed to. He wished he didn’t have to live through that vulnerable moment. Tragically, he was desperate. In order to start the healing process, he needed to speak out. To be exposed.

  His temper was fierce and disconcerting. The paralyzing wrath was spreading through his body like cancer. He needed to take control before it was too late. He pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and yanked out the card for the group treatment program Dr. Clark recommended.

  CHAPTER 4

  If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.

  ~Martin Luther King

  “I need your help. I have nowhere to go, no one to turn to. My husband has all the means to find me. I could get a restraining order, but for the moment, I need to find a place to hide. I do not have any money, no family. Please help me,” Courtney pleaded, rubbing her swollen lips with her thumb. She wore huge sunglasses to cover her black eye, and her hair was covered with a deep blue scarf, wrapped around her neck in an effort to hide the rest of the bruises.

  “Mrs. Peterson—”

  “Please call me Courtney.”

  “Courtney, as your gynecologist, I am not equipped to help with this sort of problem. However, I can’t let you go back to that abusive home.”

  Dr. Shultz knelt down before her and took Courtney’s hands. “There is a shelter for battered women. I could find you a number and an address. Is this something you’re willing to consider? It’s not glamorous…”

  “I don’t care about that. I’ll take that number. Please do not disclose my location to my husband. He has my calendar and knows about my appointment with you. Once I’m gone, he is likely to start his search here.”

  ***

  Courtney sat in a tiny lobby, clutching her purse as she observed strangers walking by. A woman who appeared to be in a worse condition than she was sat next to her. In her arms was a child about five years old. She was dressed casually in faded jeans and a black leather jacket. Her disheveled hair was pulled into a ponytail. She appeared as lost as Courtney. Her son gripped her right arm tightly, his expression revealing distress and a desperate need for shelter. The sight broke Courtney’s heart. Their situation was definitely worse than that in which she found herself.

  She questioned her reasoning for making such a radical decision to leave. The fear of walking away from the luxurious life she was accustomed to scared her greatly. Perhaps her decision had been hasty. William must be sorry for what he did to her. They could work it out.

  I need to get away from this place, she thought and glanced nervously at her wristwatch. It’s not too late to go back home before William notices my absence.

  The woman next to her smiled timidly at her. Courtney expressed friendliness in return. Shifting nervously in her seat, she stood and headed to the exit.

  “Jennifer?” a woman called out, using the fake name she gave when she called. Courtney ignored it and walked out.

  “Jennifer?”

  She quickened her pace. Unfortunately, the woman caught up to her.

  “Jennifer, hi. I am Mavis. We spoke earlier on the phone.”

  Courtney stared blankly at her.

  “You are not leaving, are you?”

  “This is a mistake. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

  She stared at the mature woman. She appeared older than she sounded on the phone. The gray highlights in her hair complemented her beautiful caramel skin. She had kind eyes, the type that calmed her anxieties.

  “Listen, I understand. Completely. It’s frightening…let’s do this…let’s go into my office and have a chat, and if you want to leave after that, it’d be fine.” Mavis waited patiently for her response.

  Courtney delivered a weak nod, indicating her reluctant acceptance.

  She did a quick assessment of the tiny office Mavis occupied. Documents were piled up on her tiny desk with a few books on abuse and pursuing aid. There was a tiny frame of her family on the ledge behind her chair and a framed copy of her degree in social justice from Johnson & Wales University. She grinned at Courtney and sat behind her desk.

  “Can I get you a drink or something?” she asked.

  Courtney shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I made a mistake.” She stood, ready to run from her problems once more.

  “Jennifer, you’ve come this far, which is a good start. Why don’t you just hear me out?”

  Courtney gazed at her, shaking her head multiple times, then nodded. Tears burned her eyes as she tried desperately to control her emotions.

  “Have a seat, please.”

  Courtney submitted without protest.

  “I am so sorry about what you are going through,” said Mavis. “I have worked with many women in your position, and I have also been where you are.”

  Courtney wasn’t sure what she meant.

  “Yes, I have, Jennifer. So believe me when I say I completely understand. You are disheartened, hurting, and afraid, and it’s okay to feel those things. I also know that you care dearly for this person who causes you so much anguish.”

  “Yes, my husband,” she quietly admitted.

  “What are you seeking?”

  Courtney stared blankly at her. The truth was, she didn’t know what she was seeking. She loved William and wanted to be with him. He was her safety blanket, and she saw it as a stab in the back, betraying him when he was the only man besides her father who truly loved her.

  “Jennifer, before you embark on this journey, you must lay a solid foundation or it will not work. Is it peace, reconciliation, or sanctuary you seek? I have witnessed many women regress, no matter how far they’ve walked away from their abusers. If you don’t establish a firm rule, you’ll end up like that, and the abuse will be a never-ending story. You’ll make excuses for him and justify why you deserve such vicious treatment, and it will go on until he puts you in a grave.”

  Courtney gawked at her.

  “I know I might sound dispassionate, but it happens more than you think. So tell me your story.”

  Courtney inhaled and exhaled a couple of times. “We’ve been married for five years, and I have failed to give him children due to a medical condition. In his mind, I had one job to do, and I failed at it. The love we once shared has diminished over the years. It’s been replaced by animosity on both sides. In our five years of marriage, four have been nothing but cruelty. Verbally, emotionally,
and physically. I let go of all my dreams and any ambitions I ever had just to please a man I thought would love me until the end of time. I was mistaken. I have been kicked, spat on, burned with cigars, and every horrific thing you could think of. We don’t make love anymore. He comes home inebriated and rapes me until he’s content. He’s a monster. One I did not see coming.” She paused and allowed her tears to fall. Mavis pushed a box of tissue toward her and waited patiently while she gathered herself.

  “I love him, ma’am. He’s my husband,” Courtney continued. “I love him dearly yet hate him enough to kill him. I am ready to move on but scared of what he might do. I do not have any family or friends. My friends are his friends. I am not allowed to have a life outside the marriage, which was perfectly okay in the beginning when we were so much in love. His family hates the sight of me. I am a nonentity and presumed to be a gold digger who brainwashed their precious son. They would be happy to be rid of me. If I tell you I seek sanctuary, how far would that take me? I do not have a degree, and I haven’t painted in so long I’m pretty certain that talent is lost. How do I survive? I signed a pre-nuptial agreement that leaves me with nothing if I walk away. I am better off with him.”

  Mavis shook her head and stood up from behind her desk. She sat in the seat beside Courtney and took her hand. “Jennifer—”

  “Courtney, my name is Courtney. Sorry I had to use a fake name.”

  “I totally understand. It happens. You have taken the first step to freedom,” Mavis said. “You can’t normalize abuse. From your story, it sounds to me that you suffered a number of cruelties before you met your husband, and that shaped your self-esteem. One flaw you need to work on. Until you see your self-worth, you will fall prey to abusers of all kinds. If you ask me, you were not and are not in love with William. You were in love with the idea of him.”

  Courtney frowned. How dare this woman presume to know anything about her? She might have a fancy degree, but that did not make her psychic.

  Noticing her change in attitude, Mavis proceeded to clarify her point. “He replaced your father, the security you yearned. Remember I said this earlier, I have been in your shoes. I was lost, desperate to be rescued, and my determination brought me this far. I did not have a degree, either, or parents, only an abusive husband. I can help you, Courtney, if you let me.”

  She paused for a response but was met with nothing.

  “Are you ready to take that first leap?”

  “What do I need to do?” Courtney responded, a little hope in her voice.

  “You stay here with us while you find a more suitable accommodation. There are group counseling sessions I’d recommend. You can listen and share your experiences with women going through the same problems as you. The exercise would benefit you and motivate others in the process.”

  Silence.

  “Courtney, are you ready?” Mavis asked firmly.

  Courtney turned away from her scrutiny. “Yes.” Her voice was faint and hesitant.

  “Okay. Do you need to go back home for a few things? I could have someone escort you. Your husband must be away when you do this.”

  “He should be in the office. We can do that now.”

  “Good.”

  While Mavis made a call, Courtney thought about William’s reaction when he found out she was gone. Would he come searching like she feared, or would he be relieved, rid of the barren whore who plagued his home? Either way, she was pleased she’d taken a stand against him.

  ***

  “Ma’am, I’ll wait by the door while you get your stuff if you are sure he is not home.”

  “He isn’t.”

  “Okay, just leave the door open.”

  Courtney rolled her eyes, thinking he was overreacting and taking his job too seriously. Then again, he was right to be vigilant. Things could turn bloody if it didn’t go as planned. She grabbed a black duffle bag from the guestroom, already stuffed with her clothing. She referred to it as the escape bag. It had been ready for twelve months. Each time she decided to make a run for it, fear of the unknown had stopped her. She took a last glance at their bedroom, a place once filled with love. Her heart was full of grief, dwelling upon the happiness the marriage once brought her.

  She slipped her wedding band off her finger but kept the engagement ring and placed it on a note she wrote to him:

  I’m sorry, I had to do this for me.

  She wiped away the tears cascading over her cheeks and walked out of the empty structure she’d called home for the last five years without turning back.

  “It gets easier,” her temporary bodyguard said.

  “I hope so.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Where there is no vision, there is no hope.

  ~George Washington Carver

  Zachary stared out of the twenty-eighth floor window from his lawyer’s office. For the last month, he had been living in between low-rated motels. His relationship with his wife had soured beyond restoration. His blackouts had gotten worse and more frequent. It was now a daily struggle to gauge the extreme level of his anxieties. Alison’s animosity toward him encouraged her to strip him of his possessions, including his children. Suicidal thoughts frequently threatened his wellbeing; however, a faint voice within always inspired him to fight on. Alcohol had now become a vital part of his life.

  On numerous nights, he had drunk himself into a stupor. He would pick fights and leave his opponents with ghastly wounds. He carried a concealed weapon with him everywhere he went, a knife with a wood grain handle belonging to his late grandfather, Lieutenant Commander Warren Wesley Reid. He feared the enemy was lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to slip up. Anytime he thought of seeking help, he managed to convince himself otherwise. He carried the group therapy consultant card with him in his wallet. He’d stare at it as he drank himself to blankness every night.

  Today, he sat across from his childhood friend and legal counsel Corey Preston’s spectacular view of the Space Needle, America’s version of the Eiffel Tower. He reminisced about his and Alison’s first date and his proposal in the revolving restaurant located at the top of the structure. What a magical night that was. A young couple filled with so many hopes and dreams. As irony would have it, today he sat in his lawyer’s office listening to her demands. The muffled voice of Corey increasingly became clear as he snapped out of the reminiscence of his once-happy life.

  “…wants sole custody of the kids.”

  Zachary rubbed his chin. “I won’t win this, Corey. No judge in his or her right mind would grant me access to my kids. She wants the house, let her have it, the kids, let her have them. I’m tired. Have them send over the documents, and I’ll sign them. Trust me, they are better off without me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He bobbed his head in defeat. “Completely sure.”

  The misery in his eyes got to his old friend and confidant. He scowled at Zachary in disbelief of what his buoyant friend had become. They were a group of four friends. A nerdy bunch. They’d survived the ridicules and maltreatment from elementary to high school together. Out of the four, Zachary was the most handsome yet the oddest. Although he was extremely antisocial, nonetheless the girls in school tripped over themselves to gain his devoted attention. Like his forefathers, he became a Marine, while Corey went on to become a successful lawyer. The other two, Justin, now a commercial pilot, and Noah, a successful contractor, had no knowledge of their pal’s dilemma.

  “As your friend, I can’t sit back and let you sign such an agreement. You need help, Zach, and not with a court-appointed therapist, but real help. I want to give you that. Now listen to this. First off, you need to move out of that motel. You are welcome to live in my apartment as long as you want. I hardly use it. Jane won’t allow me.” He smiled. “You need to work on yourself. I’ll draw up papers to file for joint custody. I’ll propose that you agree to sole custody on a temporary basis. You will, however, resume your role as a dedicated fulltime father after your treatment is succe
ssfully completed. No judge would discard this proposition, unless Alison is hell-bent on separating you from the children. Then we’d have a tough fight on our hands. Let’s take this one day at a time.”

  The expression Zachary gave him signaled defeat. His hesitance to fight on baffled Corey. What happened to the brave young man who was determined to join the Marines, serve his country proudly, and save the world? Make his folks proud? Before him sat a feeble, lost man with no spine.

  “Come on, man, you need to do this,” Corey beseeched.

  Corey stood up and moved closer to Zachary. He seized the business card he held in his hand and picked up his phone.

  “What are you doing?” Zachary asked.

  “What you should have done weeks ago.”

  Zachary leaped to his feet and tried to snatch the phone from Corey’s hand, but he was shoved away.

  “Hello, my name is Corey Preston, and I am calling on behalf of my client, Zachary Reid. We are interested in your group sessions and would like to stop by as early as this afternoon to get more information.” Corey listened attentively to the voice on the other end then said, “That’d be great.” He provided his email address and hung up.