by Dale Mayer
“I was thinking about Elliot. With his back injury, that would be a great way for him to build up his sitting muscles. He struggles with that a lot.”
“Sounds like a great idea. Let’s keep on it.”
Elliot lay on the bed, biting his lip as Shane worked on his back. He’d taken extra courses to help with some of the specialized cases here. He had a magical touch.
“It’s not supposed to hurt this much.”
Elliot winced. “I’m not sure if it hurts, or if I’m clenching against the potential hurt.”
Shane chuckled. “Understood. But you’re undoing all my work, being tense and waiting for something bad to happen. The world’s not like that. You can’t repair some things.”
Elliot relaxed his hands and dropped them to the side of his body. His mind was stuck on the wisdom of that thought. “I guess that’s true in every area of life.”
“I think so.” Shane’s strong hands glided up and down Elliot’s back, massaging the injured muscles, untwisting and untying knots until the muscles draped over his body in a state of peace. Elliot was so tired he wanted to sleep, but at the same time, his mind was spinning.
“Do you know any of the other guys here?” Shane suddenly asked.
Elliot frowned. “I know of several but haven’t gone out of my way to be friendly. Although I should make a greater effort.”
“We have one group of three best friends here. Brock is done with rehab, but he is back and forth now because he’s in a relationship with one of our ladies. Cole is in his last month, and he’s showing massive improvement. And of course you might know Denton as he’s been around a little more often.”
Elliot smiled. “Yeah, I’ve seen him falling all over the place. But hey, he’s working hard, and that’s huge. I do know Aaron slightly. But that is one busy guy.”
Shane moved his hands to the back of Elliot’s neck and gently worked the muscles leading into the base of the skull, around the ears and down the jawline. When he was done, Elliot lay there, feeling boneless and wishing this feeling could go on forever. His mind drifted over his body, and he closed his eyes, willing his system to shut down to get the rest he needed. In the background, he could hear Shane collecting his things and moving from the room.
Elliot wanted to say thank you. But his mouth wouldn’t move, and his brain didn’t have that much energy. Besides, he also knew Shane didn’t need it. He understood how much Elliot appreciated the work. He lay quietly, letting his thoughts drift through his system.
The nightmares were building and getting stronger. He hadn’t told anybody on his team, and because of that, he found it almost impossible to fall asleep these days. He’d done lots of research online and understood many kinds of subconscious events must be brought to the surface so he could deal with them and move on. He had no idea how to do that because as far as he knew, he’d relived that same event repeatedly at least one thousand times.
The nightmare was always the same. He was in the village in the middle of combat, searching for the hidden insurgent. Elliot’s adrenaline was high because at any moment a bullet could hit him in the back or a rifle butt to his face or a knife to his gut. But he had been trained to do this. Crouching down low, he slipped around the clay wall to the side of the dilapidated structure. He heard no sound. He peered around the corner and saw a little girl lying like a broken doll on the floor.
Without making his way over, he studied her to see if she was still alive. He hoped so, but he also knew the insurgents used children to lure in soldiers. He didn’t know any soldier who wouldn’t protect a lone child or woman, but the insurgents had no such qualms. They set them up as victims and then cheerfully took out both the victim and the soldiers with a bomb.
As Elliot watched, the child’s chest rose ever so slightly and drifted down again. She appeared to be unconscious. No way was she sleeping—her leg lay at an odd angle, clearly broken.
From the far side of the clearing, he saw Jordan’s head pop over the top of the wall. With one look, they communicated an entire set of instructions before they both slipped behind the walls again. Regardless of any orders, Jordan had children of his own. No way he would leave that child there. Elliot knew this was a trap, but he also knew there would be no talking to Jordan about it. Elliot peered around the corner again to see if anybody else was close, shifting his rifle into position. He waited for Jordan’s move. At the very least, he could cover Jordan. Elliot’s heart raced, and his breath pounded in the back of his chest. The night was silent, and still he waited.
Elliot drifted in and out of the nightmare state as the scene replayed in his head, returning to the beginning right through to where he’d stepped around the building. He never quite got past that point. He never saw who shot him. He never saw who threw a grenade at him and never found out the fate of the child. He never saw Jordan again.
The explosion that day took everything from him. Hot anger rose from his stomach to his heart, and then tears poured from his eyes. He never made a sound though, and the pain of everything he’d seen, everything he’d done, welled out through his eyes as if the cleansing could heal the soul and rid him of his past.
He needed to know what happened that day. He needed to know what had happened to his friend and to that little girl. But his friend was dead, and there was no sign of the little girl. The incomplete scene was killing him, not knowing if Elliot had caused it. Had he alerted the insurgents to their presence? Had he gotten Jordan killed? Did the child die too? All these questions rolled around in his head with no answers. What could the navy say? Nobody could tell him anything. They said Jordan was killed in action. That would’ve been what the label on his file said. The grenade that brought the shelter down on him had also toppled onto Jordan. That explosion … first the grenade then the shelter … He was never going to forget it. Mixed into all of it was rapid gunfire before he partially crushed by cement falling from the building. His body had taken a hit from the original blast and the cement.
No one ever talked about the actual damage a grenade could cause. They hit the soft tissue of a person’s organs with such force the damage was often unsurvivable. They’d found Jordan under the rubble of what was left of the building. Elliot had woken up to the rest of his team trying to get them both out from underneath the debris. They had found Jordan, but it was too late. Elliot told them about the little girl, but there was no sign of her. He knew in his heart it had been a trap. He knew it was something that those animals would do.
Jordan had gone down, trying to rescue a little girl, and he had died on the spot. But Elliot was terrified he hadn’t done everything he could to help Jordan.
With a deep gasping breath, his thoughts returned to the reality of where he lay. He knew he was undoing all of Shane’s work. But those memories, those flashes, the emotional pain kept rolling through his system without end. Ever since he had woken up in the hospital, it had been like this. His body was searching, seeking and fighting for answers that would never come because nobody had them. As such, the unknowns crept into his subconscious, stealing away the sanity in his life.
Chapter 5
Sicily walked back up to her quarters. She needed to shower and change for dinner. Even then, she was late for her normal dinnertime. She loved spending time with Stan and really enjoyed spending some time with the horses. She was going to do some research and see if she could find a horse therapist somewhere in the vicinity. Maybe they could organize some trips out for a couple of the patients. She’d heard it was a big movement in other parts of the country, so she couldn’t imagine it being any different here. Still, they needed people to be close enough for the patients to travel back and forth. Or maybe they could afford to bring in a therapist here instead.
She took a quick shower and dressed in a light sundress before heading out to dinner. On the way, she checked in at the office to make sure everything was okay. The afternoon receptionist had a big smile on her face, telling her to go get dinner and relax. Sandra wa
s going to be on until ten. As many medical staff lived in the residence they were on call in case emergencies occurred overnight.
The only plus side to being late for dinner was that the room was mostly empty, and there were plenty of choices of where to sit. Sicily looked around for Elliot, but there was no sign of him. As she walked over to the buffet and the spicy roast beef, Dennis stepped up with a big smile.
“Have you seen Elliot yet tonight?” she asked.
Dennis shook his head. “No, but that doesn’t mean much. I haven’t been here the whole time. Just the last twenty minutes.”
She nodded, glanced down at the delicious selection of foods and began to fill her plate. Finally, she added a glass of milk and headed outside to sit in the sunshine. She pulled out her phone, found Elliot’s number and sent him a text.
Have you eaten?
She didn’t wait for his answer but dove into her own dinner. He’d been extra tired lately and might not have felt up to the trip. She could deliver a plate if he responded.
By the time she’d finished her meal, there was still no answer. She decided to have some coffee and then check in again.
Sicily sat, relaxing and sipping her coffee in the evening sun, and her thoughts turned to all the things Dani had managed to accomplish at Hathaway. Her partner, Aaron, had been accepted into vet school after having completed his extra courses to get into the program. His marks were high enough, and his interview had gone so well, that the vet school had let him into the September term. He was working his way through the latter half of the first term now.
She was delighted for Dani, and for Stan. They both worked so hard, and if there was anybody that could help them, it would be a huge benefit. Everyone played an important role here. Even Sicily was happy to help out beyond the scope of her nursing duties.
When she’d finished her meal, she walked back toward Elliot’s room. The doors were closed. She checked her phone to see if there had been an answer, but there wasn’t. She gave a light knock on the door. She wasn’t due to start work yet for a couple more hours, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t concerned about the patients.
At the quiet response from within, she opened the door and stuck her head into the room.
“Did you get my message?” she asked.
Elliot shook his head. She could see the fatigue and pain on his face. She opened the door wider and stepped inside. Her medical training immediately kicked in.
She frowned at the lines bracketing his mouth. That usually meant a rough night coming.
“Are you feeling okay?”
He gave her a half-smile. “I’m fine. Just a rough day.”
“Did you have an evening meal?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“They were just starting to put the food away. I can either help you get into the wheelchair and take you down, or I can go pick you up a selection of food and bring it back for you,” she suggested. “Or we can call the kitchen and have a plate sent up.”
He glanced at her in surprise. “I’d really love to not have to go there, but I am hungry,” he confessed.
“Understandable. There was roast beef with gravy, and the Yorkshire puddings were divine.”
“Okay, so now I’m really hungry.”
She nodded. “Back in a bit.”
Sicily turned and headed back over to the dining room. She grabbed a tray. Dennis approached from the opposite side, his eyebrows raised.
“I need this for Elliot,” she said. “He’s not getting out of bed right now.”
Dennis dished up a large serving of roast beef and piled up the mashed potatoes and the gravy. He tossed a Yorkshire pudding on the side. “What vegetables does he like?”
She looked at the tray and shrugged. “I have no idea. Just give him a selection.”
Dennis added both corn and broccoli, and then grabbed a second plate, filled it with chocolate cake for dessert. Finally, Sicily poured a large glass of ice water. With a very heavy tray, she carefully walked back to Elliot’s room. She found the door closed.
“Shit.”
She hadn’t bothered with a cart, so moving slowly, she carefully squatted and placed the tray on the floor before opening the door. She checked to make sure all was okay and found him lying down with his eyes closed. She picked up the tray and carried it inside. He had a small table that swung over the bed. She placed the meal there, then turned to study his face. Was he asleep?
In a low whisper she said, “Elliot?”
His eyes flew open. He smiled. “I’m not sleeping, honest.”
“I kind of wish you were,” she said with a smile. “But that’s okay. You also need to eat.” She hit the buttons on the bed to help him sit up.
When he was comfortable, she moved the swing table into position. He looked at the food, and his eyes lit up.
“I have to admit you guys never starve us here.”
“No starving allowed.” She grinned. “Now, eat. Good food is essential for healing.”
She sat in the visitor’s chair to keep him company while he ate. People did better when they had others around. And she was totally okay with spending more time with Elliot.
Was she just doing her job? No, surely not. She’d leave if that was the case. To know she’d been thinking about him made him smile inside. Until it occurred to him that maybe it was just part of her duties. That took some of the joy out of it. He slowed down the pace of his bites.
“Getting full?” she asked cheerfully.
He nodded. “A little. Still, I really appreciate you bringing me the food.”
She hopped to her feet, picked up his water glass and filled it for him. “Some things are just habits,” she said. “Some patients you just become more attached to than others.”
He eyed her carefully. “Too attached?”
She laughed. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s like any profession. For example, a teacher will always remember a couple of students over the others. So the nurse will always remember some patients over the others.”
He dropped his gaze to his food and nodded, a sinking feeling in his gut. So he was just a job to her.
As if wondering if she’d said something wrong, she walked back over to the bed and sat down beside him.
“In your case, I figured we’ve become friends,” she said carefully. “That means that I can worry about you.”
He glanced up, caught her gaze and a slow smile dawned on his face. “I like the sound of that.” He cut another slice of roast beef and popped it into his mouth. He couldn’t believe the way the conversation was going, but it was adding extra enjoyment to his meal.
“I’m glad we’re becoming friends. It’s a hard enough stage in my life to go through. It’s much harder to go through it alone.”
“There is no point in going through it alone,” she said seriously. “There are lots of people here who would like to be friends. Open up and meet people.”
“Right. Still not the easiest thing to do.”
She shook her head. “No. But it’s worth it.”
Friends would be nice. He’d isolated himself since arriving. Been too tired to care, really. Sicily, though … she made him think of more than friendship. The thought made him smile. Except the last thing he was looking for right now was a partner. Not now. He was a mess. His nightmares would terrorize any woman who shared his bed.
“What are you smiling about?”
He shook his head. “Something that’s not very funny,” he said shortly. He paused, then added quietly. “My nightmares and how they will affect my future.”
“In what way?”
He could feel her gaze on his face, and he refused to look in her eyes. He took another bite of his food. “Can you just imagine some poor woman sleeping beside me? When I wake up screaming and yelling, she will be terrified.”
“Possibly. But she will also get used to it. You might find that having her there with you would be a calming influence. Maybe your PTSD symptoms would le
ssen. Maybe you wouldn’t have as many nightmares.”
He lifted his gaze to stare at her. “Is that possible?”
She shrugged. “It’s not impossible. Many people suffer like you do and still manage to have a relationship.”
He put his fork down and swiped his hand across his face. He reached for his water and drank down the glass with a couple of big swallows. Leaning back against his headboard, he said, “Thank you for that. I really was too tired to make it for dinner.”
She stood and grabbed the empty tray. “I’m not on shift for another few hours. I’ll see you later tonight. I’ll try not to wake you if you are sleeping.” With a last smile over her shoulder, she turned and walked out of the room.
Taking some of the light with her.
He moved the small swing table out of his way to walk to the window. He’d been tired earlier, but the food had invigorated him. Fresh air would be lovely, but his body was struggling. Not wanting to give in to his physical weakness, but knowing there was only so much he could push himself to do, he settled into the wheelchair and slowly rolled his way outside to the elevators. There he took the short drop down to the vet clinic. But instead of heading toward the clinic, he made his way down the long hallway, through the stalls and over to the big, double doors that would take him outside. There was a paved walkway, close to the building and all the way around the property, so he knew he could do a perimeter circle. He wanted the fresh air more than he needed the exercise.
Outside, he pushed his way over to the corner of the building. He stopped for a moment and stared at the horses. He wanted to be closer, but there was no way in hell he could. This was his secret shame. A fear that went back to his childhood that he’d never beaten. Maybe that was why he’d excelled at so many other things in his life—to compensate for the one fear he couldn’t face. One huge, black female came to the fence and nickered in his direction. He loved to see them, but from a distance.
