Returning to Eden (Acts of Valor, Book 1): Christian Military Romantic Suspense

by Rebecca Hartt

  You’re on this, right, God? You know I can’t do this without help.

  Jonah heard a dog barking frantically inside the home he could not remember. The sound was as welcoming as the flowers growing in lush islands throughout the yard. It gave him the energy to keep climbing.

  “We have a dog?” he panted, grateful for Miriam’s slow, steady pace.

  She craned her neck to glance up at him. “Yeah, you gave us a puppy before you left. You were going to train her to behave, but you never had time, so she’s still a little wild.”

  Two unrelated things entered Jonah’s thoughts. The first was Miriam had a dusting of freckles across her nose that made her look like a pixie. The second was she sounded worried about the dog’s behavior.

  “I can train her now,” he offered.

  “Excuse me.” Eden squeezed past them carrying a box. “Let me get the door.”

  Both women struck Jonah as anxious. Clearly, he’d been gone so long he seemed like a stranger to them.

  As Eden released the lock and cracked the door open, a golden nose appeared.

  “Sabrina, back,” Eden ordered, edging her knee into the door to keep the dog from rushing out.

  But Sabrina had other ideas. Jostling Eden aside, she burst out of the house and scrabbled down the stairs at a run, heading straight for Jonah. Miriam threw herself in front of him, and the dog crashed into them both. Jonah staggered several steps backward, and his wife let out a cry of alarm, before he managed to catch both him and Miriam from falling.

  At least he wasn’t totally useless. He could still take on an overgrown pup.

  Miriam tackled the dog, pinning her on the steps with what looked like a death grip.

  “Are you okay?” she cried.

  He looked from her to Eden, who stared down from the top step with deep concern in her eyes.

  Squirming in Miriam’s arms, the dog gave a yelp and a happy bark.

  “I’m fine,” he assured them both. Then he reached out a hand to pet the rambunctious canine.

  It was obvious the dog recognized him—weird, though, because he would have sworn he’d never met her before.

  “She remembers you, Dad!” Miriam said, breaking into a bright smile.

  “You can let her go,” Jonah said, bracing himself against the railing so he wouldn’t fall.

  The word Dad reverberated in his head, shaking him and humbling him at the same time. How am I a dad?

  With reluctance, Miriam released her death grip.

  The dog sprang from her arms and, for a full minute, Jonah suffered a barrage of affectionate leaps, barks, and licks. The dog’s giddiness filled him with unexpected contentment.

  “Okay, okay.” Scrubbing the dog’s ruff, he laughed out loud at the small but reassuring indication he belonged here. The dog knew him. The dog obviously loved him. Everything was going to be okay.

  Thank you, good Lord, he thought. But then he looked up at his family, and his optimism wavered. Both Miriam and Eden were staring at him with their mouths hanging open.

  What? he wanted to ask, but there were so many things he didn’t understand about their relationship he decided to wait and to watch.

  To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

  “Does she need a walk?” he said to Miriam.

  It was Eden who answered, firmly. “Yes. I’ll get the leash.”

  Darting into the house with everything still in her arms, she came out a second later, bearing the leash. “Miriam, why don’t you walk Sabrina while I get Jonah settled.”

  “Fine,” Miriam groused, then amended with a wary glance at Jonah, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jonah helped her to clip the leash on the dog. She then dragged Sabrina down the steps for her walk. The dog clearly wanted him to come, too.

  “I’ll walk her with you soon,” he offered.

  Realizing Eden had to help him up the steps now, he looked up to see her approaching him warily. Every cell in his body perked up at the promise of her touch. She slid a tentative arm around his waist, put her shoulder into his arm pit. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” Appalled by the weakness in his legs, he ordered himself to climb the last few steps to the open door. That same flowery scent that had stolen into his nostrils when she hugged him at the hospital filled his head, making him take great big breaths as he fought to place it. He recognized her scent; he knew he did!

  “Wait.” He paused before the door, trying to ground himself.

  “You okay?”

  Up close, her eyes were like amber pools, so clear you could see the pebbles at the bottom.

  “I just…I remember your perfume,” he admitted.

  Her lovely eyes widened. “But I’m not wearing any. It must be my shampoo. I’ve used it forever.”

  He wanted to bury his nose in her hair to make certain, but since that seemed more intimate a gesture than their current relationship allowed, he refrained.

  Urging him forward, she shepherded him into the cool, fragrant house and then released him to pick up the box she’d brought in, carrying it toward the kitchen.

  Jonah glanced around, recognizing nothing. A high, slanted ceiling complete with skylights sheltered the open floorplan. A floral couch and matching armchair were positioned around a bright turquoise ceramic chimney. A glass-top table and six chairs and sideboard comprised the dining area. The kitchen boasted cream-colored cabinets, gray granite counters, and an island with turquoise stools. None of it rang a bell.

  Eden was setting his box on the island, so he made his way closer and sat heavily on one stool, watching her unload it.

  “Shall we put your lilies on the table?” she asked, glancing his way as she carried them there.

  Frankly, Jonah didn’t care where the lilies ended up. Sudden exhaustion kept him from commenting. Swaying on the stool, he struggled to remain sitting upright.

  Eden returned to the box. “What about the baby cactus? Probably the kitchen window.” She crossed to the sink where a bay window looked out onto the deck.

  “From Dr. Branson,” she noted, reading the sticker on the side of the plastic cup. “Did you like him?”

  Jonah thought back to the plump psychiatrist who’d evaluated him that morning.

  “I guess.” He thought the man had seemed both intrigued and perplexed by Jonah’s memory loss.

  Eden studied him in silence for a moment, then glanced at her watch. “It’s time for one of your pills.” She lifted his bagged prescriptions out of the box.

  Jonah watched her read the labels intently. Finally, she set down one pill bottle and opened the other, shaking a small white pill into her hand.

  He’d been told by his psychiatrist that a strict regimen of Sertraline by day would help his anxiety, while Prazosin would help to curb his PTS-related nightmares. Jonah balked at the idea of taking either medication. Yet with Eden holding out a Sertraline to him, and wanting desperately to get his memory back, he took it.

  “How about some lemonade?” she offered, spinning toward the refrigerator. Seconds later, she placed a tall glass in front of him, before pouring a second glass for herself.

  A thick silence filled the pleasant kitchen. Jonah tossed back his pill, drank most of the lemonade, and put the glass down heavily.

  “This place is really nice,” he said, wanting to smooth out the tension between them.

  “Thanks.” She sipped from her glass, avoiding eye contact.

  Jonah studied her with perplexity. “Look,” he said, marshaling the strength to get his thoughts across, “I know it’s asking a lot of you to take me in.”

  “This is your home, too,” she interrupted. But her spine remained stiff, and the look in her eyes wasn’t as welcoming as he would have liked.

  “But…?” He knew there was more she wanted to say.

  Thoughts ebbed and flowed in her lovely eyes. “But nothing,” she insisted.

  He released a short weary sigh followed by a chuckle. “Funny, I d
on’t remember you at all, but I know you’re not telling me everything.”

  Looking her directly in her eyes, he waited. At the same time, his abs flexed in anticipation of taking a fist to the diaphragm. If she told him what was really on her mind, he was sure he wasn’t going to like it.

  Eden’s heart thudded. Was this the time to be honest with Jonah? Her plan was to welcome him back into their lives, to do her duty by him, and eventually, after he got his memory back—or in twelve months, whichever came sooner—she would ask him for a separation.

  He was giving her that look, though, that demanded honesty. And she was so overwrought by his return, it was tempting simply to tell him the truth now. Why suffer through the pretense of being happily married when she could explain right away why he wouldn’t be sleeping in her bed? She wet her dry lips, uncertain how to answer.

  “Jonah,” she began in a tight voice, “you’ve been gone a long time—thirteen months.” She paused for a quick breath. “We were told you were dead. I have a flag from your memorial,” she added, reliving her shock when it was given to her.

  Glancing at his expression, she sought a reaction from him, but he was suddenly as enigmatic as a rock, like the old Jonah.

  Feeling her hand start to shake, she quickly put her glass down. “Don’t think we’re not grateful to have you back—we are. Truly. It’s just…Miriam and I got used to being alone. I got a job teaching fitness classes at the base gym, and I really like it,” she added, hearing the defensiveness in her own voice.

  “That’s great.”

  His response threw her completely off track. Eden stared. “But you told me not to work.”

  It was Jonah’s turn to fall silent. A crease appeared between his eyebrows, betraying perplexity.

  “If you’re worried I’m going to interfere with your job, I can always get an Uber to my doctor appointments,” he assured her. “I’m assuming Uber is still a thing?”

  “Yes.” She waved aside his offer. “No, driving you isn’t a problem. I can work my schedule around your doctor appointments.”

  His green eyes narrowed. “So what else is going on?” he pressed.

  He’d been so agreeable about her job she couldn’t bring herself to tell him their marriage was essentially over. They could have that discussion at the right time, somewhere down the road. One step at a time, she thought, twisting her hands together.

  “I hope you don’t mind sleeping in the study,” she said quickly.

  His mouth quirked as if he found the statement humorous. His expression seemed to relax.

  “I can sleep anywhere,” he assured her.

  “That’s true,” she agreed, with a chuckle of relief that they’d gotten that discussion out of the way. To give him credit, Jonah was behaving quite amenably. “You look tired,” she added. “Do you want to see your room and maybe rest?”

  She sneaked another peek at her watch and realized she needed to leave him soon to teach her CORE class.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Watching him straighten from the stool, he reminded her of an old man, the way he moved. With a pang of empathy, she picked up his pill bottles for him and led him toward the front bedrooms.

  “Here’s where you’ll sleep,” she said, entering the study and putting the pills beside the daybed they normally used for guests.

  Jonah ran an interested gaze over the diplomas on the wall and the books in the bookshelf, then he looked at the desk. “Is that your laptop?”

  “We share it,” she assured him. “Here, I’ll write down the password so you can get online and do whatever.” Grabbing up a pen, she scribbled down the password she used to log on.

  When she looked up, Jonah was sitting on the bed, rubbing the bedspread like it was made of velvet.

  “You think you’ll be okay here?”

  He looked around and then up with a wry smile. “Beats the hell out of the cell I was in.”

  Hope blew through her. “Do you remember it?”

  He shrugged and looked away. “Not really.”

  Disappointed, Eden moved to the door. “The bathroom’s right across the hall. You’ll have to share it with Miriam, I’m afraid. I’ve put your toiletries in there in your overnight kit—I think you’ll recognize it. Can I get you anything else?”

  She could hear Miriam making her way up the steps out front—back already from what was obviously too short of a walk.

  “I’m fine,” Jonah assured her.

  She watched him fall over and stretch out on his back, stifling a groan.

  “You must be getting hungry,” she added. “I’ll leave you some lunch in the refrigerator.”

  “Eden.”

  The sound of her name on his lips made her breath catch. “Yes?”

  Their eyes met, and she gripped the doorknob as reality crashed over her—he was actually here, back from the dead!

  “You don’t have to wait on me. I can feed myself.”

  The statement confounded her. The old Jonah would have told her to make him a pastrami and Swiss sandwich with brown mustard and a pickle, and to do it precisely like he asked. But why give him any ideas?

  Miriam and Sabrina crashed through the front door. “I’m going to tell her to keep it down so you can rest.”

  “She’s fine,” he mumbled, even as his eyes sank shut.

  Eden closed the door behind her and stepped out into the hall.

  Considering the circumstances, their first day together wasn’t going so badly. Jonah was being remarkably cooperative and easy-going.

  It’s not going to last, she told herself, even as she caught the dog from barreling past her to scratch at the study door.

  “Miriam, Jonah’s going to rest, and I have to go to work soon. You might as well take Sabrina for a longer walk so she’ll calm down.”

  Still hanging up the leash in the entryway, Miriam’s face fell. “He’s sleeping?”

  “Of course. He’s exhausted. I’ll fix us some lunch, and then I have to head to work. Make sure he eats when he wakes up. The doctor wants him gaining two pounds a week.”

  “Ugh. Fine,” Miriam retorted, plucking up the leash again with evident disappointment.

  Eden watched her call the dog back. “Honey,” she said, approaching her and lowering her voice so Jonah wouldn’t overhear her. “I know you’re excited to have Jonah home.” Why exactly that was so was a mystery to her. “But you need to…temper your expectations.”

  She searched Miriam’s piquant face for comprehension. “Do you know what I’m saying? He’s not himself right now. When he gets his memory back, things will be like they were before, and they weren’t great, if you recall.”

  Miriam had stilled as she listened. With a firming of her lips, she snapped the dog’s leash onto her collar and, without responding to Eden’s statement, led the dog back outside, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  Eden drew a shaky breath and let it out again. Miriam’s loyalty to Jonah puzzled her. It wasn’t like they’d ever had a relationship resembling that of a father and a daughter. If Miriam invested herself emotionally in Jonah at this juncture, she was bound to be disappointed when he became himself again.

  “Lord, help me,” she whispered, turning toward her own bedroom at the back of the house to dress for her CORE class.

  Chapter 4

  Jonah gave a helpless groan. It didn’t matter that his body felt devoid of strength, his mind numb with exhaustion. He couldn’t sleep—not in this strange place. Not with Miriam wandering around outside by herself.

  I’m stateside, he reminded himself. This was a resort area, not some Third World country where thugs ruled the streets. Besides, Miriam had her dog to protect her. Picturing the boisterous puppy, he had to admit Sabrina wouldn’t provide much of a deterrent to someone bent on harming her mistress.

  When thirty minutes passed, according to the old-fashioned alarm clock by his bed, Jonah rolled over and dropped his feet to the floor. Miriam ought to be back by now.

&n
bsp; Standing up slowly, he weaved a moment on his feet, then made his way out of the study and down the short hallway to the kitchen, refusing to use the walls for support.

  As he wandered into the living room, he was struck by the silence. It wrapped around him giving him an eerie sense of déjà vu. His gaze rose to the rear window where a view of the sapphire ocean captured his attention and calmed his disorientation.

  Nearing the window, he took in the view. Missile detection drones standing inside of Dam Neck Naval Base rose from the dunes. He realized he recognized them. In the distance, he could make out the tops of several familiar buildings, including the Shifting Sands Club where the SEALs sometimes enjoyed happy hour. Beyond Dam Neck, the coastline curved east, providing him with the familiar skyline of the city of Virginia Beach. He knew this place. He did belong.

  Providing he could lay hands on his ID, he could even get access to the base and its amenities. But he couldn’t step foot into Spec Ops Headquarters, not until he was no longer classified as disabled. He would remain an outsider, much the same way he was an outsider in his marriage.

  Reminded of Eden’s distant hospitality, he returned his attention to the inside of his home. His gaze touched on the tasteful furniture and the built-in bookshelves looking for proof that he had lived here. There were a few home décor items and lots of framed pictures of Miriam, but no pictures of himself.

  His gaze alighted on the partially-open door off the living room, one he assumed led to the master bedroom. The opportunity to explore while both Eden and Miriam were out had him walking toward it. Maybe if he found evidence that this was his home, he could let his guard down, enough to get some badly needed sleep.

  Pushing the door farther ajar, he peered inside. Eden’s flowery fragrance floated out, startling him again with its familiarity. The room was practical, which pleased him. A queen-sized bed dominated one wall. The quilt and curtains were earth tones. The four walls had been painted a soothing shade of beige. There were more books here—romance novels—stuffed into a cherry wood bookcase, most of them old and worn and covered with a light layer of dust.