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

by Rebecca Hartt

  “Look,” she said to the psychiatrist. “I’m not trying to avoid Jonah; I’m simply wary of being sucked back into a relationship that wasn’t working.”

  Branson sat forward and asked, “How’s it working now?”

  It was Eden’s turn to blink. “I think it’s too soon to tell.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Right now, Jonah needs your full support. If anything, helping him get his memories back will free you faster. With his memories intact, he can find his own way forward.”

  Eden swallowed against a dry mouth. The doctor’s logic made sense, but it didn’t come without risk. The more time she spent with Jonah, the more influence he exerted over her heart and soul—not to mention he might take it upon himself to kiss her. If he succeeded, she would likely be a goner.

  “You want me to spend more time with him,” she restated.

  “Yes. Take him places he’s been before. Expose him to sounds and sights, and especially to smells that ought to be familiar.”

  “Okay,” she agreed with a shrug. “Honestly, though, we didn’t go to many places together. We were only married for a year.”

  “I remember. But I’m sure you can think of a few places you visited together. If necessary, you could return to Annapolis, to your parents’ house, where you met.”

  Eden’s thoughts flashed to the message on her cell phone from her irate father.

  Eden! Vice Admiral Leland just told us the news. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us Jonah was alive. Holy cow! Call us the first chance you get. We want to hear everything, and we hope you’ll both come see us soon.”

  Both, not all. Her father’s omission of Miriam in the equation had kept her from calling him back. Her parents would deny it vehemently, but they’d always viewed Miriam as somewhat of a familial embarrassment, not quite a legitimate grandchild, which upset Eden to no end. It didn’t matter that Miriam had been a wake-up call for Eden and the reason she’d given her life over to God’s care and keeping. God had forgiven her youthful indiscretions, but her parents had not. Better for Miriam to grow up not knowing her grandparents well than to have her face rubbed in her illegitimacy every time she met them.

  “Mrs. Mills?” Dr. Branson called her back from her wandering thoughts. “I think you’re right that Jonah’s not a threat to you—at least not physically,” he added astutely. “If you can afford to spend more time helping him to rehabilitate, I am confident he’ll get his memories back sooner, rather than later.”

  “He told you what he remembered last night?”

  “Yes, it’s very interesting. If you’ll call him back in, I’d like to talk to him some more. He needed a break to shake off the emotions associated with what he shared.”

  “Oh.” Guilt pricked Eden as she realized Jonah’s stony expression earlier was a mask. He hid his pain so well it was easy to forget what he’d been through. A wave of compassion propelled her to her feet.

  “I’ll go get him.”

  Stepping out of the office, she caught Jonah peering out the window, as if watching somebody suspicious.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  He jumped at the sound of her voice and whirled. “Yeah, sure. You’re done already?”

  “Yes.” She indicated the office behind her. “Dr. Branson says he wants to talk to you some more.”

  “Oh.” Jonah’s shoulders visibly stiffened. “I don’t think I’m up to that. Can you tell him I need to leave?”

  Eden felt the doctor’s presence as he stepped up behind her.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure you can’t give me fifteen more minutes?”

  Jonah put a hand to his head and rubbed it. “I don’t think so. I don’t feel so good.”

  Eden noticed he was rubbing his right temple, not the side usually bothering him.

  The psychiatrist sighed. “I suppose we can pick up on Monday where we left off today.”

  “How about Tuesday?” Jonah suggested. “We should meet Tuesdays and Thursdays, not Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It’s not fair to Eden to have to give up three mornings a week.”

  “I would really appreciate that,” Eden agreed.

  Dr. Branson looked back and forth between them, then consulted the appointment book on his reception desk. “I do have an hour available on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but only in the afternoon, at four.”

  Jonah looked at Eden.

  “I can do that,” she assured the both of them. She would have to hurry home after class and hold off on her shower until she got back from Jonah’s appointment.

  “Very well. I’ll see you Tuesday at 4 p.m.” Dr. Branson scribbled their names into his book. “You two enjoy your weekend. I hope you get the chance to do something special,” he added significantly.

  Eden forced a smile. “We’ll try.” She held the door for Jonah, who kept a hand clasped to his head as if it pained him even to walk.

  “You can stop faking now,” she drawled as they slipped into the hot Jaguar.

  Jonah dropped his hand and swept the area with an anxious gaze.

  As she backed out of their parking space, Eden asked him, “What are you looking for?”

  He cut her a chagrined look. “There’s a blue Taurus that’s been hanging around our neighborhood. I thought I saw it drive by here earlier.”

  Starting forward, she drove them away from Branson’s office. Considering the unlikelihood of Jonah’s statement, she recalled what she’d read in the article on PTSD—how it often manifested in the form of paranoid thoughts.

  Her heart sank. “I doubt it’s the same car,” she told him.

  Jonah lapsed into guarded silence.

  Desperation prompted her to ask him, “Why don’t you want to spend more time with Dr. Branson? You’ve left early two times in a row now.”

  Jonah drew a breath and let it out. “I expected him to have more to say about what I remembered last night,” he admitted on a note of disillusionment. “Instead, he was fixated on how I could move during REM sleep. That’s apparently a disorder that makes me dangerous. He wants me to double my nighttime medication so I’m not a danger to you.”

  Eden frowned. “That’s weird. He told me he was sure you wouldn’t hurt me. Besides, doesn’t that medication repress dreams?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you remembered so much in your dream. Why would you want to repress them?”

  “He’s concerned about too much too soon. Traumatic dreams could aggravate my anxiety.”

  Ah, so that was what was happening. Jonah’s dreams were awakening paranoid thoughts in him.

  “Maybe you should listen to your doctor and take two pills then,” she suggested.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, obviously just to placate her. “What did the doctor mean about doing something special?”

  Realizing Jonah had deftly changed the subject, Eden grudgingly explained. “He wants us to visit places we’ve been before in the hopes they’ll bring back memories.”

  “Like where?”

  She searched for an appropriate place to take him. “We used to walk on the beach out at the Back Bay Wildlife Refuge. Miriam rides her bike out there all the time, hoping to see the wild horses.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “There’s also the Mexican restaurant we visited every Sunday after church.”

  “We went to church?”

  Surprised by his enthusiastic tone, she shot him a glance.

  “Miriam and I always do. You would come with us from time to time.”

  “Infrequently, you mean.”

  She shrugged in agreement.

  “Let’s go together, this Sunday,” he proposed, “and then we’ll go to lunch like we used to. When I get my strength back, we’ll go to the Wildlife Refuge.”

  She thought about his recently manifested paranoia. “Are you sure you’re ready to be out in public?”

  “If my psychiatrist thinks I’m ready, then I should be ready,” he reasoned.

  “He a
lso thinks you should double your meds at night. You should do that, too.”

  Jonah said nothing, which meant he certainly would not.

  Eden pictured him beset by nightmares and swallowed nervously.

  “But I think I’ll flip the lock on my door so you can lock me in at night,” he added.

  “What?” The suggestion astonished her. “Jonah, that’s ridiculous. We can lock our own doors and save you the trouble. You’re not going to hurt me.”

  “What about Miriam? Are you sure you can trust me not to hurt her, either?”

  The question undermined her confidence. If he was paying attention to Miriam only to get on Eden’s good side, perhaps he didn’t care enough about her daughter to recognize her in his sleep.

  At her continued silence, Jonah added, “I’ll reverse my door handle when we get home.”

  “What if you need to use the restroom at night?”

  He chuckled. “I’ll pee out the window.”

  “Not on my flowers you won’t,” she said, then laughed.

  “Then I’ll text you when I want you to let me out.”

  Eden rolled her eyes. Locking Jonah in the study at night seemed a bit extreme. But, then again, if he did suffer from a behavioral disorder allowing him to act out his dreams, maybe it was better to be safe than sorry.

  “If that’s what you want,” she finally agreed.

  His hand landed without warning on her thigh, causing her to jump as her taut nerves overreacted.

  “Thanks for putting up with me,” he said, his voice gruff. Giving her leg a squeeze, he drew his hand back.

  Eden’s heart continued to beat erratically. Her body wasn’t going to relax, was it? Ever since he’d hugged her the other day, her nerves had remained on high alert, yearning for another embrace, perhaps a kiss, or several hundred. Keeping him at arm’s length was going to come down to willpower.

  “Do you teach this afternoon?” he asked.

  “Yes. Is that okay with you?”

  If he would just act jealous of the time she spent working, it would be so much easier to resist him.

  He shrugged. “Of course.”

  His easy agreement made her wonder if he really was a changed man. For a brief second, she imagined what life could be like should he continue to behave as he did now—considerate of her work schedule, helpful around the house, good with Miriam. Then again, wishful romanticism had led her to marry in haste in the first place.

  She couldn’t let idealism blind her to reality.

  The fact of the matter was Jonah had been difficult to live with. Paranoia and possible PTSD were only going to make him that much harder to deal with.

  Just wait and see, warned the realist within her. You’ll be glad you kept him at arm’s length.

  Jonah couldn’t keep his eyes open a second longer. He gave up waiting for Miriam to come home from her friend’s house and collapsed onto the sofa. Sabrina sidled up next to where he lay and dropped onto the rug. Stretching out a hand, Jonah petted her.

  The retriever’s fur was soft and soothing. Her presence made Jonah think about therapy dogs and how they soothed soldiers with PTSD—not that he had it, even though Dr. Branson was starting to think he did. All the same, it wouldn’t hurt for him to try sleeping with the dog. He considered the width of the couch, adjusted a few pillows, then scooted over to make space.

  “Sabrina, up.”

  She was beside him in a heartbeat. With a wiggle of her entire body and a happy sneeze, she went still next to him.

  “If you don’t tell, I won’t tell,” Jonah promised. Likely the fur on the couch would speak for itself, but he would gladly take a lint roller to it if it meant napping and not lurching awake in a cold sweat.

  Soon, the dog’s steady breathing lulled Jonah into relaxing. Exhaustion pulled him down into unconsciousness.

  Sometime later, Sabrina lifted her head, startling Jonah from his slumber. He glanced at the watch he’d reclaimed from his dresser drawer and saw it was already four o’clock. Eden would be home within the hour, and Miriam ought to be home by now.

  He called her name just in case she’d arrived while he was sleeping, but there was no response.

  The dog leaped from the sofa, clearly eager for a walk. Jonah rose more slowly, discovering he had a crick in his neck from using the couch pillow. As he walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, a sense of isolation crept over him. He hadn’t realized how much of a comfort it was to have his family around.

  Guzzling his drink, he eyed the note Miriam had left on the kitchen counter that morning. Gone to Ian’s. Back this afternoon. Her large, loopy handwriting underscored how young she was, but then he remembered that most of her classmates were older than she was. That meant Ian was likely fifteen years old, and Miriam had been with him almost the entire day.

  A desire to check with Eden prompted him to find his cell phone. Locating it in his room, he looked for his wife’s number in his favorites list, noticing as he did that Miriam’s number wasn’t there. He dialed Eden.

  “Jonah?” She answered after one ring, on a note of concern.

  “Hi, I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’m just calling about Miriam. Shouldn’t she be home by now?”

  A weighty pause followed his question. “Well, she should, but it takes twenty minutes to ride her bike from Ian’s house. I’d give her another ten.”

  “Where are you? Are you on your way?”

  “Um, I’m at the thrift store right now,” she said, rousing his curiosity as to why. “But I’ll be home soon.”

  “Can you call Miriam and see if she’s all right? I don’t seem to have her number.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t since she got her phone last Christmas. Here, I’ll give you her number.”

  “I’d like that.” Considering Miriam had given him a wide berth since he’d choked her mother, it was up to him to close the gap.

  “If she doesn’t answer it’s because she’s on her way.”

  Jonah added Miriam to his list of contacts, made her a favorite, then called her number.

  Her phone rang six times then went to voicemail. Jonah hung up and sent her a text.

  Hope you’re already on your way. Sabrina is waiting for a walk.

  His gaze traveled out the window. It was still light outside, and he was perfectly capable of walking the dog himself. Then he remembered the blue sedan, and the fear he was being watched swept through him.

  I have to get past this. I do not have PTSD.

  Pocketing his phone, he went back to the couch where he’d kicked off his shoes and put them on. Sabrina encouraged him with a wagging tail and a wide-open mouth that made her look like she was grinning.

  “Okay, girl, but no running off on me this time.”

  Stepping out of the house, he realized he didn’t even have a house key. That circumstance reminded him of Eden’s decision to separate. Thrusting negative thoughts aside, he raked a cautious gaze up and down the street.

  Thunderclouds piled one atop the other threatening an evening storm that would, hopefully, bring cooler air in from the ocean. There was no sign of the blue sedan. Descending the steps to the driveway, he started along an eerily deserted street. The rumble of thunder in the distance only added to his sense of impending trouble as Sabrina pulled him in the direction of the ocean.

  They made their way along the same route they’d taken before. Was it only yesterday? It felt like a lifetime had passed since then. He thought again of Eden’s ultimatum and how it had led him to call his master chief. Was Rivera right? Would God salvage his marriage, even when he’d nearly choked her to death?

  Lost in thought, Jonah passed the oceanfront homes without paying much attention to them. In contrast to the day before, the beach appeared deserted. Vacationers had retreated into their shelter in anticipation of bad weather. Only a few cars passed him.

  Lightning sizzled out at sea. Jonah counted the seconds before he heard thunder. The storm was still several miles distant,
he figured. He would go as far as he had gone the day before, perhaps a bit farther, then turn around.

  An undercover police car drove past him. Not only did Jonah recognize it as such by the extra antenna and tinted rear window, but he could just make out the uniformed officer at the wheel—square jaw and sunglasses. As the car drove past, Jonah lifted a hand to acknowledge the man’s vigilance and to convey his own gratitude.

  An ominous rumble of thunder had him looking up. He realized he had better turn around if he didn’t want to bring home a soaking wet dog.

  “Come on, pup.” Halting in his tracks, he urged the dog to turn and retrace their footsteps, walking quickly in the hopes of beating the storm.

  The crunch of sand under his tennis shoes merged with the rumble of the storm and the rolling of the waves onto the nearby shore. Jonah had nearly reached the bend in the road that would take him toward his home when the sound of an approaching vehicle had him stepping off the pavement to let it pass.

  He could hear the car closing in. The sudden revving of its engine had Jonah glancing back to gauge what was going on. The same undercover cop car that had passed him minutes earlier was apparently backtracking, but to Jonah’s surprise, the officer didn’t give him any leeway. Instead, he drove straight at Jonah who, thanks to his quick reactions, managed to leap off the road, jerking the dog out of harm’s way just before they both got struck.

  The Challenger’s right tires dropped off the asphalt. The car fishtailed briefly before jiggling onto the asphalt again.

  “Hey!” Jonah yelled in astonished outrage.

  He expected the officer to stop the car, to get out and apologize for nearly running him over, but the Challenger kept right on going, without so much as a flare of brake lights.

  “Did you not see me?” Jonah railed. In disbelief, he watched the car go to the end of his street where it turned left and disappeared behind the home across from his.

  Adrenaline powered Jonah with the energy to get home as fast as he could.

  Did that cop just tried to run me over? Perhaps he’d mistaken Jonah’s friendly wave earlier for an insulting gesture, and he’d intended to teach Jonah a lesson. Even that seemed absurd. He could have been killed!