Smoothing a hand over his nearly empty notepad, Dr. Branson heaved a soundless sigh.
“Very well. If you want to mend fences with Eden, and you feel it’s urgent, then go.” He lifted appealing eyes at Jonah. “But if it is up to me to recommend your return to active duty, you’ll have to work with me harder at some point.”
Jonah faced the doctor with an incredulous look.
“Are you blackmailing me?” He laughed at the absurdity of his situation.
Dr. Branson visibly blanched. “Heavens, no. I just want you to recover,” he insisted.
Jonah wanted to believe him. On one hand, the psychiatrist seemed to be a genuinely caring individual. On the other, Elwood had advised Jonah not to trust him. So, for now, Jonah had no choice but to remain aloof and hope Elwood knew what he was doing.
The only other possibility made Jonah rake his fingers through his hair. His suspicions of Lowery could be a figment of his imagination. If that were the case, Dr. Branson would never clear Jonah for active duty, and Eden would grow weary of his paranoia and eventually leave him, just as she’d originally intended.
In the middle of her conversation with Nina, Eden’s phone chimed, signaling an incoming call. She peeked at her screen to see who it was.
“Oh, gosh, my father’s calling again. I can’t keep ignoring him.”
“Go ahead and chat with him,” Nina urged. “I have a class coming in anyway. Just promise me you’ll follow your head and not your heart.”
“I’ll try,” Eden said, but her heart had started to settle on the idea of making her marriage good again. Not even Jonah’s paranoid thoughts about Jimmy could eradicate the hope that had been building in her. “Talk to you later.”
Ending her call with Nina, she answered the incoming one.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Finally,” he said by way of a greeting. “I’ve only called you three times.”
“I know. I’m sorry. We’ve been really busy.”
“I can imagine.” Her father’s tone turned forgiving. “How’s Jonah doing? I still can’t believe he’s back from the dead.”
“Me neither.” Eden relived her amazement. “He’s doing pretty well,” she answered. “He gets stronger every day.”
Closing her eyes, she wished her relationship with her father was such that she could express her concerns and receive comfort, in turn. But they hadn’t talked like that since she’d found herself with child in college.
“I hear he’s having memory problems.”
She didn’t bother to ask how her father knew that. Vice Admiral Leland, the former base commander, was a lifelong friend of his.
“He remembers his captivity, now,” she said a tad defensively.
“Poor bastard,” her father muttered with feeling. “Why don’t you bring him up this way while he’s got time on his hands? We would love to see him.”
Eden rolled her eyes. Her father was fonder of Jonah than he was of his own flesh and blood.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” For one thing, her parents would stick her and Jonah in the same bedroom, and he might accidentally choke her again. Or make love to her.
She swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth.
“Why not?” Her father started to browbeat her. “It’d be good for him to see the Academy again. Might stir some memories, get him back on track.”
She pictured the Jonah she’d married, right there in the Academy’s stone chapel. God forbid a visit to his old stomping grounds turned him back into the man he’d been before. At least the old Jonah hadn’t suffered paranoid delusions that someone wanted to kill him. Maybe getting away from this area was exactly what he needed. Because he remembered Annapolis, he would probably feel whole there—whole and safe. Maybe that was the first step in getting over what had happened to him.
“I’ll talk to him about it,” she promised. “Perhaps we can come this weekend.”
“That would be terrific.” Her father’s tone made it sound like a done deal.
“I’m not promising anything,” Eden cautioned. “Jonah might not feel up to a visit.”
“He’ll want to come, I’m sure of it. Get back to me as soon as you can.”
“Okay, Dad.” Seeing movement in her mirror, Eden realized Jonah was rounding the car. “I have to go now,” she added, hanging up abruptly. The next instant, he dropped into the passenger seat and shut the door.
“That was fast,” she said.
He regarded her inquiringly. “Who were you talking to?”
“My father. He wants us to visit Annapolis this coming weekend.”
“Hmm.” Jonah swung a thoughtful look out the window. “Any chance you can take off work tomorrow?”
“You mean go up to Annapolis during the week?”
“If you can get away,” he said.
“But what about your appointment on Thursday with Dr. Branson?”
“I’ll miss it.”
Eden didn’t like the thought of that. “Jonah, you need help,” she said as gently as possible.
A bitter smile twisted Jonah’s mouth. “I think we should leave town for a while,” he countered. At the same time, he bent to check that the pistol he’d hidden under his seat was still there.
A feeling akin to panic spurred Eden’s heartrate. The article she’d read on PTSD had described the effects snowballing, and Jonah seemed more paranoid by the moment.
All at once, she felt incapable of handling her situation alone. Her parents weren’t exactly the best people to turn to for advice but, apart from Nina, who else could help her navigate these waters? For some reason, God wasn’t answering her prayers. Or, if He was, He was answering them with silence.
“I think I can get time off,” she stated, making up her mind. “One of my colleagues was just saying she needed to make more money to pay for her son’s tuition. I’ll ask if she can cover my Thursday class.”
“Let’s do it, then. We’ll go tomorrow.” He seemed ready to take off right then and there.
Suddenly, Eden’s phone gave a ring, visibly startling them both.
Eden frowned at the unfamiliar number, then answered on speaker phone so Jonah could listen, “Yes, hello?”
“Mrs. Mills?”
“Yes?” The male voice on the other end was unknown to her. She glanced at Jonah to gauge whether he recognized it.
“This is Officer Hammond with the Virginia Beach Police Department. I have your daughter here at the Seaside Market.”
Eden and Jonah’s gazes locked in surprise.
“I happened to catch her trying to buy cigarettes. Of course, that’s not legal under the age of eighteen. How old is your daughter?”
Disappointment hit Eden like a fist to the stomach. She’d really thought Miriam was done acting out. “She’s almost fifteen.”
“Well, I’ll release her this one time with a warning. You’ll want to keep closer tabs on her from now on.”
“Of course. You’re absolutely right. Thank you,” she said, hanging up. With a whimper, she met Jonah’s gaze again and braced herself for his reaction.
To her amazement, he smiled encouragingly and said, “It’s not the end of the world.”
Unanticipated tears rushed into Eden’s eyes. She had not expected Jonah’s consolation and support, especially when he was so vulnerable. And in the past, he would have reacted the way most men in the military reacted, with bluster and threats of dire punishment.
Seeing her tears, Jonah stopped her from reaching for the shifter. “Wait a sec. Don’t drive just yet. Why do you think she’s doing this?”
Eden let him keep hold of her hand. It came as such a relief to share Miriam’s struggles with an interested party.
“I don’t know. She’s done this kind of thing all her life, from shoplifting to punching a boy at school. More recently she pierced one ear all the way up the back.”
“I noticed.”
“The day we came to the hospital to get you, she dyed her hair mauve.
Now she’s buying cigarettes.”
“Sounds to me like she’s looking for attention.”
Eden sighed and nodded. “I know. I’m trying to spend more time with her.”
“Not from you,” Jonah corrected, stroking her knuckles with his thumb.
Eden’s stomach cartwheeled at the caress.
“You’re a good mother, Eden. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think she needs more. I think she needs a father, too.”
Given Jonah’s gentle tone and the connection they were sharing at the moment, it was impossible to take offense. But, at the same time, she added another variable to her equation of marital uncertainty—Miriam needed a father. If Jonah was out of touch with reality, could he really fulfill that need?
“I know,” she admitted.
“Let’s not punish her,” Jonah suggested. “I’m sure being caught by a police officer will deter her from buying cigarettes again.”
“Oh, she’ll think she’s being punished when we take her to see my folks,” Eden countered.
Jonah cocked his head. “Why’s that?”
“Because they’re strict and old-fashioned and they don’t exactly treat her with respect.”
Jonah looked shocked. “Why not?”
Eden’s throat constricted. “Because she’s illegitimate.” It surprised her to hear herself telling Jonah something so personal. Stricken with PTSD or otherwise, he was so easy to talk to these days.
“That’s not fair.” His green-gold eyes blazed with righteous anger.
Was he faking his affront, or did he really care so deeply about Miriam’s feelings?
“It is what it is,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“You want me to drive?” Jonah offered.
Taking in his crooked smile, Eden had to laugh. His reasonable reaction to Miriam’s situation and his efforts to cheer her them both heartened her. Looking down at their hands, which were still joined, she marveled at how capable and manly his hand appeared, stunted fingernails, scars, and all.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling her hand gently from his gasp and shifting into reverse. “I’m good now,” she added, though she wasn’t really.
Jonah’s reappearance had flipped her life upside down and inside out. She’d gone from wanting a divorce to thinking maybe Jonah was a new man, born again in the Spirit. For the first time ever, she and Jonah were on the same team where Miriam was concerned.
Yet the hope their marriage might survive was such a fragile one, threatened by his memory issues and, most especially, by what looked like PTSD.
How could he believe Jimmy Lowery had tried to kill him twice now? She resisted the urge to shake her head.
Since God seemed to be keeping silent, maybe she could ask her father to assess Jonah’s allegations and advise her as to the severity of her husband’s delusions. One way or the other, she needed to know if she should recommit herself to Jonah, or if she should proceed with her plans to separate.
At the end of a long day’s work, Nina locked the door of Inspired to Dance, securing it against break-ins. The strip mall in which her studio was located wasn’t exactly the safest of locations, and there’d been robberies at some of the other businesses.
Her vehicle, a twenty-year-old Honda, was parked five steps from the door. She made her way to it, cutting a casual glance to the right and to the left.
At eight o’clock in the evening, the August sun had yet to set, lending her confidence. She liked the summer months for exactly that reason. But autumn was fast approaching, and soon she’d be running from her studio to her car, using the remote to open the driver door, so she could leap inside and lock it again.
Honestly, being single was scary at times. Having to work until evening most nights of the week, plus half a day on Saturday, took a toll on her physically and emotionally. On the other hand, she’d once been married to a husband who refused to let her work, who’d stripped her of her confidence. She far preferred being independent to wearing the chains of matrimony.
Sliding fluidly into her car, Nina shut herself into the stiflingly hot interior, slid her key into the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened.
She turned the key again—still nothing. Was the gear in park? Had she left the lights on and used up the battery? No and no. In all likelihood, the old Honda, with nearly two-hundred thousand miles on it, had simply died on her. The aging car had been a source of concern more than once. She’d known she needed to replace it with something more reliable. But did this really have to happen now? Here?
Sweating copiously in the sundress she wore over her leotard, she pushed out of her car to escape the sauna-like heat, leaving her purse on the passenger seat. Sweeping the area for shady characters—they tended to visit the liquor store two doors down from her studio—she popped the hood before shutting her door. What she hoped to discover by peering under it, she had no idea. She didn’t know the least thing about automobile engines. She’d been too busy over the years running a business to learn anything else.
It took her almost a full minute to figure out how to prop her hood open. Praying no one was witnessing her incompetence, Nina glanced around again. This time, she caught sight of a man standing in the shadows just outside of the Greek fast food restaurant.
As she bent over the engine, eyeing the myriad of mechanisms, she watched the stranger from the corner of her eye leave his post and venture in her direction. Her heart started to thud and, having just identified the battery, which looked all right to her, she straightened to face the unknown entity. Would he help? Or were his intentions dishonorable?
A gasp of astonishment filled her lungs as she recognized the stranger as none other than the man who’d haunted her every waking thought from the moment she’d met him.
“Santiago.” She greeted him with all the poise that she could muster, swiping the hair causally out of her eyes.
“Nina,” he countered, mirroring her small, somewhat ironic smile. Having been watching her for a while, however, he had her at a distinct disadvantage. While she was still flustered, her heart beating erratically at his unexpected apparition, he was calm and collected.
His eyes, a deep chocolate brown and rimmed with thick lashes, drifted lingeringly over her before settling on the engine of her car. “Having car trouble?”
Just as she remembered, his intonation betrayed the barest suggestion of his Puerto Rican roots.
“It won’t start,” she admitted, drinking in his appearance.
He was still dressed in his work attire, a blue and gray patterned uniform with a matching woven belt and calf-high boots. The sleeves of his jacket had been rolled to his biceps, baring his lean muscles and weakening her knees.
The bag of takeout he carried in his left arm explained his reason for being there. Pure coincidence, right? He couldn’t possibly know where she worked.
“Perhaps it’s the alternator,” he suggested. “Or the battery. May I look?” He gestured at her engine.
“Please.” She stepped aside, giving him leave to peer under the hood.
With his free hand, he delicately touched one component and then another, inspecting each with a keen eye. Nina’s gaze hung on his arresting profile. From his expressive eyebrows, to his aquiline nose, to his mobile lips, he utterly appealed to her.
“Ah,” he said, breaking the silence fraught with awareness. “Here’s your problem.”
Finding the bag still in his left arm, he added, “Hold this for me?”
As their hands brushed in the trade-off, Nina could have sworn sparks ignited, fueling her pulse. He clearly felt it, too, his gaze jumping to hers before he turned his attention back to the engine. As he ducked under the hood, working a small component loose, her gaze trekked from his lean waist to his firmly planted feet. She had to remind herself to breathe.
He’s just a man. An ordinary man with expectations you wanted nothing to do with, she reminded herself.
“Here’s the culprit,” he said, st
raightening with a small plug in his hand.
“What is it?” she asked, revealing her abysmal knowledge of cars.
“It’s a spark plug with a faulty wire. This is a sub-standard part, bound to give out on you. Who works on your car?”
She thought back to the last time she’d had repair work done and named the garage.
He gave a skeptical hum. “I know an excellent mechanic, who drives his own tow truck. Why don’t I call him for you and he’ll pick up your car tonight? I imagine he can have all the spark plugs replaced by tomorrow.”
Nina pictured the sum she’d been hording in her savings account dwindling. At this rate, she’d never have a baby.
“I guess I don’t have much choice,” she muttered.
Santiago’s small smile was encouraging. “It’ll be okay.”
Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed his mechanic.
As she listened to him relay her need for a tow and a repair, she decided her situation could have been worse. Imagine if Santiago hadn’t come along. She’d still be staring at her engine, paralyzed by uncertainty. She supposed there were occasional moments when it was good to have a man around.
“Thank you,” she told him as he hung up. Handing his food back to him, she released him to continue on his way.
“My pleasure. John says he can be here within the hour. Just leave the key and your contact info under the driver’s seat, and you can leave. I’ll give you a lift home.”
The unexpected offer unsettled her. “Oh, no thanks. I’ll stay until he gets here,” she decided. “And then I’ll catch an Uber.”
Santiago’s pleasant smile wavered. Reconsidering the bag in his arm, he said, “Would you have dinner with me until then? I’ve got enough for an army here.”
Having been subject to the aroma of savory beef coming out of the bag, her mouth watered at the invitation. She surprised herself by saying, “Okay, but will you promise not to mention marriage?”
He laughed self-consciously. “I’m very sorry for that. I don’t often drink, and the beer must have gone straight to my head.”
Returning to Eden (Acts of Valor, Book 1): Christian Military Romantic Suspense Page 22
