Chapter 42
42
T heresa unpacked the last box Marco had brought to the cabin. He'd decided to rent out his condo and therefore had to pack up all his personal belongings. As for her things, she'd packed most of everything she had when she was initially leaving the house she'd rented out of town. She had that stuff here already and had unpacked it. This place was beginning to feel a bit more like home. Not her home, but their home. She looked at a photo album Marco had in a box. She'd set it on the coffee table to look at later. It was now later.
There were pictures of him in BUDS. Pictures with his fellow trainees. In uniform, and he was incredibly handsome. There truly was something about a man in uniform. Some pictures were of places that she wasn't aware of. When he got home, she'd ask him where these places were. She turned the page and saw him standing in front of a tank next to a woman. They both stood with their legs shoulder-width apart, arms behind their backs. It was how military training required a person to stand. It took a long time for that to go away. Sometimes, she still stood that way when waiting for instructions from Margo or her boss prior, Carolyn, at the newspaper. Carolyn used to laugh and tell her to relax.
There were several more pictures of this woman with Marco at various places. They never looked to be more than friends and she wondered how anyone could just be friends with him and not develop more feelings. She'd felt something different about him the instant she met him. Had her life been different, she'd have pursued things with him long ago. She hated thinking about the lost time.
She flipped through the photo album, half interested and half afraid of what she'd see. Though he said he'd never told anyone else that he loved them, and she took comfort in that. How did a person get to be forty-something and never fall in love? Some of her friends from the military fell in love every week with someone new.
She set the photo album on the coffee table and made her way to the kitchen. She emptied the dishwasher, wiped the counters down, and hung the damp rag on the faucet to dry. She squirted hand lotion onto her hands and rubbed it in as she sauntered to the dining room table where her laptop was waiting for her to be productive.
She'd thought all day about how she'd start her story. It had finally come together in her brain. As soon as she pulled up her notes her fingers began flying over the keyboard at warp speed. She let them flow, those words she wanted to get out. She'd self-edit later and clean it up. She wrote about Keely and how she so naively married someone she thought was a strong man and would be good to her forever. Her dream man, she'd said a couple of times during their conversations. How dismayed she'd been the first time he hit her. Then apologized and promised to never do it again. Then he forcibly had sex with her, apologized, and promised he'd never do it again. Then things happened more frequently but without the apology. And finally, she thought she'd leave him, only to be told he'd kill her if she ever tried that again. She then wrote about the day Keely contacted her and said she had information Theresa may like to have. Thus began Theresa's foray into the world of the Celtics.
A while later, the security camera pinged and it took her a moment to realize it was the camera. She rushed to the desk and her heart raced. She saw an SUV pulling into the driveway. Her heartbeat sped up at the sight of the vehicle, her breathing took on a shaky quality. It took a bit for her to realize it was Marco. She swallowed the knot in her throat and the door opened. Marco stepped in, the smile on his face disappeared when his eyes landed on hers.
"What's wrong, Baby?"
She closed the distance between them and his arms immediately wrapped around her body and held her tightly. "Hey, you're shaking. Are you alright?"
"Yes." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I was absorbed in my story and heard the camera and saw a car, but it took me a bit to realize it was your car and fear ran through me."
He squeezed her tightly and whispered in her ear. "That's understandable. The stuff you're writing about is dark. I should have texted you that I was on my way. I'll do that from now on."
He released her and stepped back slightly. He bent down and kissed her lips, then he grinned. "But, your story! That is so exciting, Babe."
She smiled. "I started writing. I've been at it for..." She looked at her watch. "Oh my God. Three hours." She chuckled. "I've been writing for three hours!"
He held his hand up for her to high-five, which she did. "That's fantastic, let's celebrate."
She grinned. "Are you too tired?"
"No, I'm always wired when I get home. Let's have a drink and you can tell me all about it."
She smiled and took his hand. "How about this? You sit here..." She moved him to the sofa. "I'll get you a beer and I'd love for you to tell me about some of your pictures."
He smiled as he looked at the photo album on the coffee table. He picked it up and opened the cover. Theresa ran to the kitchen and got them each a beer and sat next to him. She handed him his beer and tapped her bottle to his. "Cheers."
"Cheers."
They flipped through the photo album, and he spoke about the places he'd been, the people he'd met, and that the woman in the pictures was a friend. Once in a while, she was a friend with benefits, but that was it. She felt that little pang of jealousy for a moment, then let it go. That was his past, she was his present, and hopefully, his future.
He yawned after an hour and a half and she did too. They both laughed, then stood and began shutting off the lights. They were a normal couple, and it felt pretty freaking great.
As she snuggled into Marco's arms Theresa's heart felt full. Setting aside her writing this past year had been from necessity. Getting back to it now, only in a different way felt so good.
She closed her eyes as Marco's deep even breathing lulled her to sleep.
A loud alarm broke into her restful sleep. Sitting up in bed, dazed and trying to figure out what was going on took some time. But not for Marco. She turned to see him alert and dressed in his sweatpants.
He pulled his phone from the charger and read the screen. He huffed out a breath and ran from the room. That panicked her more than the abrupt alarm. She scooted to the edge of the bed, pulled on her sweats and a T-shirt, and went out to find Marco sitting at the desk, watching the computer. His brows were furrowed, the alarms still going off.
"What is it?" she yelled.
"I don't know. I'm trying to figure it out."
She checked her phone, there wasn't an amber alert or silver alert on her screen. The alarms came from the house. They weren't smoke alarms.
Marco's phone rang and he answered it immediately. "Karason."
Theresa's throat clogged with worry. Her breathing came in short bursts and her brain finally caught up to what was happening. The shrieking of the alarms began pounding in her head. She hadn't had a PTSD attack in a long time. But she felt her body shake as if one was about to happen.
She scrambled to the bedroom to put her shoes on. If they had to leave, she needed shoes. Without a second thought, she grabbed her laptop and shoved it in its case, then slipped her arms into her backpack. She hurried to Marco, who was now typing something into the computer.
The alarms stopped and silence fell around them. He sat still, watching the computer screen, his fingers shook, and she noticed his body locked tight. She swallowed the lump in her throat and called out to him. "Marco."
He sat still as a statue.
"Marco. Baby, it's me, Theresa. Honey, can you talk to me?"
She approached him slowly, not sure if she should get too close in case he thought she was an enemy. She blew out a breath and moved to stand next to him. Slowly she knelt down to her knees so she wouldn't look imposing in his state, and she laid her hand on his thigh. She held herself steady, as she tried to get her own breathing under control. She felt sweat trickle down her back and temple.
Taking a deep breath once more, she softly said, "Marco. Baby, please come back to me." She squeezed his thigh gently and sobbed when his hand rested on top of hers.
She opened her eyes to see his beautiful brown eyes watching her. He turned in his chair and took a deep breath. Then he reached under her arms and pulled her up onto his lap.
Her backpack was a burden, and she slipped it off her arms and wrapped them around Marco's shoulders and her head rested next to his.
Marco's hands smoothed up and down her back and he finally spoke to her. "I'm sorry, Baby. Please forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive." She spoke into his neck. "You didn't hurt me. I was scared but not hurt."
His arms tightened around her body. "I'd never hurt you."
"I wasn't sure if you'd think I was the enemy."
Tears spilled from her eyes and fell on Marco's shoulder and neck. She heard him sniff and felt his body shudder and she tightened her grip on his shoulders. They sat still together, holding on to each other as if their lives depended on the other. And in that moment, she felt as though hers did depend on Marco. She felt a closeness she'd never had in her life for another person. Something not even making love to him made her feel. They each shared something terrible. The ravages of war had raged through them both in different ways, but the aftereffects still haunted them.