Chapter 14
Chapter 14
A nger was a useless emotion. Long ago John came to the conclusion that there was no room for it in the army. Most people thought he was an angry person, but it wasn’t true. He was an impatient person. He had zero tolerance for weakness, laziness, or stupidity. Not in himself or in others. But anger was something altogether different, a slow-leaking poison that could eat a man from the inside. He’d cut it out of his life from an early age, mostly due to the demands of army life. They lived in close quarters, worked side by side. If something happened that triggered his anger, he worked to let it go as soon as possible. He wondered, as he and Juniper lay in thick silence side by side in his hammock, if she was coming to the same inevitable conclusion. How could you maintain anger at the person who held your life in his hands?
There was only one hammock, a light nylon contraption that could be folded down to a nub and, when unfurled, easily hung between two trees. John didn’t mind sleeping on the ground, but the nature of the jungle made that impossible. If the spiders didn’t get you, the snakes would. And then there were the jaguars. So now he and Juniper lay pressed into one indistinguishable form, sausage like, while she stewed in her anger and he tried not to do anything to upset her further. At first she’d tried to hold herself stiffly away from him, but it wasn’t possible, not with the way her body was forced to curve into his in the hammock. For his own comfort, he’d eased his arm around her. It rested on her back for a bit but then, as if of its own volition, began to make a few gentle circles. With each one, John noticed a bit of tension drain out of her and now each pass felt like a subtle victory until at last her palm unfurled from its clutched fist and curled into his shirt, twisting it into a possessive little ball.
“Why?” she finally asked. “Why are you making me go? Why are you sending me away?”
“To keep you safe,” he said, his hand picking up the pace on her back.
“I’m safe with you,” she said, and the words did something to him, satisfied some primal part of him he didn’t know existed until then.
“Yes, but I’m leading a mission here. I can’t be with you every minute.”
She tensed again. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
He backtracked. “Of course you don’t. Do you know what’s going on here? With the Contras and the Sandinistas?”
“I know the fundamentals.”
“Then you know it goes farther than Honduras and Nicaragua. On a grander scale, this is between us and the Soviets. There can be no missteps. It’s up to me and me alone to make certain this doesn’t spiral into another Bay of Pigs type situation.”
“That’s a lot of pressure,” she said, and now she was the one rubbing a soothing little circle on his stomach.
“It’s not the pressure that bothers me, I’m used to it. It’s the possible loss of innocent life. These people, the locals, did nothing to spark this skirmish but, as ever, they’re caught in the middle. Already impoverished, they’re about to lose even more in a battle that has nothing to do with them.” He took a breath and told her the absolute truth. “When I heard an American scientist was camping in the jungle, I was annoyed. When I heard it was a woman, I was concerned. But, Juni, when I found out it was you, I lost my head. I’ve never been in a situation where someone I know is in the crosshairs. I cannot concentrate on what I need to do here if there’s even one part of my mind wondering if my actions are putting you in harm’s way. I…I didn’t handle it well, kidnapping you like that. And I…I’m sorry. But I need you safe, and for that to happen, I need you gone.”
She was quiet for a bit, digesting. The silence between them was no longer heavy or tense. Instead it was cozy and comfortable. A rare breeze kicked up, swinging them gently. “So you, maybe, don’t want me to go, a little bit?”
He swallowed hard, fighting for time. It wasn’t in his nature to lie, but neither was it natural to bare his heart. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “This is…different.”
He could feel her smile against his chest. “Different’s not bad, Bear.”
“I don’t do different. My life is fairly prescribed.”
“Want to know what I think?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said after a pause, realizing with some surprise he meant it. He was used to telling his men what to think and how to feel. It came as a slight shock to realize not only was there someone whose life he couldn’t order to his satisfaction but he was curious to hear her insight.
“I think you’re predictably amazing at this, at being a major in the army.”
He waited her out, sensing there was more. He was correct.
“But.” She flattened her palm on his chest and tipped her face so she could see him better. “You’re only living half a life here, John, cutting yourself off from all emotion, from all contact with people who care about you. Someday your career will be over, and then what?”
Her hair was a mass of sweaty tangles, perceptive eyes too bright as they studied him. Seemingly of its own volition his hand slid to her face and cupped it, his thumb rubbing along the edge of her jaw. Had anything ever been as soft and sweet as Juniper was in his arms? Not that he could remember.
“Juni, the reality is that I likely won’t make it to retirement.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said, stubbornly, he thought.
“This assignment, filled with enemy insurgents, heavily armed with Soviet weapons, is a cakewalk compared to some. You have no idea the places I go, the things I do. By all rights I should be dead already.”
“But you’re not. And to preemptively live like you are or will be is nothing less than cowardice.”
Everything within him tightened and stilled. If there was one thing John couldn’t stand, it was cowardice, not in himself or in others. For more than half his life he had been training himself to overcome all natural fear, to run toward danger instead of away, to disregard his own life in favor of others. To hear someone accuse him of it now sent rage flooding all the cells of his body. “You have no idea,” he ground out, words sparking out of him like bullets. If Juniper had any sense, she would run away and scramble up the nearest tree to escape his wrath. But of course she didn’t because, as ever, she didn’t fear him like she should. The woman lacked fundamental regard for her own safety, now more than ever.
“Don’t I?” she countered, quirking her eyebrow in a way that made him squirm with something that felt a whole lot like fear. To his further dismay, he had to swallow past a large lump of that bile-tasting substance to speak.
“I am not afraid of anything.”
She grasped his shirt and used it as an anchor so she could pull herself level with his face, hovering a hairsbreadth away. “Wanna bet?”
She was so close he could feel the wind from her lashes whenever she blinked. Her breath puffed out, moistening his lips with each exhalation. “What are you doing?” he said, his voice an embarrassing rasp.
“Testing a theory,” she whispered.
“What’s my objective?” he asked, his index finger brushing a soft curl at her temple.
“You’ll know it when you see it,” she replied, tilting her head so it was the perfect angle to his. And then she hovered, waiting.
He took a deep breath, studying her face from closer up, and then, before she could blink, latched on and flipped her, pinning her beneath him in the close quarters of the hammock.
“First rule of war, Juni. Always make sure you’re going to win before issuing a challenge.”
There was nowhere for the parts of her body to go but around him. Her arms latched around his neck, one leg curled around his. “Do you think I’m afraid of you?” she asked.
“I think you should be,” he replied.
She shook her head, as much as she could in the tight confines “Never. Not once, not for one moment of our lives have I ever been afraid of you, Bear.”
“Then what are you, Juniper?” Because he didn’t know what she was, nor what she was doing to him. The inability to figure it out, to pin her down and categorize her, was driving him insane.
She studied him in silence as she drew in a long breath, held it, and burst into tears.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked in sudden panic, the return of his soft accent making the words sound even more gentle.
Juniper shook her head and clung tighter, pressing her face to his neck, wetting it with her tears.
“Juni, I must be mashing you. I must have scared you,” he argued as he tried to disentangle himself and break away.
“You didn’t, I promise. Just…please don’t go. Please just hold me,” Juniper said, her words barely discernable through desperate weeping.
“Juni,” he groaned, feeling as uncertain as he ever had. For him, tears equaled pain. If his past had taught him anything it was that he was always responsible for the pain of those around him.
“Please,” Juniper whispered. She sounded so sad, so broken, so un-Juniper. Where was his firecracker? Where was that irrepressible little girl from his memory? What could possibly have happened in her sheltered life to make her this upset? Still, he couldn’t deny her request, couldn’t deny her anything when she was like this. So he twisted, settling her more comfortably in his embrace. Instead of domineering her, he held her tenderly—cradled, cared for, protected. And it was easier, so much easier, than he’d thought it would be. He even managed to find his voice.
“It’s all right. I’ve got you now. I’m here,” he whispered, his hand making whisper-soft passes over her hair. He had no idea it knew how to do such a thing. Some long-dormant instinct must have awakened inside him, telling his body what to do, even though his heart didn’t know.
Juniper burrowed against him, exactly as she had as a sleepy toddler. He had forgotten, until this moment, the indelibly soft feel and smell of a sleepy baby. He wasn’t certain if the memory was so strong he could smell it now or if Juniper still smelled the same. Eventually his hand gave up its steady movement. As her sobs began to quiet to pitiful sniffles, his fingers wound in her cornsilk hair, tangling in her curls and holding on with a shockingly proprietary grip.
“I’m so tired, Bear. So very tired,” Juniper whispered at last.
“Go to sleep, Juni. I’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips moving against the top of her head.
Juniper shuddered, almost as if in relief, slid her arm over his waist like an anchoring tether, and fell asleep.
He stared at the tree canopy overhead for a bit, unable to make heads or tails of anything that had happened since Juniper’s sudden reappearance in his life.
H e woke as he always did, fully alert and ready for action. The only difference this time was Juniper, still snuggled in his embrace. We should go, he thought. But they didn’t. He lay perfectly still, letting her warmth seep into him. How long since he’d had physical contact with another human being? Too long. He’d convinced himself it didn’t matter, that he was a machine who could live without it, and now that was being revealed for the shallow lie it was. Juniper’s little body next to his felt like an icepack on a throbbing bruise, healing in all the ways. But instead of letting the comfort wash over him, he fought it, annoyed that he had to. He was above human needs and emotions. If not, what had it all been about?
He thought Juniper was still asleep until she spoke. “Tell me about your life.”
“No,” John replied, tone terse and clipped at all the unwelcome feelings now rumbling inside him. Blast her softness for making him feel weak. She tipped her face to his, causing him to tilt his down to hers. And when he saw that he’d wounded her with his words, his heart gave a painful wrench. “Most of it’s classified,” he added begrudgingly.
Her face softened with a smile. Juniper first thing in the morning was a sight, all wild hair and luscious features—full lips and eyes, long lashes no longer obscured behind her glasses. His finger seemed to have a mind of its own as it reached out and skimmed the feather soft lashes. He finished with one eye and stared at his finger in betrayal. What was his body doing to him? Worse, would he ever be able to get it back under control again?
“Tell me about West Point,” she urged, shifting to snuggle impossibly closer, tilting her head so it rested over his heart.
“West Point was the only time in my life I ever felt close to belonging.” Even though it was more than he usually blurted or revealed to anyone, he didn’t regret it. It eased a little of the ache inside him to be able to tell her things he’d told no one else. And, knowing him and his past, she understood.
“Because they were all soldiers, like you,” she said, proving that she did, in fact, understand. Other men joined the army because it was an out, something to do to pass the time until they figured out their real lives. For John and others like him, it had been the entire goal and journey all along. He wasn’t a temporary soldier; he was a soldier for life. Every molecule of his body had been poured into his training, into making him the killing machine he now was.
“Yes. We were all driven, focused, determined. I…I had friends, Ben in particular. We still keep in contact, all of us.” If there was wonder in his tone, he couldn’t seem to help it. Nobody had ever wanted to be his friend, save Juniper and her siblings. He’d been too odd, too inside his own head, too other . But at West Point they’d seemingly all been like him, career soldiers who understood without being told that they were laying their lives on the sacrificial altar, giving up their rights to autonomy. The US government owned them now. A few of them had families, and John didn’t understand the discrepancy. No one can serve two masters. His master was the United States Army. He could have no other.
Juniper squirmed, making him realize he’d been unconsciously squeezing her during his mental aside. He eased his grip and then, as if that force that had taken over his body was still in charge, kissed the top of her head. Then remained staring intently at the canopy overhead. What on earth is happening to me?
Juniper, of course, saw nothing amiss in the strange act. For her and her family, affection was so free and easy it wasn’t anything they ever had to think about. For John it was monumental, a temporary act of insanity.
“I’d like to meet your friend,” Juniper murmured sleepily.
You won’t, he wanted to say. But somehow he didn’t. There would never be a time when Juniper Dunbar met any of his friends, never be a time when she comingled and immersed herself in his solitary life. He’d given all that up years ago, his right to be like other men. But the moment was so peaceful, so perfect that not even he wanted to mess it up. They lay in cozy silence, John’s foot twisting slightly to swing them back and forth.
“I could stay like this forever,” Juniper murmured, the words muffled by his chest.
So could I, he thought. The thought was so alarming that, with one swift motion, he flipped himself out of the hammock and landed lightly on his feet. “Time for breakfast.”
Juniper remained in the hammock, staring up at him with an amused smile that said she knew exactly what went on in his head and exactly how hard he worked to keep her at bay. He should meet that look head on and stare he down. He should give her another lecture about the isolated nature of his life. Instead he turned tail and ran away, avoiding her steady gaze.