Chapter Eighteen #2
Slowly, I rolled the silicone liner down my thigh and rested it on the edge of the couch. She traced her finger along the scar at the bottom of the thigh where my knee used to be.
“This is the only scar?” she asked, the warmth in her eyes telling me I’d made the right decision to let her in.
A shiver went through me that buried itself in my belly and sat there as a quivering ball of anticipation and fear. “The damage to my leg was below the knee, but it was too catastrophic to do anything but go above.”
Rather than ask more questions, she put her arms around me and buried her nose in my neck, her breath warm, comforting, grounding as I pretended the memories of that day weren’t going to wreak havoc on my dreams tonight.
The temptation was too great to ignore, so I wrapped my arms around her, holding her warm, soft body to mine in a way that didn’t require words.
It wasn’t shared empathy but rather shared gratitude.
Hers for what I gave to protect the country, and mine for her understanding that going through it had been a living hell. Some days it still was.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” I whispered, kissing the soft skin below her ear as though I had a right to.
“You don't owe me an apology,” she said, pulling away, much to my disappointment. “I owe you one for making you feel like you couldn’t tell me. That’s on me.”
“It’s interesting how two people look at the same situation,” I said, rubbing my hands on my shorts.
“You think I felt like I couldn’t tell you because of some fault of yours, when the truth is, I couldn’t tell you because of a fault of my own.
There’s nothing harder than sharing the broken parts of you with someone when you don’t want to lose them from your life.
Probably because you know that if you weren’t broken, they would stay. ”
“Something tells me that life has been the one to teach you that,” she whispered, tracing the scar again and raising goosebumps on my skin.
“A few times in the last nine years,” I agreed. “Though, in hindsight, none of those women was the right one.”
“How do you know?” she asked, her head tipped to the side.
“They weren’t you.” She smiled, but I could see the distrust in her eyes, so I cleared my throat. “That sounds like a line, but I assure you, it’s not. It’s the truth that I’ve learned since coming to Bells Pass. Everyone we encounter in life leaves an impression, but not all are meant to stay.”
“Am I meant to stay?”
If the room hadn’t been silent, I might not have heard her question.
“I hope so,” I promised, sliding my hand up her face to cup her cheek. “But I also understand that what I bring to the table isn’t what every woman wants, and I wouldn’t fault you for deciding you want something else.”
Her silence was difficult to wait out, but out of respect for her, I had to be patient and let her decide what she wanted from our time together. I prayed friendship was still on the table.
“How did it happen?” she asked, rather than answer the burning question in my mind.
Then again, maybe she needed to see all my ugliness to decide if being with me was something she could do long-term. Life wasn’t only about passionate kisses at a tree farm during a magical season. Life was often much uglier than that.
“I joined the army when I graduated from med school to get most of my student loans paid off. I went to a high school where, when you graduate, you have a bachelor’s degree,” I explained, to which her eyes widened.
“That’s not intimidating or anything.”
Turning to her, I smiled, taking her hand in mine.
“Don’t be. It was an opportunity, and I took it.
I wanted to be a doctor, but didn’t have the means to make that dream a reality if I had to pay for the entire program.
I had some scholarships, but the rest were student loans, so when I graduated from medical school at twenty-two, I joined the army.
It was a way to pay off my loans and receive the best training in the world for residency.
I worked with some fantastic surgeons who taught me everything they knew about orthopedics, and I was fast-tracked to becoming a surgeon overseas.
I’d been over there for years when this happened,” I explained, motioning at my leg.
“We were out for a night on the town when a car bomb went off unexpectedly. It shouldn’t have happened where we were, but if we learned one thing, it was to expect the unexpected.
Three of my friends were hit by shrapnel, but we were all able to help those far more wounded than we were.
It was at least an hour before I realized how damaged my lower left leg was.
I knew that something wasn’t right, as all I could do was crawl, but just how bad it was had come as a surprise.
The bones were dust from the knee down. After a discussion with the trauma surgeons, I convinced them not to leave the knee to give me a fighting chance for the best-fitting prosthesis.
That was the day my career with the U.S. Army came to an end.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing my hand. “You didn’t want to go back after you healed? I’ve heard of a lot of people who do that.”
“In my job, I could have,” I agreed. “But I’d lost my taste for that kind of life, and the PTSD, well, that was another battle that would be hard to overcome if I kept putting myself in the same position. At least according to the therapists.”
“That’s a fair point,” she whispered.
“As a doctor, I had plenty of experience with living and working with PTSD. You don’t do what I do in that type of setting without developing it.
The human psyche isn’t designed to repeatedly witness such horror without being affected by it.
However, when you become the victim of a physical attack like that, the mind struggles to be in the same setting and not split its attention between your work and your safety.
My work requires all my concentration, so there was never any question that I’d retire.
When the bombing happened, I was already trying to decide whether I would re-up or walk away.
That night, while I was out with my friends before the bomb went off, I’d decided it was time to leave.
I’d spent enough years overseas, and it was time to return to the States and start a life.
It was easy to take the honorable discharge, knowing I’d made that decision before I was injured. ”
“Peace with a decision like that is important,” she said. “Purple Heart?”
“And Silver Star,” I agreed. “Not that I wanted either. I would have walked away happy as a lark not to have those two medals on my uniform, but that wasn’t how it went down.”
“Are you a member of the Disabled Veterans group like Dawson is?”
“Nope,” I answered with a shake of my head.
“Some guys like to be involved after they leave the service. I prefer to serve in the operating room. Anything else stirs things up to the point I can’t sleep at all.
That’s not acceptable when someone’s loved one is on my table, expecting a good result.
The shared experience is there within those groups, but I can’t do it.
Wish I could, so hats off to those that can. ”
“Hey,” she said, grasping my face in her hands, the cool plastic of the splint snapping me back from the brink of memories that were more like nightmares.
“No justification is needed. It was a question, nothing more. Thank you for helping me understand where you’re coming from, but as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t change anything. ”
“Because I’m so inspirational?” I asked, trying hard not to be sarcastic, but also needing to know if that was her jumping-off point. If that was the basis for our relationship, then this would never last.
“No, because you’re the same person with that hunk of metal and plastic off that you are with it on.
Your lived experiences shaped who you are, and that leg doesn’t make them go away every day when you put it on.
It’s a tool, but it doesn’t rewind time.
I really like the person you are, and you wouldn’t be that person without that leg. ”
“You might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Jaelyn Riba.”
“Well, my Spanish rice is pretty good,” she said, making me laugh.
Resting my forehead against hers, I gazed into her eyes, losing myself in the depth of her brown ones and the depth of her heart. She was the most beautiful, caring, considerate, down-to-earth woman I’d ever known.
“It’s like the job here in Bells Pass was a mulligan from the universe,” I whispered, my thumb stroking her pink lips as her tongue darted out to wet them.
“What does that mean?”
“A correction shot,” I clarified. “A do-over, so to speak. One way or another, I had to find my way here to meet you. Everything that came before this was part of that journey, but you were the prize.”
Her laughter was light, but awkward, though she never looked away. “I’m no prize, Major. I hog the bed, leave the cap off the toothpaste, and sleep like a toddler who had too many Pixie Sticks.”
It was my turn to laugh. I couldn’t help it, considering the image that painted. “I’d be honored if you’d hog my bed, use my toothpaste, and maybe if I can trap you up in my arms and hold you until you drift off to sleep, it will be like a baby.”
“Now that’s something I’m willing to try,” she whispered, leaning in until our lips connected, but at that moment, the connection our hearts made was the one that mattered most.