Chapter Twelve #4
A million-dollar question. “I wish I knew. The Flight Evaluation Board said I was, but that’s never sat right.
No one wants to believe they messed up, and others died because of their mistake.
” That three of her comrades had died at her hands, whether negligent or not.
She swallowed. “I survived but was badly banged up and in a coma for a week. I was in the hospital a few weeks longer after that. I didn’t get to attend their funerals, not that their families would have wanted me there.
When I could, I tried reaching out, but only one responded.
It wasn’t pleasant.” How could she blame them when, although much of her case had been confidential, they had been notified that their husband and sons were dead, and Maggie was to blame.
She couldn’t argue her innocence or expect their forgiveness, not when she was to blame.
“No matter how much I want to, I can’t recall the moments right before the crash.
” She forced herself to keep talking. If she paused, she might not restart.
“Some specialists say I’m suppressing the memory, that I can’t forgive myself for what I did.
Others say it’s from traumatic brain injury I sustained during the crash. ”
“Are you okay now?” Three men had died, and Walker was worried about her, asking if she was okay?
She stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t judging her for whatever her role had been in the crash nor for how she’d self-treated in the aftermath.
He wasn’t adding to her self-inflected pain at what had happened.
Instead, genuine concern for her was in his eyes and what he’d vocalized. How was that even possible?
“I have scar tissue in my pelvis that left me infertile,” she continued, watching him closely.
He couldn’t quite hide his flinch at that one.
“I get headaches.” She rushed on, glancing away because she couldn’t bear the empathy in his golden eyes when she might not deserve compassion.
“But not as often as I did.” She pointed to her ear.
“My hearing has never been the same and won’t be.
I’m lucky it was mainly just on the one side. It could have been worse.”
It should have been. If anyone was going to suffer because of a mistake she had made then it should be her, not her colleagues.
Unable to continue to sit, she placed her almost empty cup on the floor, stood, and paced across the room.
“I’m the only one who lived, but if anyone had to die, it should have been me.
Even if I wasn’t negligent, as the pilot, I shouldn’t have survived when none of my passengers lived. ”
Walker was quiet, seemingly processing what she’d told him. It was a lot. She knew it was a lot. Every night the weight of it haunted the little sleep she got. And she’d barely scratched the surface with what she’d told him.
“I’m sorry about your injuries, Maggie. So very sorry.”
“Me, too,” she said, fighting tears because she knew which injury he referred to.
“As for the rest, you were a military pilot, crashed, experienced horrible trauma physically, emotionally, and mentally, then you were discharged? After that, your fiancé dumped you because you were a liability to his career? That’s why you’re at Hamilton House?
” He sounded incredulous and kind and close.
She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized he’d followed her across the room.
“I’m at Hamilton House because after the crash where three people died, possibly because of my error, I lost the job I loved and my wings.
When that helicopter crashed, I lost everything that mattered, and yet, I stole more than that from the three soldiers who were with me.
” Their faces, memories of time she’d spent with them, flashed through her mind.
“Once I was finally released from the hospital, I wished I’d died along with them and self-medicated my depression with alcohol.
” She took a deep breath. “One might say I tried drowning my troubles, because I knew no limits.”
From behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry you went through that, Maggie.”
“Me, too. It took a while for me to get myself together, check into rehab, and get sober. I’m fortunate in that giving up alcohol was easy.
Being sober wasn’t. Sobriety meant not being dulled to my new reality of having killed three fellow soldiers and having lost everything that meant anything to me. ”
Maggie rubbed her temple, acutely aware that Walker stood behind her, of his hands holding her upper arms and his thumb gliding over his skin. No doubt that her confession would achieve what her previous attempts to put distance between them hadn’t. Why did that make her chest hurt?
“What you went through would have broken most people, Maggie.”
“It did break me,” she admitted. “I’m still working on putting the pieces of my life back together, on finding out what happened that day, and who I am if not a military pilot.
” She turned toward him, wondering if he’d think her crazy for what she was about to admit.
“My memory of the crash is spotty, but I have dreams. In them, it wasn’t my fault the helicopter crashed. ”
“You believe they’re flashbacks rather than your subconscious writing a more palatable history?”
“As implausible as it is that the FEB board got it wrong, I do believe that.”
Confusion showed on his face. “None of this explains why you’re in Pine Hill. How does being here help you in any way?”
She couldn’t tell him about the data leak and possible risk to Sarah.
“Being at the Beds for Vets is part of my continued rehab program and another step on my journey to trying to get my wings back.” She grimaced.
She told him the truth, but a truth with omissions.
“I told you that I’m complicated. You probably wish you hadn’t pushed to know all this.
” She was embarrassed that she’d told him.
“I wish you’d told me long ago.”
“Because it would have made staying away from me easier?” she guessed.
He shook his head. “Knowing what you’d been through would have made me want to protect you from the world all the more.”
Because he was a protector, thinking he had to protect his sister, Zoie, and he’d have added Maggie to his list.
“I don’t need your protection, Walker.” She certainly didn’t deserve it, nor did she deserve the compassion on his face.
“I know that.” Cupping her face, Walker stared into her eyes and stroked his thumb across her cheek. “I’ve never met someone who needed me less, but that doesn’t change how much I want to hold you and assure you that everything is going to be alright.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Gulping, Maggie stared up at him, realized he wasn’t in the slightest turned off by what she’d told him.
How could that be when possibly three good people had died because of her? How was he touching her with gentleness and looking at her with such compassion?
“Because complicated isn’t the same thing as impossible, Maggie. You just have to have faith.”
Faith. If only that was all she needed. If only she really could forward all her issues to heaven. If only she could not worry about the past and just look toward the future. If she could do that, what would she see? Who would she see?
“For example,” he continued. “I have faith that it was no coincidence that we were wearing matching costumes on the night we met or that we were chosen to judge the Grandma Games together or even that you stopped in this particular spot in this big room.”
Not understanding but completely mesmerized by how he was staring down at her, she waited for him to continue.
“Look up, Maggie.”
She did, then gasped at the shadowy clump illuminated by the flickering firelight. Someone had hung mistletoe on the open oak ceiling beam. Had it been there all along and she’d not noticed while at work, her mind just cataloguing the greenery as another part of the Christmas décor?
“Is this spot a coincidence, Maggie?” His eyes searched hers.
He was asking her so much more than just about where she physically stood. He was asking about where she emotionally stood. Had he read too much in to her telling him about her past? She’d meant to push him away, not pull him closer.
She needed to tell him it had been a coincidence, but standing there, seeing the lack of judgment at all she’d told him and that he touched her face with such reverence, she couldn’t do it.
Perhaps what she thought she saw in his eyes was only the reflection from the fireplace, or maybe just an illusion she wanted to believe.
Whatever it was, instead of saying what she should say, of doing what she should do, she gave in to the pounding of her heart, gave in to what she’d wanted to do perhaps from the moment she’d first lain eyes on him, although she sure hadn’t admitted as much, not even to herself.
Stretching on her tiptoes, Maggie touched her lips to Walker’s. Her blood slammed through her body at the soft contact, almost knocking her off her feet with a wave of lightheadedness. She’d say she saw stars, but they were more like twinkling Christmas lights.
Colorful, sparkly Christmas lights that played a merry tune that lightened one’s soul and made one want to have faith that anything really was possible. In this magical moment, it didn’t matter if her name was cleared or what she’d done in the past. What mattered was the present.
What mattered was Walker.