Читать книгу Military Heroes Bundle: A Soldier's Homecoming / A Soldier's Redemption / Danger in the Desert / Strangers When We Meet / Grayson's Surrender / Taking Cover - Catherine Mann, Merline Lovelace - Страница 23

Chapter 13

It had been too long. Ethan had buried this part of himself for the last four years, using his stateside rotations to try to sort himself out, not wanting to turn to easy women, absolutely refusing to draw a better woman into the mess of his life.

Now here he was with a good, decent woman, feeling a hunger for her that took him by surprise in its strength. There was no way he could have pulled back now. All that he had tried to spare himself and others turned to dust.

He needed this beyond all reason and caution, although at some point he had realized that Connie wanted this just as much. Just these beautiful, glorious moments of man meeting woman in the most basic way, the way the human race had always dissolved its aloneness.

He had been alone for a long time now. Intense as friendships could be in battle, this was a kind of union that could be replaced by no other. It reached out to fill places nothing else could.

He felt her shiver and tremble against him, felt her vulnerability as a blessing, felt her hunger and need meet and match his own, validating him at his deepest levels, way below thought.

The magic that bound her surrounded him, as well. He felt as if rainbows danced along his arms and zinged through his nerves. The voice of thunder roared through him.

Each shiver or sigh he drew from her was a gift that tightened his throat. When her nails dug into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, he knew joy and triumph that he could give such a gift.

And when at last he levered himself over her and slowly sank into her welcoming heat, he knew a kind of salvation.

Then everything vanished as they rode the wave higher and higher, until they exploded together in a place beyond the stars.

* * *

They lay together in a hot, damp heap, limbs sprawled across each other, breaths slowing, heartbeats steadying. The TV still flickered, but the sound was too low to penetrate their cocoon of satisfaction and wonder.

She trailed her fingers lightly along his arm, as if reassuring herself of his reality. He held her hips close, as if he couldn’t bear for her to move away.

A long, shuddering sigh escaped her, and she pressed a kiss to his chest, near one small nipple. A shiver passed through him in response.

The hunger, fulfilled, had not vanished but merely simmered.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice rumbled deep in his chest.

She kissed him again. “I never knew it was possible to feel this wonderful.”

“Me, neither.” Sad to say, yet true. Something special had just happened here, but he wasn’t ready to think about that.

Maybe he was even reluctant to think about it. Better to accept some things rather than analyze them.

Cooling now, he reached with one arm for the sheet and pulled it up. She settled more comfortably against him, displaying no desire to end these moments. That relieved him. He could have understood it if she had wanted to run. They had crossed lines he suspected neither of them had ever intended to.

Yet here they were, and he wanted it to end no more than she did. Comfort, he thought, could be such a rare thing, yet he’d found it here in this woman’s arms. He hoped she had found it in his.

* * *

Midnight was creeping close on stealthy feet when Connie asked, “Are you hungry? I am.”

“I guess I am, but only a little.”

“Do you want real food, or will dessert do you?”

He smiled into her fragrant hair. “Dessert sounds fabulous.”

She pushed him playfully. “Food first, then me.”

He laughed and followed her out of the bed, pulling on his T-shirt and shorts while she knotted her robe around herself.

As he followed her down the stairs, he noted how small and fragile she appeared, in direct contrast to the iron strength of her spirit and will. A powerful urge to wipe the sorrows from her life rose in him.

When she bent to look in the refrigerator, he noted the perfect curves of her bottom, and his hands remembered the way her flesh had felt.

“We have strawberry pie,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“My mother’s concoction.” She pulled out a pie plate with a plastic lid. “Trust me, it’s good. Strawberry gelatin full of real strawberries on a graham-cracker crust. Topped with whipped cream and more strawberries.”

“That does sound good.” It sounded like heaven, in fact. “I’m sure I’ve never had anything like it.”

She flashed a grin and cut him a generous portion of the pie. “It’s not as high in sugar or fat as you’d expect, not with all the strawberries. And she’s gentle with the whipped cream.”

Given the life he’d been living, such concerns were pretty much foreign to him. Flavor was everything, and he’d had little enough of that for a while. A surprising number of soldiers in the field had to be reminded to eat, despite their heightened need for calories. Even so, most lost twenty or thirty pounds on a tour.

When he sank his teeth into his first bite of pie, he closed his eyes in sheer bliss, shutting out anything that might distract him from the taste. Fresh strawberries, perfectly balancing the sweetness all around them. When he finally allowed himself to swallow, he said, “Tell Julia I want to marry her.”

“You can tell her yourself. But,” she added coquettishly, “I know how to make this, too.”

“Then I’ll marry both of you. You have no idea how long it’s been since I tasted something like this.”

“I can guess. And there’s plenty more.”

He smiled and raised another forkful to his mouth. “Over there,” he said before he put it in his mouth, “we don’t get anything even a tenth as tasty as this. MREs, of course. Food we cook at our firebase, but none of us is a great chef, including the chef.”

She giggled a little at that.

“Well, he doesn’t have a lot to work with. We have to bring in all the food, so everything’s pretty much dried or canned. Eating is more a duty than a pleasure most of the time.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Most of the world is in the same straits. In fact, we’re better off than most, even if it’s all in cans and boxes. More variety.”

She nodded. “I can’t imagine the hardship those people suffer.”

“Most people can’t. It’s beyond imagining. You have to see it, live it. Yet the wonderful thing, the truly wonderful thing, is how few of them feel they’re living in hardship, except in terms of the war.” He paused, then shook his head.

“They must consider you a striking figure,” she remarked.

At that his mouth twisted wryly. “I’ve been mistaken for bin Laden a few times. Despite my uniform.”

“Oh, that must be something.”

“Oh, yeah. Never for more than a few seconds. We favor different headwear, of course, and we really don’t look alike. In all honesty, I don’t know why it happened.”

“I don’t see a resemblance. Maybe some people have never seen his photo, just heard how tall he is.”

“That’s the only thing that would explain it.”

He savored another mouthful of pie. “Damn, this is good.”

She pulled the pie pan closer and sliced another piece, sliding it onto his plate.

“Whoa,” he said.

She shook her head. “My guess is you’re beneath your fighting weight, and anyway, Julia will be thrilled you like it. The best compliment to the cook is eating.”

She turned her head, a mistake, because all of a sudden she became uneasily aware of the lurking night, held at bay only by the thin glass of the windows. Ordinarily she loved the night, but not now. Not when a threat was hovering over her daughter.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to check on Sophie.”

He nodded, his gaze following her as she went to the phone and dialed.

“Hi, Enid, it’s Connie.”

“Hi, kiddo. Well, we’re into Cinderella, the girls ate all the brownies, if you can believe it, and now there are rumblings about popcorn. It’s all good, Connie. Honestly.”

“Thanks, Enid. Is it okay if I check again later?”

“Any time, Connie. Like I said, this is going to be an all-nighter. The later it gets, the more awake they seem.”

Connie replaced the receiver and found Ethan watching her. “Everything’s all right.”

He nodded, saying nothing, returning his attention to his plate as if wishing to give her a moment of privacy, one she seemed to need.

Looking at her hands, she realized she was shaking. Not good. She stuffed them in the pockets of her robe and returned to the table, trying to act as if everything hadn’t all just come crashing back.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

She bit her lip. “I just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“Leo made me feel as if I needed to apologize for everything. I’m still doing it.”

He nodded, pushing his plate to one side. Hardly a crumb remained. “That’s a damn shame, because I can’t see anything you need to apologize for. Not one thing.”

“I’ve been working on that,” she admitted. “My mother hates it when I keep on apologizing.”

“I don’t hate it,” he replied, “but I think it’s sad you feel that way.”

“Maybe it’s more habit than anything.”

“Maybe.”

She watched as he rose and took care of the dishes, washing them and putting them in the rack. Then he put the pie away and wiped the table down. She supposed it was his military training, but she liked it. Leo had never done anything like that in the whole time she’d lived with him.

Together they climbed the stairs and returned to her bedroom, where they lay in the dark, embracing. The sexual fever had passed for now, replaced by an equally urgent need for comfort and closeness.

“I’ve been alone for too long,” he said quietly. She could feel his voice rumble deep in his chest.

“Even with your buddies?”

“That’s different. That’s an intense community. We depend on each other for our very lives. But it’s different.”

She gave him a little squeeze and waited for him to continue.

“There’s a special bond,” he continued slowly, then cleared his throat, as if he were finding it difficult to speak. “You know your buddies always have your back. You know you always have theirs. I don’t know if I can really explain it. But it’s like many have said, when you’re in the foxhole, you’re not fighting for principles, country or any such abstract thing, you’re fighting for the guy next to you.”

“I can understand that,” she murmured.

“But there’s something more. We were dedicated to something, Connie. Something bigger than us. Something we were willing to die for. And it wasn’t just the guy beside us who depended on us. It was—this is going to sound nuts, given all that’s happened—we were dedicated to helping those people in every way we could. We didn’t want to abandon them to the darkness again. We wanted to save lives, improve lives, make sure little girls could go to school, and that babies didn’t die needlessly of treatable diseases. We wanted to get rid of all the threats.”

“Yes.”

“The horrible thing about it is, no matter how much good you try to do, you create more ugliness at the same time.”

“That must be awful.”

“It is. It was better in Afghanistan, actually. In Iraq, everything was all blurred. But when I got to Afghanistan, it was clearer, believe it or not.”

“I can believe it. Iraq turned into such a mess.”

“Yeah. It’s horrifying. There wasn’t anybody in uniform who didn’t want to make life better for those people. Not a one of us. But it turned out to be like opening Pandora’s box.

“In Afghanistan, though, it’s clearer. A lot of people just want us to go away. But a lot want us to put an end to the Taliban. I don’t think they care much one way or another about al Qaeda, but the Taliban...there’s still a lot of anger against them. And every time they raid a village and destroy a girls’ school, it’s amazing to watch the village elders get together to rebuild it.”

“Do they ask you for help?”

“Sometimes. We’re still occupiers.”

“It’s sad.”

“What?”

She tried to see his face in the dark but couldn’t. “It’s sad that trying to help has hurt so many.”

“I know. And I don’t blame the locals for having mixed feelings about us. How could I? Most of us understand how we’d feel if a firebase run by some other country was up the road from us.”

She sighed and moved closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I volunteered. And I learned a lot.”

“But now you’re cut off from your mission and your buddies.”

“That hits the nail on the head.”

“Basically, you have to start all over.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “You did it, though, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t exactly the same.”

“Emotionally it’s exactly the same. You gave up all your buddies in the Denver police, all your friends, and vanished into a different world to protect your daughter. The only differences between us are in degree and the idea of choice. I didn’t choose to leave.”

“I’m not sure I did, either.” She shook her head and pressed her face into his chest. “I had no choice, not once I felt my baby was threatened.”

He squeezed her. “We’ll take care of her, Connie, I swear. Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

All of sudden she couldn’t hold still. She pulled away and left the bed, throwing on her robe against the deepening chill and pacing.

“What could he want with her, Ethan? What could he possibly want with her after all this time?”

The words emerged as a cry from the abyss of fear inside her.

“I don’t know,” he said heavily. “I wish to God I did.”