Falling for Her Army Doc

by Dianne Drake

  “Or not hard enough. I knew he was going to be a huge responsibility and I was willing to make sacrifices. What I wasn’t willing to do was find support for myself—and it’s out there. I’m not the only one to have done what I did, and if I’d just listened—” Her voice broke and she quit talking.

  “Is that why you want to help me, Lizzie? To make up for what you feel you didn’t do for your dad?”

  That thought had never occurred to her, and she was so startled by it she stepped away from Mateo. “Is that what you think?”

  “I’m not sure what I think, to be honest. I know your intention isn’t malicious, but...”

  “But it might be self-serving?”

  “People aren’t often as generous and kind as you are. In my experience, there’s always a motive. People helped me along because I was a boy with brown skin who had an unlimited future ahead of me. Give me an extra shove and you can claim some of that feel-good motive for yourself.”

  “That’s not me, Mateo. People in my life didn’t have motives. In fact, I was hardly ever noticed. As for trying to have a feel-good moment at your expense...” She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t know what it takes to gain your trust, but I don’t come bundled in motives. My life is a lot simpler than that.”

  “There’s nothing simple about you, Lizzie. Nothing at all. Maybe that’s why I’m falling...why I like you so much. You’re complicated, yet guileless, and the two put together are an interesting mix.”

  “How interesting?” she asked.

  “Very interesting,” he replied as he pulled her back to him and lowered his head to kiss her. “Maybe the most interesting person I’ve ever met—even if I’m not sure how many people I’ve met and which ones I considered interesting.”

  “If you intend on kissing me now’s the time, Mateo. Unless you’d rather keep on talking and talking and talking...”

  * * *

  Even in the near darkness of the evening he could see her sadness. Or maybe it was more that he could feel it. He understood the melancholia that came with the darkening of the day. Remembered it from Afghanistan, listening to the moans and cries in the night coming from his ward. People in so much pain and fear and he couldn’t fix them. Some who would never go home. Some who would.

  And now there was his own irrational fear of the dark. During the day he could be as belligerent as hell, and blowing off his anger that way worked. But when it turned dark his belligerence disappeared, to be replaced by melancholia and fear. And some of those moans and some of those cries in the night had been his.

  And probably Lizzie’s as well. Strangely, that hurt him maybe even more than his own pain did—knowing that something far deeper than she would let him know about was pulling her in.

  “Care for a swim?” he asked, for the lack of anything better to say.

  “I’m always in the mood for a swim,” she said.

  After the kiss they’d returned to the house and changed into beach clothes, and taken a towel along with them. Now he grabbed her up off the towel and carried her to the water—where he dropped her.

  He didn’t set her down gently. Didn’t even give her the option to go wading. Against her lame protests he carried her out until he was waist-deep, then dropped her. She went under for a second, and when she popped back up she grabbed his hand and pulled him down with her.

  “You could be risking my life,” he said, laughing.

  Her response was to splash him, then dive back under before he could retaliate. But he was strong in the water. As he dived down he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back up to the surface, then splashed her the way she’d done him.

  “Apparently I have some skill at this,” he said, then dove back under.

  This time when he surfaced he was about twenty yards away from where they’d been before, and he didn’t see her.

  “Lizzie?” he called, turning around in circles and looking for signs of her. “This isn’t funny, Lizzie. Where are you?”

  Her answer was to grab him by the ankle and pull him under, then get away before he had time to resurface. Except he’d already anticipated she’d do something like that, so he got himself all the way down to the sandy ocean floor, then grabbed her ankle and pulled her down on top of him. Fully on top of him.

  He held her there for a moment, before he realized he was enjoying not only the playtime but the feel of his body against hers entirely too much. So he pointed up, then released her, and followed her to the surface. Both came up spitting out water and laughing.

  “Just wait until I get you on a bodyboard,” she warned him, and she shoved back the hair from her face enough to see that he was staring at her. Up close and personal. Staring with such an intent look that it gave her shivers that were visible to him.

  He hadn’t meant to. But she was so beautiful he couldn’t help himself. Whether or not she was a woman he would have chosen before, he had no clue. But if he were able to choose now, the only woman in his mind was Lizzie.

  That was the problem. There might be other things in his mind that would dictate different choices. And even if there weren’t she didn’t deserve his problems. As a friend, he appreciated her willingness to help. But as anything else...

  “Don’t know if I’ve ever been surfing, or bodyboarding, but the sooner the better,” he growled, trying to take those other things off his mind.

  And then he dove down and headed underwater for the beach, carrying with him feelings for Lizzie that were far deeper than anything he’d intended.

  Was he falling in love? Despite his attempts to talk himself out of it, and all the rationalizations that he didn’t want or need that in his life—especially now—was that what was happening to him?

  * * *

  Lizzie headed to the shore as well, wondering when fifteen feet had turned into such a long journey. But it was, and by the time she’d managed to make it to shore Mateo was already standing there in ankle-deep water, dripping wet and looking sexier than any man had a right to—in the dark, in the light, or any other shading of the day.

  What am I doing? she asked herself as she stood and walked back to the sand, taking care to keep her eyes averted. And why am I doing it?

  Because she was attracted to him, pure and simple. She was an adult. There was nothing stopping her. Except common sense. And right now, try as she might, she couldn’t dredge it up.

  So as she walked past him she turned her head to avoid temptation, and words she hadn’t intended to say slipped out. “You look good in the water.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.”

  “Oh, I notice. But I don’t always react.”

  “Sounds very military to me.”

  “It probably is. My dad always told me to keep my emotions inside, said that people didn’t want to see them. When I did, he called me his brave little soldier, and that was high praise coming from a man who didn’t believe in coddling anyone.”

  “So when you said you’d noticed me...”

  “The way any woman would notice a good-looking man. I’m only human, Mateo. Maybe a bit more reserved than you’re used to, but I’m normal in all the ways that count.” She reached over and brushed his cheek with her hand. “This living arrangement could get difficult because of that. But there are worse things in life than being attracted to a good-looking man.”

  “Or woman,” he replied.

  “So if we know it’s there between us it becomes easier. At least, it should.”

  After only a few days, Lizzie was already starting to like having someone there with her. Or was it Mateo she liked having there? Either way, this past year had been so lonely, and having a little noise around the house other than her own was nice. Especially after that kiss...

  “Are you sure that’s true?” he asked, walking alongside her, but at a safe distance. “Admit an attraction and then hope it can
be held at an arm’s length?”

  “I’m not sure how we’re supposed to work. More than that, I’m not sure I know how I want us to work. Friends, partners, lov—”

  She didn’t finish the sentence because this was becoming too deep, and she didn’t want a volley of emotions going back and forth between them. Especially when there was every possibility that her feelings were turning into more than she’d expected. He was easy to like, she was discovering. More than that, if she allowed herself to admit it, he would also be easy to love—even with parts of him missing.

  But could she go through that again? That was the question she needed to figure out before she took the wrong step. Because she did know what it was like living with someone who was fragmented. It was difficult, sad, tedious, and moments of joy were so few and far between.

  But that had been her dad. Not Mateo. Which led her to an even bigger question. Could she separate the two? There were similarities in their problems, although not that many. And Mateo was caring and warm while her dad had not been. Still, she’d loved her dad because he’d tried to do better. Yet in her mind the similarities were still large. And that was what scared her.

  Would there ever be a time when Mateo occupied all her thoughts, as well as her whole heart, and didn’t get squeezed out?

  “Like I said before, Lizzie, you can tell me to leave anytime. No explanation necessary.”

  “I know I can.” But she wanted him there. Liked having him there. He balanced her out while she went through her own ups and downs and never judged or asked questions. “That’s not what I want.”

  “Meaning you like having me here?”

  “I do, Mateo. It’s sort of out of character for me, but yes, I like having you here.”

  He smiled as he watched her make her way to the front door. She wasn’t easy. In fact in a lot of ways, she was difficult. But he liked being here with her, too. In fact, he could see that feeling growing the longer he stayed. She wasn’t orthodox, she wasn’t predictable, but Lizzie was the real deal, and he was attracted to that asset almost as much as he was to her other assets.

  “Time will tell,” he said aloud, as he walked around to the ohana. Time and, he hoped, a few more pieces of his memory.

  * * *

  “You need to go up there, Doc. He’s bad and he’ll stand a better chance with you.”

  “I’m not supposed to do this.”

  Sweat was dripping off his brow, yet he was chilled to the bone. Looking up, he saw the two medics up there working frantically. And they were looking down at him, expecting him to trade places.

  “You got an IV in?” he yelled up to them, but his voice didn’t carry over the sound of the gunfire that was much closer than he cared to admit. “IV!” he shouted. “Get an IV in him.”

  They had the equipment with them, and it would be easier for them to use it than for him to carry up more than he had to.

  “Get the IV in him, then I’ll come up.”

  Which meant one of them would come down, since the watchtower platform was too small to hold three people, let alone four.

  “IV!” he shouted again, indicating the vein in his left forearm.

  Finally one of them leaned over and shouted. “Don’t come up, Doc. Too risky. We’ll get him down to you, then you can—”

  As he was shouting a shot rang out, hitting the soldier in what appeared to be his chest.

  “What do we do, Doc?” one of the men on the ground asked. “Tell me what to do!”

  Then suddenly they were dying.

  They were all dying.

  “I don’t know!” Mateo screamed. “I don’t know.”

  When he looked up again it was Freddy hanging over the edge. Freddy with his chest ripped open. His friend. His only friend out here.

  * * *

  As he screamed, he woke up in a puddle of sweat. The bedsheets were drenched and his hands were shaking. His memory was returning, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. What had happened that night...none of it was good. None of it.

  Sighing, Mateo left the bed and walked to the window, opened it, and looked out at the stars for a little while.

  It wasn’t going to leave him. Other things had. Too many things. But this? This was hanging on in huge chunks, tormenting him.

  Some memories weren’t meant to be remembered and this was one of them. But it was coming back. Damn it. It was coming back.

  * * *

  His screams carried through the night and she couldn’t run fast enough to get to him.

  “Mateo,” she choked, barely slowing as she ran through the front door and up the stairs to his room.

  He was standing at the window. Staring out. Not moving. Barely breathing.

  “Tell me what to do.”

  He turned slowly to face her. “They all died, Lizzie. Every one of them, including Freddy. And I was the only one who—” His voice broke, and he sank to the floor. “There was nothing I could do to help any of them.”

  Lizzie sat on the floor next to him, putting her arm around his shoulder even though he was stiff and resistant. “I’m ready to listen if you’re ready to talk.”

  “But there’s nothing to say. I took a risk. Went up the tower when I should have waited. Drew enemy fire and got every one of my ground support killed.”

  There were so many things she wanted to say—most of them trite. But he didn’t need that. So instead she pulled him a little closer and sat quietly, waiting for him to speak again.

  It was nearly five minutes before he did.

  “Nobody came for a couple of days. The whole area was under heavy fire and they had no idea that one of the casualties was alive. So I lay there, going in and out of consciousness, and I have no idea when I was rescued or what happened after that. The next thing I remember is waking up in Germany. I’d had surgery—I remember that. But I didn’t remember my name. Not for days. Or maybe weeks. Then I was sent Stateside, and you know the rest. Belligerent patient. Refuses to help himself.”

  “Survivor’s remorse?” she asked.

  “Probably.”

  Now it was beginning to make sense to her. Mateo was beginning to make sense to her. He didn’t want to get better because somewhere, buried deep, he believed he should have died with his men. This wasn’t about his memory loss, or his hatred of being a patient. It was about the very essence of a man who carried a burden he didn’t deserve.

  “Why now?” she asked. “What’s bringing all this back now?”

  She feared it was something she was doing, or not doing, and she wanted to know.

  “Maybe because I feel safe here. The truth is, it’s never clear why something surfaces when it does. That’s something they’ve been telling me since Germany. No one really knows why something happens when it does.”

  “I like the explanation that you feel safe.”

  “So do I,” he said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BEFORE MATEO, BREAKFAST had always been quick. If she ate it, she never lingered. Most often she grabbed a coffee on the way to work and didn’t think about food until her belly told her she was hungry. If it didn’t, as often as not she didn’t eat.

  But this morning she felt like making breakfast for Mateo the way he’d done for her these past mornings. It was simple. Nothing like his elaborate spread. Fresh fruit, toast. And in the casualness of the moment she felt relaxed. Relaxed enough to ask his opinion.

  So, over her second cup of coffee, she told him about her opportunity to move from the hospital to a private practice as a primary care provider. She knew it was something her dad would have dismissed as stupid before she’d have been able to get all the words out. He’d actually told her so before his Alzheimer’s got so bad.

  “Kahawai is really pressuring me. He wants me to buy out his uncle’s small practice, possibly expand it, and treat the people who live in t
he area. He’s put me on a deadline now. Says he’s going after you if I don’t accept.”

  “Are you happy at the hospital?”

  “I’m not unhappy. It’s just that there are so many memories here I’m not sure I want to stay. Not sure I want to go, either.”

  “Do you have other options?” he asked.

  “A few. None that excite me, though. Maybe I’m too picky—or maybe I’m in a place where I shouldn’t be making major life decisions yet. Whatever the case, I won’t be doing anything without good reason. So, are you up for a bodyboarding lesson today?”

  “The best possible scenario is that once I paddle out into the water it all comes back to me and I remember all the medals I won as a world-class surfer.”

  Lizzie laughed. “I don’t recall your name being on any medal list. Which championship was it?”

  “See, that’s where amnesia comes in handy. All I have to do is say I don’t remember, and people won’t press for more information. They’ll just assume I’m what I claim to be.”

  “Have you ever surfed, Mateo?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” he said seriously.

  “Well, it’s too soon after your head surgery to do anything more than paddle on your stomach. And, while I already know the reaction I’m going to get, I think you should wear a helmet.”

  “A stylish one, I hope?” he said, taking both their coffee cups to the sink, then rinsing them out before they went into the dishwasher. “If all I’m allowed is bodyboarding, I’ll accept that. But the helmet’s got to be pretty damned cool.”

  “Because...?” she asked, biting back her smile.

  “Because I’m pretty damned cool, and I don’t want my reputation ruined by a helmet.”

  She liked that little bit of stubbornness in him. It was sexy. But was it really him? And was she always bound to wonder if things were really him?

  “Then we’ll get you a cool helmet. Pink, purple, neon-green?”