Home to Wind River

by Lindsay McKenna

  He heard worry in her tone that she might not be able to care properly for Jenna. “I’m not concerned about that, Lily. You’re a military vet. You’d cut off your right arm before you wouldn’t be responsible for the other members in your team.”

  “Got that right.” She shook her head as he offered her the whipped cream. The bread pudding in her bowl was a quarter of the amount in Jake’s. Knowing he worked long, hard hours without relief, she knew he needed the extra food.

  “Maybe you’ll sleep the night through tonight,” he said, lifting the spoon, pleasure thrumming through him at the vanilla and butterscotch tastiness of the pudding.

  “I usually do,” she reassured him. “When Maud and I went into town before the medical supplies were delivered, I got all the things your mom likes.”

  “She’ll eat pretty much anything, Lily. Unlike me.”

  Chuckling, she said, “You’re what I call a meat-and-potatoes kind of dude. I’m like Jenna: I’ll try just about anything once. And I have a wide array of foods I enjoy.”

  “Guess that means my range is gonna expand, too. You can’t cook two different meals for us.”

  “I could.”

  “No. I’ll suffer in silence.”

  She tittered and gave him a wry look. “You’re a foreman. I doubt you suffer in silence.”

  “You’re probably right.” He shifted gears. “How are you doing?”

  “Adjusting, to be honest. I think I’ll do better once Jenna arrives. She’ll give me a sense of stability, a fixed routine, and I’m better when I have those guardrails. I used to be very adaptable, but not since Afghanistan.”

  “Well,” he said, his voice low, “if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, look me up.” He saw her glance away for a moment, her lips compressing. “Seriously.”

  Turning to him, she asked, “Do you ever cry?”

  Caught off guard, he growled, “No.”

  “Why not? I find when I’m feeling overwhelmed, I have to slink off to my quiet, dark cave and let it all go. I feel ashamed, crying in front of people. They don’t understand . . .”

  He pushed his emptied bowl aside, bringing over a cup of coffee. “That’s one of the reasons, when I got out of the Marine Corps and went home to visit Jenna, that I didn’t stay with her. It hurt her that I wouldn’t take up residence in my old room in the house. I was afraid to let her know how much I’d changed. I tried to behave normally, but hell, only a knob on a dryer says Normal. I’m a different person now. I try to protect her from myself.”

  Her lips twisted, and she nodded. “I did stay with my parents after I got out of the Army. And it didn’t work out. I think you were probably better off not staying with Jenna.”

  “Didn’t like hurting her feelings, but it was too much to try to get her to understand what had changed me. I stayed at a nearby motel for five days and then came out here to try for the foreman’s job. I got lucky and was chosen.”

  “I don’t think luck had much to do with it,” Lily said quietly. “Maud sings your praises to the heavens. Did you know that? She and Steve love you, I think, like one of their adopted sons.”

  He felt heat in his cheeks. “They have a bunch of adopted children who are now adults. I don’t think Maud ever met a stray she didn’t want to take home and help.”

  “She’s a really good person. I haven’t met Steve yet because he’s in Australia on an architectural job.”

  “He and Maud are what Jenna would call two peas in a pod.”

  Smiling a little, Lily finished off the last of her dessert. She placed the bowl aside. “Well, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, you come and see me. Military people never leave anyone behind. We take care of one another.”

  Her insight was remarkable, and Jake almost said those words to her. “I doubt I’ll take you up on that. Crying isn’t something I do.”

  “Men,” she muttered distastefully, standing up. “You all have tear ducts just like we women do.” She picked up the bowls and spoons. “If you just want to talk, I’ll be there for you, Jake. Okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I hear you.” He saw her roll her eyes and walk to the kitchen sink to rinse out the bowls. That spark of pluckiness was back in her eyes, her spine straighter, and he tried to keep his appreciation of her at bay. It was damned tough to do it, but he couldn’t get entangled with her.

  June 4

  Lily was hoping Jake would be at the cabin when Jenna arrived, to welcome her. But he wasn’t. She’d called him on his cell phone and it was dead. On this huge one-hundred-thousand-acre ranch, cell reception was spotty at best. He knew she was arriving at one today.

  Maud was with Lily, who knew she was excited to see Jenna come to the ranch. Lily introduced herself once the gurney was out on the sidewalk. Jenna was in a hospital gown of light blue, blankets covering her to her waist and looking weary from the long drive across the state. Maud had given her a gentle, welcoming hug and urged the paramedics to get her inside because it was a cloudy day, the temperature only in the sixties. It was chilly for anyone who was ill.

  Lily had gone ahead to show them where Jenna should be brought. She’d worked hard to ensure the room was bright, light and welcoming. This morning, after Jake had left, she’d gone out and picked more pasqueflowers from the lake edge for the vase she’d put on a dresser opposite the medical bed. It was the least she could do. Sure that Jenna missed her familiar surroundings, thrown out of her daily routines, the woman had given her a kind smile of sincere appreciation. Lily saw she had the same green eyes as Jake. And the same color hair, except for the many strands of silver mixed in.

  Maud remained behind to keep Jenna company after she’d been transferred to the bed. The head paramedic gave Lily a file of medical transport papers, several prescription bottles of medication and the latest numbers on her blood pressure, pulse and temperature. She thanked him and the crew left, eager, she was sure, to get back to Casper before nightfall.

  Quiet filtered into the large, warm room. Maud stood on one side of the bed, her hand in Jenna’s. Lily came to the other side.

  “How are you feeling, Mrs. Murdoch?”

  Jenna wrinkled her nose. “Oh, call me Jenna. I hate formality, for the most part. I’m tired, but I feel fine. I’m excited to be here with Jake.”

  “Jake’s got that trait of not being overly formal, too,” Maud teased. “Did you notice, Lily?”

  Grinning, Lily nodded. “Jake’s eyes are the same color as yours,” she said.

  “My son takes after his father in other ways, though,” she said. “Stoic. I’m sure you’ve noticed that little trait?”

  “A little,” Lily deadpanned. “I know Jake wanted to be here to see you.”

  “He’s in the middle of grass leases,” Jenna said. “For about a week, my son works from dawn past dusk. Doesn’t he, Maud?”

  “Yep, he sure does.”

  “He got in at eight last night,” Lily told her.

  “Probably be about that time tonight,” Maud said. She released Jenna’s hand. “Listen, I’m going to leave you two alone for now. You look tired, Jenna, and I know Lily needs to look at your surgery area. I’ll drop by tomorrow afternoon. Maybe the three of us girls can have afternoon tea?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Jenna said. “You know I love my tea.”

  Patting her hand gently, Maud said, “Indeed I do. I’ll bring along a tin of lemon cookies Steve just sent me from Sydney. Cookies with tea are always delicious.”

  “Sounds good,” Jenna said. “Thank you for all you’re doing for me, Maud.”

  “Any time,” she said, giving a wink to Lily before she left. “See you two later . . .”

  Lily slid down the bars on one side of the bed. “I need to look at your scar area, Jenna. Make sure this trip didn’t tear any stitches.”

  She groaned. “And here I thought it would be different.”

  Chuckling, Lily said, “No, I’m afraid all us nurses are the same. I want to make sure there’s no redness o
r swelling.”

  “I know,” she sighed, “it’s a sign of infection. They’ve trained me well at the Casper hospital.” Jenna pulled the blankets and sheet away from her left hip. Lily donned a pair of latex gloves and gently pulled her blue gown aside. The area had a long dressing on it, and she eased the tape away and pulled it up, observing the wound site. “Looks really good, Jenna.” Lily laid the dressing back into place and pulled the gown down to cover her hip and butt. “Your primary physician’s order is to get up once an hour to increase circulation in that area. I’ve got a walker over there. How do you feel about taking a spin around the cabin?” She had moved some of the furniture to make a circuit around the large living room easy for Jenna to navigate. Jake had helped her with the job last night.

  “Ugh, I hate walking, but I know it’s important. The nurses told me movement stops blood clots from forming and killing me. I really don’t want to die.”

  Lily smiled and nodded. “They indoctrinated you well.” Jenna was sitting up in what was known as Fowler’s position, usually comfortable for many people with certain medical conditions. “Are you game?”

  “Yes,” she mumbled, frowning. Holding out her hand, Lily took it and helped maneuver Jenna’s bare legs over the mattress, feet hanging down.

  “I’m going to put socks on your feet,” she told Jenna. “They have a nubby sole surface so you won’t slip on the wood floors.”

  “Okay,” she said, pushing her fingers through her short hair.

  In no time, Lily had Jenna standing with the walker. She had placed a soft, wide belt around the woman’s waist and walked to the side and slightly behind her, her hand firmly on that belt. If Jenna started to fall for whatever reason, Lily could stop it so she wouldn’t cause more injury to herself. She guided Jenna through the opened doorway, to the right and down the shining cedar hall. “I’ve had patients in the past who refused to do this,” she told Jenna, walking slowly beside her.

  “I guess I could refuse, but the nurses told me that doing it speeded up the healing process. That,” she said, giving Lily a deadly serious look, “is exactly what I want out of this, to get well sooner. I want to be free to walk again without any help. They said it would happen.”

  “We’ll make it so,” Lily promised. They made a slow circuit to the right, past the huge stone fireplace, then moving near the kitchen area, around the L-shaped couch and back to the hallway.

  “This place needs a woman in it,” Jenna muttered, giving the living room a frowning glance.

  “I agree. I picked pasqueflowers from the edge of the small lake in front of the cabin.”

  “I suppose Jake didn’t even notice?”

  “He did notice. He liked them. I wasn’t sure what he’d think.” Lily guided Jenna back into the bedroom. Once there, she worked with her transfer. The medical bed could be raised or lowered, helping the person mount or dismount easily from the mattress. She guided Jenna to her bed. She looked very tired from her efforts. “How about you take a nap? Or are you hungry?” Lily lifted her legs onto the bed, then drew the covers up to her waist for her.

  “I think I’d like a nap. Bet you’ll wake me up in an hour for another walk?”

  Lily pulled up the guardrail. “Not this time. You sleep as long as you want.” She saw Jenna give her a grateful look. “I’ll just come in quietly from time to time to see how you’re doing.” She pointed to an electronic buzzer on the side of the bed. “If you need me for anything, press this.” She pulled a white plastic beeper out of her pocket. “I’ll feel it vibrate and be right in.”

  “When I feel better, Lily, I want to know all about you. Maud called me and told me how sweet and unassuming you were. She was right. And I loved talking to you the other day. I knew we’d be a good match for each other.”

  “We’re going to have two months together, Jenna. I’m sure we’ll get to know each other really well. Now, go to sleep. I’ll pull the drapes closed so it’s dark in here. . . .”

  Lily quietly left the room, leaving the door open a crack. She would start dinner with one ear keyed to Jenna’s room.

  * * *

  When Jake arrived home at 8:30, the first thing he heard entering the cabin was laughter. He’d never heard Lily laugh before, and the sound of it made him feel warm inside. It reminded him of the burbling of a creek, which was soothing to the anxiety that lived within him. He shut the door, hung up his Stetson and made a beeline across the living room. Poking his head into the door of Jenna’s room, he watched the two women talking. Both turned and saw him standing there.

  “Jake!” his mother cried, opening her arms.

  He nodded hello to Lily and walked to the other side of the bed. “Good to see you here with us, Jenna,” and he leaned over to place a kiss on his mother’s brow. She swept her arms around his broad shoulders, kissing his cheek time and again.

  “It’s so good to see you, Jake,” she said, her voice wobbling. Releasing him, she gave him a watery smile. “It’s been too long.”

  He took a chair and pulled it close to the bed. Lily had taken down the guardrail. He picked up Jenna’s hand and held it between his. “I know it has. Been really busy. How are you doing? How was the trip over here?”

  “Tiring.” Jenna rolled her head to the left, giving Lily a warm look. “Lily is an angel, Jake. You did well in choosing her to be my nurse.”

  Giving Lily a glance, he said, “I had nothing to do with this. You can thank Maud for sleuthing around and finding Lily.” He managed to give her a grateful look. Her cheeks pinked up. Such was the connection between them. “Lily came highly recommended.”

  “Well, I’m just glad to be home here with you, Jake. I loved visiting you here once a year. It’s a lovely cabin and that lake out front is just divine.”

  “You’re stuck with us for a minimum of two months,” he teased. Looking over at Lily, he asked, “Is her surgery doing okay?”

  Nodding, she said, “It’s fine. I’ll be checking it several times a day and changing the dressings once a day.”

  “I’m also being forced to walk every hour,” Jenna complained, her lips drawing into an amused smile as she gave Lily a warm look.

  “I think Lily is going to help you get well faster,” he said. Noticing the flush of Lily’s cheeks, how she looked away when he praised her, Jake began to realize how much damage the PTSD had done to her. He could imagine her being a passionate nurse, filled with hope, dreams and aspirations. Understanding how PTSD took all that away, he was seeing her trying to reclaim her once idealistic way of looking at life. The symptoms stripped a person to their soul, and if there hadn’t been a solid grounding in the first eighteen or so years of their life, they would have an even tougher climb out of those emotions, shame and humiliation. No one could understand it except another person who had similar symptoms. An ache formed in his heart for Lily. It was clear his mother, who had always been a good judge of character, doted on her.

  Chapter Five

  June 7

  Lily screamed. She jackknifed into a sitting position on her bed. Breathing hard, her chest heaving, sweat trickling down her temples, she froze, fear paralyzing her. Bare, watery moonlight peeked around the heavy drapes at the only window in her bedroom. It gave her just enough light to swiftly absorb the entire silent room.

  Shadows played tricks on her hyperalert mind. Enemies were here; her heart was pounding so hard, it was all she could hear. Whimpering, the sound stuck in her tight throat, and she scrambled off the bed, crouching down near the wall. Waiting. The screams of terrified children, the roars of terror and shocked cries of adults, the blasts of AK-47s ripping through the night, surrounded her. She could smell blood in the air. Hiding in a barn, the goats baaing, leaping around, eyes rolling, frantically pressing and pushing against one another, trying to escape the horror outside, only added to the cacophony deluging her distressed brain.

  Scrunching her eyes shut, Lily pulled herself into a tight ball to remain hidden. She could smell the small ro
om where she hid as the Taliban attacked the unarmed Afghan village in the middle of the night. It was dank, almost airless. Through a slit in the hundred-year-old wooden planks, she could see the goats leaping high into the air, coming down on their milling, frightened brethren in total panic, but they were imprisoned within a large wooden corral. There was no place for them to go.

  A Special Forces sergeant had shoved her into the room earlier, when the attack had begun. He slammed the door shut and told her to stay put until it was over. He ran out, leaving her alone, horrified, paralyzed with fear as the enemy surged through the gates that had been blown open. Then the enemy soldiers flowed to the walled village like a tornado, wreaking revenge.

  Lily didn’t know what to do. The Army had not prepared her for a situation like this. How could they? Her life was hanging by a thread. The heavy footsteps of men running past, the galloping of horses careened around the barn. The blasts of thunderous AK-47 fire, triggered so near where she crouched, a thin wooden wall between her and the Taliban firing the weapon, made her scream. And then she slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing if the enemy heard her, they would know where she was hiding. She would die!

  The acrid, metal smell of blood tainting the air hit her flared nostrils. Lily knew what blood smelled like. But not like this. It was warm and suffocative. It felt as if it was enclosing her, dripping down all around her, soaking her clothes. She was drowning in the blood of murder victims. The dank blackness of the small room closed in on her, her nostrils burning from the odor of gunfire, the bloodletting occurring around the barn. Hoarse shouts in foreign languages split the night, roars and orders thundering from American soldiers, all combined. She clapped her hands against her ears, her back against the wall, her knees drawn tightly up against her body. Lily couldn’t catch her breath. She was sobbing. The cries of terrified children slammed through her, ripping her heart open. Children she’d known for years because she’d come back to this firebase, where the village sat in the nearby valley. She knew every child by name.