Megan stood out like a bright butterfly in comparison to the two hardened men of the West. Casey looked over her shoulder. The two-story family home was made out of logs and was over a hundred years old. There were several large pipe corrals that held horses and cattle. Megan’s favorite corral, a much smaller one, held the family pet llama called Gus. Lou had bought him as a baby two years ago, shortly after Megan had gone mute after losing her mother. He had hoped the baby llama would somehow ease Megan’s pain and help her.
Gus was a white llama from Peru and he had turned into quite an affectionate character. He loved Megan and that was clear when she’d run to the corral after they’d arrived yesterday. The love affair between little girl and big, white Gus cheered everyone. Gus would follow her around like a love-sick puppy.
Casey gave Lou a warm look. As hard as this man with the square jaw looked, he had a soft heart just like his son. She saw the pain etched in Lou’s face, his mouth thinned to hold back a lot of grief. Five years earlier, his wife Val had died of breast cancer. Three years after that, Matt had lost Bev.
“I’m going to lend you a hand with the barbecue, Lou.”
“Mighty fine of you, Casey. You’re a hardworkin’ young lady.”
“It’s my nature to work,” she said, laughing. Walking back toward the family homestead, the whinny of horses, the lowing of cattle made her feel happy. Since that life-affirming kiss at the wedding, Casey wasn’t sure about much of anything. Matt’s kiss had been warm, loving and caring. She’d not only tasted his mouth on her, but felt how much he cared for her as a person.
Casey joined Andy, the sixty-year-old camp cook, who was busy barbecuing the chicken and steaks. Ever since that kiss, it seemed to Casey she and Matt had had no time to sit and talk about what had happened. Matt’s schedule was crazy because one of the firefighters had been injured. And then there were planned vacations. He had been working nonstop until yesterday. For the next three days, he had a break in his hectic schedule. Matt had wanted her to meet his father and see their family ranch. Casey had agreed with some reluctance. Luckily, their schedules meshed and she could get the time off. All she wanted was some time alone with Matt.
“COME ON,” MATT COAXED, taking Casey’s hand and leading her around the house. They’d just finished their Fourth of July meal near 4:00 p.m. Lou had taken Megan over to talk to Gus. Other friends who had come were happy discussing politics, the weather and cattle-breeding over cold beers on the patio. He smiled and led her around the corner of the log home.
Casey laughed and followed him. This was the first time Matt had touched her since their kiss that had rocked her world. She squeezed Matt’s hand in return because she could see question in his eyes as to whether his advance was welcomed. His green eyes glistened with tenderness toward her. Heart pounding over that silent look, Casey followed him across the wide yard to the bright red two-story barn with a steeply sloped tin roof.
“When I was a kid, I had a hideaway in the hayloft up there,” Matt said, pointing to the large, flat area that was piled high with bales of alfalfa hay.
“Is that where we’re going?” she ask breathlessly. Once they were in the shade and coolness of the barn, Matt released her hand.
“Yes. My old haunt. Don’t you want to know what I did as a kid?”
Casey nodded. “I always envisioned you as a hardworking kid helping your father with cranky tractors and trucks.”
Chuckling, Matt halted at the wide wooden ladder that led up to the loft. “Oh, I did that, too.” He stepped aside. “Do heights bother you?”
Shaking her head, Casey said, “No.” She climbed up to the sweet fragrance of the baled alfalfa on the platform. Standing aside she watched Matt quickly climb the ladder.
“What do you think?” he asked, gesturing around after joining her. “Is this a great kid’s hideaway or what?”
Nodding, Casey said, “And is this where you escaped to when you were tired of working?”
Matt sauntered over to a couple of bales of hay and sat down. He patted the one next to him. “I got to come up here after my work was done.” He laughed. “Come on, sit down with me.”
Heart pounding, Casey knew what was coming. She sat and left a good amount of space between them. Resting her elbows on her jeans-clad thighs, her hands clasped between her legs, she held Matt’s gaze. “A lot has happened to us,” she murmured. Matt assumed the same position she had taken and became serious.
“Yes, and I’m sorry we haven’t had time to just sit and talk, Casey.” He compressed his lips for a moment and then said, “You have to know I did want to kiss you. I like you a lot and I’d been wanting to somehow deepen our relationship.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I was afraid of being rejected. Maybe some part of me decided to risk it all that day?”
Casey felt him trying to understand how she felt. “Well,” she said, “I haven’t exactly been forthcoming, either, Matt.” Straightening, she said in a low tone, “Ever since I nearly got beaten to death, I’ve been afraid of men. I know it’s crazy-sounding. Not you.” Her brows fell as she considered her next words. “I—just can’t find it in me to trust any man. At least,” she murmured, “not yet.”
Nodding, Matt saw the frustration and pain in her gaze. “I thought that might be it…”
Wanting to reach out and grip his arm, Casey couldn’t do it. “Your kiss was wonderful, Matt. And truth be known, I’d been wanting to kiss you for a long time, too.” She gave him a hopeful look and he brightened considerably. More than anything, Casey saw relief in his expression. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that…well…I’m in a tug of war with myself. I want to have a deeper relationship with you. Every time I think that, I get scared.”
“Look,” he whispered, “I know what trauma does to people who have terrible auto accidents or their home burns down. I figured you were in that same place.”
Giving a bitter laugh, Casey said, “Yes, it’s called post-traumatic stress disorder. My doctor diagnosed me with PTSD. It makes me afraid, Matt. Up here, my head screams that all men can hurt me at any time they want.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “But here, I know the difference. My heart tells me not all men are out to hurt me again.” Her mouth curled. “But I cannot, for the life of me, get my head to stop that litany and listen to my heart. I’m so frustrated, Matt. You have no idea…”
“Look at my daughter,” Matt whispered, understanding all too well. “She has PTSD. It stole her voice…” Matt felt pain move through his chest over that admission. “I wish…I wish I could do something to help her heal. But nothing has worked so far.”
Casey felt his despair and grief. “And here I am. I’m no different than Megan. The only difference between us is I didn’t lose my voice. But I lost other things.”
“I feel like we’re at a stalemate, Casey. Not only with my daughter, but with you.”
“Don’t give up on either of us,” she counseled. “Healing takes time. More time than I ever realized. Megan is making progress. Even you can see that.” Casey knew the desperation and guilt Matt felt over his daughter’s condition. She saw positive changes in Megan but maybe he didn’t.
With a sigh, Matt looked at her and gave her a pained smile. “Maybe you’re right. Any more, I don’t know.”
“Life’s burdens aren’t fun,” she agreed quietly. Aching to reach out and simply hold Matt, because that was what he needed, nearly drove Casey to do just that. Would he misinterpret her actions? That was what Casey was afraid of, so she quelled her reaction and sat there staring down at her clasped hands.
“What about us?” he asked finally.
Shrugging, Casey said, “I don’t know, Matt. When I get up in the morning, I may feel one way. But something happens during my day, and it’s destroyed. I move from fear to anger and back to fear in minutes. I’m not good company most of the time. Oh, I can put on a face and be pleasant with tourists and all, but I have to let down. I have to be myself and be honest with how I’m
feeling at a given time.”
“Have you seen Dr. Jordana Lawton yet?” he asked, hope in his voice.
“Not yet,” Casey admitted. “I talked to my doctor back in Colorado about it and he pooh-poohed a cure for PTSD. He said it was just a gimmick, that there was nothing to lower cortisol levels in someone who had PTSD.”
“Doctors don’t know everything,” Matt growled.
“I’m going to see Dr. Lawton,” Casey murmured, agreeing with him. “I’ve heard so much good about her. The other day I was talking to Charley about her. He said she was someone to be trusted. He told me about one of his rangers. He said the ranger went to Jordana, got tested and treated. Now, he doesn’t have his PTSD symptoms. That’s pretty strong validation that Jordana knows something that might help me.”
Whistling, Matt said, “Yes, it is.” He sat up and rubbed his hands on his upper legs, the denim material outlining his strong, muscular thighs. “That’s good to hear. Charley’s to be trusted. I’m crossing my fingers that something can be done to help Megan.” He frowned and his voice lowered with feeling. “I’d give anything to hear Megan talk again. I really would. I don’t care if other physicians think this cortisol testing and treatment is gimmicky.”
Casey stood up. “Based on what Charley told me, I’d already made a decision to see her, Matt.” She looked down and gave him a tender look. “I want my life back. I don’t want to keep living like this—swinging back and forth between fear and anger. I’m tired of feeling threatened by stupid things all the time. Before this, I loved life. I loved living. Now, I feel like I’ve been smashed into a little box and life sucks.”
Matt stood and walked to the ladder. “I hear you.”
Casey wanted to reach up, embrace Matt and kiss him. The need was so strong that she took a step away from him. It wasn’t fair to Matt or herself to be on this crazy emotional roller coaster. “I’m holding out hope against hope that Jordana can perform a miracle for me. I’ll be seeing her next week.”
“Good, and I’ll keep you updated on what she finds about Megan’s cortisol levels,” Matt whispered. He forced himself not to graze her pink cheek. “I’m there for you, Casey. I like what we have. Let’s keep on being friends?”
Nodding, Casey climbed down the ladder. Friendship was better than nothing, but then, Casey wanted Matt far beyond that point. Her torrid dreams at night confirmed that as nothing else could. Could Jordana really give her back her life?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“MATT?” CASEY FOUND HIM sitting with his turnout gear in the bay where the fire trucks were kept. The huge garage doors were open to allow a breeze to circulate in the mid-August heat wave being experienced by the valley.
Matt’s head snapped up, and his eyes widened appreciably as Casey walked around the red-and-white fire truck to where he was sitting on the rear bumper. He was cleaning the visor on his helmet. “Hey,” he greeted, smiling as he stood up, “this is a surprise.” Indeed, it was. After their heart-to-heart talk up in the hayloft, Casey had seemed less tense and on guard toward him. Today, she looked beautiful in her jeans, a dark green T-shirt and her USFS baseball cap. The gleam in her eyes made him curious. She looked like bubbly champagne about to spill over. Going to the wall where the turnout gear was hung, he settled his hardened plastic helmet on a hook.
“I’ve got some good news I couldn’t wait to share with you,” she murmured, looking around the quiet, cavernous bay. “Is it okay to be here with you? I know you’re on duty for the next eight hours.”
“Sure,” he said. “Want a fresh cup of coffee? I just made some in our kitchen.”
“I won’t be underfoot?” Casey wondered. How handsome and virile Matt looked in his dark blue T-shirt with the fire department’s symbol emblazoned in white across it. The dark blue serge trousers he wore and his black leather shoes all conspired to make him look like a modern-day hero in her eyes. And wasn’t he? Just last week Matt had saved a baby from being burned to death in a house fire. The mother, who had been sleeping downstairs, awoke to thick smoke throughout her small house. Her baby daughter was upstairs and she couldn’t reach her. At Matt’s direction, his team put up a ladder. He climbed up, broke the window and climbed into the baby’s room. Casey would never figure out how Matt had found the infant before it died of smoke inhalation. She’d heard from others over at Quilter’s Haven that the smoke was so thick a person couldn’t see their hand in front of their face. Her heart swelled with growing love for him.
“The guys are all napping up on the second floor,” he assured her, opening the door to the kitchen.
Nodding, Casey passed him and moved into the brightly lit, large kitchen where there was a rectangular table with six chairs. It looked like a normal kitchen one would find in an upscale home. “I smell something cooking,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he chuckled, bringing down two white mugs from the cabinet. “Today’s my turn to cook for the crew. I’m making chicken enchiladas.”
Sitting down at the table, Casey thanked him as he brought over her coffee and sat next to her. Opening her tan leather purse, she pulled out a bunch of papers and spread them before him. “Pay dirt, Matt. Look at this.” She tapped them with her index finger.
Glancing at them, he said, “Hey…these are your cortisol results from Dr. Jordana.”
“They are.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I just came from her office.” Casey pulled a bottle from her purse and sat it in front of him. “The doc confirmed my cortisol is high. And she’s prescribed an adaptogen to plug the hormone’s receptors so my cortisol will drop back into normal function. Just like Megan’s has.”
Matt studied the results. He knew that in the past month, since Megan had been on the same prescription, his daughter’s behavior had shown amazing and positive changes. “Same medicine,” he murmured, looking at the bottle. “But you’re taking it at different times than when Megan took hers.”
Nodding, Casey said, “Dr. J said she’d rarely seen cortisol results that were this far out of normal limits.”
Setting the papers down, Matt held Casey’s sparkling gaze. There was hope in her eyes. “It goes to show how traumatic the beating was for you,” he murmured. Wanting to touch her hand that curved around the mug, Matt fought himself. He allowed his gaze to drop fleetingly to her smiling mouth. He’d dreamed about that tender, gentle kiss they’d shared nearly every night since then.
“No one really knows the effects of trauma except the person who has suffered it,” Casey quietly agreed. Tapping the bottle, she said, “I take the medication when my cortisol has peaked outside its normal limits. That means I’m taking it at noon, three in the afternoon and at bedtime. I can hardly wait to see if I can finally sleep without waking up two or three times a night.”
“Megan’s sleep has changed completely,” Matt told her. “Not only is she sleeping soundly through the night, there are no more nightmares.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t tell you how many nights I’d hear her scream and it would jolt me out of a deep sleep. The only time she’d go back to sleep was if I was in her room, sitting in the rocking chair near her bed.”
“She wanted to be reassured that she’d be safe,” Casey murmured. “I know that one. I never slept with a night-light on until… Now I refuse to go in any room that’s dark. It scares me.” She tapped her head and gave him a silly smile. “I know there’s nothing in the room, but emotionally, my feelings haven’t grown into my logic.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Matt said. Casey tended to be that way, always unhappy that her mind couldn’t just heal up her wounded emotions. He under stood that trauma stained her emotions and, until they healed, she would always be wary.
“I have such hope,” Casey told him. “I see how much Megan has changed since taking that medication for thirty days. It’s a miracle, Matt.” She saw him nod but also saw the sadness deep in his eyes. “I know she’s still not talking, but she’s so much more engaged with life, with school and her friends. She
has enthusiasm now.”
“Yes,” he said, sipping his coffee and looking out the window. Summer was the most wonderful time of year in Jackson Hole, but way too short for him. The Wyoming town spent eight months of the year with snow on the ground. The green leaves shining and dancing on the cottonwood trees now made him feel happy. Turning his attention to Casey, he offered, “Megan is continuing to change. Dr. Jordana tested her a second time and we’re waiting for the results. She said it usually only takes one thirty-day prescription to get most people’s cortisol back to normal.”
Casey smiled and sat back in the chair. Matt was eye candy. She always looked forward to the times when she could share time and space with him. “Dr. J said I might have to take this stuff for one or two months in order to bring my cortisol down. She said the worse the PTSD, the more time it takes to normalize it.”
Nodding, Matt said, “It makes sense. I wondered how it made Megan feel, but she doesn’t talk, so I don’t know what else she felt from taking the medicine. Maybe you can share?” He grinned. Casey’s cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling. Without the baseball cap on, her straight, shoulder-length hair was a frame bringing out all her lovely features.
“You’ll be the first to know,” Casey promised. She had talked to Dr. J about her sex life, which was nil. That was all part of the PTSD. And Casey had finally confessed in tears about being unable to trust men. Dr. J had patted her gently on the shoulder and told her it was all part of the trauma and high cortisol levels. How could she trust anyone when her levels were so high? Her traumatized mind and body saw everything as a threat. It made sense to Casey but she ached to cross that threshold of distrust and connect emotionally with Matt.
“I like the necklace you’re wearing,” Matt said. “Is that new?” It was a single strand of lavender and green gemstones in a choker style that emphasized her slender neck.
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