Buried Memories

by Carol J. Post

  “No.”

  Tyler turned toward the female voice at his back. Sometime after Darci had pulled the note from her windshield, Allison and Blake had stepped up behind them. So had Sydney and Wade, two other friends.

  Allison continued. “You can’t stay away. It’s times like this when you need your church family more than ever. I can’t speak for everyone else, but Blake and I are standing with you.”

  Wade stepped forward, holding his wife’s hand. According to Nicki, he was a Cedar Key firefighter. “Sydney and I are with you, too.”

  Hunter spoke next. “We need to leave Darci and Connor out of this. They have the boys to think of. But Meagan and I are with you, too.”

  Tyler put his arm around her and pulled her close. “And you already know where I stand.”

  The three couples formed a circle around Nicki and Tyler and joined hands. When Tyler looked at Darci, standing to the side with her small family, her eyes were moist.

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “Nicki, when I was in trouble, you were there for me. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. Now you’re the one who needs help, and I’m turning my back on you.”

  “No,” Nicki argued. “Don’t worry about me. Take care of your boys. They come first.”

  Darci nodded and got into her car. Tyler pulled Nicki even closer. She’d refused to give up her search for her sister, because Jenny was the only family she had left.

  She was wrong.

  Maybe Nicki didn’t share any blood with these eight people.

  But they were family, in the truest sense of the word.

  EIGHT

  Nicki sat in Tyler’s truck, staring out the front windshield, conflicting emotions tumbling through her. She was a danger to everyone. She should leave and start over somewhere else.

  But it wasn’t that simple. A good bit of her inheritance was tied up in her house. She had her job and two great outlets to sell her artwork. If she walked away with nothing but her reduced savings account, she’d starve before she got on her feet. And who was to say the person tormenting her wouldn’t find her again as soon as she got settled somewhere else?

  Tyler pulled out of the parking lot, then reached across the truck to squeeze her shoulder. “You okay?”

  She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do. I’m putting everyone in danger by staying here. But I don’t know where to go.”

  “You need to stay right here in Cedar Key. Hunter and the others are going to catch whoever is doing this. It’s been only three weeks. We need to give them time.”

  How much time, and who’d be hurt in the interim? It wasn’t just her own life. There were too many others who could be caught in the crossfire. All of her wonderful new friends. Darci’s autistic little boy. Conner’s nephew Kyle who’d already experienced far too much heartache before Darci and Conner adopted him.

  Tyler squeezed her shoulder again. “Okay?”

  She nodded slowly. What else could she do? Leaving was out of the question. And she couldn’t isolate herself. Her friends wouldn’t let her.

  She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Her friends. They were more than friends. Allison had referred to them as family, her church family.

  All through foster care, family had seemed like some glittering concept that would remain forever out of reach. Then, against all odds, she’d landed in the home of Doris and Chuck Jackson. And the impossible dream had become a reality.

  The moment she learned her adoptive parents had been killed, her whole world had collapsed into the giant black hole left by their absence. And soon, the desire to reconnect with the last living person who could fill the role of family had been overwhelming.

  But Tyler was right. Bringing Jenny into her life would also bring all of Jenny’s problems down on her. Was that what she wanted? Her own problems would be over once the police caught whoever was harassing her. But Jenny’s problems would go on indefinitely.

  Tyler’s gasp cut across her thoughts, and the engine revved. She opened her eyes. Ahead and to the right, smoke billowed into the sky. Her back stiffened, and she leaned forward in the seat, straining to see where the billowy charcoal-colored column was coming from.

  Someone’s house was on fire.

  Her heart pounded out an erratic rhythm, picking up speed the closer they got. It was either her house or the one on either side of hers. Within moments, she had no doubt. Her house was engulfed in flames.

  Callie!

  She hooked her purse strap over her shoulder, gripping it until her fingers cramped. Without waiting for Tyler to bring the truck to a complete stop, she swung open the door and stumbled out. Her sandal contacted the edge of the pavement, and her ankle twisted, throwing her sideways into the grass. Without pausing to survey the damage, she pushed herself to her feet and ran up the drive. Pain shot through her right ankle with every step, but she didn’t slow down. Callie was inside. She had to get to her.

  As she neared the house, high-pitched barking punctuated the ominous crackle of flames. She pulled her keys from her purse and, with shaking fingers, inserted one into the lock. The next moment, a deafening explosion rent the air as the living room window exploded outward in a burst of flames just ten feet away.

  Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her backward, and she fought for all she was worth. She couldn’t let Callie die in the flames.

  “Let me go!” Her voice was loud and shrill. She twisted and brought her right elbow backward. It connected with Tyler’s ribcage with a solid thud. She followed it with several more blows.

  They didn’t even faze him. With his arms still wrapped around her waist, he picked her up and carried her away from the house. She continued to scream at him and kick her feet. Several times her heels connected with his shins, and he swore under his breath.

  “Stop fighting me.” He forced her to the ground and pinned her there. “You can’t go in there or you’ll die.”

  She stopped resisting and let the tears flow. “Callie’s in there. You can’t let her burn to death.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. But you have to promise me you won’t try to go in.”

  She drew in a sobbing breath and nodded her head.

  “I’m going to release you, but you’ve got to promise me.”

  She nodded again. “I promise.” Her eyes widened. “We need to call 911.”

  He glanced to the side, and she lifted her head to follow his gaze. Andy rushed toward them from the road, where he had left his truck, his phone pressed to his ear.

  Tyler released her and stood. “I think my brother already has.”

  She pushed herself to her feet and followed Tyler to the house, staying back several feet. The barking had become even more frantic and seemed to be coming from the master bedroom.

  When Tyler reached the house, he pressed his hands to the bathroom window. “She’s in here, and the glass is cool.”

  He peeled off his shirt, and her eyes locked on his bare back. He’d never talked about that final mission and the injuries he’d sustained. But now she knew at least part of what had sent him home. Pale skin stretched across his upper back, down toward the curve of his waist and up over his right shoulder. Some places were mottled, others unnaturally smooth. All of the mended area was different from the surrounding olive-hued skin. He’d been badly burned and likely undergone months of painful skin grafts. And now he was going in to save her dog.

  He wrapped the shirt around his fist and thrust it through the window. One blow shattered the glass. After ripping the miniblinds from their brackets and tossing them aside, he knocked the remaining shards of glass free from the frame. Then he ducked his head and shoulders inside. Moments later, he backed out, and a blond head and front paws followed him.

  Nicki rushed forward in an exclamation of
laughter mixed with tears. Sliding her hands under Callie’s stomach, she helped Tyler lift her through the opening. Then they moved away from the house, Tyler carrying Callie.

  After putting her down on the lawn, he shook out any shards of glass clinging to his shirt and put it back on. “It’s a good thing you had Callie closed up. That helped keep the majority of the smoke away from her.”

  She looked at him sharply. “I didn’t. I always let her have the run of the house. At least, I do now that she’s well past her destructive phase.”

  He drew his brows together. “That’s odd. She was in the bathroom with the door closed.”

  She nodded. “She closed doors a couple of times at the other house. When I first got her, she’d start playing, chasing her tail and whatnot, and bump into all kinds of things. I’d say she went back there today, trying to get away from the fire. Then, as she got more and more frantic, she hit the door and slammed it shut.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance, and Nicki glanced up the road. Over the next couple of minutes, they grew closer, then stopped as a fire truck came to a halt in front of her house. The next moment, the crash of shattering glass split the silence. On the carport side of the house, the roof collapsed, and a swirl of sparks rose into the sky.

  Two firemen ran toward the house, pulling the hose as it unreeled behind them. One was Wade Tanner, his firefighting gear probably thrown quickly over the clothes he’d worn to church.

  Moments later, a thick stream of water shot from the end of the hose, traveling in a gentle arc. A sharp sizzle rose above the other sounds, and smoke billowed into the air as the water extinguished the flames.

  Nicki stood frozen, watching it all. Pain shot through her, so intense it brought her to her knees. She wrapped her arms around Callie’s neck and buried her face in her fur. Everything was going to be a total loss—all her stained glass supplies, the incomplete projects, her clothes and dishes and furniture. The figurines and jewelry and everything else that had belonged to her parents. And the pictures—years of photo albums holding precious memories.

  A sob welled up in her throat, and she tried to tamp it down. Callie was still alive, unhurt. Her possessions would be replaced by insurance. The memories of her parents, she’d forever hold in her heart. No one could take those from her.

  She raised her head to look at Tyler, and her blood ran cold.

  Although he was standing right next to her, he was somewhere else. His fists were clenched. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Sweat ran down his face, far more than what could be blamed on the heat and humidity.

  She rose to her feet. “Tyler?”

  “No.” He shook his head, but he wasn’t communicating with her. He was reacting to whatever was going on in his mind. “No, no, no.” Each word was louder than the last. He lifted his arms to press his palms against his ears.

  “Tyler.” She gasped, her thoughts spinning. What was he seeing? She moved to stand in front of him, her back to her smoldering house. “Tyler, it’s Nicki. Look at me.”

  She put her hand on his arm, her touch featherlight, and he started. He opened his eyes and looked at her. But not really at her. More like through her, to something only he could see.

  She slid her fingers beneath his. “Tyler, you’re here with me. And Callie.” She pulled his hand away from his ear and lowered it to Callie’s head. “See? Callie’s here.”

  His gaze gradually cleared. “I’m all right.”

  She continued to study him. His posture was stiff, his focus straight ahead. He wasn’t all right. Her jaw went lax. Her fire, his burns... “Watching my house burn, you were reliving that last mission, weren’t you?”

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action, but he didn’t respond.

  “It might help to talk about it.”

  He answered without meeting her eyes. “No war stories, okay?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. Her heart broke for him, for the agony he’d lived through that refused to release him. And it broke for herself, for all that lay destroyed in the smoldering ruins behind her.

  “Hold me,” she whispered. The words slipped out of their own accord.

  She pressed her cheek to his, feeling his breath in her hair, and his arms came up to circle her back. He tightened his hold, and she reveled in the security she felt in his embrace.

  Maybe she’d one day escape the clutches of the past, and he would, too.

  Maybe together they’d find healing.

  * * *

  Tyler sat on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, Nicki next to him. She was sitting close, tucked under his arm, which was draped across the back of the couch. Callie and Sasha lay at their feet. An older romantic comedy played on the TV, something light and fun and a little bit senseless. Just what he needed after the day they’d had. A period of zoning out would probably do Nicki a world of good, too.

  It had been a crazy afternoon. Amber had shown up shortly after the fire was out and called Hunter, who’d had the day off. He then told Meagan, who got in touch with Allison and Blake. Soon half the people he’d met at church that morning were in Nicki’s front yard, offering their support.

  Allison was tall like Nicki and the closest to her size. So after Nicki had answered the investigator’s questions and called her insurance company, Allison had loaded her in her car and taken her home. Forty minutes later, they returned with several bags of clothes. Allison even had shoes Nicki could wear. Then Tyler had taken her to the Chiefland Walmart to stock up on anything else she needed, mostly toiletries and underclothes.

  Nicki still hadn’t been inside the house. That wouldn’t happen for some time yet. Since everyone suspected arson, Chief Robinson had called in the state fire marshal. The scene wouldn’t be released until the investigation was complete. The first time into the house would be heart-wrenching for Nicki, but Tyler planned to be right by her side.

  He glanced over at her. Her head was tilted back, resting against his arm, and her eyes were almost closed. She was exhausted. He could relate.

  He’d had his own ordeal that afternoon. As he’d watched the flames consume her house, he’d suddenly been back in Afghanistan. Explosions rocked the landscape, brilliant flashes of fire lighting up his surroundings. Smoke enveloped him, pungent and suffocating. Then came the screams of the trapped and dying—gut wrenching howls of agony that went on and on.

  Nicki had brought him back.

  She’d stood in front of him, understanding shining from her eyes, the gentle breeze lifting her hair and swishing it about her shoulders. When she wrapped him in her arms and drew him to her, he’d wanted to melt into her and stay there forever.

  The shame he’d expected to feel over his display of weakness hadn’t been there. They were two of a kind—lost souls trying to find their way through the quagmire of life’s circumstances.

  When the credits began to roll, he looked again at Nicki. Her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep. Her eyes were closed, her lashes fanned out against her cheeks. Some pale blue shadow covered her lids. The peach lipstick she’d applied that morning for church was long gone, but a hint of color still touched her cheeks.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she turned her head to look at him. “I missed the last part of the movie.”

  He smiled. “I like watching you sleep.”

  “I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing.”

  “No, you didn’t snore. There weren’t any snorts or other strange noises.”

  She swiped her hand across her chin. “And I didn’t drool, so I guess I’m okay.” She pushed herself to a more upright position. “I guess I should let you go to bed.”

  “No rush.” He liked having her sitting there with him. After almost two weeks of trying, he’d finally convinced her to m
ove into Andy and Joan’s house.

  “I feel bad running you out of your room.”

  “You didn’t run me out. I left willingly.” He patted the cushion beside him. “The couch is quite comfortable.”

  “I still feel like I should be the one sleeping out here, not you.”

  “Absolutely not.” He stood and held out his hand to help her up. “Ladies need their privacy. Us guys, we can crash anywhere.”

  She let him pull her to her feet. “I have to admit, a nice, soft bed sounds really good about now.”

  He watched her disappear down the hall, then fluffed the bed pillow lying on the end of the couch. He’d changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt as soon as he’d gotten home. He’d sleep in them just fine.

  After turning off the lamp, he swung his legs up onto the couch and lay on his back. Moonlight washed in through the front door’s oval glass inset, casting the room in its soft glow.

  A welcome sense of contentment washed through him, the result of having Nicki so close.

  Partly because he could now keep her safe.

  And partly because that was where he’d always wanted her to be.

  * * *

  He slipped silently into the kalat and stopped, M4 at the ready. Tension spiked through him as he scanned the shadows. Five others filed in with him, each with a preassigned sector. He moved toward a doorway and stepped inside the adjoining room, weapon swinging around in a controlled arc.

  The telltale whistle of a mortar round rent the silence, the explosion following a fraction of a second later. Pure adrenaline spiked through him. He spun back through the open doorway and strained to see into the cloud of dust and smoke that enveloped the area. The rugs had ignited, and flames licked at the pillows and cushions lining the room. A gaping hole in the front wall gave a clear view of the outside.

  Small arms fire erupted, and he snatched his radio from his vest, struggling to make out his men in the haze. Three were crouched, having moved to positions away from the front wall. Two were down. Marty lay faceup on the cushions at the back of the room, bloodstained hands clutching his stomach. Steve sat against the wall nearby, empty space where the lower part of his leg should have been.