Dark Hearts

by Sharon Sala

  Her voice broke on the words, but the expression in her eyes never wavered.

  Everything he’d planned to say went out the window. Words would not explain him. How he’d been. What he’d become. He took a slow, shaky breath and began taking off his clothes.

  Lainey thought nothing of it when he took off his coat, but when he began unbuckling his belt and then pulling at his shirt, she shouted, “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”

  “There’s nothing I can say that will explain why, but I can show you.”

  She flashed on the day she’d sneaked into his room at the hospital, remembering the bandages and all of the monitors and machines keeping him alive.

  Her voice started to shake. “Don’t, Sam. It doesn’t change anything. You didn’t trust me to love you then. Why would it make any difference now?”

  His panic grew as he kept undressing. No one but his doctors and nurses had seen him like this. The more that came off, the more still she became, until she was completely motionless. She didn’t flinch when he tossed his shirt on the kitchen table, and when he stepped out of his jeans and she saw the thick, ropy scars of melted flesh that covered his body, she didn’t shriek, she didn’t cover her eyes in disgust, and in those moments something inside him broke. She was facing his truth and standing firm. He didn’t know he was crying until she threw a box of tissues at him across the room.

  Stunned by her response, he caught it on reflex.

  “Yes, I can see life dumped a load of shit on you,” she said, and without looking at him, began taking off her sock cap, then tore off everything she had on, revealing the little cap of red curls on a head that had so recently been bald and a woman’s too-thin body with scars where her breasts used to be. Then she held her arms out at her sides as if she was about to be nailed on a cross and looked up—straight at the tears rolling down his face.

  “Yes...cry me a river, Sam Jakes. I cried one for you.”

  She never saw him move.

  One moment he was across the room, and the next she was in his arms. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and just kept saying the same thing over and over.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  She didn’t feel the scars beneath her hands as she wrapped her arms around his neck, but she felt his tears, and she felt his body shaking beneath her grasp.

  “I loved you, Sam. It wouldn’t have mattered. I loved you. How could you forget that?” she cried.

  “But I didn’t love myself. Ah, Lainey, you don’t understand. I tried so hard to die.”

  The words shattered her. Ten years of heartache bubbled up and came out in harsh, ugly sobs.

  Sam couldn’t breathe past her pain. He couldn’t quit thinking that he’d done this to her. He’d wounded her heart like the war had wounded him. And he didn’t even know her prognosis. Was she healed? Or was she going to die?

  Without thinking, he picked her up in his arms and carried her through the house that he knew so well, down the hall and to her bedroom, to the chaos she’d left behind her when she’d been awakened by the wreck. He sat down on the bed, settled her on his lap and cried with her until there were no more tears to cry. When she was still and he could breathe without choking, he began to talk.

  “After they let me out of the VA, I had PTSD so bad I nearly killed my first landlord. Mom talked him out of pressing charges. I lost three jobs because of it. I was afraid to be around the people I loved most. I was afraid I might hurt them...hurt you. So I figured since I couldn’t work for anyone, I should work for myself.”

  She listened to the nightmare that had been his life with growing horror.

  “And now?” she asked.

  “I cope. I sleep with a handgun and my cell phone. I haven’t been at the powder keg level in five years. I see a psychiatrist who works with veterans. I own a successful private investigation business. But I’m alone, Lainey. Always.”

  She covered her face with her hands, but she couldn’t hide from his truth.

  “Don’t hate me,” he whispered.

  She looked up at him then.

  “No. I won’t hate you ever again,” she said.

  “Thank you, more than you can know.”

  Her shoulders slumped. Out of instinct she started to cross her arms over her breasts and then remembered they were missing, but she did it anyway, because she was too naked in his arms.

  Sam saw, but instead of looking away he tilted her chin and made her look at him.

  “Are you okay? What is your prognosis?”

  “I’m cancer-free. I begin reconstructive surgery in a few weeks. I was waiting until the end of the semester so I’d have all of Christmas break to heal.”

  “You teach?”

  She nodded. “World history for the University of West Virginia, online. I teach online courses from home.”

  “That’s wonderful, Lainey.”

  “I like it,” she said.

  He threaded his fingers through hers, then noticed how fragile she appeared and was afraid that he might hurt her, so he eased his grasp.

  “Your parents?”

  “Dad died about a year after you came home. Mom died a couple of years back.”

  “And you stayed.”

  She nodded and looked away.

  “Why?” he asked. “Didn’t you ever want to see the world? See if there was something more than Mystic?”

  She was struggling with words. She pushed out of his lap and grabbed a robe from the end of the bed, then turned her back to him to put it on.

  “I’ll be right back,” Sam said, and left the room.

  She could hear his footsteps moving through the house, and then a few moments of silence before she heard him coming back. When he walked into the room again he was wearing his shirt and jeans. He sat down on the side of the bed and held out a hand.

  “Just talk to me.”

  She sat down in the rocker across from the bed.

  “Why did you stay here?” he asked again.

  For a moment she couldn’t answer. Wasn’t sure how to put what she’d done into words. Finally she leaned forward, looking straight into his eyes.

  “You know how you hear about mothers whose children disappear, women whose husbands disappear, and no one ever finds out what happened? And how they refuse to leave their homes for fear that one day their loved ones will come looking for them and they’ll be gone?”

  Sam was caught in the sadness of her gaze. He felt the words coming and knew they were going to gut him, but he wouldn’t look away.

  Her fingers were curled around the arms of the rocker, and her face had turned pale. He knew she was struggling. He wanted to hold her again, but she had a “keep away” look on her face.

  “Do you remember what you said to me the day you left for boot camp? You said you’d come back to me. You promised me, Sam. I couldn’t leave. I was waiting for you to come home.”

  The ache in his chest was so great he couldn’t move.

  “You know he died there, don’t you, girl?”

  Lainey’s eyes widened as the meaning of what he’d said began to dawn.

  “Your Sam died in a desert in Afghanistan. They sent his body home, and this is all that’s left. I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know how to make this right.”

  She leaned forward. “What do you want from me, Sam? Why are you here?”

  “I want...no, I need you to forgive me. I need you to understand.”

  She was crying again—a weak, helpless cry without sound. “Understand what?”

  “That I could hurt you. I’m broken.”

  “So what does that make me?” she asked, splaying the palms of her hands across her chest. “I’m in pieces, too, and I don’t quit.” She sagged against
the rocker and closed her eyes. “Go away, Sam. You said your piece, and I heard it. I am not your priest, but you are absolved of your guilt. So go back to Mystic. Help Trey find out who killed your mother, and then go back to wherever you came from. Hide from what’s left of your life. Be the cripple. Be the victim. Just leave me alone.”

  He wanted to be angry at her, but she had done nothing but speak her truth.

  “I hear you, and I’m leaving. But we’re not done here,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “You don’t know my number. Go away,” she said and turned her face to the window.

  Sam walked out of her bedroom with a knot in his chest. Then he noticed the house still had a landline, and with an ache in his heart, realized he still remembered the number. He picked up the receiver and verified the number on the dial, then left the house. All the way back to Mystic he kept running scenarios of how he could make a relationship work, what kind of safeguards she might need if they gave it a try.

  When he saw the city-limit sign he had no memory of how he’d gotten there. The farther he drove, the deeper the pain became. He didn’t yet know how to fix this, but he had to make it right. No matter how long it took, or what he had to do to convince her to let him try, he had found out one definite truth. He could never leave Lainey behind again.

  * * *

  Lainey heard the door slam as he left, and there was a moment when she thought she should run screaming from the house, begging him to take her with him. But it wasn’t her place to beg. It was his. If he wanted her bad enough, he knew where she lived, and if he did not, when he was gone, so was she. She’d held up her end of the bargain when she’d waited, but she’d fought too hard to survive cancer to bury herself out on a farm all alone.

  When he started his car, she got up and watched him as he drove away. She understood the horror of what his family was going through. She got it that Trina’s life was hanging in the balance either way. If she survived the shooting and the surgery, they still had to find a way to keep her alive until they could apprehend the killer. And what irony it would be if her own mother’s childhood diaries became a focal point in solving such a mystery.

  She glanced at the clock and then dropped the robe and went to get dressed. She had classes for two hours straight this afternoon and hoped to God she could remember the lesson plans. Right now she was so rattled she wasn’t sure she could spell her own name.

  * * *

  Sam was at the hospital with Trina when Trey entered ICU. He paused at the door to her room to speak to the guard.

  “How’s it going, Mike?” he asked.

  Mike Cantrell stood up. “It’s good. No problems here. Everything is straightforward, and other than medical visits no one but you, Dallas, Sam and Lee visits. I’m off in a couple of hours, and Cain Embry will take over.”

  Trey nodded. “And don’t forget, if you see anything that strikes you as even the faintest bit off, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand,” Mike said, and then sat back down as Trey went inside.

  Trey glanced at Trina, and then raised an eyebrow at Sam to ask how she was.

  Sam just shook his head, indicating no change.

  “Are you okay to leave?” Trey asked. “I need to run something by you.”

  “Yes. I’ve been here ever since I got back from seeing Lainey.”

  Trey heard something in Sam’s voice that he hadn’t heard in years. “So how did that go?”

  Sam shrugged. “Just about how you’d expect. She slapped my face, threw a coffee mug at me and then cried. I won’t go into details, but right now I guess I hate myself more now than I did when I was hurt.”

  “I’m sorry,” Trey said.

  “Yeah, so am I,” Sam said, then turned and gave Trina a kiss on her forehead. “Rest and get well, little sister. Know that you are safe.”

  They left together, saving their conversation until they were outside the hospital, when there was no one around to overhear.

  “Have you had lunch?” Trey asked as they exited the building.

  “No stomach for food,” Sam muttered, then kicked at the melting snow. “At least this is going away.”

  “You need to eat something, and I’m hungry. Meet me at Charlie’s Burgers. You can eat pie. I want real food.”

  * * *

  As Sam was walking toward the café, the killer was walking out. He paused, hoping the expression on his face was one of concern and not panic.

  “How goes it, Sam?”

  Sam shrugged. “Okay.”

  “So how’s Trina? Is she still in a coma?”

  “She’s stable, and yes, they’re still keeping her medicated.”

  “Stable is good,” the killer said. “Just know my prayers will be with her.”

  “Thanks,” Sam said and went into the café as the killer walked to his car.

  He waved at Trey Jakes, who had just pulled up, and then got into his own car and drove away.

  * * *

  Trey walked inside, saw Sam at a booth and quickly joined him.

  The waitress came with menus and coffee. As Sam began to relax with his brother, he decided to eat something after all. By the time the waitress came back, he was ready to order.

  As soon as she left, Trey leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Sam nodded. “Anything.”

  “I need you to go to Mom’s. I know you don’t want to, but consider this part of the investigation. Go through the house with a fine-tooth comb. You know what to look for. She was keeping journals about her dreams. She brought me several, but I don’t know if what I have is all she wrote. You know?”

  “Yes, Mom was big on journals.”

  “If you find anything even remotely referring to her memory issues, bring it.”

  “I will, but I’ll need a key.”

  Trey took his key from the ring and handed it over. “Keep mine. Dallas has another. I can make a copy.”

  “Are there still cats in the barn?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, Dallas and I have been feeding them, but there’s no livestock on the place anymore.”

  “I’ll check on them and feed them today,” Sam said. “Food still in the same place?”

  Trey nodded.

  Sam threaded the house key onto his key ring, and then reached for his coffee. It was hot and fresh, and it took the chill off his mood. As they sat, he watched Trey fielding texts and then turning the sound down on his handheld so the radio traffic wouldn’t disturb the other diners.

  “You are a good man, Trey. I don’t think I ever thanked you and Trina for taking care of Mom.”

  Trey’s voice broke. “I didn’t do a very good job of it. And I’m not doing a very good job of finding her killer, either.”

  “Don’t talk like that. From what I’ve heard, both the city and the county are at a loss on this case. After all that’s happened, you still have next to no clues.”

  “I know, and it’s hard to take,” Trey said.

  Sam saw the dark circles under his brother’s eyes. He was suffering the loss and dealing with guilt. Had to be hell.

  “Life is hard sometimes, but we do the best we can with what we’re given,” Sam said.

  Trey looked away. Silence hung heavy between them until the waitress returned with their food.

  They ate in comfortable silence, speaking now and then as brothers do, without concern for polite conversation, and when they were through, Sam picked up the check as Trey went back to the office.

  When Sam exited the café, he glanced up at the sky. It was clear but gray, and still damn cold—a fitting day for the prodigal son to go home.

  * * *

  Lainey was set up and ready for the class to begin,
but her head was throbbing. She’d cried harder this morning than she’d cried her whole life. What she couldn’t get over was that Sam had cried with her. Despite the hopelessness of their situation, it had been healing to be held, to be loved. The really sad part was that she believed Sam still loved her. He’d known why they were apart when she had not. She wasn’t sure how to feel about him. She would always love him, but love had to be shared to grow, and they hadn’t shared so much as a conversation in years.

  What she wanted was the past ten years of her life back. What she would have done was go back to that hospital again. What she should have done was ignore what Sam wanted. Maybe then he wouldn’t have had such a hang-up about himself.

  But there was also the PTSD. It wasn’t all about the physical scars. He’d said he’d tried to kill his landlord. He’d said he hadn’t been able to hold a job. She thought of being in the middle of that kind of chaos and wondered whether she would have been strong enough to cope at that age. It pained her to admit it, but there was a part of her that was coming to accept he’d been right—at least about that. So where did that leave them? Alone and apart. A completely ridiculous, unacceptable answer that was making her sick.

  She popped a couple of painkillers, washed them down with water and clicked through to her “classroom.” It was time to earn her pay.

  * * *

  For Sam, the drive back out to the farm felt surreal. He’d dreamed of this moment so many times over the years but had never made it happen. Doing it now felt like betrayal. But if he could find something that would help catch the man who’d killed his mother, it would be worth the guilt.

  When he came over the hill and looked down the slope to the mailbox on the side of the road, he realized that was where the attack had happened. That was where his mother had died. He could tell by the amount of grass that had been disturbed where the rescue vehicles had parked. A wave of emotion washed through him as he thought about how Trey must have felt when he found Mom and Trina.

  “We’ll find him, Mama, I promise you,” he said, and turned off the blacktop and down the dirt road to their house.