Leah felt uneasiness curl through her, and guilt that she wouldn’t be available to join her unit and help if the situation got worse. But her duty was to her unborn child now, not to the country she’d served for more than ten years. She looked up from the computer screen into her friend’s anxious eyes. “Did you have any trouble getting over Aurelia’s bridge this morning?” Margaret had insisted that she stay with Aurelia the night before, so that Leah could get a decent night’s sleep.
“We made it, but just barely. The water’s almost up to road level. I’ve never seen the water so high around here. The river’s out of its banks. It won’t be much longer before half the houses on Hyacinth Street have to be evacuated, and they’re already talking about moving people living on Mulberry and Carson out.”
Leah closed the patient file she’d been updating and got up to go to the window. Margaret’s news had caught her a little off guard. She’d been so busy seeing patients all day that she hadn’t ventured out of the windowless exam rooms for at least five hours. It was only a little after three o’clock in the afternoon, but the leaden sky was almost as dark as night. She looked out at the drenched pavement and the sodden lawns of the houses across the street with alarm. Hyacinth Street ran along the river. It was in the lowest part of town and had flooded once or twice since Leah had lived in Slate Hollow, but Mulberry and Carson were on higher ground. As a matter of fact, Mulberry Street ran parallel to Huckleberry—where her own house could be in danger of flooding. If the Slate River was that high, it would be backing up creeks all over the county.
“Do you think we should move Aurelia and Juliet into town?” Juliet wasn’t going to school any longer. Leah picked up her work assignments at the end of the day, or Juliet’s homeroom teacher gathered them together and dropped them off with Leah at the clinic.
“That’s up to you and Caleb,” Margaret said. “But to tell you the truth, that’s why I stopped by. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you and that child to be out there alone tonight.”
Leah turned away from the window. She lifted her stethoscope from around her neck and laid it on the desk. It seemed suddenly very heavy. “Adam will be with us.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but he isn’t going to be able to hold back the creek water if it decides to go over the banks and take that old bridge with it.”
“He’s going to stop by here in a few minutes on his way out to the highway to meet Brian’s bus. I’ll discuss the situation with him then.”
Margaret was watching her closely. “You and I have hardly had a chance to talk in almost two weeks.”
“I know, but everything’s been so hectic.” Leah smiled at Margaret apologetically.
“Now that I’m here, we have a few minutes. Caleb says you and Adam are going to be getting married sometime soon.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure that’s the best decision?” Margaret was a blunt, no-nonsense woman. She had been a friend for as long as Leah had known her. She obviously had doubts about Leah’s relationship with Adam and she meant to voice them.
“I hope it is.”
“He’s a troubled man, Leah. Caleb told me that Adam has indicated he has no intention of returning to Chicago and his position at St. Barnabas. Ordinarily I’d be thrilled to hear that, because I don’t want to lose you either as a friend and neighbor or as a member of the clinic practice, but Leah, Adam isn’t an ordinary doctor. He’s a neurosurgeon with a growing worldwide reputation. That he intends to give that all up...”
“Just to marry me?” Leah asked, trying to deflect a little of the pain Margaret’s plain-speaking had inflected, but the joke fell flat. Her friend had an uncanny knack of putting her finger exactly on all the doubts Leah tried so very hard to ignore. Adam had turned his back on medicine. He had barely set foot inside the door of the clinic since the day he’d gone with Caleb to see the woman in the ER.
“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, he’s going to give that all up, period, end of sentence. End of career. He’s a young man. What will he do with his life? What will you do if it doesn’t work out?”
Once more Margaret had given voice to one of Leah’s greatest fears. Would he come to resent leaving all that? Perhaps not right away, but eventually, inevitably? “He’s trying so hard to work his way through the past.”
“But what if he doesn’t make it? Some Vietnam vets never make a reconnection. What if Adam’s one of them?”
Leah looked down at the small stuffed stork one of her patients had given her as a gift. The longer Adam fought against coming to terms with what happened to him all those years ago, the lower the odds became of his ever putting the ghosts to rest. Last night he had stayed with her. He hadn’t gotten up before dawn to leave her, but slept in her arms. Even as she held him close she couldn’t keep the past away. His sleep had been troubled, but when she asked him about it, he had kissed her into silence, refusing to talk about the nightmares that gave him no respite.
When would those nightmares begin to spill over into his waking hours? What would she do then? Would he grow violent or even more withdrawn than he sometimes was now? That was the picture of the future that frightened her most of all—a withdrawn and distant husband, and a child who would suffer from his father’s inability to show the love every child needed. This was one thing she had promised herself she could not let happen. It would be better to raise their baby alone.
“I love him, Margaret, but I made myself a promise. I will put my baby’s welfare above everything else, even a broken heart.”
“I pray it doesn’t come to that,” Margaret said. “There, I’ve had my say and I feel better. With your parents living so far away, I feel it’s my duty to stand in your mother’s place.”
“I know you do, Margaret, and I appreciate your concern.” Leah ran her finger over the spindly yellow legs of the little stuffed bird. “I pray I don’t, but I may need your help in the future. It’s wonderful to know that you and Caleb will always be there for me and the baby.”
Margaret swept across the room and reached up on tiptoe to give Leah a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve had my say, but that doesn’t mean I’m not rooting for true love and a happy-ever-after for you.”
Leah hugged her back, her throat tight. “I know that, too.”
“Well, I’d better be on my way home. Caleb’s fixing supper tonight and I don’t want to be late,” Margaret declared briskly. “We’ll be at home all evening, so don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything at all out there at Aurelia’s.”
“I won’t hesitate for even a moment.”
Margaret grew serious once more. “I’ll miss Aurelia’s friendship. She and I go back a long way. She was almost the first friend I had in Slate Hollow when Caleb and I moved here after he got out of the service. But I’ll be glad when this is all over—she’s fading fast. And Juliet didn’t sleep a wink last night. I almost wish her C-section was scheduled sooner than next week. I want to see that little one born safely into the world.”
“We all do, Margaret.”
“Has she made up her mind about the adoption yet? I wanted to ask last night, but she didn’t broach the subject so I didn’t press.”
“No, she’s still very torn.” Leah wondered what effect Brian’s return would have on the decision she made.
“At least you’ve been able to keep that Lexington lawyer away from her.”
“Yes, that has taken some of the pressure off.”
“Has she asked your opinion lately?” Margaret turned away as she spoke, reaching for her raincoat and little plastic hat.
“No, she’s kept to herself these last few days. She spends as much time with Aurelia as she can. She does her schoolwork and she stays in her room.”
“It’s the weather. It’s getting everyone down. Lord, I wish it would stop raining.” She opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. “I’ll call this evening to make sure everything’s all right. And remember, if you need us, we’ll be there as fast
as we can.”
“Thanks, Margaret.”
Leah sat back down at her desk and stared at the computer. Margaret’s words played over and over in her brain, blanking out the information on the screen. What would her life with Adam be like? Was she opening herself to years of heartache and regrets? Would her listening to her heart, instead of her head, cause heartache for their child, as well? The door opened and Adam stuck his head inside.
“Hi there. Are you ready to head out to the bus stop with me?” He smiled, and for the time being her doubts melted away. When he smiled, he was the Adam she knew he should and could be. The whole man, caring and committed. This was the man she had created a child with, and fallen in love with.
“I’m ready,” she said, and smiled back. “Just let me shut down the computer and get my umbrella. Margaret was just here.”
“I know. I passed her in the hall.” He came into the room and shut the door. He was wearing a white shirt and dark jeans, and he’d hooked his jacket over his shoulder with one finger. He smelled of fresh air and rain, and the subtle pine aftershave he always wore.
“She said there are flash-flood warnings out for the whole county.”
Adam nodded. “I had the radio on when I drove over here.”
“Do you think we should move Juliet and Aurelia into town?”
“The weatherman’s talking about a break in the rain for tomorrow. Let’s wait and see how the creek looks when we get out there. I imagine Brian will insist on telling Juliet about his gift or loan, or whatever he intends to call it, as soon as possible.”
“I should probably drive myself to Aurelia’s then. Brian won’t be staying the night.”
“Good idea. I’ll stay with you tonight, and Brian can use the Cherokee to come back into town.” He smiled again.
“You’re glad he’s coming back, aren’t you,” she said, moving into his arms.
He tossed his coat onto the chair in front of her desk and gathered her close. “Yes, I’m glad he’ll be here with us.”
“Even though what he’s done will put more pressure on Juliet?”
“She’ll make the right decision and you’ll stand behind her, no matter what that decision is.”
“And you’ll stand behind me.”
His smile faded. “I’ll be with you.”
He had told her what she wanted to hear, but his smile didn’t return, though her persistent niggling doubts did. “Let’s go out through the ER entrance,” she said. “I parked the Jeep on that side of the building this morning because the clinic lot was full.”
“I’m over there, too. The clinic lot is still full.” He grabbed his coat and slung it over his shoulder, then held the door for her to precede him into the corridor. “After I pick up Brian why don’t he and I stop at the diner and get some carryout for dinner tonight? How does that sound?”
“Great.” They could be any husband and wife leaving the office, planning the evening, except that Adam wouldn’t step foot in the hospital and they were going home to a dying friend. Leah shook off the gloomy thought. It was the weather, just as Margaret said, and it was getting her down.
“The special’s chicken-fried steak and scalloped potatoes.”
“Sounds marvelous. I’ll fix a salad, and there’s ice cream for dessert.”
“What more could a person ask?” He reached for her hand. He did that more often now, made the first move toward intimacy, and Leah’s spirits rose a little.
They paused for a moment under the canopy outside the ER entrance, while Leah fumbled with the clasp on her umbrella. She found the button and popped it open just as a beat-up old station wagon roared into the driveway and skidded to a stop directly in front of them. A middle-aged woman in a blood-splattered blouse and slacks jumped out from behind the wheel and raced around the hood.
“Help me, please!” she sobbed. “My grandson—he fell playing on the slide in the park. I told him not to go outside. It was raining too hard, but he wouldn’t listen. He slipped on the top step. I saw him fall. I’m afraid he’s hurt bad. Real bad.”
She wrenched open the car door and reached inside to lift a skinny little boy of four or five from the seat before Leah could tell her it was best he not be moved until his injuries had been evaluated. The child’s clothing was covered in mud and blood. The lower half of his face was hidden by the bloody rag he was holding to his chin.
He was conscious, a good sign, and able to move his arms and legs, another good sign, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t seriously hurt.
He lifted the bloody towel away from his face and looked down at it, then began to cry lustily. Blood ran freely from what Leah surmised was a badly cut lip.
His grandmother took one look at his face, turned chalk white and sank to her knees. “Oh, Lordy.”
“Catch him,” Leah said, dropping the umbrella. Adam caught the little boy before he tumbled to the cement while Leah grabbed the distraught grandmother by her shoulders and steadied her.
“I’m sorry,” said the woman. “I never could stand the sight of blood.”
“Adam.” Leah turned to find him staring down at the whimpering child, the look on his face terribly familiar. The expression of banked terror she had seen when he’d lifted the injured children from the wrecked bus, and before that in the market in Saigon. He was pulling away, retreating into that dark world where only he could go.
“Adam!” She was desperate to have him acknowledge her. He looked up. “Take the boy inside. Get him some help.” With the wailing child in his arms, Adam turned on his heel and walked on stiff legs toward the automatic doors.
“I can’t stand to see my babies suffer,” the woman said. “I’m getting too old for this.”
“It’s only a cut lip,” Leah soothed, guiding her to the ER entrance.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. He’ll probably need a few stitches. Why don’t we wait until the doctor’s seen him and then worry about what his injuries might be, okay?”
“Okay, but I have to call my daughter. She’s at work.”
“I’ll show you where to find a phone.” Leah looked up. Adam was already through the treatment-area doors. He was still holding the child. Just as Leah and the little boy’s grandmother entered the ER, he handed him to one of the nurses, then turned toward her.
There was blood on his shirt and on his hands. He looked down at the stains, swiped his hands down his pant legs and balled them into fists. Leah’s heart froze in her chest. His eyes met hers once more, but it was as though he wasn’t there. He had retreated into himself again, and this time when she held out her hand to draw him back, he walked away.
ADAM STARED AT HIS HANDS. The little boy’s blood was gone. He’d found a bathroom at the end of the hospital corridor, washed his hands and vomited at the sight of the blood running into the sink. All those tiny naked bodies, passed to him from nurses who held each under a shower to wash off the mud and blood. “This one is alive,” they would say in voices devoid of emotion, drained of any inflection by the unbelievable horror of what they were seeing, what they were doing. “This one is dead.” Over and over again. “This one is dead.” He would take each small, limp body to the makeshift morgue, lay it beside the last and return for another, and another.
He had carried away eighteen little bodies. Nineteen, counting the child who had died in his arms in the wreckage. One for every year he had lived. All together, he remembered thinking, the sum of their ages probably hadn’t totaled five years more than his. God why did he have to remember it now?
That day had been worse than any of the others. He could remember the shellings and the sniper attacks. He could replay in his mind B.J.’s accident and watching him being taken away in the Evac helicopter, wondering if he’d ever see his friend alive again. He could deal with the gut-tightening memory of watching wave after wave of desperate human beings rushing the runways to try to find a place for themselves on the planes leaving the besieged city, and the brutality of the
force necessary to turn them away.
But he never allowed himself to remember the children—except times like today when the terrible images leapt to his mind unbidden. They shook him to the core, and he was still shaking. Still unable to go back out into the ER and find Leah and take her away from this place. If he didn’t get a grip on himself, he was going to lose it completely.
He needed Leah. He needed the quiet and serenity of her cozy little house. He needed time to pull himself together, and then maybe with her in his arms to keep him grounded in the here and now, he could bring the terror out into the open and talk about it at last.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, hoping to erase the horror he knew was reflected there. He walked down the corridor toward the examining room. Leah was nowhere to be seen. He heard the little boy still crying and clamped his jaws together to keep his teeth from chattering. With every muscle in his body protesting, he headed for the sound. A young man in green scrubs whom Adam had never seen before stepped out from behind a desk.
“May I help you?”
“Leah Gentry—is she with the little boy they just brought in?”
The male nurse gave him the once-over. “She’s in there.”
“I need to speak to her.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The nurse disappeared into the exam room, closing the door pointedly behind him. Adam waited one minute, two. The boy’s frightened screams increased in volume and intensity. The sound scraped across his nerve endings like a dull scalpel blade. Five minutes and still no Leah.
The nurse returned. Adam headed toward him. He just wanted to see Leah, let her know that he was here, that he hadn’t turned tail and run out on her.
“No shots!” the little boy’s screams reached a frightened crescendo. Panic fought with Adam’s rage to be free of the past.
“I’m sorry. She can’t talk to you now.” The nurse continued to block the door, as if he thought Adam would try to push past him. “You can’t go in there.”
Winter Soldier (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance) Page 19