Jericho (A Redemption Novel)

by Ginger Jamison

  Maybe it was because he waited for her. His tense features relaxed slightly when he spotted her. It was silly, but seeing that pleased her more than anything else had in a very long time.

  “Hello, Lieutenant. How are you this evening?”

  “You’re late.”

  He frowned at her. Pouted at her, to be more accurate. And if Christian hadn’t been over six and a half feet tall and the size of a linebacker, she would have said he resembled a pouting three-year-old child.

  “I see you took your cranky pills this evening.” She walked over to the foot of the bed and pulled the blankets from around his large feet. “What’s the matter, sweets? Are you still cold?” She lightly ran her fingers over his socked feet. He wore the socks she’d given him. Another thing that pleased her more than it should. She’d made sure the hospital had provided him with more socks, but he never wore them. He had hers laundered so often she was afraid they were going to fall apart.

  She absently stroked up the soles again, eliciting a little moan from Christian. She barely heard it. She had set some of the money her sister gave her aside just for herself. But there was nothing she wanted. Maybe she would get Christian another pair of socks. Or some pajamas. Something that would bring him a little comfort.

  Unlike all the other soldiers, no family ever came to visit. He had no love to get him through this. No support. If she could provide a little to him, it would help her sleep better.

  “I can get you another blanket or bring you a cup of coffee. It won’t even be hospital coffee. We got one of those fancy machines in the break room. You strike me as a man who would enjoy a good strong cup of light and sweet French vanilla roast.”

  The corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile. “I don’t drink coffee.”

  “Hot chocolate, then? I could scrounge up some of those little marshmallows for you.”

  “I’m not cold, Georgia.”

  She re-covered his feet and went to his side to check on his wounds. “You’re healing nicely. Are you in pain? Is that what’s bothering you? You know I could get you something for it. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Oh?” She knew he wasn’t. She could tell by how stiff he held himself tonight. To the world he might appear emotionless, but she could see he was upset about something. Maybe it was the mother in her, but she wanted to make it better. “I bought you another present. I know you haven’t been able to see yourself yet. So I went and spent a whole ninety-nine cents of my own money and got you this here hand mirror.” She slipped the small folding mirror out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I’m sorry it’s pink, but they didn’t have any in camouflage.”

  He seemed hesitant to take it, and she understood why. This was a big moment for him. He hadn’t seen his new face yet. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to know you were never again going to be who you once were.

  “Do you want to do this alone?”

  He shook his head and took it from her. He just held it for a minute, his eyes closed as if he was bracing himself.

  “Go on, honey.”

  He lifted the mirror and stared, his expression never changing. How could he do that? How could it be possible for him to give no sign of what he was thinking? She held her breath and watched him, waiting for some sign of emotion.

  “My hair is long,” he said, frowning.

  She exhaled. How typical of a marine to be worried over the length of his hair.

  “I kind of like it like this.”

  She ran her fingers through his thick, dark golden curls. It was softer than she expected. She studied the locks, noting how each individual strand was a different color. His hair was beautiful. It felt good beneath her fingers.

  “You don’t know how many women would kill for hair like this. They pay hundreds of dollars just to try to get this color.”

  “I guess I should keep it like this, then,” he said, grimacing. “It seems I don’t have much of an ear anymore—maybe this will cover it.”

  She touched the ear he was referring to, tracing what was left of the shell. It wouldn’t be noticeable at all beneath his hair. In fact, none of his burns were that noticeable to her. “It’s not so bad.” She stared at him as he stared at himself. “What do you think?”

  “It’s terrible, but I guess I was imagining worse. You know that scene from that Indiana Jones movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark, where the guy’s face melts off?”

  “No. I’ve never seen that movie, honey, but tell me anyway.” She stroked the backs her fingers down his cheek. The skin was leathery but still soft, and for a few minutes she marveled at the texture against her skin.

  “I guess I thought I would be a man without a face. Just bone and blood.”

  “Can’t you feel your skin?” She traced her fingers along his jawline. He may not feel it, but he was lucky. She had seen worse burns. She had seen men die from them. Christian’s burns were oddly beautiful.

  He looked at her. “I can feel your fingers on my face.”

  “Oh.” She dropped her hand, embarrassed that she’d let herself get carried away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was petting you like a dog.”

  He grabbed her waist, his hands reaching under her scrubs to touch the bare skin of her lower back. He stroked her there.

  His hands. On her skin.

  The heat of his fingers was like lightning bolts, shooting waves of warmth up her body. Her nipples tightened painfully in reaction. She lost her breath. The reaction scared her.

  “Let go of me, Christian.”

  He did so immediately. The last time she’d asked a man to stop touching her he didn’t. Christian did without hesitation. He was a gentle man behind his alarming exterior.

  “I—I’m sorry, Georgia.”

  “It’s okay.” She grabbed his face with both hands, her breath still short, and pressed a kiss to the burned side of his face. She knew she should step away from him after that, but she couldn’t make her feet move. “Thank you for listening.”

  Her lips seemed to be rooted to his skin. She kissed the other side of his face three, maybe four times before she dragged her lips down the bridge of his large, straight nose. He shut his eyes and she knew he felt like her in that moment. Starved. For human interaction. For affection. For something they were missing. She kissed his eyelids, and for a moment she rested her lips against them.

  “Thank you.”

  “Georgia.” He said her name in a guttural way, as though it had been ripped from his chest. She knew she had to step away then. To leave him alone tonight. They had crossed a line, and she wasn’t sure if she could pretend as if nothing had happened. She knew that after tonight they could never go back to the way things were before.

  “Good night, Lieutenant.”

  * * *

  Christian found it impossible to sleep that night. At first he thought worrying about Tobias was going to keep him up that night. But it turned out that Tobias hadn’t entered his mind at all.

  It was Georgia. He shouldn’t have grabbed her. He knew it was wrong but she touched him gently, willingly, when he hadn’t been touched in so long. He was never a man who needed it, but with Georgia, he craved it, and when she touched him and then pulled away, something had snapped inside of him. He wanted more. He had never lost control like that before. She must have put some kind of spell over him. And his body couldn’t tolerate not having her close.

  But the way she reacted when he touched her...

  Fear. He could read it in her eyes. As if he was some monster who was going to take her away. And he’d felt like one. Especially when the gratefulness had spread across her face when he let her go. But she’d ended up surprising him, just when he was about to beat himself up, just when he was about to add yet another regret to his collection of many, she’
d taken his face in her hands and kissed him. Kissed him all over his face. Sweetly, but not as sweetly as before. Not like a mother would kiss a child, but like a woman would kiss a man.

  It confused the hell out of him and gave him one more reason to want to get to know her better.

  * * *

  Christian’s next few days at the hospital seemed impossibly long. Georgia was off. He had his first painful session of physical therapy and Tobias didn’t come to visit him.

  At first Christian didn’t know what to think. He knew the kid was scared about the surgery, about losing the tiny bit of eyesight he had left, but Christian didn’t think that would end his visits. Maybe Christian had said the wrong thing to him. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. It was none of his business, but Tobias didn’t seem like the type of kid who would give up so easily. Why should he just accept things when there was a chance to change it?

  Christian wanted to ask the nurses about him, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He had no business making friends with a nineteen-year-old lance corporal. If he were serving instead of stuck in bed it would have never happened. The boy would have never gained that level of familiarity with him. It was probably the reason Christian didn’t have many people he could truly call a friend.

  “Hello, Christian.”

  He opened his eyes to see General Lee walking through the door, which normally wouldn’t be exceptional. The man tried to visit him at least once a week, but he always wore his uniform.

  Today he didn’t.

  He was still neat. Not a hair out of place, but he wore khaki-colored slacks and a salmon-colored shirt.

  Salmon.

  It was damn close to pink.

  “Your wife pick out that shirt for you, sir? Or have you come here to confess something to me?”

  The general chuckled and eased his large body into the chair beside Christian’s bed. “She bought this shirt for me six years ago for my birthday. I promised her I would wear it as soon as I retired. I didn’t think she would remember, but when I got out of the shower this morning my clothes were laid out for me on the bed. I should know my Alma better by now.”

  “How’s retirement treating you so far?”

  “Today’s my first day. I thought I would find myself wondering what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life, but again my wife has that all planned out. She presented me with a thirty-item list this morning.”

  It was Christian’s turn to chuckle. “And how did you respond to that?”

  “I was relieved, actually. My wife may have been a hippie, but she’s tougher than any drill sergeant I’ve ever had. The woman would have made a damn fine marine.”

  Christian could clearly see the admiration on the general’s face. Again, seeing this side of the man was odd for him, but it made him realize that there was life outside of the marines. “What’s the first thing on the list?”

  “A cruise.” He shook his head with a frown. “A one-week cruise around the Caribbean.” He shuddered at the word Caribbean as though it was a dirty word. “I’ve spent the past few years in and out of foreign countries, and I swore to myself I would never leave American soil again unless I had to.”

  “Then why are you going?”

  “Because I have to. Because my wife wants to, and after forty years of her supporting me it’s time for me to do what she wants.”

  “That’s very noble of you, sir.”

  “Dan,” he reminded him. “And it’s not noble. It’s marriage. After this she has me taking tennis lessons and a woodworking class. Ballroom-dancing lessons were on the list, but I drew the line at that. I’m still a man after all.”

  “I guess the watercolor class is out, then. I was hoping you were going to paint me a pretty picture to hang on my wall.”

  “Smart-ass,” he muttered. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I won’t see you for a while. My wife says I should stop by and make sure you don’t need anything before we leave. She says I’m a bad visitor, that I should be bringing you things to make you more comfortable. The thought never occurred to me.”

  “I guess she should put learning etiquette on that list.”

  He shrugged. “Do you need anything, son? I see you’ve got good socks on. Who gave you those?”

  “Georgia.”

  “Georgia?” He raised one of his bushy eyebrows. “You’ve got another visitor I don’t know about?”

  “She’s a nurse.”

  “She wouldn’t happen to be that pretty little thing who works the night shift?”

  Christian nodded. He was mad at himself for saying anything. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to keep whatever it was he and Georgia had going on private. He couldn’t put a name on what he felt for her, but he didn’t want to share it with anybody else.

  “And she gave you socks?”

  “She probably gives them to everybody.”

  “Not at fifteen dollars a pair.” He stared at Christian for a long moment as if he was trying to figure out something. “She must like you. That’s a good thing. After you threw that tantrum and smashed your lunch against the wall, you don’t seem to have many fans.”

  “Georgia just wants to make everybody feel comfortable. She would do the same for anybody.”

  “But she didn’t do it for anybody. She did it for you.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Nothing.” The general gave him a curious look. “A woman who will bring a man socks seems like the kind of woman a man would want to marry.”

  Christian’s head swam for a moment. “Are you suggesting that I marry the night nurse because she bought me socks?”

  “No. What I’m suggesting is you start thinking about things you might want in a wife. Pretty and cares about a man’s comfort are two things I would put on my list.”

  “Did you have a list when you met Alma?”

  “No, but she had legs that went up to her armpits and an ass that I wanted to get down on my knees and praise God for,” he said, causing Christian to smile. “I’m just saying you need to start thinking about life after the marines. You don’t have a wife to make a list for you.”

  Christian had wondered when this moment would come. The general had not been subtle when dropping hints about life after the military. He knew what was coming and he was prepared for the blow, but it didn’t stop his heart from racing in his chest. “Are you telling me that I’m not going to be allowed to go back to active duty?”

  “I’m not telling you anything. I’m retired.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Nurse Williams.” Georgia heard her name called as she left the locker room and headed for the nurses’ station. She froze, knowing the sound of that voice all too well.

  “Yes, ma’am?” She turned around to face her supervisor and she almost regretted her decision. She had that expression again. The I’m-going-to-rip-out-your-soul-and-eat-it-for-breakfast expression that every nurse feared.

  Her boss never wanted to speak to her when she did a good job, only when she did something wrong. And Georgia knew she had done something wrong.

  Christian.

  Somehow, without her meaning to, their relationship had traveled past that of nurse and patient. She had come to the realization that she felt things for him. Things she shouldn’t. She could still feel the way his tortured skin felt beneath her lips, and while she’d been off for the past three days, she found herself pressing her fingers to her lips as if she was trying to recreate the memory, wondering what it would be like if she had been brave enough to press her lips to his.

  She shouldn’t have gotten so close to him, but there was no turning back now. She couldn’t pretend he was just another patient. They were friends in an odd sort of way. And that odd friendship could put her job in jeopardy.

  “You were late again today.”
The woman tapped on her clipboard. “We have talked about this. I’m writing you up.”

  Late? It took a moment for her brain to process this. This wasn’t about Christian. She let out a hysterical bubble of laughter, relived that her secret was still safe.

  “Is something funny?” The woman’s stern expression turned into a frown.

  “No, ma’am, it’s just that I wasn’t late today.”

  “Are you telling me that I’m mistaken? I saw you walk into the locker room at 7:06 p.m. You are supposed to begin your shift exactly at seven. Seven-oh-six is very late in my book.”

  The woman watched everybody like a hawk. Georgia was genuinely surprised that Nurse Chestnut had not noticed when she came in.

  “I’ve been here since six. Nurse Cheng had to leave early because her son is sick. She asked me to cover for her.”

  “I can vouch for her,” Dr. Allen said from behind her. “She walked in the door at 5:58, to be exact. You should be thanking her for covering part of another person’s shift instead of taking glee in writing her up. Georgia’s a good nurse. She works hard. The patients love her, and instead of telling her how good she is, you harp on little insignificant things like a few minutes here and there.”

  “Dr. Allen—” she narrowed her eyes on him “—I know Nurse Williams is very popular here with the male patients, but I wasn’t aware you were so invested in her welfare. If you are engaging in an outside physical relationship, I need to know about it. I frown on my nurses engaging in workplace relationships, but there is nothing in the bylaws that says it is forbidden as long as Human Resources knows about it and you both do not let it interfere with your work.”

  “We are not sleeping together, ma’am,” Georgia said in nearly a whisper. Her father had taught her never to raise her voice, but she wanted to scream at the woman. To rage, to slap the self-righteous look off her face. Her insinuation felt like a punch to the stomach. She almost felt as though she was standing in front of her father again, explaining in vain that she was not what he thought she was. “Just because somebody thinks I do my job well doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with them.”