Healed by Love

by Ami LeCoeur

  She’d always been relentless, especially when she didn’t get what she wanted. She even videotaped my night terrors to be used as ‘evidence’ should she need to convince anyone I was an unfit father. The bitch. Living in fear of fucking up only created more fuck ups.

  “You okay?” Maria asked softly, still stroking my face and once again I’m brought back to reality. Her beautiful reality. Soft eyes, filled with compassion, stared up at me.

  “Yeah, much better now.”

  “That was a doozy,” she said. “Are they always that bad?”

  A gush of air whooshed out of her lungs as I hugged her just a little too tightly. I could hardly believe it. She gets it. “I’m sorry I scared you. Are you sure you aren’t hurt from the fall?”

  “Nope, not a scratch. I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t even check to see if the wheelchair was locked. In my mind, I was going to leap into it and chase after you out the door.” She laughed. “Then plop. Damn floor stole my thunder.”

  I smiled down into her sweet face and kissed her forehead.

  “You missed,” she accused me playfully.

  My eyes narrowed in question. Missed what? She touched a finger to her lips. I found the bull’s eye and our lips melted together for the briefest of moments before I pulled away. Calm. Control.

  “Take me to bed.”

  I groaned. Calm and control battled with longing and lust.

  “We don’t have to do anything,” she continued. “I just need to lie down and I don’t want you to go yet. Will you stay with me a while longer? Maybe we can talk.”

  Talk? Great. My balls withered up and my cock searched for a hiding place. I exhaled. Calm and control. This was Maria. My Maria. After the hell I’d just put her through, I’d talk if that’s what she wanted. She deserved some kind of an explanation, after all.

  She laughed. “Don’t worry. I promise no twenty questions. Just nineteen max. Promise.”

  I shook my head and began the process of getting us off the floor. The angle was awkward, but I managed to scoop her up and rise without toppling us over. She pointed to the wheelchair and I sat her down, taking a step back.

  “What all do you need first?” I asked, unsure of her nighttime routine. I felt like a giant moron—standing there like a kid waiting for instructions.

  “The first time you carry me to bed, I don’t want it to be just to talk. So, I’m going to get into my pajamas. Will you bring a couple of beers?” She wheeled off, leaving me to stare after her and then fill her request.

  Five minutes later, she was lying on her bed in these damn silky pink and white striped PJs. No, correct that. PJ bottoms. She was wearing a freakin’ strappy tank thing as a top. No bra, I could see her nipples through the material. That put me into the seventh circle of hell, I realized, once I stretched out on the bed next to her. She turned and curled up next to me, her head on my shoulder, her hand on my chest. She even moved her leg so it was lying over mine.

  Hell. The softest, sweetest, warmest living hell I could ever imagine.

  I raised the beer to my lips, hoping the icy cold would cool me down. This had been a hell of a day… my anger with Rachel, sexy make-out session with Maria, a freakin’ flashback shitstorm and now this… cuddling.

  I was so out of my element. I was used to wild, crazy women who took what they wanted. Fuck-and-runs who knew the game and expected nothing but an hour or two of pleasure. Not innocent creatures who looked at me with admiration and desire.

  She pressed closer to me and I felt the heat of her sex on my thigh. I did what I do best… implement military discipline… calm, control.

  “Stop it,” she giggled and pressed on my chest. “Relax. You’re stiff as a board.” My dick jerked in my pants. Damn. If she wasn’t careful, that part of me was certainly going to be.

  To distract myself, I said the one thing I never thought would come out of my mouth. “So, what do you want to talk about?” Did I really ask that?

  Her hand tightened on my shirt, fisting a handful of material. “I want to know where you went a little while ago. Will you tell me?”

  I blew out a breath and tightened my arm around her, needing a solid reminder of the present as I delved into the past. I didn’t really want to talk about it, but she deserved an answer. An honest answer.

  “Afghanistan. I’d been assigned as team leader to take a ten-man patrol into a valley in search of possible enemy infiltration. Our mission was to go deep into a valley that was supposed to be American friendly. Intel said Taliban were starting to move in there. It was our job to recon and confirm.”

  I looked down at her. Funny how at that moment I could think about it and talk about it calmly when less than a half hour earlier these same thoughts tore at my soul.

  “We were half a day into the foot patrol when we were surprised. At least one hundred insurgents lined a ridge on either side of us. We were trapped in the middle and still a couple miles from our humvees.”

  Maria said nothing, but her hand closed tighter around my shirt.

  “We fought back, I lost a few good men, lost my...” I cleared my throat. “I took a hit to the leg before air support got there and saved our asses.”

  Silence stretched out before she asked, “You lost your what?”

  For a moment, I searched to understand her question, then it hit me. Shit, I didn’t want to talk about Rob, but if I was going to, I might as well start at the beginning. Get it over with, cauterize the wound all at once, as they say.

  “You know I was a foster kid for most of my life. Parents killed in a car accident, no close relatives. Boom, ward of the state. Rob was also a foster in the last home I lived in. Same age. Living through the same crazy life. We became tight.”

  I refused to let myself think about old man Foster. Ironic… my foster parent’s last name was Foster. I don’t even remember his first name since non-biological kids were only allowed to call them Sir and Ma’am—or Missus. “We don’t want you confusing us with your real parents,” Foster said once, firmly drawing the line in the sand.

  “We both joined the military the day after his high school graduation. We’d made a pact that we’d both walk across that stage and get a diploma. I’d finished early, just wanting out. But Rob was studious, he stayed on, finished his college prep. He had big plans for his life and he was going to make certain I did something good with my life, too.”

  “He sounds like a wonderful person,” Maria whispered.

  “He was. He should have been the one to live through that hellstorm of a battle. He was going to be an engineer and had this idea for a hydroponic garden that would somehow also produce fresh water for people in third world countries.”

  Maria looked up into my face as her fingers tightened in my shirt again. She bit her lip gently, but said nothing. I looked away, taking a long drink of beer.

  “One of the assignments of my battalion was to ensure peaceful relationships among the locals. We’d go take food and water to the villages, play with the kids, talk to the elders. We’d try to get them on our side, help them understand who we were fighting and how it would help them long term. Rob would always lead those talks and then try to help them understand his concept of gardening. Over the years, we’d watched vegetables grow in the sand. It was amazing.”

  I felt Maria smile against my chest, her hand now stroking up and down the center of my stomach, her fingers feather light through the fabric of my shirt.

  “It’s horrible how all Afghans have been stereotyped as terrible people. Some are, believe you me, but most are just hard working folks who love their families and want to live in peace. They welcomed us there. The kids literally jumped for joy when they’d see us coming.” I smiled at the memory, especially at little Poya. He’d used me as a jungle gym, climbing all over me every time he saw me.

  “I’ve seen pictures of soldiers playing with the children out there and they always made me cry,” Maria’s quiet voice had a touch of wistfulness. I glanced d
own at her. Her nose had turned pink and her eyes were shiny, but no tears fell.

  “Those pictures weren’t staged—as some assholes... sorry... try to say they are. Those kids were fun, excited to see us. We were excited to see them, too. It was the only good thing about being there, knowing we were helping to create a future for these little guys and gals. Somehow, it made it more worthwhile.”

  Then I remembered other children, the ones who weren’t so lucky. The sad, unfortunate ones used by the enemy. The ones who were forced to betray their families, against their will…

  “What? What’s wrong?” Maria was up on an elbow, searching my face, patting my shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

  I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t shut out the images, the insanity. The cruelty.

  “Tell me. Please,” Maria urged. “Let the ghost of whatever this is out into the open.”

  God, I wished I could. But it was hard for me. I’d done my best to never think about it. How can I talk about it? Out loud. And with her?

  “Talking about it sometimes helps the haunting,” she said, as if she was reading my thoughts.

  I opened my eyes and glanced down at her again. She smiled a sad little smile. “That’s what my therapist told me and she was right. It did help a little. And a little was better. So, tell me.”

  I blew out another breath, knowing she was right. “It’s a memory, not a monster,” is what my therapist would’ve said.

  “The bad guys over there, you wouldn’t believe the things they would do to get an advantage.”

  “Try me,” she said in that quiet voice of hers. I was tempted. Seriously tempted. But I couldn’t. I looked into those sweet, innocent eyes. She didn’t deserve it.

  Then I heard Rachel’s taunting voice, that sarcastic, biting tone she used with me and I shook my head, mutely. I couldn’t take the chance. Besides, it was my memory, not hers.

  Maria watched me silently. I knew I had to say something, so I grabbed at the first thing that popped into my mind.

  “I lost him, Maria. There wasn’t anything I could do. My best friend, and I lost him.” Tears welled up in my eyes as the words choked in my throat.

  She was quiet for just a moment longer. Then her hand was stroking my chest. She took a deep breath, wiping away the tears from the corner of her eyes.

  “I... I can’t even imagine...” her soft voice trailed off. Then she pulled me close to her, as tight as she could hold. “I’m so sorry. Sorry about your friend. So sorry you had to experience all that horror, sorry for everything.”

  I stared down at her. If you only knew. She reached up to wipe away the tears I didn’t even realize were sliding down my face.

  I pulled her closer, wondering what I’d done to deserve this woman in my life.

  Chapter 6 - Maria

  I opened my eyes, stretching as the sleep rolled away from me. I arched my back, hands over my head, a warm feeling running down through my shoulders, centering in the area of my chest.

  I shut my eyes again for a moment and I saw Thompson’s face. That serious, quiet face. Those blue eyes, at once clear and direct, yet with a hint of things hidden just beyond the surface. Secret things that intrigued me. I smiled.

  Then I remembered last night.

  The sadness and pain on his face as he told me about Afghanistan. I winced, thinking about my gentle giant facing the terrors of a relentless foe. Losing his best friend and being helpless to change anything.

  I began to tremble as I remembered how that stupid movie triggered his panic attack. How distant and remote this gentle, caring man became. In just an instant. How far away he was, lost from me and caught in a moment that had nothing to do with the present. I saw his face in my mind—remembered the pain, the fear. Even afterwards when we talked— he was like a little boy, afraid to talk about it. As if he’d done something wrong.

  My eyes filled with the tears I didn’t dare let go last night. And I was filled with sadness and pain and compassion all at once. All I could do was watch him struggle with his past, his memories. Struggle to let go of the demons that had held him hostage since the war. I bit my lip to stop myself from sobbing out loud at the injustice of it all.

  I reached over to get a hanky from the table and noticed a note with my name on it propped up there. How like him, I thought as I reached for it. But I wondered when he’d stuck it there.

  Thank you for being so understanding last night, Dr. Maria. I hope I didn’t worry you too much. I think a dinner is in order. Thom

  My sniff turned into a snort as I laughed out loud at the “Dr. Maria”. It was underlined twice, which I’m sure was his way of getting my goat.

  I rolled over, reading the short note again, admiring the neatness of his printed words. So like him, straightforward, succinct. There was a quiet strength that jumped off the page at me, and made me wish he was here in bed with me so I could hold him, and soothe him, and...

  Honestly, Maria! I couldn’t help it. I blushed as I thought about my forwardness the previous evening.

  Then I shivered with deliciousness, remembering the heat coursing up from my core when I was straddling his lap. The closeness. The desire. And it all came rushing back. I wonder what might have happened if Angela hadn’t called? What is it that draws me to this man with the enigmatic eyes and the tortured past?

  I didn’t want to push, but I knew there was more to his story. The pain behind his eyes made that pretty obvious. But, I was nothing if not patient. That’s one thing my own accident did—forced me to learn patience. I was willing to wait for the rest of the story. At least for the moment. I knew I didn’t have much choice. It was his story and he’d share with me when the time was right for him. In the meantime, I could afford to wait until he was ready.

  I glanced over at the clock. I had a ton of things to do this morning. Gregory would be calling any time now with the details for my new lease program client.

  Gregory!! With everything that happened yesterday after Thompson got here, I had totally forgotten to share my good news!

  I pulled myself up and into my chair, heading for the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.

  Twenty minutes later, still in my jammies, I put on a pot of coffee and pulled out an English muffin, Canadian bacon, Swiss cheese and an egg. Then I laughed. With my Costa Rican coffee, it would be an international breakfast this morning. Maybe I should add some Greek yogurt. I laughed again. Well, a girl can dream, can’t she?

  As I puttered around the kitchen, I couldn’t help but think about Thompson. Strong and silent, indeed. Almost as mysterious to me as Antonio had been to Angela. But last night I caught a glimpse of the man beyond the surface when he opened up - at least a little. And then, when he’d held me in those arms… Involuntarily, the muscles in my belly tightened, and I felt the heat start to rise again.

  Oh my, is this how my day is going to go? Every time I shook off my lustful desire for Thompson, something reminded me again. Sheesh. I had other things that needed to be taken care of.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?” he’d asked on his way out the door last night.

  I’d almost laughed. “Thompson, I appreciate your concern. But please don’t underestimate me. Regardless of how things might look, I’m not fragile, and by now you should know that.”

  “Sorry. Another habit, I guess.” He grinned at me, eyes twinkling with some secret he held back. “Believe me, I never think of you as fragile, just special. Not many women have your independence, regardless of their circumstances.”

  Then he’d leaned down to kiss me goodnight, caressing my tongue with his, and trailing the kiss up to my forehead before turning and leaving.

  I watched him go, my own emotions warring inside, intrigued by the things he’d shared with me that night, wanting to sooth away the tension in his shoulders and the pain in his eyes. Wanting him to stay. Wondering about the secrets he still kept hidden from me. What else might be there for me to learn?

&nb
sp; I sighed, knowing I couldn’t change anything for Thompson, no matter how much I might want to. And, wishing things could be simple, but knowing that life hardly ever worked out that way.

  I washed and stacked my dishes from breakfast and wheeled back into the bedroom. Since Ange had been gone, I’d gotten a little lazy with dressing and all. Maybe I’d been feeling like this was my own little vacation.

  As much as I enjoyed having Ange as a sister and a roommate, lately I’d been feeling like she was hovering. And if she’s hovering all the time, then that put a definite cramp in any ideas I might have about getting to know Thompson a whole lot better.

  Chapter 7 — Maria

  For the rest of the afternoon I immersed myself in finishing the matting and framing of the images Antonio had selected from my watercolor washes. He’d seemed particularly taken by my version of the photos Angela had snapped during their recent cruise.

  Antonio Mancini. Rich, enigmatic, and even more connected than my sis and I had imagined. He’d been dropped into our lives at the same time as Dad had exited—in fact, the only reason our worlds had come together was because of the phone call we’d gotten from the rehab home when Dad passed. Well, that and the meager belongings they’d saved for us.

  Every day I was more grateful that Angela had taken Antonio up on that first unconventional job offer. She’d blossomed so much along the way, even though we’d each had our doubts.

  I wondered what our lives would have become if we hadn’t forced Antonio’s hand… and found out about his connections to our family. In a very short time, he’d become a key presence in our lives. I had only recently begun to understand the significance of all the connections between the two families.

  I shivered, realizing that without Antonio, Angela and I would still be struggling to get by. I would not now be on the cusp of what I hoped would become a lucrative and self-sustaining artistic endeavor with my paintings. Nor would I be facing a potential life changing surgery.