Fractured

by Leanne Pearson

  I then turn to Mom, taking a deep breath. Her hands cup my face, and she kisses me on the forehead. “Don’t you give up hope, sweetie. If you’ve fallen this hard for a man, so soon after all you’ve been through, he must be something damn special.”

  “B-but I mistrusted him. I jumped to conclusions without having all the f-facts. He’s been so good to me…I’ve been so stupid. I l-love him so much still, a-and he could die tonight without ever having known t-this,” I say, my voice breaking on the last word.

  “That man risked being shot and took a knife to the chest for you, love. Believe me, he still loves you. He survived Afghanistan. He’ll survive this. Have faith, love,” Uncle Dave adds.

  God, please let him be right.

  While Sarah makes a few calls, and Mom and Uncle Dave head down to the cafeteria to get something to eat, I take a call from Mel.

  I am so relived to hear that she and Matt are still together. She’s just given her statement to the police about Heath’s assault on her, back in September last year. She starts to blame herself entirely for Heath’s attempt to kidnap and assault me.

  What? This poor girl. If there is anything I have learnt in the last year, it is identifying where actual responsibilities lie.

  I stop her immediately, telling her that from here on out, we are leaving the blame and guilt behind us. All of us have made some poor decisions, and if anybody should have the finger of blame pointed their way, it would be me.

  If I hadn’t cut Dominic out of my life like I had, I wouldn’t have been in Hanmer. I wouldn’t have been parading my body in a way that drew me into a lethal situation, attracting Heath’s attention. How he knew I was there was beyond me still. Dominic wouldn’t have had to risk his life trying to save mine. And this he did, even after I had pushed him away, and left town without the chance to explain. Yeah, if he pulls through this—he has to pull through this—I won’t deserve his forgiveness. I had assumed the worst and mistrusted him, and I now have to live with the fall-out, whatever that may be.

  Sitting alone at Dominic’s bedside after everyone has left the hospital, my mind drifts back to the conversation I had with Chase earlier this evening.

  “Kate babe, you know I’m not happy with you for not contacting me while you were in Hanmer. I don’t need you to explain to me why. I get that you were extremely hurt by what you believed had gone down between Dell and Lisa. But, I didn’t expect you to shut me out completely. It’s a good thing I love you like I do, babe.”

  “I’m so sorry, Chase. You’re right. I should never have shut you out like that. I let my emotions get the better of me. But, I’m so grateful that you’re still speaking to me, and once again, are here for me, even if I don’t deserve to have you in my life. I love you too, so much,” I said through tears.

  Chase pulled me into his arms.

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else right now, Kate. I love you and I love Dell like a brother. He’s strong, babe, so he’ll pull through this. Just you watch. You two will get past this, too. That man loves you immensely. I never realised just how much until tonight,” he said into my hair as he held me tighter.

  Dominic may still love me, but will he ever be able to forgive me?

  ~ A day later ~

  Blip….blip…blip…

  So much importance in one thin green line, and I can’t drag my eyes away from it. Every excruciatingly long minute that drags by, my hopes fade along with the afternoon light.

  Holding Dominic’s bandaged hand gently in mine, tears that I’m powerless to stop, drip from my cheeks onto my knees like a soft rain. Both his hands are bruised and bloodied, and he has two fractured knuckles. Chase told me he’d faced off with a brick wall outside the club. Aside from Dominic’s physical injuries, I know that cutting him from my life for the past four months has hurt him deeply. Hurting him was something I was afraid I’d do all along.

  My eyes flick between the heart monitor and his face; willing for some sign of improvement. I have to keep it together, though. This isn’t the time for a complete meltdown. I have to be strong. The tables have turned. He needs me.

  Come back to me, baby, please. We’ve got so much time to make up for.

  Dominic’s life stills hangs in the balance, with the doctors saying the next few days are a critical window of time. The blade missed his heart by three centimetres, but the penetrative trauma caused a lot of damage, including a punctured lung, which in itself is life threatening. The doctors explained that the puncture created by the knife wound can act much like a one-way valve, allowing air into the lungs but preventing it from escaping. This can cause a lung collapse that can prevent the heart from pumping efficiently. In addition, he’s lost pints of blood.

  ~ The next morning. 10:00 a.m. ~

  Blip…blip…blip…

  My eyes are burning with the concentration of my fixed stare on that monitor. Night has merged into day and nurses and medical staff have come and gone.

  Chase was in earlier. He told me Dom’s parents are on standby for the next flight out of Hagerstown airport. I haven’t moved. I can’t eat.

  Dominic is hooked up to a multitude of tubes. In addition to the heart monitor, he has two thin oxygen tubes coming out of his nose, and an intravenous drip protruding from a vein in his arm.

  It kills me to see him like this. I yearn to hear his voice again, to feel the warmth in his embrace.

  Will I ever be honoured to have his affections again? This remains to be seen.

  Wake up, honey. Please. You’re a fighter. You’ve fought on the frontline. You made it out alive. Don’t lose that fighting spirit now, please.

  Still gripping his hand, I drop my head onto the bed next to him, exhausted.

  I must have drifted off, as I am awoken by a movement. My face is pressed into the sheeting. My eyes snap open as I feel Dominic’s fingers clench around mine. My eyes swing to his face. He tries to swallow. His eyes are blinking, then flutter open partially.

  A sob hitches my breath.

  “Oh, thank you, God.”

  I bring his hand to my mouth, kissing it repeatedly, while hitting the call button with my other hand.

  As groggy and disorientated as he is, our eyes lock for a few seconds.

  He tries to speak.

  “Shhh, baby, don’t talk. Not yet. Just rest. I’m not going anywhere,” I choke out, cupping his cheek in the palm of my hand.

  The words fly out of my mouth without a second thought.

  “I’m sorry. I l-love you, Dominic. I don’t know what took me so long to admit this to you. To myself. I stuffed up in assuming you’d moved on with someone else. I’m so very sorry that it’s t-taken months of us being apart, and you getting stabbed, for the truth to come out. I hope you can someday forgive me, but I need you to know how much I love you,” I blurt out without pause, my voice trembling with emotion.

  He tightens his grip on my hand.

  “Please…don’t think I never want kids.” His voice is a weak and raspy whisper.

  “What?” I ask, my brows knitted in confusion.

  “I do. Just not with a woman I don’t love,” he clarifies.

  Understanding dawns, and what he implies in those few weakly spoken words, sucks the air from my lungs, and my heart clenches. Looking into his eyes, I see that they glisten with emotion, and in their depths, I see forgiveness, and a tiny root of hope takes anchor in my heart.

  Chapter 29

  INVISIBLE WOUNDS

  ~ Kate ~

  Dominic was discharged from hospital three weeks ago, a week after he was stabbed. On the road to a full recovery now, he thankfully has no long-term health complications. He forgave me instantly for shutting him out, feeling partially responsible for what went down. He acknowledged that in the week Lisa had made contact with him, he’d had the opportunity to tell me about the call she made to him that night on the beach, and about the sword of fatherhood that had hung above his head. Dominic appeased me by saying any woman in my situation would have
drawn the same conclusion when faced with her man in the arms of another woman.

  The friends I had made over the four-month period I was in Hanmer, were extremely sympathetic to the situation I had found myself in. Rob, my boss, unhesitatingly accepted my immediate resignation from my position as a dancer, and understood my refusal to leave the side of the man I love. He says the door to his club will always be open to me.

  Dominic’s parents, Roberto and Corrine, arrived three days after he was admitted to hospital. They spent a week in New Zealand, staying at their son’s bedside until he was stable enough to be moved to a high care ward. I took to them immediately and we bonded over the many trying days spent together at the hospital, while Dominic’s life continued to hang in the balance. During this time, I caught fleeting glimpses of Dominic’s life as told through the eyes of his mom and dad. I adored the heavily Italian accented voice of his father, and was amazed by Dominic’s resemblance to him in appearance. The same strong Italian features; olive skin, and black hair. Roberto was just a little greyer around the temples. Those piercing blue eyes he inherited from his mom.

  As the days progressed, and Dominic’s condition improved, hearing him converse with his father in fluent Italian was an unexpected treat, and so damn sexy. With having a ranch to attend to, his folks flew home two weeks ago, and Corinne and I now keep in regular contact through Facebook.

  With our feelings and rekindled relationship out in the open, Dominic and I are being very cautious with one another, nurturing the second chance we’ve been blessed with, wanting nothing to jeopardise our relationship this time.

  Last night, while we were having dinner at his place, Dominic received word from one of his friends in the United States. A fellow Marine by the name of Zac, who was part of their contingent deployed to Afghanistan, committed suicide yesterday after a long struggle with PTSD and depression. Today marks the ten year anniversary when Dominic had been gravely injured and others from his unit had been killed. The day Dominic himself narrowly escaped death, again.

  After taking the call, he gave me a very brief account of their doomed mission, sparing me the details I knew to be horrific, then went into what can only be described as an emotional lock-down. He closed in on himself, showing no emotion whatsoever.

  Unsure of what to do for him, I stayed by his side where he sat on the couch, watching him silently brood. I eventually managed to coax him to lie down with his head in my lap, while gently running my fingers through the short brush of his hair, just as Sarah had done for me the night I returned to my unit after Danny’s death.

  * * *

  We must have fallen asleep like that because when I wake up, I find myself still on the couch, with the addition of a pillow under my neck, and covered with a blanket that hadn’t been there last night.

  I sit up and take note of the time: 11:00 a.m. Dominic is nowhere in sight.

  Fumbling through to the kitchen, I find Dominic halfway out the front door laden with his fishing gear.

  The disconsolate look on his face makes my heart clench. The news of his friend has hit him hard.

  “Where are you going?”

  He swallows roughly, and looks up at me briefly before exhaling a shaky breath.

  “Didn’t want to wake you, sweetheart. I’m, uh, going out for a few hours. See if I can catch a few. I’ll be at the usual spot.” I feel the weight of his sorrow in those few words deep in my heart, and it clenches in sympathy.

  I know the place, a favourite spot of his. It’s a deserted stretch of beach not frequented by many people.

  Today is significant for him. I get that, and I sense he needs some time on his own to work through his emotions. Thing is, I don’t want him to slip too far into his head where I suspect the horrors of war still prowl. I want him to know that he doesn’t have to suffer in silence. I’m here for him today to share the pain of his loss, and his experiences in Afghanistan—no matter how atrocious they may be—which he has yet to tell me about.

  ~ 8:00 p.m. ~

  Dominic still hasn’t returned, nor called. This is very unlike him. While I respect his need to be alone for a time, it’s getting really late, and anxiety is gnawing at my gut. Deciding it’s time he realised I am in this for the long haul, through the highs and lowest of lows, I grab my car keys.

  * * *

  Slipping off my shoes, anxiety turns to relief as I make out his form down near the water’s edge. As I draw closer, he’s alerted to my presence and turns his eyes towards me. The bright moonlight can’t disguise the tortured look that swims in them. He looks back at the ocean, and as I walk the last few steps towards him, my heart already feels like it’s breaking.

  Without saying a word, I sit myself down, sifting my toes through the cool damp sand. His fishing gear lies next to him, untouched. A bottle of Jack Daniel’s rests up against his gear bag. He’s resting his elbows on his knees, rolling a small pebble between two fingers, head bowed.

  “Talk to me, Dom, please,” I whisper as I move up closer to him.

  There is so much I want to know about him—his past most importantly. If I can get him to finally open up, it can release the pressure that bottling up unresolved anguish causes.

  I should know.

  Skimming the pebble across the moonlit water, he slowly turns to face me. His gaze meets mine, speaking volumes in the stillness; a silent plea not to push this. The burden of unspoken horrors and loss is evident in his expression, swimming in the turbulent depths of his eyes.

  “Baby, it’s time for you to stop being the strong one. Please talk to me.”

  “You’ve seen and lived through enough loss and pain this past year, Kate, you don’t want to be hearin’ my sorry tales. Trust me,” he finally says, his voice low and heavy with emotion.

  Trailing my fingers up over the ridged network of scars covering his thigh, I squeeze. He covers my hand with his.

  “Honey, I’ve known since the day I met you that you’ve been through something horrific. Don’t ask me how, ‘cos you haven’t shared much. I just know. But let me ask you something, Dom. Did being there for me when I was falling apart make you feel useful? Did it ease that constant ache deep within your heart?”

  He sighs wearily. I have my answer.

  “Tell me about that chapter in your life, Dom. As I said before, I’m not made of glass. You don’t need to protect me. I want to know what still haunts you, what causes you to shut down like you did last night. Please don’t suffer in silence. You’ve been my safe place, my safety net. I want to be yours. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  He gives my hand a squeeze, takes a deep breath and says nothing for a few seconds before speaking again.

  “I was stationed in Afghanistan. We were in an MRAP. That’s a mine-resistant ambush protected vehicle.” I hold my breath, not wanting to move a muscle.

  “We were in a convoy, just leavin’ an area we’d kept under surveillance…out in the boonies. Anyway, a group of Afghan children were in the path of the vehicles a little way down the road, so we were forced to stop. We’d gotten to know some of the locals over time, and there was this little girl we’d often see, she’d, uh…”

  Dominic stops and swallows hard, looking out over the water again.

  The window he’s opened to his soul is filled with the horrors and unnecessary bloodshed of war. The damage inflicted on his body is evidenced by the network of physical scars. His true pain is emotional. Grief that still bleeds internally.

  He squeezes his eyes closed and takes an unsteady breath.

  “It all happened so fast. She ran out, wavin’ her little arms over her head, pointin’ under the Humvee in front to warn us. The driver saw her and veered, but it was too late. She, uh, must’ve…shit.”

  He turns away, scrubbing his hands over his face.

  “If it’s too hard to talk about, Dom—”

  He shakes his head, taking another breath before continuing.

  “She ran out too far. She...she and the guys in that v
ehicle were blown to bits.” His voice catches on the last word.

  His words slice into my heart and a sob escapes me.

  “Oh God, Dom.”

  “We came under rocket fire after that. Most of the remainin’ unit were wiped out, and the few of us that survived had serious injuries. Zac was one of them. His leg was blown to bits, and was amputated below the knee. Thing is, Kate, I didn’t cope well with it all initially. The guilt; it ate away at me. I couldn’t get my head around why I survived with all my limbs intact when a father of four lost a leg. Why a young, brave girl got blown to smithereens, while a lone Taliban sniper sittin’ in a prime strike zone, escaped mortar fire. Then when I finally returned from war, the girl I thought I was comin’ home to, Amber, had left me. Left me a fuckin’ note sayin’ she couldn’t handle the stress of being with a Marine, not knowin’ if I’d return alive. It was too much. I didn’t have a fuckin’ clue how to deal with it all.”

  A flare of jealousy surfaces at the mention of another woman being the recipient of his affections, but it passes. That was years ago, and in the past. This is the present. Our present. And although she obviously hurt him, I can totally empathise with her fear of losing him.

  Trying to keep my emotions under check, my hand that is still on Dom’s thigh drifts up his arm.

  I listen as he continues. I feel the pain cutting into his voice as he speaks. His face is contorted and haunted with the ghosts of his desert hell. He’s let me see behind the mask that he wears on a daily basis, and the tragic atrocities of the war he bravely fought comes into focus. It is heart wrenching. His physical body had returned from the battlefield, but his mind still wages a war within. Now I understood why he ended up living and working in New Zealand. He had to get away, far away from the constant threat of terror, the constant reminders. He had to work through his issues on neutral soil.