by Geri Krotow
Jonas helped you.
He had. And she’d been a complete jerk to him.
* * *
“I GUESSED YOU’D want the hot cider—just drop the ropes there.” Jonas handed her the steaming cup as he nodded toward the ground where she gladly let go of the sled handles.
“All clear, Jonas!” Pepé sprang over the trunk of the pine and smiled up at his hero. Serena wanted to warn him to not get too close; it could lead to a broken heart. Instead, she sipped her cider and tried to focus on the gratitude she’d discovered moments earlier.
“Hot chocolate for you, Pepé. I wasn’t sure if you liked marshmallows, so I didn’t get them, but if you want some, Mrs. Claus said you can go to the front of the line and have them added.”
“Be right back, Mom!”
Serena watched him walk the short distance to Emily, and ask for the marshmallows.
“Thank you, Jonas. I was a Scrooge to you and I’m sorry. You’ve done so much for Pepé and me today, and I do really appreciate it. I’m not the best at expressing my emotions.”
“Oh, I think you’re pretty good at letting your heart show.”
The gleam in his eyes made her think of the many barbs she’d thrown his way in their short acquaintance and she grimaced.
“I’m overbearing when it comes to Pepé making new relationships with adults. I know that.”
“As you should be. The world’s not the place it was when we were growing up. I’d be protective of him, too.”
They enjoyed their drinks in quiet. Serena kept her eye on Pepé but let her thoughts wander to...nothing. That astonished her. This kind of serenity was so unusual. Her heart was still, her thoughts weren’t racing. She wasn’t holding her breath waiting for the next tragedy to befall them.
Everything was okay, for the moment.
“What’s the smile about?” Jonas hadn’t missed her elation.
“Call me corny but I think the Christmas spirit just got to me.”
“Nothing corny about enjoying this time of year.”
She saw the shadow pass over his face.
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Am I what?” At her silence, he relented his pretense. “I’m not the happiest I’ve ever been, no. It takes time to readjust after deployment.”
“More so after a wartime deployment, though. You weren’t on a ship, removed from the action, either. You were in camp, right?”
He looked past her, to where Pepé had walked over to study the reindeer.
“Yes. We treated a lot of civilians, more than I ever have before. Except for natural disasters. Earthquakes, hurricanes—that’s always more of a civilian situation. My first two deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan involved almost exclusively military casualties. This time, the Taliban had done a number on several different villages. So many civilian casualties poured in. It never ended.”
“Does it make you mad to see how much we take for granted here?”
“Sometimes. Oak Harbor’s not too bad—we have so many military families here and the civilians have always embraced us as their own. They know the struggles we go through. What bothers me most is seeing how healthy and naturally happy our kids are—the way all kids should be—while so many children overseas aren’t. Every kid deserves the chance to be happy.”
She stayed silent. His voice mesmerized her with his heartfelt confession.
“Now who sounds all corny and sentimental?” He shook his head.
“It’s the truth. Thank you for sharing that with me, Jonas.”
He didn’t reply as he walked around her and bent down to grab the sled’s rope handles.
“Let’s bring your tree over to the tree shaker. Pepé’s going to love this.”
“Pepé!” She called him over from petting the reindeer and made a mental note to see that he washed his hands well before he ate dinner.
He scrambled toward them, his cheeks flushed with happiness.
“Are we going to decorate the tree now?”
Serena laughed with delight at his enthusiasm. “Not yet. First we have to shake it, then it has to rest on the porch.”
Pepé seemed confused and turned to Jonas for confirmation.
“We’re going to shake the tree?”
“Your mom’s right, Pepé. We have to make sure there aren’t any loose needles to mess up your house.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“We’re not—the machine over there is.”
They gave the tree to the attendant, who handed them a slip to go and pay for the tree. Once Serena had paid and returned with the receipt, the tree was put into a rudimentary machine that shook it for several minutes. Needles and pinecones dropped to the snow. Pepé watched in amazement as the tree was then placed in a nylon net that bound it into a very compact size for transport home.
“Mom, is that hurting the tree?”
“I don’t think so, honey. It’s probably like being wrapped up in a warm blanket.”
When Jonas met her eyes, she felt as though she was mentally communicating with him. The question in his eyes—do you like to be wrapped up warm and tight?—made her think of long nights with him in her bed, cozy under the blankets. Did he see the answer in hers?
Heat burned her ears, although she’d thought they were numb from the cold. She made herself look away before she said or did something stupid, like give Jonas a catlike smile.
Or think that starting a physical relationship with Jonas was feasible.
“Let’s get the tree onto your car.” Jonas’s voice vibrated across the short space between them and it was as arousing as if he’d touched her. Was there anything about this man that didn’t turn her on?
He wanted to kick her and Pepé out of their house. Their home.
It should have been an easy turnoff, but it wasn’t as lust-dousing as she’d hoped.
She was in trouble.
* * *
“DON’T EVEN THINK about it.”
Jonas’s voice was too familiar, too comfortable. And, at the moment, too annoying. Serena couldn’t put her reaction into words.
She stepped back from the side of her SUV and lowered her arms, her hands holding the bungee chord she’d unhooked from around the tree and ski rack. Jonas didn’t take a step back and he was so close, so tempting.
“I can get the tree off the top of my car, Jonas.”
“I have no doubt. You can also scratch the heck out of your car and risk breaking some tree limbs in the process.”
“Isn’t that why the tree’s wrapped like this?”
“It’s to make it easier to transport but there’s no guarantee the netting will protect it. Are you always this averse to help from a neighbor?”
Neighbor.
“When do you think your house will be built?”
The sparkle in his eyes dimmed and the grim lines she’d first noticed in the clinic the day they’d met threatened to resurface under his day’s growth of beard.
“Ground will break in the spring, after the storms blow through. Why?”
Why indeed.
“Just wondering.”
“Mom, can Jonas stay for dinner?” Pepé poked his head between them, one arm on each of their legs.
This was getting too cozy.
“Not tonight, honey.” She never took her gaze from Jonas’s. Was that a challenge in his stormy blue eyes?
She swallowed. “We’d love to have you for our tree-decorating party in a few days. Can you come?”
She knew he wanted to say “no.” She could tell from his stiffness and the grim line of his mouth.
“Jonas, it’ll be fun! Mom makes the best chili, and we can frost cookies.”
Finally he broke their stare to shift his focus
to Pepé. “Sounds wonderful. As long as I don’t have to work late at the hospital, I’d be delighted to join you, Pepé.”
Serena wanted to be irritated that he’d weaseled his way into their family tradition. But how could she when she’d invited him?
“We usually eat around six o’clock—is that too early for you?”
Were his eyes always this sexy when he looked at a woman?
“It’s fine. I’ll call you if I end up working.”
“Great.” She forced a smile but didn’t have to force the warm tingles that danced on the surface of her skin and continued to her midsection, inviting more of her to wake up and join the fun.
“Let’s set this tree up on the porch.”
In one smooth motion Jonas hoisted the tree onto the ground and began to pull it up the walkway toward the porch.
“We always kept it on the front porch for a few days in a bucket of water. Do you have a different place for it?”
“No, I have the bucket out, the green one to the left of the door.”
“Roger.”
“Pepé, can you go open the door and let Ronald out?”
“Roger!” Pepé grabbed her keys and shot toward his mission.
“He loves being around military jargon.” She spoke her thoughts aloud, trying to remember she needed to protect Pepé from forming bonds with men who weren’t going to be permanent in his life. He’d had enough loss.
“I did, too, as a kid. G.I. Joes were my favorite toys.” Jonas didn’t glance at her as he complimented Pepé, his breath in great clouds in front of him as he hauled the heavy tree up the three steps to the wooden porch that ran the length of the house.
“He’s always been that way. Right after Phil died, I worried about him so much—he withdrew into himself in a way I’d only ever seen in adults. It was scary when he stopped talking to everyone except me. But we got through it, and he’s thriving.”
“I saw in his chart you took him to BTS.” His easy reference to the Beyond the Stars resort for Gold Star families didn’t surprise her. No doubt he’d referred patients from the hospital there.
“You read his entire chart?”
Jonas set the tree down and leaned it against the side of the house. He turned to face her and smiled.
His smile must have encouraged a lot of women to get undressed....
“I make a point of going over every patient’s chart thoroughly. It makes diagnosis easier, and hopefully more accurate.” He raised her chin with his finger.
“I wasn’t prying, Serena. It was in the comments from his last yearly checkup—that he’d greatly improved since his week at BTS.”
Trust me.
He didn’t have to say it; it was in his expression, in the clear blue sincerity of his eyes.
“Oh.” Embarrassment reddened her cheeks. She prayed Jonas would chalk up her blush to the cold.
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” he said. “Pepé has them, too.”
Jonas’s tone was clinical in his appraisal but his eyes were lit with a warmth that had already started a fire in Serena’s belly.
When he bent toward her, she heard the inner voice that warned her to step back, to avoid any connection with this man. She heard it and ignored it as she closed her eyes. His breath was warm over her lips and she smelled mint, cinnamon and his scent—the scent she’d had difficulty getting out of her memory after their searing kiss at the Fords’ Christmas party.
“Ronald!” Pepé’s yell was followed by the vibration of Ronald’s four paws hitting the deck. He ran through the front door and launched himself into the yard, grateful for the chance to relieve himself after being home alone all afternoon.
Serena opened her eyes to find Jonas had dropped his hand from her face and turned to watch the antics of a boy and his dog.
When he faced her again, Jonas grinned.
“We’re not done here. Anticipation can be fun, though, can’t it?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Camp O’Donnell, Philippines
Early 1944
DAYS NO LONGER had meaning, but they were a means to an end for Henry. A way to get back to Sarah.
Tommy had been paroled to his Filipino family only three months after they’d arrived at Camp O’Donnell. Bill had died last year, in the middle of monsoon season. It wasn’t cold, but the constant dampness, be it from rain or sweat, had been the death of many of his fellow prisoners.
Henry wasn’t sure why he’d made it this far. It had to be because he was going to see Sarah again. Soon. He felt that he was going to be on the move again, and trusted his gut. He only prayed it was back to the States.
When the guards rounded them up and forced them to walk out of the camp together, Henry realized they were going to kill them. Why else allow them to leave their well-controlled prison?
The view of the ocean and the Japanese container ships gave him hope and dread in equally painful amounts. Not again. Odds were against him that he’d survive a second trip in one of the tin cans.
Where were the Allies?
By the end of the day he was in the bottom of one of the dreaded Japanese merchant cargo ships. He could hardly breathe and had to fight the anxiety and fear that threatened to close his throat or stop his heart. Until now he’d been able to look past the pain, to see that if he was still breathing it was a good day.
Not any longer. This was hell on earth, no matter that it was at sea.
He’d thought the acrid stench of human feces, sweat and fear after the march from Bataan was horrible. This was excruciatingly worse. Nearly every prisoner threw up the little they had in their stomachs as the lack of windows and fresh air mixed into the most potent cocktail for seasickness. Raw bile and sewage covered their bodies as they stood pressed against one another, holding each other up over the long tortuous ocean crossing.
Their captors had to be taking them to Japan. This was a good sign, he thought. The Allies must be moving in, coming back to the Philippines to save them all.
So of course the enemy soldiers were taking their labor force to safety.
Just kill us now.
It was getting harder to ignore the insistent possibility of freedom from the interminable suffering. Long hours passed when Henry could no longer conjure up Sarah’s or Dottie’s faces.
“God save us!” Jersey’s voice reached him in the darkness. “Henry?”
His friend’s call shook him from his purgatory.
“I’m here, Jersey.”
“We’re going to be dead, man. We’re not going to get out of here alive.”
Groans turned to grumbles as his fellow sufferers agreed.
Henry didn’t reply. Anger and complaining were signs of life. He worried about the men who weren’t making any noise. Worried about when he’d become one of the quiet ones. When he, too, would let his spirit go.
Sarah. He closed his eyes tight, trying to see her face, smell the scent of her skin. He couldn’t—as if his heart didn’t want to mark her with where he was, in this pit of hell.
And Dottie, his dear little girl. What kind of world had they borne her into, that allowed this?
September 1945
Japanese prison camp
IT TOOK THE prison guard three hits with the handle of his baton to Henry’s backside before Henry’s vision cleared and he remembered where he was.
The vision of climbing over Fort Casey with Sarah vanished. He cried out at the anguish of losing her, if only his memory of her.
Reality had become too hard.
The guard yelled at him and Henry didn’t try to make out the Japanese. He’d given up on that months ago. At first he’d taught himself the language, little by little, as he put together what the guards said to them.
He looked at where the guard pointed.
Buck lay on his side, his eyes unseeing. One of the last men he’d come to this hellhole with two years ago had died.
Lucky bastard.
No.
He owed it to Buck and every other G.I. who’d died in this labor camp to get back to Whidbey. To live the life he’d set out to have with Sarah a decade ago.
A world, a lifetime, away.
He wordlessly picked up the small spade the guard pointed at and carried it over to his colleague. His brother-in-arms. Jersey hobbled over with a woven bamboo tarp of sorts. Together they lifted Buck’s thin, lifeless form onto the makeshift litter, trying to keep as much dignity in what they did while the Japanese guard yelled at them and no doubt shouted obscenities at them the entire time.
They made a slow funereal walk to the outer parts of the camp, where their captors had forced them to bury one friend after another. No thinking was involved. If Henry stopped to think, he’d die. Thinking brought too much despair.
He dug the shallow grave. Shallow was all that was possible in the rocky soil with such a poor tool and his failing strength.
Would Sarah reject him when she saw him? Would Dottie run in fear?
No thinking.
Only surviving.
He focused on the spade, the pitiful amounts of dirt each motion moved.
He breathed.
* * *
“IT’S TOO HARD.” Jersey’s whispered observation reached Hank’s ears as the two lay side by side on the dirt floor that had been their sleeping area for the past year.
“No. Hang on. They’re getting more and more desperate. We have to be close.”
“Maybe.”
“Did you see the guard’s eyes today?”
“I try not to look at the bastards.”
“He’s afraid. They’re hungry, too. They’re losing. Our boys will be here any day now.”
“Do you really believe that, Henry?”
“I do.” He had to.
“You have a wife, a family. It helps.”
“You have your girl, Jersey.”