Knowing the old Nick, he probably would have, she admitted to herself, not wanting to acknowledge the ghost of a smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. For a fraction of a moment she could remember other times when he’d smiled like that. It made her feel light-headed.
“From my standpoint, Zach’s self-restraint is highly commendable. According to Cody, he’s ‘pretty cool, a great guy. I just don’t want Mom to marry him.’”
That was quite a heart-to-heart they’d had during their bike ride.
Tears stung her eyes and she looked away.
“Rosie, now that I’m back home to father our son, Cody isn’t going to be as difficult. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
She could hear what he wasn’t saying, and it confused her.
Nick was being so understanding it had caught her off guard. On the other hand, Zach was acting so completely out of character she couldn’t explain it.
“Mom and Dad have taken over in the kitchen. We’ll all get along fine if you want to use this time to drive to Zach’s condo and make peace with him. Judging by your end of the conversation, the man’s going through hell. He has a right to be put out of his misery.”
A slow burning anger held her in place. “Don’t say any more, Nick.”
He frowned. “Say what?” he demanded.
She dropped the receiver back on the cradle. “You know what I mean.”
“I think you’re going to have to tell me.”
Shades of the old Nick were surfacing faster than she could assimilate them. She whirled around to face him. “Hell is the place you’ve just come from. To use the word in any other context is ludicrous, and you know it.”
His eyes narrowed. “Hell is a place. I agree. But it’s also a state of mind.”
“Stop it, Nick!” she practically shouted at him. “You can’t compare what you’ve lived through to my state of mind or anyone else’s. If you’re trying to destroy me, you’re doing a stellar job.”
He moved away from the doorjamb and stepped closer. “Anything but, Rosie. You have to understand that I took a calculated risk in coming home without giving you advance warning.
“My superiors in Germany cautioned me that it would be better if we had our first reunion over there, to give everyone some time to come to grips with the fact that I didn’t die in the war.”
Rosie shuddered in renewed pain to hear him say those words so matter-of-factly.
“I thought I knew better.” His voice sounded gruff. “I was so anxious to get home to you and Cody I refused to listen to professionals who knew what they were talking about. Poor R.T. thinks he owes me his life because he has some misguided idea that I saved his, so he was willing to do whatever I wanted.
“The poor devil deserved to know his fate long before he got off that plane this morning. That’s the other regret I’m going to have to live with.” There were tears in his voice. “Not one damn person was there to let him know he’d been missed, to acknowledge that he’d ever fought for his country…”
“Oh, Nick.” She moved toward him. But his body had gone rigid. She sensed he’d reject any comfort she tried to offer.
“The timing couldn’t have been better, could it?” he asked with evident self-loathing. “If I’d done the right thing, you and Zach would have heard the news about me several weeks ago and you could’ve had time to talk things out and come up with some kind of strategy before you had to face me again.
“Instead, I burst in on what was probably one of the happiest times of your life. We both know Cody would’ve eventually accepted Zach as his stepfa—”
“There is no wrong or right time!” She interrupted him before he could say another damning word. “Three weeks or nine hours could make no difference to the fact that you’re alive and you’ve come home! That’s all that matters. All that’s important!”
One dark brow lifted. “Not true, Rosie. We all need time to get our bearings. After dinner, R.T. and I will move to a hotel for a week or two, maybe the University Plaza Hotel. Cody and I passed it on our bikes. It’s two minutes from the house. That close, I’ll be accessible to him after school—”
“No!” In the next breath she’d closed the distance between them and grasped his shoulders. “Don’t you dare talk about moving out! This is your home, Nick. I want you here!” She shook him.
His eyes took on a faintly glacial sheen. “But not in your bed.”
“Yes, I want you in our bed,” she fired back.
The cord in his neck throbbed. “Tonight?”
His question pulsed in the air like a live wire. Their gazes collided.
One wrong word and Nick would leave. She could see it in the savagery of his expression.
If she let him walk away now, something told her the painful consequences of that action would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Forgive me, Zach, but this is something I have to do.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Tonight. Please, Nick. Promise me you won’t move out.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FEAR IN THOSE pleading green eyes wasn’t something Rosie could fake. No doubt their son’s welfare figured heavily in her panic-driven petition.
Cody was one terrific kid. But he was fragile right now, and there was a limit to his ability to cope with their hellish situation. Having just heard his son spill his guts, Nick shared Rosie’s concern.
Her fear, rather than the touch of her hands on his shoulders or the words she’d felt compelled to say for decency’s sake if nothing else, made Nick reconsider his decision to move out.
“There have been enough shocks for one day. I have no desire to create another crisis for Cody. He’s already torn apart by conflicting loyalties. I’ll stay.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. She seemed unaware that her fingers dug into his skin through the pullover as her eyelids fluttered closed. They drew his attention to the faint purple smudges beneath her lashes, evidence of her trauma, the lack of sleep.
New lines radiated from the corners of her eyes and around her generous mouth. The shape of her facial features was a little more pronounced, giving her a more womanly aspect, evidence of the passage of years he’d missed. Years they could never recapture as a joint memory of living together and loving.
To resolve your grief, you must accept the fact that what was will never be again. Then you must give yourself permission to grieve over your grief.
Those words—reiterated by the hospital staff on a daily basis—were so easy to say. So impossible to act on, Nick moaned inwardly.
How do I accept the fact that the stranger in my arms was once blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, soul of my soul?
How can I bear it that she loves another? How do I stand that?
“Mom? Dad? Grandma says dinner’s ready.”
“We’ll be right there,” they both answered at the same time.
As Rosie pulled away from him, her wan little smile came and went too fast for Nick to believe they’d shared a moment of spontaneous humor.
He followed her out of the room and down the hall. Though she was a good fifteen pounds thinner than he remembered her, the shape of her body had grown more svelte and womanly. She looked toned. She looked terrific. No doubt Zach was her match in all the ways that counted.
Nick had thought he’d want to see his successor. But certain images of Rosie with the man Nick’s mind had conjured up brought on such an intense spasm of jealousy it made him think again.
“I hope you still love ham and scalloped potatoes,” she called over her shoulder.
“Why would that have changed?”
At his question, she faltered in her stride and turned to him. “I don’t know. I was just trying to make pleasant conversation.”
“Hell, Rosie. You know I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
The pinched look on her face told him he’d really hurt her. “Then why did you ask it?”
That’s a good question, Armstrong.
“May
be because once upon a time you would never have felt forced to ‘make’ conversation with me. Maybe because it was a too painful reminder of the years we’ve missed, and for a little while I wanted to forget the past. Maybe because you made me feel like a long-lost uncle, instead of your husband. Maybe because I’m aware you’d rather be with Zach right now than here with me. Is that enough truth for you?”
Her eyes filled, but not one tear fell. “I’m sorry. In the future I’ll try to be more careful.”
“That’s the point, Rosie. I don’t want you to try to do anything. I’m the one who should apologize for being so damn touchy.” He expelled a deep sigh. “Just ignore me and be yourself.”
Her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “I don’t know who ‘myself’ is anymore.”
“That makes two of us. Aside from Cody, it appears to be the only common ground between us. Perhaps because this is brand-new territory for both of us, we can agree to forgive each other ahead of time for any unintentional slings and arrows that find their mark.”
Her face crumpled in despair. “You talk as if we’re enemies.”
“No, Rosie. The exact opposite, I think. An enemy desires to harm. You and I, on the other hand, keep making wider circles to avoid hurting each other. But somewhere in that process, we continue to alienate all the same.”
She averted her head. “How are we going to get through the rest of this day without doing more damage?”
“I suppose by accepting the fact that we’re both painfully aware of how easily our psyches can be bruised with one wrong word or glance.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Nick.” Her voice sounded tormented.
“I don’t want to hurt you, either.” He gestured toward her with his good arm. “Come on, let’s go eat.”
Unaccountably relieved that they’d survived the latest skirmish, he trailed her into the small formal dining room off the kitchen.
“There you two are,” his father said. Nick detected satisfaction in his tone, as if seeing Nick and Rosie together meant everything was getting back to normal in a hurry, and they could proceed with life as it used to be.
His mother fussed around R.T., but Nick recognized the approving gleam in her eyes as he and Rosie emerged from the hallway. That gleam revealed all her hopes and dreams for a happy future.
Nick stood in awe of his parents’ incredible optimism. When everyone else had given up, even Rosie, they, along with Cody, hadn’t believed in their hearts that Nick had been killed in the war.
Was it any wonder they assumed he and his estranged wife would have little difficulty weathering this final storm before ending up in the sunshine again?
When Nick had called them from Germany, there was no mention of Zach. Not until Rosie’s kiss did he realize another man had entered the picture.
At first he’d thought his parents had purposely left Zach’s name out of the conversation because they didn’t want to deliver any blows that might mar his homecoming. But since this morning, he’d had time to reflect on his parents’ silence about Rosie’s fiancé, and he’d come to a different conclusion.
They hadn’t said a word to him about Zach because they refused to face the fact that Rosie could love anyone except their son. Period.
Probably because he was an only child, Nick’s parents had a fatal blind spot where he was concerned. If they chose to believe that something was so, then no power on earth could change their belief.
Nick loved them for that astounding quality—for loving him without qualification—but he also wept for them because in their denial, they were going to reap the proverbial whirlwind.
“Sit up here, Dad,” Cody said excitedly.
The head of the table. How many times in the past seven years had he dreamed of moments like this?
Stop it, Armstrong. The past is over.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He tousled Cody’s hair, then pulled out the chair on the left, next to his own. His gaze darted to his wife. “Rosie?”
“Thank you.”
As he guided her, he knew his hand rested a little too long on her shoulder, but her warmth and softness had seeped through his palm, grounding it.
She was so alive. Her energy infiltrated his starving body, reminding him how much he craved her touch. Lord help me.
Somehow he’d thought he was prepared for this moment, with all his family gathered around the table anticipating this most special of thanksgiving feasts. But as he took in each beloved face, he felt his throat close up. His heart hammered so painfully in his chest he couldn’t breathe.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to say grace,” R.T. said, intervening at the precise moment Nick thought he’d have to excuse himself from the table.
During their years of captivity, R.T. and Nick had become extensions of each other. When one cut himself, the other bled. Right now R.T.’s steady brown gaze was focused on Rosie, seeking her permission.
Her face softened as she responded in a tremulous voice, “I wish you would.”
“Let’s all join hands.”
Cody grabbed Nick’s right hand and clung. It was purely accidental that Rosie was sitting at Nick’s left, which meant that she’d have to hold on to his bad arm, above the wrist. He had to admit she hid her revulsion well. So well, in fact, that he could almost believe she wasn’t aware of it. No doubt shock had settled in and she wasn’t feeling much of anything.
“Dear Father, we thank you…” Nick heard the crack in R.T.’s voice, then a pause. “We thank you for life itself. For the beautiful circumstances in which we find ourselves this day. For the many prayers offered in our behalf, which led to our being freed. Help us find the strength to use this freedom in wise ways, meaningful ways, which might help others.
“Bless this house with every needful thing. Bless the hands that prepared this food, that it will nourish—” his voice trembled “—and strengthen our bodies.
“At this time, Father,” he continued, his voice dropping to a lower register, “I wish to thank you for my buddy, Nick, Sergeant Armstrong. He was your servant, your instrument. If it weren’t for him—”
Nick felt Rosie’s hand slide up his forearm and squeeze it hard before R.T. whispered, “Amen.”
“Amen,” Nick’s father pronounced in a suspiciously thick tone. He picked up the carving knife and began to cut large slices of ham. “Let’s eat. You first, R.T.”
“Amen,” Rosie murmured, staring straight into Nick’s eyes before she allowed her hand to fall away. At this moment, he could read admiration in those green depths. The kind of respect one would have for an exceptional human being, whether male or female.
But definitely not the look of the impassioned lover he’d left behind seven years ago, the besotted wife who’d once worshiped the ground he’d walked on, just as he’d worshiped everything about her and still did.
No. These days Zach Wilde was the person upon whom she lavished her desire.
Nick’s stomach churned.
In his haste to reach his drink, he knocked over the glass, sending the milk splashing all over himself and Cody, not to mention the attractive paisley tablecloth he’d never seen before.
While Cody dashed to the kitchen for paper towels, Nick got to his feet in time to see his mother come rushing toward him with an anxious face, napkin in hand. “What’s the matter, Nicky? If you didn’t feel well, you should have told us.”
“No need to get alarmed, Mom. I’m just clumsy.” He walked her back to her chair, then returned to his place to help Cody clean up.
“That was one of the pluses of living in a cell,” R.T. piped up. “If we spilled our food, it didn’t matter.”
Cody looked at R.T. “What kind of food did they give you?”
R.T. paused before taking a bite of ham. “I never did figure it out. Did you?” He switched his gaze to Nick who could never thank R.T. enough for defusing another unpleasant moment.
“Nope. In fact I’m not sure that’s what you’d call it.”
&nb
sp; Neither his parents nor Rosie, especially Rosie, seemed to find his comment funny. R.T. and Cody, however, laughed out loud.
“Forget all that, son,” George muttered. “Now here’s a real meal you can sink your teeth into.”
Nick shook his head at the heaping plate of food set in front of him. If he got through a third of it, he’d be surprised. He and R.T. shared an amused glance. No matter how good everything looked, their stomachs had shrunk. The doctors had told them to eat lots of small meals throughout the day.
“Grandma makes the best biscuits in the whole world, R.T. You can’t stop with just one.”
“I’m finding that out, Cody.”
For a few minutes there was a lull in the conversation while everyone ate. Throughout his marriage to Rosie, Nick had been served this same meal many times. But he’d never appreciated it in quite the same way, especially the scalloped potatoes. He was glad she’d made enough for an army because he had trouble sleeping at night and planned to raid the refrigerator.
Suddenly the sound of a high-pitched siren rent the air. Both Nick and R.T. covered their ears and leapt to their feet. In the process, Nick’s cob of corn dropped to the plate with a thud and his chair fell backward on the carpet. But until the din finally subsided, he was rooted to the spot.
“Dad? It was just a car alarm….”
Cody’s anxious expression was superseded only by the horrified look in Rosie’s eyes.
Slowly Nick lowered his hand. “Sorry,” he murmured, then righted the chair and sat down again. “We didn’t mean to scare you. I’m afraid R.T. and I are going to be doing a lot of strange things for a while.”
His mother started to cry, but his father patted her hand and she caught herself. Looking around, he said, “Who wants more ham?”
R.T. was still on his feet. “I don’t think I could, sir. If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to try to find out if someone knows where my aunt is. But I’ll be back for dessert. Since I heard we’re having strawberry shortcake, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”
Nick flashed him a private signal. Get out of here, R.T., before you jump through the ceiling.
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