“He’s obviously a survivor. Yet, war has reminded him that he’s mortal. It’s forced him to consider his own ‘unfinished business.’ He’s feeling incomplete and he wants the wholeness and peace marriage once gave him. Thus the mention of divorce—to facilitate the possibility of marrying again, of putting his life in order.”
Rosie stared at Linda. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“It appears to me he’s a strong, intelligent, mature human being who has a sound grip on life and an indomitable will. But don’t be deceived. He’s going to suffer many of those listed symptoms. You just haven’t seen them yet.”
“You’re right. Not enough time has passed. The trouble is, if we do divorce and he moves out, I never will see behind the facade.”
“Is that important to you?”
Rosie ran unsteady fingers through her hair. “Yes. Very.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Another question you need to answer as honestly as you can.”
“I already know the answer,” she retorted. “Who will help him if I don’t?”
“Another woman?”
Rosie’s head flew back. “Another woman doesn’t know him like I do.”
“Ahh…”
“He’s so gallant and take-charge, you tend to forget he’s lost his hand. He doesn’t act like someone who’s lost seven years of life!” Suddenly Rosie broke down in sobs.
“But you’re engaged to another man, so you can’t do what you might have done for him. That’s the dilemma, right?”
“Yes,” she whispered, trying to get her emotions under control.
Linda sat forward and handed her a tissue. “When he’s ready, there are support groups he can join. You mentioned his parents and your son. I understand he also bonded with the other soldier imprisoned with him. Those are all terrific resources.”
“I know. Especially Cody. They’re extremely close already.”
“That’s good. Now let’s talk about you and this other man. How long have you been together?”
“Two years.”
“Then a great deal of energy and emotion has already been invested. As I said earlier, you need to get in touch with your true feelings toward you husband and your fiancé.”
“How do I do that?”
“At all times be honest and open in your communication with both men. They deserve nothing less. No matter how much you think it might hurt them, don’t lie about your feelings and don’t hide them. That would be the worst thing you could do. In time, you’ll begin to understand yourself. When that day arrives, you’ll know what to do.”
“That kind of honesty would take a very strong person.”
“You are a very strong person. Don’t forget that you survived the war, too!”
Rosie’s head was bowed. “Thank you for that, Linda.” Slowly she got to her feet. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“I hope it’s helped. Remember, I’m always here. Come again soon.”
“Depending on how today goes, you might hear from me tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll be waiting. Good luck.”
By the time Rosie had gone out to her car, she’d made the decision to get in touch with Zach and find out when he was coming home. They needed to talk. Since her conversation with Linda, Rosie felt maybe she could handle it.
With Nick’s folks in the house, she thought it would be better if she used a pay phone, so she drove to the nearest convenience store and called his office. Zach’s secretary said he hadn’t phoned in yet, but when he did, she’d give him Rosie’s message.
Relieved to have taken that step, she was able to concentrate on Nick. In her mind she’d been cataloguing the things he’d need. The first order of business was to drive downtown and pick up some sweats and casual clothes for him in one of the local department stores.
“I DON’T LIKE the idea of a fake hand,” Nick murmured, gazing at several varieties and colors to match a person’s skin.
The technician nodded. “A lot of you vets don’t. There’s little dexterity. Some people want them for cosmetic reasons.”
“I’d better get one for the odd occasion when I have to be out in public for any length of time. When I’m not wearing it, I’d rather keep my arm in my pocket or covered up. But I’d better get fitted with a hook to do work when I’m by myself.”
A hook would increase his ability to perform many tasks, but the feel of straps around his upper body would take some getting used to. Though the experience was growing less frequent, he had moments when it felt like his hand was still there balled into a fist, driving his nails into his palm.
The doctor had told him it was called phantom sensation. The nerve impulses to the brain didn’t detect the loss. That was why the thought of moving his shoulders to operate the hook seemed so odd.
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m thinking of buying a small ranch.”
“Then you’ll want this.” He lifted the larger hook for Nick’s inspection. “It’s called a farm hook. Some people refer to it as a work hook. You can accomplish a great deal with it. For example, when you’re driving a nail, you hold your hook like this to fix the nail in place—” he demonstrated “—then pound with the other hand. If you’re using a shovel, you can adjust the space to accommodate the handle.”
“That’s the idea.” Nick nodded.
“All right. We’ll start you out with the regular hook to get used to it, then graduate to the farm hook. Plan on coming in here three days a week for a couple of weeks for some occupational therapy. Then you can operate both hooks without problem. Have the receptionist make you an appointment for two weeks from today.”
Nick frowned. “You can’t get started any sooner?”
“No. The orthopedic surgeon at Fitzsimmons who did the surgery would tell you your arm needs to heal a little longer. It looks clean and dry, but to be safe, let’s give it another fourteen days.”
Nick nodded again.
The other man patted him on the shoulder. “I know you’re anxious to get on with life. I would be, too. Still, you’re safely back home.”
“Amen,” Nick said, then shook the technician’s hand and left.
A few minutes later, he was once more behind the wheel of his parents’ Buick.
You’re home all right, Armstrong, and you’re on your way to see a divorce attorney. The counselors in Germany told you to put the past behind you and resume your life. That’s what you’re going to do because any more time spent with Rosie—knowing she’s in love with Zach—is killing you. And her!
BY THE TIME Rosie finished her shopping, she was amazed to discover it was almost four o’clock. She needed to get home and start dinner. But when she finally reached Sunnyside Avenue and turned onto her street, she slowed to a crawl, marveling at the scene before her.
Cars were lined bumper to bumper on both sides beneath the shade trees growing along the street. Their new spring foliage had been tied with hundreds of yellow ribbons. Dozens of yellow balloons had been attached to the wrought-iron stair railing leading to the front porch of her house.
Someone had erected a huge banner, which stretched across the front lawn from the driveway to the opposite boundary of her property. Rosie could read the letters all the way from the corner of Sunnyside.
Our Own Desert Storm Hero! Welcome home, Sergeant Nick Armstrong! We love you!
Her vision blurred. It could only mean one thing: one of her neighbors must have found out about Nick from his parents and organized everyone on the block.
Rosie had always loved her friendly neighborhood, but this…this went beyond anything she could have imagined.
A plethora of emotions swamped her, devastating her with a brand-new anguish. As thrilled as she was about their kindness and what it would mean to Nick, a part of her was dying inside because she hadn’t thought of it.
His own wife hadn’t thought of it!
His own wife hadn’t breat
hed the joyful news to a single soul, not even the bagger at the grocery store.
You’re a fraud, Rosie. While you were trying to reach Zach, your neighbors were organizing to give your husband a hero’s welcome!
What had the brochure said? Let your vet know you’re proud of him for serving in the war?
She buried her face in her hands, convulsed, tears streaming down her face.
What would this do to Nick? He’d told her he was seeing a divorce attorney today. The Buick was nowhere in sight. Had he been home yet? Did he know what was here waiting for him?
When he realized all this was for him, would he think she’d been the one responsible—and then find out she’d had nothing to do with it?
Would it tear him apart as it was tearing her?
Was he ready to deal with all these people, thoughtful and generous as they were?
When she’d recovered enough to see, she moved forward and pulled into the driveway. Once out of the car with her packages, she heard the din of voices coming from the backyard.
“Martha!” she cried when she hurried around the back and saw Jeff Taylor’s mom, of all people, supervising an enormous picnic barbecue. There were at least fifty or sixty people gathered, dressed in light jackets and sweaters, some of them in conversation with Nick’s parents. Enough food covered the picnic tables to feed at least that many more.
“Rosie!” Martha screamed for joy and came running, her face glowing with excitement. She hugged Rosie so hard she could scarcely breathe. “Cody told Jeff the news, and he called me from school this morning. You must be the happiest woman in the world! We’re all so ecstatic for you we can’t stand it!
“I’m afraid once we got started, we invited practically the whole city. This party will go on until morning. The boys have kept your husband out with them, but they should be arriving any second.”
Help me. Help me, Rosie’s heart groaned in fresh agony. “How can I ever thank you?” she finally managed to whisper.
“Hey, this was one party I didn’t have to plan. Once people knew the reason, it organized itself. Chip LeChimenant’s mother will be here within the hour to film it for Channel Three news.”
Overwhelmed by the turn of events, Rosie hugged her friends and neighbors, but she was soon feeling light-headed and excused herself to take her packages inside.
She looked in the bathroom mirror, moaning at her washed-out appearance. For the next few minutes she redid her hair in its tortoiseshell clip, then washed her face and put on fresh makeup.
Searching in her closet, she found tailored gray wool slacks and a red sweater, then quickly slipped them on. Seconds before she left the bedroom, she heard the crowd break into a deafening roar with piercing whistles, car honking, shouts and clapping.
Nick had come home.
She raced through the house and out the back door. Everyone had surrounded him. They all carried American flags. Cody stood crushed at his father’s side, his grin idiotic. Nick shook hands as fast as he could, answering questions, receiving continual pats on the back. Friends Rosie hadn’t seen for years appeared as if out of nowhere, hugging him long and hard. Someone with a trumpet started to play, “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” and everyone sang.
Rosie stayed, mesmerized, on the back porch step, watching Cody and Nick make their way through the lineup of well-wishers. An old high-school buddy of his, John Seballa, whispered something in his ear. Nick’s dark head reared back. He laughed that deep rich laughter, just the way he used to when he teased Rosie, driving her to fever pitch, as a prelude to making love.
A sudden ache passed through her body—an ache so intense she gasped. Almost as if Nick had heard her, his head swiveled in her direction and he met her gaze. Emotion had turned his eyes a dazzling blue, but their enigmatic expression checked her impulse to run over to him.
And do what, Rosie?
CHAPTER EIGHT
ZACH ENTERED the building that housed the Chemistry Department and stood outside the door of the room where Rosie lectured, his body wired. Four days ago Barb had given him Rosie’s message—simply “I need to talk to you.” He had no idea what that meant, but he’d decided to stay away a whole week so there’d be no more excuses, no chance for her to tell him she needed time to help her husband adjust to being home.
He glanced at his watch. Almost two o’clock. One more minute and her class would be over. He’d been the nice guy long enough and relished the idea of catching her off guard.
This time the element of surprise is on my side, Rosie.
At precisely two, the class broke up and the students came pouring out of the amphitheater. Through the open door he could see her standing there in her stylish green suit, explaining something on the blackboard to a male student. Zach could only remember two female professors during his undergraduate studies at UCLA. If any of them had looked like Rosie, he would’ve found an excuse to hang around all day.
Nick Armstrong now had the privilege of being with Rosie all day—every day—for the rest of his life. He’d earned that right….
Zach’s body stiffened. How naïve he’d been to believe that Cody was Nick’s only edge.
The man is partially disabled.
His impairment would bring out Rosie’s nurturing instincts as nothing else could.
Another hurdle more daunting than Cody.
Zach waited behind the door until she came out, then followed her down the hall to her office. So far she hadn’t seen him, but her sober expression convinced him she was anything but happy.
Have you even thought about me, Rosie?
She paused outside her office and searched in her bag for her keys. As soon as Zach saw their glint, he approached her and took them from her hand.
She looked up in surprise.
“Zach…” Her voice shook when she realized who it was.
The urge to take her in his arms was all-consuming, but they were in a public place. He put the key in the lock and opened the door, ushering them inside. To make certain they weren’t disturbed, he shut it behind them just as quickly and locked it.
“Miss me?” he demanded before crushing her in his arms. “Lord, Rosie. One week—it’s been a lifetime—”
He cupped her face in his hands and began devouring her mouth, reveling in the taste and feel of her. He’d dreamed of this moment on the sailboat, needed this physical release as much as he needed air to breathe.
Caught up in his own desire, he didn’t realize that the elusive something that had made their Caribbean trip so magical wasn’t there for Rosie.
Desperate to recapture it, he instinctively turned them around in the still dark room, moving her against the door, so he could drive home his need of her. But he got the distinct impression she wasn’t with him, that instead, she was allowing him to love her. Nothing could have cooled his blood faster.
In an abrupt move, he tore himself away and switched on the light.
Zach had been a lifeguard throughout his late teens and into college. He’d pulled numerous drowning victims from the violent California surf, hoping that it wasn’t too late, that he could resuscitate them.
Rosie’s face reminded him of those faces. Victims in the throes of deep shock.
Her moist green eyes frantically searched his, begging for something.
What?
Forgiveness?
Oh, Lord. She was going to tell him she had to break off their engagement.
Her eyes—they held so much pain….
He stared down at her. “You said you had something to tell me.” Zach didn’t recognize his own voice.
The sound coming out of her reminded him of rushing waters.
“I do.” She clasped her hands to her chest. He noted the absence of any ring on her finger, but that told him nothing. “So much, I hardly know where to begin.”
He raked a sun-bronzed hand through his hair. “Just say it, Rosie.”
“It isn’t that simple. Please—sit down.”
“I ca
n’t.”
“Then I will.”
She sank into the chair at her desk, a rigid figure, looking like she’d crack at the slightest vibration.
His hands had formed into fists. Somebody had to say it. “You’ve decided to stay with him.”
“I haven’t decided to do anything,” she returned in a dull voice, sending him into euphoric shock.
“Thank God!”
In the next instant he’d caught her up in his arms once more and rocked her the way he would a child. She began to cry.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he whispered urgently against her wet cheek. “Talk to me. You can tell me anything.”
“I know. That’s what makes this so hard. You’re so wonderful. I’d never want to hurt you, but my life is out of c-control. I don’t know where I am or what I feel. She said I had to get in touch with my feelin—”
“She?”
“The counselor at Fort Douglas.”
Zach frowned. Had Rosie already gone for professional help?
“She told me that no matter how much everything hurt, I needed to be honest with you, and with Nick. Otherwise I’d never be able to take charge of my life.”
“She’s right,” Zach said fiercely. “Terrified as I am right now, I couldn’t handle it if you lied to me.”
“I won’t, but some of the things you hear, you’re not going to like.”
“You’re not going to like everything I have to say, either, sweetheart.” With reluctance, he released her so they could both sit down. “Your husband has been my nemesis since the first day we met. His memory had such a stranglehold on you I wondered where I found the strength to keep on persisting.
“That cruise was it, Rosie. If you hadn’t reached out to me with your whole heart and soul, I would have walked away and never looked back.”
“Don’t you think I realized that?” she blurted. “I loved you too much to let you go.”
A shudder racked his body. “But not anymore? Is that what you need to tell me?” He had to ask the question.
She stared at him with wounded eyes. “My feelings for you haven’t changed. How could they?” Her words reverberated in the tiny room.
Strangers When We Meet Page 11