Craving Her Soldier's Touch

by Wendy S. Marcus

  She was talking so loud, how could he not listen? He looked up.

  “While I can convince myself that my proposal shocked you into running, and I can let you off the hook for being incommunicado while you were in Iraq, you’ve been home for at least three weeks. If someone hadn’t parked in my spot, forcing me into the visitors’ lot, I wouldn’t have seen your SUV. It’s like you snuck back into town and hoped I wouldn’t find out.”

  Exactly. His plan had been to strengthen up—mentally and physically—before finding a place of his own in closer proximity to the four separate houses he would soon start visiting weekly. He’d figured one month tops, which, added to the three months he’d been hospitalized, equaled four months his men’s wives had been on their own, with him capable of little more than telephone and financial support.

  He needed to get out there, to become more of a presence in their lives. It’s what’d kept him from giving up during endless setbacks and complications, during hours of excruciating treatments and therapies.

  An image of The Kid’s baby daughter flashed.

  Which reminded him. Jaci wasn’t the only one with a reason to be angry. “So if you didn’t come up for sex,” he pushed off the sofa and stood, fighting a wince when pain shot down his leg. “Why are you here? Finally getting around to congratulating me on the birth of my baby?”

  Jaci’s jaw dropped open but no sound came out. No apology or explanation. She stood totally still, staring up at him, with a look of absolute shock on her face. “You—” She cleared her throat. “Who? When?”

  Nice try. “Cut the crap, Jaci.”

  “You bastard.” In a move that caught him, a decorated staff sergeant in the U.S. Army, completely off guard, she lunged forward and slapped his cheek.

  What the...? He grabbed her hand.

  “Who is she? A fellow soldier? While I was here wasting my time worrying about you, even after all the crap you pulled, you were sleeping around with another woman?” She sucked in a breath. “Or were you seeing her in the months before you left? While I was at work?”

  The woman made no sense.

  She fought him. “Let go of me.”

  This time he was ready and caught her up in a bear hold with no intention of releasing her until he figured out what the heck was going on. “I heard the baby. Last night. When I walked you to your door.”

  “The twins?” she asked.

  Lord help him. Twins. He hadn’t thought of that. Two of everything at the same time. Visits to the doctor. Boyfriends. Cars. College educations. The cartilage in his knees turned to pudding. And while he concentrated on remaining upright, on the verge of disgracing himself by collapsing to the floor, Jaci jammed the heel of her rubber boot on the top of his bare foot, escaped his weakened grip and started to chuckle.

  “You thought—?” She laughed so hard she couldn’t finish. “You thought—?” She doubled over, stumbled to the couch and plopped down. After about a minute of trying to regain her composure, Jaci inhaled a deep breath, pushed it out and asked. “You thought I had your baby?”

  She made it sound like such a ridiculous assumption he decided not to answer.

  Then all humor fled, and like she suddenly realized she’d been insulted, she got mad. “You honestly thought I wouldn’t tell you if I’d gotten pregnant? That I wouldn’t include you in the birth of our child or introduce you to your son or daughter at the first opportunity?”

  Obviously he hadn’t done a thorough job of thinking things through because Jaci was straightforward and not at all the type of woman to lie about a pregnancy.

  “The babies you heard,” she stood, “are my nieces. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention them to anyone because Jena doesn’t want people to know she’s back in town until this weekend.”

  “What’s this weekend?”

  “The second annual benefit gala for the Women’s Crisis Center.”

  “Is that the ritzy shindig Justin’s running security for on Saturday night?” Her brother was an outspoken supporter of the crisis center. Hmmmm... The perfect opportunity for a little man to poor-excuse-for-a-brother chat and to take care of the asses who’d been giving Jaci a hard time.

  Jaci nodded. “This year we’re having a silent auction coordinated by Millicent Parks with items worth tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “So if you didn’t come up here to welcome me home,” he said, “or tell me about the babies, why are you here?” And while he was asking the questions, “And how did you get in?”

  “I knocked. When you didn’t answer I,” she held up a key, “used this.” At Ian’s grimace she added, “I have a key to Justin’s condo and he has a key to mine. For emergencies.”

  “So what’s your emergency?” he asked.

  “The storm uprooted that massive oak by the parking lot which is now resting on top of nine cars, one of them the vehicle I was supposed to drive back to the crisis center this morning to pick up my car which, as it turns out, is sitting in two feet of water in their parking lot thanks to the Bronx River spilling over its banks at some point in the night. Streets are flooded, trees and power lines are down all over the county and there’s a state of emergency in effect so taxis aren’t running. I came up to ask Justin for a ride to work.”

  “Do you hear yourself? There’s a state of emergency. The roads aren’t safe. Yet here you are ready to forgo the warnings so you can traipse around town.”

  “For the record, I never traipse. And please spare me the lecture. I have two patients I must see as soon as possible, others depending on me for treatments due today, and some I’d like to check on to see how they made it through the storm.” She turned toward the hallway leading to Justin’s bedroom.

  “He’s not here,” Ian said. “Mandatory overtime because of the weather.” Which gave Ian the perfect opportunity to play hero. “Give me a minute to get changed, and I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”

  “I don’t need you to—”

  “Yes you do, sweetheart.”

  Luckily, Jaci’s cellphone rang because she looked to be gearing up for one major league verbal smack down. She checked the number and answered. “Hi, Mrs. Lewis. Yes. Don’t worry. I said I’d be there and I will.” She listened. “If I have to walk a little that’s no problem. Uh huh. See you soon.”

  She ended the call and looked up at Ian. “What are you waiting for? I need to get on the road. Meet me in the parking lot.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ian hurried to his room, for the first time in months meeting a new day with a sense of eager anticipation.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “THIS is unbelievable,” Jaci said. An honest to goodness lake rippled where the heavily traveled thoroughfare of Westchester Avenue should be. After two failed attempts to find a passable road to get to her office to pick up her work car, each wasting valuable time, Jaci had agreed to let Ian drive her around today. And boy was she glad she had.

  At the orange barrels blocking entry, Ian turned around. Again.

  The annoying GPS voice said, “Recalculating route.” Again.

  Jaci started to wonder if she would, in fact, be able to keep her promise to Mrs. Lewis.

  “I have an idea,” Ian said, pulling onto a side road. The man was completely unflappable. While she stared at the horror of murky brown water raging along swollen riverbeds and flowing down roadways into shops and homes, he kept focused on the street ahead of him, steering around downed tree limbs, debris, and standing water, avoiding hanging power lines—some still twisting and sparking.

  He sounded official when interacting with law enforcement and emergency personnel who routinely stopped them and cautioned against being out on the roads. A few words from Ian and they were offering directions and detours.

  Jaci’s phone rang. She looked at the screen. Mrs. Lewis. “Hi, Mrs. Lewis. It’s taking a little longer than I expected—”

  A male voice interrupted. “This is Barry, Laney’s husband. She’s frantic. The doctor told her t
o take her insulin around the same time each morning. She was due at seven and it’s almost seven-thirty. She says she feels her heart racing.”

  “Tell her we’re very close. Maybe five minutes. Ten tops.” But who knew what they’d find around the next corner.

  “Problem?” Ian asked when she ended the call.

  “The patient is very anxious about her new diagnosis.” Gestational diabetes, on top of being an already nervous, first-time pregnant, soon-to-be new mom.

  The car accelerated.

  “Thank you for offering to drive me,” Jaci said. “This is much worse than I’d imagined.”

  Ian cut through a grocery store parking lot. “This is nothing. In Iraq there were sand storms and mud storms that made driving next to impossible.”

  “A mud storm? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “It’s when it starts to rain during a sand storm. Clumps of mud fall from the sky.” He swerved to avoid a plastic garbage can blowing in their direction. “I’d rather deal with the remnants of a weakening hurricane than the IEDs and RPGs intent on killing me,” he mumbled.

  She’d read about IEDs—improvised explosive devices—and RPGs—rocket propelled grenades—and the threat they posed to the armed forces.

  “I think we’re here.” Ian made a left turn and shot his arm over to hold her in her seat as he slammed on the brakes to avoid a front-end collision with a huge tree that blocked the road. About ten feet beyond it lay a huge pool of dark water that completely obscured what, according to the sign on the corner, was supposed to be Ashley Court. Luckily the houses were up on small hills so only the bottom portions of the driveways were affected.

  “Good thing I wore my rain boots,” Jaci said, pulling up her hood and opening her door.

  Ian put the Jeep in park and asked, “Where’re we headed?”

  “I’m going to house number thirty-seven, which if the description I was given is correct, is that yellow colonial with blue shutters just before the cul-de-sac.” She pointed. “The one with the American flag on the mailbox. You’re going to wait for me right here.”

  As Jaci reached in the backseat to retrieve her nursing bag, Ian turned off the car and climbed out which gave him a perfect view of her expression when she lifted the heavy bag with her right hand and received a very sharp, very painful reminder of the large bruise on her upper arm.

  He rounded the front fender. “Let me carry that.”

  “I’ve got it.” Jaci slid the straps onto her left shoulder and the bag connected with her sore ribs. She sucked in a breath, her discomfort a reminder, reinforcing her commitment to help women out of abusive relationships because no one should suffer pain at the hands of another. Ever.

  Ian lifted the bag and eased it down her arm, his touch gentle, his eyes concerned. “You okay?”

  “What I’m feeling is nothing compared to what I’m sure Merlene is feeling this morning.” And thousands of other women.

  Ian closed the door and held out his hand. “Come on. We don’t have time to argue. Your patient is waiting.”

  “You can’t come with me.” As if she hadn’t spoken, he took her hand and guided her up a lawn and around the large root ball of the tree that’d fallen. “Patient privacy. Patient confidentiality.” The grass bubbled and squished under her feet. “And your leg.” She’d been too angry to care about his limp last night. But this morning... What’d happened to him?

  Ian gripped her hand and walked faster, pulling her along, his expression fierce. Determined. “Okay, then.” Apparently he felt quite strong about accompanying her. “But only to the driveway.”

  About halfway to their destination, a tall blond-haired man ran toward them. “Are you Jaci?” he yelled over the wind.

  “Mr. Lewis?” she called back, holding on to her hood.

  “You have to hurry. Laney’s chest feels tight and she can’t catch her breath.”

  Jaci started to run. A sure-footed Ian took the lead, holding tightly to her hand.

  “What if she needs to go to the hospital?” Mr. Lewis asked, keeping up beside them. “We’re surrounded by water. How the hell am I supposed to get her there?”

  “If she needs to go to the hospital, we’ll transport her,” Jaci said, confident because Ian was there to help. They reached the driveway and ran up it. “But I’m hoping it’s an anxiety reaction, and once we calm her down she’ll be okay.”

  Mr. Lewis opened the front door and Jaci entered into a small, dark foyer. “I’m here, Mrs. Lewis.” She took the bag from Ian, who remained on the porch.

  “Please. Come inside,” Mr. Lewis said to Ian.

  “I’m fine out here,” Ian said. “Go take care of your wife.”

  Jaci removed her boots and coat.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mr. Lewis said. “I’m not going to leave you standing in the rain. If not for you, Jaci wouldn’t have made it out here.”

  Ian laughed. “You don’t know her,” he said. “She’d have found a way.”

  He’d grown to know her so well in such a short period of time. But rather than comment, Jaci left the men and approached her new patient, a dark-haired beauty in obvious distress, sitting at the edge of the couch, her fist clutched to her chest. Despite her rapid, deep, gasping breaths, her color—though pale—was without any signs of cyanosis.

  “Hi, Mrs. Lewis.” She went down on her knees to look her patient in the eye. “I’m Jaci, your nurse.” She took the woman’s cold, clammy free hand in hers. “First thing we need to do is get your breathing under control.”

  Jaci called over her shoulder to Mr. Lewis, “Do you have a small paper bag?” then turned back to her patient. “Look into my eyes and breathe with me. In.” She demonstrated. “Out.”

  Cabinets slammed in the kitchen. “Where do we keep the lunch bags?” Mr. Lewis called out in frustration. “I can’t see a thing in here.”

  Ian knelt down beside Jaci, completely calm. “No electricity.” He held out a paper pharmacy bag. “I saw this on the dining room table.”

  “Perfect. Thank you,” she said to Ian. Then, “Breathe into the bag,” she said to Mrs. Lewis, positioning it over her nose and mouth. “You can hold it,” she suggested, to give her patient something to do.

  Now to distract her. “This is my friend, Ian,” Jaci said. “He’s volunteered to be my chauffeur for the day.”

  Mrs. Lewis nodded. The bag puffed and crumpled. Her respirations started to decrease.

  Ian smiled.

  Boy how Jaci had missed those mischievous, playful dimples.

  A glass broke in the kitchen. Mr. Lewis cursed.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Ian said then stood. “I’d better go check on your husband.”

  Although Jaci couldn’t see Mrs. Lewis’s mouth, her eyes crinkled a bit like maybe she’d smiled, too.

  “Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?” Jaci asked to make conversation.

  Mrs. Lewis shook her head then removed the bag from her mouth. “We want it...to be a surprise.”

  “I think when I get pregnant I’d like the sex of my baby to be a surprise, too,” Jaci said. “My sister has four-week-old twin girls. They are absolutely adorable.”

  Mrs. Lewis set the bag in her lap, her breathing almost normal. “Twins? I’m petrified at the thought of one baby.” She looked down lovingly and caressed her large, pregnant belly.

  “Have you considered taking a parenting class at the hospital?” Jaci reached into her nursing carryall to take out her computer, blood pressure cuff, and stethoscope. “I hear they’re wonderful for first timers. Graduates of the program bring in their infants so you can hold them.” She retrieved her baggie of business cards. “You get to observe them changing diapers and clothes. Then you practice on realistic dolls. Maybe it’d help put your mind at ease.”

  “I think I’d like that,” Mrs. Lewis said, raising a hand to push a swag of hair behind her ear.

  Jaci found the rubber-banded bundle she sought, pulled off the to
p card and held it out. “This has the contact information for the woman who runs programing at the hospital. There’s also a website you can visit.”

  Mrs. Lewis took the card. “Thank you.”

  “You feeling a little better now, Mrs. Lewis?” Jaci asked.

  “It’s Laney. And yes.” She inhaled a deep breath and let it out. “I’m feeling better now that you’re here.”

  “Any pain?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sure they’re going to be elevated, but I want to get a quick set of vitals then we’ll do your insulin and get you breakfast while I do my documentation.” She’d check the vitals again before leaving. While applying the blood pressure cuff, Jaci asked, “Do you have any allergies?”

  Laney shook her head.

  Jaci pumped up the cuff. “And you’ve self-administered two doses of insulin at your doctor’s office with no problems?”

  Laney nodded. “But there was a nurse with me. And the doctor was just down the hall in case anything went wrong.”

  Jaci entered the BP result in the computer without making a big deal about the fact it was significantly elevated. “Well today I’m here with you so no worries.” She checked Laney’s pulse—elevated—and respiratory rate—within normal limits. “Now to check your blood sugar.”

  “I have my glucometer and insulin pen set up on the dining room table.”

  “Shall we?” Jaci held out a hand to help Laney up.

  As if conjured out of thin air, Mr. Lewis appeared. “Sometimes she gets dizzy when she stands up.” He took over the task of assisting Laney. Jaci looked on as husband and wife shared a look so loving, a touch so tender and caring, that the specialness of their relationship made her momentarily envious. So she took the opportunity to assess the living environment. A comfortable-sized living room—carpeted—opening into a small eat-in kitchen with a tiled floor. Everything was clean and neat with no visible safety hazards noted.

  And no Ian. “Where’s Ian?” she asked.

  “Out back lighting the barbeque grill. We’re going to make you ladies a nice hearty breakfast. Scrambled eggs with cheese, whole wheat toast, and the hot beverage of your choice.” He smiled. “As long as tea, coffee, or hot chocolate is one of your choices.”