by Karina Bliss
“No, I fell on the path.”
“I chained and blindfolded you, I terrorized you—”
“I wasn’t afraid of you.”
“But I’m terrified for you. Scared of myself and what I might do. For God’s sake, I beat up your ex-boyfriend in the gas station. I didn’t know I was going to do it until I had him pinned against a wall and was choking off his air supply.”
“I had a safe word.”
“At a certain point I don’t know if I was capable of hearing it. I’m not risking your safety. You have to let me protect you.”
He’d talked about not burdening her, but this was the greater burden. She thought he was wrong, but she couldn’t be sure. She had no experience with PTSD. “When will you come back?” she whispered.
“When I’ve got more to offer than the man I am now.”
She remembered her resolve to follow his lead and remain calm. “I want to do what’s best for you.”
She took off the ring and offered it to him, but he closed her hand around it. “Keep it safe for us.”
“Where will you live?”
“At Rob’s initially, in Auckland.” He rubbed a hand wearily over his eyes. “There’s a therapist there who specializes in post-hostage trauma.”
“You said you couldn’t live with your family,” Numbly Jules struggled to come to grips with how quickly things had changed for them.
“I managed to share digs with the Taliban for fourteen months. I can always go back there if Rob proves too much.”
She tried to smile.
“Thank you,” he rasped. “For understanding.”
But she didn’t understand, not really. Don’t go. “What about Ross and Viv’s wedding?”
“Oh, God, I hadn’t thought of that.”
He really wanted to leave; he really wanted to get away from her. Jules hugged herself. “I won’t go,” she offered.
“No...that’s not fair to anybody. And I can’t pull out, either.” Lee dragged a hand through his dark blond hair. “I’ve let my friends down too often.”
What about me? she wanted to cry. Aren’t I your friend, too?
“We’ll just have to make the best of it.”
She struggled to hold back tears.
“Don’t cry,” Lee said hoarsely. “Please don’t cry. We’re done with it, remember. It’ll turn out okay...I swear I’ll come back.”
“You’d better.” The joke rang hollow. Would he? Or would she lose him again, this time for good.
“That’s settled then.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll go pack.”
He didn’t offer an embrace and she didn’t want one. It was the only way either of them could get through it.
* * *
“YOU KNOW YOU’RE getting old—” Dan laid his golf club on the pristine green of Beacon Bay Golf Club’s eighteen hole to line up his final putt “—when you stay sober at a stag because winning a game of golf the next morning is more important.”
He finished gauging the distance and picked up his club. Angling his body over it, he reconfirmed the angle with two quick glances between ball and cup. The putter kissed the ball and it glided into the hole. “But, by God, it’s worth it.” He straightened with a grin. “Pay up, whippersnappers.”
From the shade of a golf cart, Ross and Nate groaned. Slumped in their seats, their caps pulled so low the brims touched the top of their sunglasses, they looked like a couple of sulky teens on a family day trip. “Lee, make him stop,” said Nate.
“Are you kidding?” Lee offered Dan his hand. “Put it there, partner.”
“I hate them both,” Ross said. “And the worst thing is I’m going to be related to one of them tomorrow.”
“It’s Dan’s local course,” Nate grumbled. “Of course, he’s going to win.”
They both revived after a big breakfast at the clubhouse and a couple of gallons of black coffee. “Okay.” Ross pushed his mug aside. “I’m human again. Since this is the first and only chance the four of us have to be alone this weekend, let’s get down to business.”
It was Lee’s turn to groan. “Haven’t we covered off every detail yet?
“I’m talking about your business.”
“You all know why I left.” He’d told them about his violent outbursts. “I didn’t do it lightly.”
Five days after he’d chained Jules in the shed, he still felt every nerve ending twitch and jump every time he thought about it.
“You’ve had a couple of appointments with the military shrink this week. What does she say about it?”
“Mark triggered a rage because I perceived him as a bully.”
“Our Mark?” Ross said, shocked.
“Stow it, Ice,” said Dan. “More important, does your therapist agree that you might be a threat to Jules?”
“Therapists don’t give categorical answers.” But she had suggested the incident with Jules might have had a therapeutic effect for him. And told him to focus on the positive in the experience. The moment when Jules reached out in the dark and touched his face.
Nate sat back. “Without question you did the right thing, stepping back to seek expert counsel—we don’t charge for ours, incidentally—to reassess the situation. Ending the engagement on the other hand...not so smart. If Jules wants to be involved in your recovery, let her. It’s not like either of you is happy apart.”
Lee swallowed. “We both agreed—”
“What else could Jules say when you’ve asked her to release you from your engagement?” Nate interrupted impatiently. “She has her pride. And she’s still unsure about the best way to handle your PTSD.”
“It’s short-term pain for long-term gain,” Lee argued. “This is the best thing for our future. In a couple of months I’ll have a job, I’ll be further along in therapy—”
Dan took his turn. “So you’ll do some kind of makeover and then sweep back on a white horse saying, ‘Look, Jules, I’m superglued into perfection’? This is where we think your reasoning is flawed.”
Lee was silent.
“You’re missing an important part of the process,” Dan continued. “Jules needs to see the groveling, the trying, the failing, the trying again...and she needs to see you doing it for her.”
“And for the record—” Ice took off his cap and ran a hand through his new wedding buzz cut “—you weren’t so perfect in the old days. In fact, you were a cocky son of a bitch.” He replaced his cap. “Now you have my humility.”
Catching the waitress’s eye, Nate gestured for the check. “We only hung out with you because your Greek God looks attracted women we then picked off with intelligence and wit.”
“Come to think of it,” said Dan, taking out his wallet and putting some notes on the table. “Now that we’re married or about to be, why do we even need him anymore?”
“Because,” Ross explained patiently, favoring his leg as he stood, “hanging out with a pathetic loser makes us look like good guys, which gets us laid more often.”
“Ice,” Dan began.
“Yeah, yeah, no sexy talk. Okay, Lee, you’re still on the team.”
Lee added some bills to the pile on the table. “I think I liked it better when you were trying to protect my feelings.”
* * *
THE AFTERNOON WEDDING rehearsal took place in the same tiny Beacon Bay church Dan and Jo had got married in. Jules hadn’t been able to attend, but wild horses wouldn’t have kept her away from this one.
Giving up is not an option. She wished she’d recalled Lee’s argument when she’d needed it earlier in the week, but he’d blindsided her into agreeing to let him go.
She was much better prepared now. Patting the pocket of her red jacket to make sure she had her notes, she took a moment to admire the setting and strengthen her resolve.
On a small headland jutting into the sea, the church was a poster child for early colonial architecture with its white clapboard, steep-pitched roof and arched, stained-glass windows. Hedges of wind-twisted magnolias and camellias protected it from the prevailing nor’westerlies.
Every night she got the same text. Loving you. Every night sent one in return. Me, too. Sucking in a bracing lungful of sea air, Jules entered the church.
She’d practiced what she was going to say a thousand times and as soon as the rehearsal was over she would take Lee aside and tell him very calmly, very quietly and reasonably, why he was coming home with her after the wedding. If that didn’t sway him, she’d show him the tattoo. Or not. She still couldn’t quite believe she’d gotten the tattoo. Guess she wasn’t as together as she thought.
The first person she saw was Ross, who stood at the altar, talking to the priest. He paused to give her a wave.
Nate and Claire sat in the front pew. Nervously, she smiled over them to Dan, who stood in the aisle chatting with the rest of his family: his dad, Herman, Viv’s identical twin sister, Merry, and a little girl Jules recognized as Merry’s daughter.
She scanned the church again, all her bravado leaving her. There was no sign of Lee the second time, either.
What if he’d decided he couldn’t face her yet and wasn’t coming?
Her heels tapped on the wooden floorboards as she approached Dan and his family but, after exchanging greetings, she couldn’t bring herself to ask about Lee, overcome by a sudden shyness.
She’d presented the facts of their separation, that it was mutual, temporary but open-ended, and had backed herself into an emotionally repressed corner. Revealing herself now as a needy and scared would be—
“Hi, everyone,” said Lee.
Jules closed her eyes. Thank God.
“You’re late,” Ross barked, making the minister jump.
Jules turned as Lee’s gaze shifted away from her to the altar.
“Actually, I’m dead on time,” Lee replied. No one got the joke but Jules chuckled. Lee’s attention returned to her and she lost her courage and crouched to talk to the little girl. “Hello, Tilly, I’m Jules. I guess you’re really excited to be a flower girl, huh?”
Simultaneously, Jo and Merry shook their heads.
Tilly scowled. “No, I hate mushy stuff.”
“Me, too,” Jules confided. “But sometimes we have to do it.”
Ice clapped his hands. “Okay, everyone, here’s what’s happening. Jo...you’re standing in for the bride with Herman.” Viv and her mother were flying in at dawn the following day.
The pregnant woman saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Ross ignored the teasing by glancing at his copious notes. “Groomsmen, with me, and the best man here at the right of the altar.... Do you know where you’re supposed to be, Father?”
“I think so, son,” said the priest.
In her peripheral vision, Jules saw Lee start toward her and told herself to remain calm.
“Bridesmaids, come in from the back shortest to tallest—that’s you, Jules.” She tried to concentrate on what he was saying, acutely conscious of Lee’s approach. “Then Merry, then Claire. Oh, shit—sorry, Father—the matron of honor’s supposed to be the last attendant down the aisle. Claire and Merry, swap places.”
He flipped over the first sheet on his clipboard and some loose notes fell out.
Scrambling to pick them up, he kept talking. “We’re scrubbing a ring bearer. I don’t even trust the best man with the rings.” Lee paused, frowning toward his friend. “Then Tilly, honey—” Ross found his niece “—you come in just before the bride.”
“I know,” she said, bored. “I’ve done this before.”
Ross tried to repeg his notes on the clipboard but somehow the bulldog clip kept slipping. More papers dropped onto the floor. Everyone watched in astonishment as the Iceman transformed into a dithering idiot.
“Last to come down the aisle is the bride, on her father’s left arm. Or should that be right arm?” He raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t remember.”
Lee stepped forward, along with Dan and Nate, taking the clipboard out of Ice’s trembling hands, before Nate turned him to face the stained window at the back of the church.
Dan said to the priest, “May we have a couple of minutes?”
“Of course.”
Jules realized her mouth was open and closed it. If she hadn’t seen it she wouldn’t have believed it.
“Can we have some music for the bridesmaids and flower girl to practice to, please?” Jo called to the organist. A classical rendition of the “Wedding March” struck up behind them. “We pace ourselves five rows apart, ladies.”
“What’s wrong with Uncle Ross?”
“He’s checking the stained glass for cracks,” said Jules. “You know how he likes things to be perfect. So I go first as the shortest?”
“And walk sloooowly,” the little girl advised.
“Look at me,” she heard Ross say, as she slow-timed her walk down the aisle. “My hands are shaking. You made the marriage thing look so easy,” he accused Dan.
“What the hell are you talking about? I was soaked in mud and ditch water after fighting my way out of the bush to my wedding.”
But Ross wasn’t listening. “What if Viv’s plane is delayed?”
“There’s six hours’ grace in there, mate,” Nate pointed out.
“Oh, God, what if her plane goes down?”
Jules tried to concentrate on her timing but her attention was riveted by the drama unfolding at the altar. Ross’s meltdown wasn’t doing anything for her own jangled nerves.
“I’d love to say this is payback for aiding and abetting Jo at our wedding,” Dan said, “but I can’t, you’re too pathetic.”
“Not helping, Dan,” Nate said, taking over. “She’ll be here. Remember your ‘keep the faith’ speech?”
“There’s still another twelve hours for her to change her mind.”
Jules had reached the halfway point when she heard Tilly order the next bridesmaid to follow her.
“Take a deep breath.” Lee put a reassuring arm around Ross’s shoulder. “Do what I did in captivity. Break time down to manageable chunks and concentrate on surviving that. Thirty minutes, ten minutes...” Ross looked at him, wild-eyed. “Five minutes...thirty seconds?” Lee exchanged worried glances with the other guys.
“Oh, for the love of...” Jo strode past Jules. “I’ll sort this out.”
She spun Ross around, snapping her fingers in his face. “You’re the Iceman, where’s your pride? Harden up!”
Jules covered her mouth to hide a smile.
Ross’s panic subsided. He focused on Jo’s face and then his expression solidified into horror. “I had...a girlie moment.”
“You did, but it’s over.” Jo started back up the aisle. Winking at Jules, she called over her shoulder, “Though I’ll still be bringing it up at your golden wedding anniversary.”
Jules grinned. As she restarted her stately walk, timing it with the “Wedding March,” her eyes met Lee’s. After five lonely nights without him, t
he impact jolted through her like an electric current. She faltered.
“She’s getting it all wrong,” said Tilly gleefully. Tearing her eyes away from Lee, Jules concentrated on the steps, but her staccato heartbeat made it difficult to get the timing right, particularly as Lee stood watching her from the front of the church. Almost like a bridegroom. What if he said no? How would she cope? She had to deliver her impassioned speech before she ended up in a worse state than Ross.
“We need to talk,” she said, too loudly. All the guys looked up. “Now,” she said to Lee. Heat flaming her cheeks, Jules pivoted and walked out of the church, not waiting to see if he followed her or not. Ross made some protest; she heard Lee reply. Trying to recall her speech before the words rearranged themselves into dyslexic gibberish, Jules didn’t hear what either of them said.
Outside, her relief at seeing Lee behind her scattered her thoughts and she couldn’t recall her opening line. Thank God she had notes in her jacket pocket. She fumbled for them.
“I have something to say first,” he said.
“You had your turn,” she replied, bossy when she wanted desperately to be persuasive. “Now it’s mine.”
He swallowed. “Okay.” Why was he nervous? Oh God, it had to be bad.
The wind gusted across the steps and caught her dark hair, whipping strands across her face and billowing the skirt of her green floral dress. Flattening her skirt, Jules gestured to a wooden bench. “Sit...please.”
Unclenching the fisted hold on her notes, she smoothed out the paper. “I’ve been doing research on PTSD. It’s very bad for you to cut yourself off from your significant other.”
“Jules.”
“I don’t want you to say anything before I’ve finished.” She had a host of good arguments and he was going to hear all of them. “I have some stats here.” Another gust caught her dress and, making a grab for the skirt, she lost her notes across the grass. They blew in all directions. She started after them before she saw the futility in it and stopped.