“Dad, I’m sorry to send this letter to you so close to Christmas. You don’t need to hear this, but I have to talk to someone about it before it eats me up alive. My men can’t see me cry…and I don’t ever want to tell Frannie about this. You’re my only outlet, and I know you understand because of all that you went through in Korea. I got out of the Humvee and ran over to where the little girl was lying in the middle of that cobblestone street. I hoped she was still alive. Her puppy was sitting next to her, howling. It just tore me up, Dad. I leaned down and felt for a pulse. She was gone. All I could do was pick her up in my arms. She was so pretty. I just stood there with her in my arms, holding her and thinking of our own daughter, Tracey, who is almost the same age. I kept thinking about this poor dead girl’s parents and what they would do when they found out she died like this. I wanted to cry so bad, but I knew my men were watching me.
“The street was deserted. The Serbs were hiding inside their homes, but I could feel them watching me…watching us from behind the curtains over the windows. I could feel their hatred and I could feel that they weren’t sorry they’d taken this child’s life. I mean…my God, she was only fourteen and innocent. She had her whole life ahead of her. I took her back to the Humvee and we wrapped her in a blanket. I didn’t want to let her go, so I sat in the passenger side and held her in my arms. I didn’t want her to be left alone. I wanted her to know someone cared. Some of the guys started to cry, Dad. I tried to stay firm and brave for them. I tried to tell them it was all right, when nothing was, really. I felt so damned helpless and useless to them—to myself.
“And then the puppy started toward us. I ordered my sergeant to grab the little guy. He was about the size of a cantaloupe, and my sergeant stuffed him inside his parka because it was so cold. I figured the Serbs would kill him, too, because he belonged to a Kosovar. I couldn’t save the little girl, but we could save her puppy. And then we left and went back to H.Q.
“Back at our bivouac of tents, the puppy has become our mascot of sorts. One of the guys named him Toto, because the little girl reminded all of them of Dorothy from Oz. She’d been wearing a rainbow-colored skirt and a white blouse. In some ways, the puppy has helped us. But he reminds me daily of what I saw. All I can remember is holding her…her face so clean, so unlined and innocent. I go to sleep seeing her. I dream about her, and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know what to do. I was hoping you could help me…let me know what will get rid of her face in my nightmares.
“I’m sorry to burden you with this. I wish I could be there with Frannie and Tracey to celebrate Christmas with you, but I can’t. Maybe next year, if the army sends me stateside, we can make it. Just know I love you. I wish you were here so we could visit. I always liked the times when we’d sit down and just talk. I know you’d have something to say that could help me through this. Merry Christmas, Dad.
Your loving son,
Stephen.”
Colt heard the old man sob. He looked up, and found Charlie blurred before him. The old vet had covered his face with his hand, and was sobbing loudly. Shocked that he would cry so openly in such a public place, Colt sat there frozen for a moment. The words from the letter ripped him apart. He’d seen similar travesties over in Kosovo.
Setting the letter on the bed stand, Colt released Charlie’s hand and awkwardly patted the old man’s shaking shoulder as he wept unashamedly. Then, driven by something deep within him, Colt opened his arms, drew the thin old man forward and held him while he cried for his son’s painful experience. As Charlie laid his head on Colt’s shoulder, his weeping grew harsher and deeper. He gripped Colt with his thin arms. Colt closed his eyes and tried to breathe, but it was impossible. The world skidded to a halt for him as he sat there holding a man crying for his son’s pain.
Tears jammed into Colt’s own eyes. It took everything he had to stop them. Bending his head foreword, he held the old man gently in his embrace and let him weep.
Abbie remained near Colt after they’d left the VA hospital. Their second stop was at the main shelter in Anaconda, St. Mary’s Shelter for the Poor, which helped street people and the homeless. Morgan donated a hefty check every holiday in support of the organization’s efforts, and the Perseus team always came to help serve the Christmas Eve meal. This was the kind of thing Abbie loved the most—helping those who were not as well off as she was. But now, as she stood behind the counter with Colt, helping him serve the turkey he’d been slicing to those who were standing in line, she saw his face fill with silent suffering.
She knew it had to do with what had happened at the VA hospital. She’d seen Colt holding old Charlie. Even the men on the ward had known that something important and touching was going on between them. Charlie’s weeping could be heard throughout the room. The men had remained quiet out of respect. Abbie had watched their faces and saw that before long there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. She knew it had to do with the letter, but wisely did not ask Colt for details, even after they’d finished giving out the gift sacks to each veteran.
As she spooned mashed potatoes and savory gravy onto a young woman’s tray, Abbie smiled gently at her. The girl was barely fourteen, her black hair matted and uncombed. As she responded with a slight, wobbly smile of her own, Abbie noticed that her clothes were threadbare. Abbie couldn’t help crying inwardly for the child. She saw Colt looking at the girl, too, as if she were a nightmare staring back at him. His eyes seemed bloodshot, his mouth a hard line against the suffering he was holding at bay.
Maybe when he took Abbie back to her log cabin tonight, they might be able to talk. She hoped so, because right now, Colt was looking shell-shocked. Abbie knew that whatever transpired in the VA hospital had stirred up Colt’s own PTSD symptoms, and he was wrestling with them by the minute. She could feel his ongoing anguish, his pain. And all she wanted to do was provide a safe harbor tonight…. Could she reach out to him? Would he trust her in his vulnerable, raw state?
“Coffee or tea?” Abbie asked as Colt moved tiredly to her kitchen table and sat down. Outside, it was snowing once again. Darkness had long since fallen, and the temperature with it. The scents of cinnamon and orange peel drifting around the warm kitchen from the saucepan on the stove made her feel a tad better. On the bus ride home, Colt had been silent and withdrawn. He’d barely spoken to anyone. She’d seen the worried looks on Morgan and Laura’s faces, too.
Colt sat down and wrapped his hands together on the table. “Whiskey,” he said abruptly. “I need some. Do you have any?”
Abbie hesitated. The anguish in his tone was harsh and alive. “No…I’m sorry.” He refused to look at her, staring at his hands intently. His mouth was tight and it was obvious he was trying hard to hold back his own raging emotions. Moving quietly around the table, she held out her hand to him. “Come here?”
Colt twisted his head at the sound of her gentle voice. He stared at her outstretched hand as if it would bite him. Yet despite the storm roiling unchecked within his heart and gut, he reached out for that slender, strong hand of hers. Right now, he needed Abbie. Desperately.
“Follow me,” she whispered as he eased out of the chair and stood up. Leading Colt to her living room, to the overstuffed couch in front of the fireplace, where a wood fire snapped and crackled, Abbie guided him to sit down. When he did, she moved to his side after easing the shoes off her feet. Snuggling next to his bulk, she placed her arms around him and drew him close. At first he resisted. Then she saw his eyes gleam like silver fire, and he capitulated.
Abbie felt diminutive against Colt, but she sighed softly as he slid his arms around her and laid his head against her neck and shoulder.
“There…” she sighed, kissing his hair. “This is better. Much better…” And it was. Christmas music floated unobtrusively around them. The peaceful crackling of the fire reached their ears. Abbie felt Colt begin to relax. In her heart, she knew he needed to be held. Held and kept safe from all that he had experienced today. Her heart soared with the knowledg
e that she could at least give him this small gift.
“It was a hard day for you,” Abbie began gently, and moved her hand up the sleeve of his apricot-colored sweater. “The gift you gave Charlie…well, that was special. You helped him so much, Colt….” Abbie waited. She knew she was treading on thin ice as she broached the subject of Charlie breaking down and weeping unashamedly in his arms. Yet intuitively Abbie understood that this was where the storm within Colt was centered, and it had to be addressed. By providing an opening, she was giving him the opportunity to talk it out if he would. And Abbie knew he needed to talk. She saw his ravaged emotions in his eyes.
Colt nuzzled against Abbie’s soft, slender neck. She smelled of a spicy orchid fragrance and her own special scent as a woman. Her arms were strong and caring around him. He desperately absorbed her form, the sound of her husky voice edged with tears. “How did you know?” he managed to ask in a cracked voice.
“Know what, darling?”
“This. That I need this. You.”
Abbie laughed gently and rocked him in her arms. “We all need this, Colt. We all need to be held safe against a world gone mad at times. This is the gift of Christmas. Knowing that other people can reach out and help you, heal you and hold you. We’re a big family at Perseus. Morgan and Laura know the hell that everyone goes through, what you might have seen or experienced on a mission…the awful things…. But they also know what helps to heal you—family, care, love and helping others less fortunate than us.”
Nodding, Colt closed his eyes tightly and continued to absorb her soft, tremulous voice. Abbie’s lips were so close to his cheek. He could feel her moist breath feathering across his flesh.
Her heart was beating in time with his own, her small breasts pressed against his chest. “Yeah,” he began brokenly, “I needed this….”
To hell with it, he thought suddenly. He was going to tell her exactly how he felt. Tightening his grip around her for a moment, he rasped, “I need you, Abbie. You’re like a bulwark of strength to me right now. I feel so damned weak. I feel like I’m hurtling out of control….”
She rocked him gently back and forth. Tears squeezed from her tightly shut eyes. “We all feel like that, Colt. Life doesn’t always deal fair hands to everyone.”
He knew she was referring to her husband’s death. Yet Abbie had survived it and was flourishing. “I wish I had whatever it is you have….” he said gruffly.
“What?” Abbie choked back a sob as she felt Colt reaching out to her.
“You’ve survived the hell of losing your husband, and yet you’re whole and can move on. Me? I’m nailed by what I saw during those missions over in Kosovo. Today…that letter…Damn it, Abbie, Charlie has a son, an Army M.P. over there…. The letter…” Colt couldn’t go on. All he could do was hold her tightly and bury his face against her neck. Violently, his feeling surged upward. Tears leaked from his eyes no matter how hard he tried to force them back.
Abbie opened her eyes and saw the streaks glistening down his hard, taut cheek. Opening her hand, she caught them on her fingertips. “Its all right, Colt. Let it out…all of it. I’ll just sit here and hold you…. Please…you’re safe with me, darling….”
Abbie knew her words were healing to him. She felt a powerful shudder work through Colt. His arms held her like steel bands and the air rushed out of her lungs from his sudden, hard embrace. The first sob worked up and out of his tormented mouth, and then another. Her entire body shook as he buried his head against her and sobbed again. Oh, why did men fight so hard to run away from their feelings? She closed her eyes, rocked him and held him with her womanly strength for a long, long time.
Finally, the storm within Colt passed. It seemed like a miracle to him as he eased away from Abbie at long last. He had no idea what time it was and he didn’t care. Feeling cleaner and more steady than he had in weeks, Colt gave her a burning look of silent thanks. Abbie’s expression remained tender and caring. Her lips were parted, and he could see the remnants of tears drying on her own flushed cheeks. How beautiful she looked to him. Raising his hand, Colt grazed her tear-stained flesh with his fingers. “You are so incredible, so strong, Abbie…and I feel like a limp dishrag emotionally in comparison.” He forced a one-cornered smile.
She caught his hand, kissed the top of it and held it in her lap. “Part of caring for another person is being there for them, Colt. I knew you needed this—to be held…to be listened to. I saw how much you were hurting.”
Nodding, he sagged back against the couch, eased his arm around her shoulders and brought Abbie against him. She came without resistance, her hand resting in the center of his chest, over his heart. “Thank you…” he murmured gruffly. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her unruly red hair. “You’re strong, Abbie. I’m so in awe of you. You’re small, yet mighty.”
She laughed a little and closed her eyes, reveling in his tenderness toward her. This is what she needed, whether he realized it or not. Now that Colt was unafraid to show his emotions to her, he was completely vulnerable with her, too. It was a Christmas gift she thought she’d never share with another man. Ever. Not even in her wildest dreams had Abbie thought there could be another man with Ted’s sensitivity or ability to share with her. But there was: Colt Hamlin. “You’re such a gift to me, Colt…in all ways….”
“Yeah,” he griped good-naturedly, “a crybaby.”
She looked up at him. Although his eyes were bloodshot, his gaze was clear now. No longer did Abbie see the murky storm of emotions that had been there before. “I happen to like men who can cry. Crying doesn’t make you weak, it makes you look strong to me, Colt. Look how much crying helped Charlie….”
Lifting his hand, Colt cupped her small face and studied her shining blue eyes. “I wanted to cry with him, Abbie, in the worst way. But I fought it like hell itself. That letter…well, it was enough to rip the hardest-hearted man apart. It did me.”
“It helped to heal you,” Abbie said gently. “Like cures like sometimes.” She turned her cheek and pressed a kiss into his open palm.
“You’re healing to me,” Colt rasped unsteadily as he guided her face upward for a kiss. “You look at me, and I feel my heart opening. Your laughter makes me feel hope again, Abbie.” He hesitated before he kissed her parting lips. Drowning in her slumberous blue eyes, he whispered roughly, “It’s you…all of you, the way you are, that’s helping me, supporting me in a way I’ve never experienced before. I can’t explain it…. And whatever it is, sweetheart, I want more of it. I want more of you….”
His words fell around her like a warm blanket of love. Abbie leaned forward, her lips grazing the hard set of his mouth. Colt’s eyes were alive once more with tears, and she understood how open and raw he was feeling right now. Lifting her arms, she eased them around his neck and deepened her kiss, her lips sliding tenderly across his until his mouth melted and opened to receive all that she could give him with her heart and soul.
As Abbie swirled in a golden haze of light and desire, wrapped in Colt’s arms, she knew that somehow, through the fires of his anguish and pain, she was falling in love with this modern-day warrior who’d been so deeply wounded by what he’d seen and experienced. Abbie hadn’t expected to be able to love again. She drank headily of his kisses, moving her lips tenderly against his.
Colt finally eased away. He didn’t want to, but knew he had to or else. He saw Abbie’s brows knit momentarily, saw the question in her eyes as he slid his hands across her shoulders.
“If I don’t stop, sweetheart, I’m going to lift you into my arms, carry you off into your bedroom and never let you go.” He gave her a humorous look. “And I need your okay to do that, first. It has to be mutual.”
Her heart pounding with joy, Abbie caressed his cheek. Colt’s eyes were alive with raw, burning desire—for her. “I feel like I’m coming back to life, Colt. I never thought…well, I never thought I’d ever feel again after Ted’s death, but I am. Its a miracle….” And it was, Abbie thought as
she gazed wonderingly up into his eyes. Just the way his mouth crooked, that confidence and strength in his smile, sent a flash of longing coursing through her.
“You’re my miracle,” he whispered roughly, not wanting to let her go. “And it’s all happening so fast that I’m spinning from it. I really didn’t want to help you. Morgan persuaded me, and now I’m glad he did.” Brushing his fingers across her unruly hair, he smiled lopsidedly. “I’m scared, Abbie. I need to know how you feel about me…us…if there is an us or not….”
Sighing, Abbie gave him a tender look and snuggled back into his arms, her head in the crook of his shoulder. “There is an us as far as I’m concerned, Colt. And like you, I’m bowled over by our attraction to each other. What you do to me, how you make me feel—it’s…wonderful, unexpected.”
Was it love? Colt wondered, sinking back against the couch with her in his arms. It had to be, yet he was unwilling to speak those words yet. He was afraid Abbie might run or turn him down. “It is for me, too,” he confided in a gravelly tone as he ran his fingers slowly across her upper arm. “This is turning into a Christmas I’ll never forget,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
Abbie opened her eyes and stared off through the living room. She felt the solid, heavy beat of Colt’s heart beneath her palm. “Do dreams come true, Colt? Or am I a dyed-in-the-wool romantic who doesn’t have a prayer?”
Chuckling, he rasped, “We have a chance, Abbie. Wanting a relationship is the first step.”
Her heart thudded. “Do you?”
He felt her grow still in his arms. Fear sizzled through him. He forced the truth out. “Yes.” And even more fear shot through him. “Do you?”
Romancing the Holidays Bundle 2009 Page 24