The Military Wife

by Laura Trentham

  “I don’t blame you for what happened, you know.”

  “Maybe you should.” He presented her his back and pulled the covers up around his ear.

  She stared at the back of his head so intently she expected to see his hair catch on fire. He didn’t move. He wasn’t asleep, though. His body was too tense and his breathing unsteady. “What was your nightmare about?”

  The silence that followed her question was oppressive. Finally, he asked, “What nightmare?”

  “The one that woke me up earlier. You called out.”

  “What did I say?”

  “I couldn’t make it out.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  The huffy sound he made turned the tension down from incendiary to uncomfortable. “An old dream. This cabin … the ceiling is so low. It’s dark and smell makes me think of a freshly dug grave. Unless the weather is particularly nasty, I avoid staying the night.”

  She ignored the niggling guilt over her wimpy survival skills. “Did something happen on one of your missions in Afghanistan?”

  “No.” The word was barely a whisper.

  She moved close enough to feel the heat radiating off his broad back. “Growing up in foster care then?”

  “Yeah.”

  She waited. If she pushed, he would retreat.

  After a few minutes listening to the fire crackle in the silence, a soft rumble of words emerged. “I was eleven and on my third foster home. Early enough that I still had hope I would land with a good family that would want to keep me.”

  “They weren’t good?”

  “The parents were okay, but they had two kids. Both boys. Teenagers. I was big for eleven, but not as big and strong as they were. It started small. A few shoves. Blaming me for messes they made. Fighting back only made it worse. One day, I threatened to call Social Services on their asses. I wouldn’t have, of course, but they got scared and locked me in an old cedar chest.”

  “For how long?”

  “Long enough to pass out.”

  “Oh my God, Bennett, you could have died.”

  He’d been eleven. Still a child. Between his mother dying from an overdose and his stark existence in the foster-care system, Harper couldn’t help but think of Ben. It was her job to protect him and she’d do it with her life. Bennett hadn’t had a champion.

  Without thinking beyond the moment, she scooched closer and put her arm around him from behind. It was like hugging a gargoyle, and she half-expected him to shove her arm away as if comfort were a communicable disease.

  He didn’t. As the seconds ticked off, his body lost its edge. His hand glanced across hers and she caught it, linking their fingers and squeezing.

  Her hug was an offering to the eleven-year-old Bennett. Yet the longer it went on, the less innocent the touch grew. She hadn’t been this physically or emotionally close to a man since Noah.

  She was older—wiser was up for debate—and Bennett was more complicated than Noah had been. With Noah, she’d kept her own complexities and warring emotions under wraps, but she had a feeling that Bennett would not only sympathize but also empathize.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Who was she apologizing to? Herself? Bennett? Or Noah?

  “No. I’m sorry for saying anything. It’s not important anymore.”

  If it weren’t still important, he wouldn’t have had a nightmare twenty-five-odd years later. Instead of calling him on his BS, she snuggled closer, their fingers still entwined, and held him tighter.

  * * *

  Harper popped her eyes open. Daylight suffused the cabin. The fire had burned down, but her body was warm under the covers against Bennett. She’d been dimly aware of changing positions throughout the night like a dance, ending with him on his back with her head pillowed on his shoulder. Her hand was sandwiched under his on his chest, his heart tapping a steady rhythm.

  It was achingly intimate. Part of her wanted to rip herself away from him, but another part wanted to drift back to sleep and ignore the messy world outside the cabin door.

  A sigh interrupted the sleepy cadence of his breathing. She could tell the exact moment he exited dreams for reality. His body turned into a taut rubber band, thrumming with dynamic energy. She forced herself to stay relaxed against him.

  He curled his hand around hers for a heartbeat before letting go and shifting out of the bed. As if she’d just woken, she hummed and stretched, watching him through slitted eyes. He stoked the fire. Jack sat by the door, not making a sound.

  Bennett let him out and let in a blast of cold air. She shivered and pulled the covers over her nose, trying to capture the warmth he’d left behind. He stood by a window, the light limning his profile, and ran a hand through his hair.

  The image that popped into her head was an abandoned toy soldier, still upright but grimly alone and cast aside. Her breath got stuck somewhere between her lungs and heart.

  He moved to the door, the illusion broken. Jack trotted back inside, shaking himself. After giving Jack another can of dog food, Bennett approached the bed with a foil packet. She looked up at him with the covers still over most of her face.

  “Can I interest you in a Pop-Tart?”

  “What flavor?”

  “Brown sugar. Frosted, of course.”

  She snaked her hand out of the cover and took the packet. “I don’t want to get crumbs in your bed.”

  “I won’t kick you out.” His slow smile could only be described as insinuating. Her insides went crazy, her heart dancing across her ribs, something slow and sexy like a tango. Before she could do more than stutter nonsense, he retreated to poke at the logs in the fireplace.

  She ate one of the Pop-Tarts, but her throat was so dry she had a hard time swallowing. “I don’t suppose you have a hand-cranked coffeemaker stashed somewhere?”

  He huffed a laugh. “I don’t even have instant, unfortunately. You miss it?”

  “Desperately. Could you pass me my jeans?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Let me get them warmed up first.”

  When he tossed them to her, they were dryer-fresh toasty. She shimmied them on under the covers and girded herself to emerge from her cocoon. Barefoot she ran on her toes to join him at the fire, squatting to hold her hands out.

  “Was it this cold yesterday?”

  “No. The clouds cleared and the temperature has fallen even with the sunshine.”

  “Is it too cold to hike out?”

  “Not going to get much warmer today. It won’t be so bad once we’re moving. I need to take a look at your blisters before we head out, though.”

  Unable to unstick her gaze from him, she nodded, aware of him in ways that made parts of her tingle. Or was that the beginnings of frostbite? Bennett didn’t seem to be battling the same weirdness she grappled with. For all she knew, he cuddled up with women all the time.

  Yet … she didn’t think so. He wore his loner vibes like a familiar sweatshirt. The kind you refused to throw away despite the frays.

  “Did you ever get married?” She couldn’t believe the question popped out of her mouth with no vetting from her brain. But, now that it was out, she was desperate to know.

  His brows lowered and the side-eye he shot her was cutting. “No.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “You think I would’ve…?” He let out a long sigh and grabbed the first-aid kit from the counter. “No.”

  It was the first true acknowledgment that whatever had sprung to life last night wasn’t in her imagination.

  “I don’t, either.” At his slightly quizzical expression, her mouth kept running. “Have a boyfriend, I mean. I haven’t dated anyone since Noah died, actually. Much to my mom’s horror.”

  “She thinks you should date?” He cracked the top of a water bottle and took a sip.

  “Date. Have fun. Participate in the exchange of bodily fluids.”

  He choked and doubled over in a coughing fit that was interspersed with la
ughter. It was such a rare event, she couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. After he got control of himself, he said, “She did not say it like that.”

  “You don’t know my mom. Retirement has unleashed unruly tendencies. She’s currently taking a nude painting class. And by ‘nude’ I don’t mean she paints in the nude—although I wouldn’t put it past her—but that she’s painting naked young men. And loving it.”

  Their laughter intertwined, his a little rusty but pleasantly rumbly. Even after his laughter faded, his smile remained. His eyes crinkled and his teeth gleamed white in his dark beard, his two bottom teeth overlapping a little. The room seemed to heat a few degrees. Jack settled at her hip, and she leaned over to bury her face in his ruff to hide her blush.

  “You don’t seem as unconventional as she sounds.”

  “I’m not. I tried my best to be as normal as possible to offset her eccentricities. Jack London’s not the only one in here named after a literary giant, you know.” She tapped her thumb against her chest.

  “Harper…?” He blinked at her with his smile still in place. “What’s your full name?”

  “Harper Lee.”

  “Of course. I didn’t know that,” he said softly.

  “I’m glad you don’t know everything about me.” She glanced at him through her lashes.

  Any humor leaked out of his expression. “I’m beginning to think I don’t know you at all.”

  She shifted to face him, her hand fisted in Jack’s fur. “In a good way or bad way?”

  He studied her, and she forced herself to remain still, her nerves building, but not wanting him to know how deeply he affected her.

  “Not bad. Let’s get your blisters taken care of.” He pulled a chair up and made a “give me” gesture with his hands. He caught her foot around the ankle and pulled her closer, her butt sliding forward. He twisted her foot and ignored her muttered, “Hey, it’s attached.”

  He was gentle in his handling, almost too gentle, because the brush of his fingers along her arch sent her foot flailing.

  He tightened his hold around her ankle. “Ticklish, huh?”

  “Little bit,” she said through foot twitches. She ended up with bandages on both heels and several toes. “Am I all better?”

  “As good as it’s going to get. The hike out won’t be comfortable for you, unfortunately.”

  “I’ll survive.” She pulled her pack closer to find socks before her toes froze.

  “Of that I have no doubt.”

  She glanced up at him, but he had turned away to pack away the trash they’d generated. The dryness of his voice had contained something else. Something that sounded suspiciously like admiration.

  “You’re not mad that I booked this trip under false pretenses and insisted we come out here in spite of the weather?”

  “I was mad and ready to teach you a lesson.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I learned that I’m not cut out to live off the land.”

  “Not many people are. And that’s okay.”

  “Do you enjoy it?” She pulled her boots on, trying to mask a wince as her tortured heels made contact with the leather. “Living off the land, I mean.”

  His movements slowed and turned almost absentminded. His hands were efficient yet graceful in their work and held her mesmerized. “It suits me, I suppose.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’m a loner.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  He pivoted to face her, his body language stark. “What do you mean?”

  The truth emerged in spite of the warnings blaring in her brain. “You’re not so much a loner as you are lonely.”

  “I’m not lonely.” His response came too fast to be anything but defensive bullshit. She utilized it often enough to recognized the stench.

  “Okay, you’re not lonely.” She gave him a tight smile and turned around to finish zipping up her pack.

  The tenuous bonds they’d knitted overnight cleaved in two. He doused the fire with ashes from a bucket, and smoke billowed through the room. She heaved her backpack on and retreated outside, Jack on her heels.

  A deep breath of cold air cleared her lungs and mind. With the sun filtering through the trees, the woods took on a magical cast. She’d read enough fairy tales to know the stories were often darkness wrapped in beauty.

  The squawk of the door had her tensing.

  “Ready to hit the trail?” His voice rumbled a shiver up her spine.

  The point of her reckless subterfuge had been to uncover details of Noah’s last minutes on earth. In that respect, she had failed. But she’d discovered so much more. About Bennett. And herself. For better or worse, she was leaving changed in a fundamental way. The future teemed with possibilities, and instead of burying her head under the covers, she was ready to meet them and maybe even get to know them better.

  “Let’s do it.” She headed back the way they’d come. “Do you want me to navigate?”

  He held out the compass. “If you want. After all, you paid to learn.”

  Her hand passed over his to retrieve the compass. “I’m guessing if we headed northeast to get here, then southwest to get back to Seth’s ranger station?”

  He nodded. She got her bearings and set off. They were silent until they hit the trench they’d crossed on a log the day before.

  “We can follow the canal down about a quarter mile to a bridge and path if you’d rather.”

  “What?”

  “I said—”

  “There’s a bridge and path?” Her jeans were thorn pricked from cutting through the brush.

  He had the good sense to look sheepish. “Sorry about that. Like I said, I was mad yesterday and trying to get you to turn around.”

  “I’m stubborn.”

  “Yeah.” A slow smile spread across his face, and her anger dissipated too quickly for her comfort.

  Once they reached the path, they could walk shoulder to shoulder. “You’ll call Darren when we get back?” she asked.

  “Today? I don’t know.…”

  “If you don’t do it today, you’ll put it off and not do it. He needs you, Bennett.” She added softly, “Promise me.”

  “I … I promise.” The words sounded painful for him to say.

  Several minutes passed with only the dry crunch of brush under their feet filling the silence. “You said last night you and the other ladies were considering a coffee business,” he said in a pensive way that prepared her for more questions.

  “Yep. That’s one idea we came up with. Most people love coffee, right? But there’s a coffee place on every corner these days. How would we compete?”

  “Exactly. What else do people like?”

  “Uh, pie?”

  “Well, that too. Especially pecan.” He pronounced it “pee-can,” which made her smile for reasons she didn’t want to delve into. “But, more specific to you, they like to support a good cause.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “You have a noble cause. Exploit it.”

  “How?”

  “You’d need a good spin. A catchy name. Acquire the beans, roast, and sell them yourself. You could ship around the country. Maybe even get a deal to supply them to the bases themselves.”

  Her steps slowed to accommodate the thoughts racing breakneck through her. His suggestion was daunting in scope. Bigger and riskier than she’d envisioned. Yet … it was a good idea. Even better, it was something that could be duplicated across bases around the country and world. But, for now, she could start small at Fort Bragg to gage its success.

  “I love the idea, but realistically, how much money would it take to start up this sort of business?”

  He rattled off a number that made her choke on a gasp of air. That would be a good chunk of the money he’d given her. Money she’d planned to put toward Ben’s college fund. Or give back to Bennett out of a sense of honor.

  “I’d have to use the money you gave me. It wouldn’t be right.”r />
  “Bullshit. It’s perfect. I’m not taking the money back, so get that out of your head, and this way you can appease any guilt from accepting it.”

  “I’ve read the statistics. Small business usually fail.”

  He took her arm and drew her to a halt, facing him. “What happened to the woman with balls enough to confront me and when that didn’t work to plan this escapade?”

  “You’re confusing balls with confidence. And competence. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “You graduated top of your class with two degrees.”

  “Two degrees I never had the chance to use.” Her voice rose, but she wasn’t sure what she was mad about.

  “Dust ’em off and put ’em to work.” His eyes narrowed. “Anyway, you wouldn’t be doing this alone. You have Allison and the other ladies, don’t you? Plus, I can offer advice.”

  “Considering the seed money would be coming from you, I’d say you’re doing enough.”

  “I’ll make sure you avoid the mistakes I made starting up the survival school.”

  “Why are you suddenly willing to help me?” She couldn’t help her suspicions. The day before he was willing to play dirty to get her to leave him alone.

  His focus shifted from her to the floor. “Noah would expect me to help.”

  “Because of that mysterious promise you made? Don’t bother. I’m doing fine on my own.” She went to step around him, but he shuffled to block her. They repeated the movement in the other direction.

  His smile was like the sighting of a rare bird, and it filled her with the same kind of wonder. “I’m not offering my expertise just because of Noah. Starting a new business will be a challenge, and I like challenges.”

  “It’s a huge risk.”

  Behind the tease in his smile was a risk-taking badass. “Yep. Trust me, we’ll have fun. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Total humiliation. Poverty. Failure.”

  He made a throaty noise between laughter and frustration. “This is money you were going to throw on my porch in a duffel bag. In fact, unless you use the money I gave you to start a business, I want it back.”

  “You what?”

  “Use it or lose it, sweetheart.” His tease took on a wolfish quality. He had her cornered. And, like any cornered animal, she would fight her way out.