RafeHeroes at Heart

by Maryann Jordan

  “So, what now? A game of blind man’s bluff?” he joked.

  “Oh, God, your jokes are awful,” she laughed.

  He liked hearing the sound of her laughter. A flash of memories from California hit him, the parties where people laughed too loud, too often, too drunk, or too ingratiating. Her laughter came from the heart, a sweet melody, not trying to impress anyone. Real. Genuine. “I’d like to learn more about you. I’ve been given the amazing history of Bellamy House, but not much about the amazing Eleanor.”

  “I…there’s not too much to tell,” she stammered. His silence told her that he disagreed, so she tentatively began, “You know I was raised in this house. I went to VCU for nursing and when I graduated, I joined the Army Reserve. After their training, I worked my time at a veteran’s hospital in Richmond. I had previous experience in an ER from school and, when the opportunity came for me to go overseas with the Reserve, I jumped at the chance.”

  “And you’re no longer with them?”

  “No.”

  “And, you don’t work as a nurse anymore—”

  “No.”

  Her short answers gave him pause and, unable to observe visual cues, he hesitated, not knowing what to say. He heard her sigh heavily before feeling her lean back against the cushions.

  “I’m sorry,” she began.

  He felt her pull away and hastened to say, “Eleanor, you don’t have to tell me anything. If I could see your face, I’d know when to shut up.”

  Barking out a laugh, she said, “You don’t need to shut up, Rafe. I’m the one who brought it up.” Rubbing her finger on the back of his hand, she admitted, “It’s hard. I suppose I owe you honesty.”

  “Only what you want to share,” he assured. The feel of her fingers on his hand gave him the push to add, “I know this is crazy…what happened yesterday and what I’m feeling right now, but I really want to know you.”

  Her voice, soft as a whisper, asked, “You feel it too?”

  Inching forward, he nodded. “Yeah.”

  Inhaling deeply, gathering her courage, she said, “When you’re able to see, there will be a lot you’ll discover, so I suppose there is no reason to stay silent.” Observing his rapt attention, even with his swollen eyes and patched cut, she said, “The family portrait over the fireplace is one of my most treasured possessions. It was taken the year I graduated. My mother is sitting in her favorite chair in the living room. My father just to her left. I’m standing next to him and my…” She halted, swallowing deeply in an attempt to dislodge the boulder that always stuck in her throat when she talked of him, “My brother is sitting on the arm of Mom’s chair.”

  Rafe’s heart pounded at the pain in her voice. He wanted to ask, but knew the answer would not be a happy one. Instead, he clutched her hand tighter, hoping to offer her strength.

  After a moment of silence, she let out a long, tortured breath before continuing, “My life was so good…so wonderful…and then…I landed in hell.”

  “Can you tell me,” his voice, soft as a whisper, pleaded.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “I flew with my platoon to Kandahar. My parents pleaded with me not to go, but you know the drill, you go where the military tells you to go. And, for me, the chance to use my skills in a war zone was exciting. I wanted to make a difference. We were scheduled to be there for a month and I worked in the hospital there. I admit, it was horrible, the things I saw, but I knew every time I helped save a life, I had a meaning…a purpose that went far beyond anything I had ever experienced. In the ER stateside, we dealt with life and death, but also a lot of non-emergency cases. This was non-stop medicine and I loved it.” She looked at him, watching him nod his understanding, knowing his attention was riveted to her. “It was our last weekend and I volunteered for a call out.”

  His ears perked, straining to hear the intonations in her voice, wanting to suck up each nuance. Pulling her slightly closer, he nodded, wanting, and dreading, for her to continue.

  “The details aren’t important,” she said, her voice losing it melodic sound, becoming robotic, “but, suffice it to say, our convoy ran over an IED.”

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, his heart clenching.

  “Flames everywhere. My door was stuck…the only way out was through the back. Over people…some still alive…others not.”

  “But you got out, Eleanor. You got out.”

  “Yes, I did…but I was on fire.”

  Her fingers left his hand and he felt cold as her body moved away. Her uneven footsteps resounding as she left the room, the limp not as prominent as before, but still leaving him cold to his bones, alone on the sofa. His heart lodged in his throat as he considered what hell she had endured…and still endured.

  Eleanor stood in her bathroom, her left hand gripping the counter as she looked down into the sink. The solid surface held firm but with her knuckles turning white, she wondered how she did not crack the marble.

  Practicing deep breathing, learned over months of pain management, she counted slowly. Pain management…another word for how the hell we manage torturous pain without losing our minds. Reaching twenty, she shifted her gaze to her right hand, the reddened scars puckered over the skin. Counting to another twenty, she lifted her gaze slowly, halting at her neck. Perfect skin on the left…marred, tangled skin on the right side, reaching up to her ear and across her right jaw. Another twenty, deep breathing. She pulled off her shirt and ran her eyes over her body. The burn scars scattered over her entire right side, from hip to shoulder and down her arm. She did not need to strip further to know they continued down her leg. Every scar was memorized, imprinted on her brain.

  She remembered the stares…the whispers…the taunts. Some real and some in her mind. Beast.

  Sitting so near to Rafe, his handsome face and spectacular body leaning closer, had given her a hint of what could have been. If life had been different. Having escaped to her bathroom upstairs, she felt a pang of guilt over leaving him abandoned in the den, unable to see. But she knew he was fine and she needed… a moment to myself. But, then, haven’t I had plenty of those?

  Sighing, she pulled her long-sleeved t-shirt back over her chest, covering all the scars other than the ones on her hand and neck, which he was unable to see. For now. But when the swelling goes down and his vision is normal? I’ll be reduced to the poor, reclusive employer once more.

  Counting to twenty a final time, she smoothed her hair back into its braid and left the bathroom.

  Rafe sat, his heart pounding, his stomach knotting at the thought of what Eleanor had gone through and was currently experiencing. Cursing his inability to even do something as simple as go find her, he sat, his hands clenching into fists.

  The idea that she had been injured gutted him. Her words reverberated through the room. “I was on fire.” He had been thinking of her as the princess in the castle when she had, in fact, selflessly served her country.

  Burned. He had seen a few burn victims during his time in Afghanistan and the agonizing hell had broken bigger men. His mind cast back to the thoughtless words of the young grocery cashier. Had Eleanor been taunted? Cast off? But what of her family? Surely, they cared for her? The questions swirled in his mind, each possibility worse than the one before.

  Minutes passed and he wondered what he should do. Cocking his head to the side, he listened carefully. He heard soft footsteps coming closer. Uncertainty filled his being as he leaned forward, perched on the edge of the sofa, ears trained to every sound.

  “Eleanor?” he called softly. Feeling the sofa dip beside him, he held his breath.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just needed a moment—”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he assured. “I’m the one who’s sorry. We don’t have to talk about anything. In fact, the rain has slowed, so I’m sure I can get to the cottage.” He felt her hand on his arm.

  “Don’t be silly, Rafe. I want you here. And you have nothing to a
pologize for either. We were getting to know each other. It seems we both have difficult pasts…you appear to have a better grasp on your situation than I do. Mine still…well, I haven’t talked about it in a very long time.”

  “Honey, you only have to tell me what you want. Not one thing more. I want to know about you, but only as much as you are comfortable sharing.”

  The endearment slipped from his lips and, while Eleanor knew it might be a throwaway, it wrapped around her heart. It had been so long since anyone had used an endearment with her…especially a virile man. She stared at his face, unable to see his eyes but noting his attention was all on her. “I’d like to talk to you…I think it might be good for me to talk to you.” Sighing loudly, she added, “Plus, it’s not like you won’t know once you can see.”

  “I promise when I can see, I’ll see the beautiful woman I know you are,” he said.

  A rude snort emitted and she admonished, “Please don’t make promises you have no way of knowing if you can keep.”

  Knowing his growing feelings would not change, Rafe kept quiet. She was so different from everyone else he had experienced over the past several years. Her conversations were about real issues, not the latest developments in botox injections. She listened to him, not just hearing what she wanted to hear. She sat near, but did not try to wrap herself around him, hoping he could get his agent to work with her. He listened carefully to what she said, hearing her fears in her voice, but he knew when he gained his sight, she would remain as beautiful to him as she was right now.

  Eleanor continued her story, her voice full of regret. “I managed to escape the burning vehicle and was tackled by one of the uninjured squad members. He body slammed me to the ground, but he managed to put the fire out. I was stripped and they got another medic to immediately work on me. They had me back to the hospital as quickly as they could. On heavy-duty painkillers, I don’t remember much about the next few days before I was flown to the base hospital in Germany.”

  Rafe’s hand snaked out to find hers, once more linking their fingers.

  “I didn’t even find out who had died or was injured along with me until much later…that’s how drugged I was. By then, it seemed like a nightmare—caught between sleep and reality.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Rafe said again, feeling inadequate, remembering Zander had spent time in the military hospital in Germany as well.

  Eleanor stared at Rafe’s face, his poor swollen eyes still shut, and yet, she could see honest emotion in his expression. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s not the worst.”

  Rafe’s heart seized at her barely-there confession that more was to come. It clearly devastated her more than her body being burned. Suddenly, his thoughts shot to the family portrait she mentioned. Mom, dad, brother. Where are they? Unable to ask the question, he just squeezed her fingers.

  “My parents, who never wanted me to be in the Army Reserve and certainly not serve overseas, hopped a charter jet to come see me in Germany. My brother begged to come and at the last minute they agreed. He was seventeen years old.”

  Leaning back in the deep cushions, Eleanor turned away from Rafe’s intense face and stared toward the cold fireplace, the flames from yesterday long burned out. “It was weeks later, when they were sure I was going to live, the chance of infection lower, and I had had three surgeries that the Chaplain finally informed me. My family’s plane crashed in France on their way to the base in Germany. All killed.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Rafe breathed. “Oh, fucking hell.” Unable to hold back, he moved forward, his arms fumbling wide to encircle her body. Unable to see what he was doing, his arms crashed against her, but she moved in, melting into his embrace. Holding her close, he breathed in the rose scent from her shampoo as her small, soft body leaned into his. He felt her trust and silently vowed to uphold it.

  A tear slid down her cheek as Eleanor allowed him to engulf her in his strength. How long has it been since someone held me? Offered me more than an awkward pat on the back. Sally had hugged her, but Eleanor had stiffened at times, knowing that the embrace had been motherly, but not wanting that substitute for the real thing—or not deserving that substitute.

  “It’s okay, Eleanor,” Rafe cooed, feeling her body shudder as a tear wet his shirt. “Let it out…let it all out, honey.”

  Her confession continued, as she said, “I know it’s a sin, but if I had been able to commit suicide, I would have.”

  He jerked in response, even knowing that was not uncommon with burn victims. He said the only thing he could think of. “I’m glad you couldn’t. You’re so strong.”

  “Hmph,” she disagreed, leaning back up, grabbing a tissue from the end table. After blowing her nose, she shrugged, saying, “I didn’t feel strong at the time. Looking back, I realize it was just my family’s resilience flowing through my blood that kept me going. Recovery, therapy, more surgeries and the cycle began again.”

  “When was that?” he asked, wondering how young she must have been.

  “I was twenty-four years old. It was three years ago.”

  “What happened? When you got back?”

  A pause was followed by a sigh. “I came here. There were things that needed to be done. Thank God, I had Sally, my housekeeper, who had maintained the home while I was gone. Our family lawyer had taken care of my parents’ company holdings. My parents wanted to be cremated, so that happened and it was much later, when I was able, that a private memorial service was held for them and my brother.”

  He felt her body stiffen and tensed in anticipation of what would come next.

  “That’s when it started,” she whispered, “and I found out I wasn’t as strong as I thought.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, “Some of my parents’ friends were wonderful, but it only took a few words to send me into hiding. You see, a few thought I should never have gone overseas…instead of returning to condolences or thanks for my service, a few said that my actions led to my family’s death.”

  “You’re shittin’ me, right?” he bit out, anger flowing through his body.

  Shaking her head, she said, “Oh, no. Their condemnation rang through my mind and I started staying home. I was home, but had no family. Thoughts of suicide filled my mind once again. Antidepressants probably saved my life, along with counseling.

  “At first, I thought of continuing my nursing, but the scarring made it difficult for complete range of motion and I can’t be outside in the direct sunlight for any length of time. So, it became easy to just hide away here. Even when I went to town, I heard the taunts of some children, calling me a beast.” Sighing, she added, “Their parents would shush them, of course, and most of the residents knew what had happened to me and my family, but it became easy to just stay away from everyone.”

  “And probably the longer you were away, the easier it got?”

  “Yes, exactly,” she admitted, glad that he understood. “I know it was partially due to depression, but I just didn’t want to be around anyone.”

  “But lonely…”

  Heaving another great sigh, she nodded. “Yes…very lonely.”

  18

  The rest of the afternoon was spent with little talking, both exhausted from their emotional confessions. The words, once out, could not be taken back. The shame and anger that had choked her for so long was still there, but Eleanor felt freer having shared, as though holding onto the negative emotions had given them weight. Rafe spoke, interrupting her thoughts and drawing her attention.

  “I’m so glad you told me your family history. I loved hearing about this beautiful manor house.”

  “You know, I’ve had an offer to sell Bellamy House,” she said, as they sat in the study. “Philip Hayden of Hayden Development Company wants to turn it into a luxury hotel.”

  Shocked, Rafe whipped his head around toward her voice, wishing for the millionth time he could see her face. “No!” he said vehemently, “You’re not even considering it, are you?”

  “No
, no,” she assured. “I have no intention of selling my family home. Anyway, I have no idea what I would do or where I would go.”

  The idea of her being alone in the world hit him and he wished to reach out to hold her in his arms again. Before he had a chance to speak, she suddenly stood, saying, “Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll fix some dinner.”

  Understanding her desire to move away from the heavy conversation, he nodded, allowing her to lead him down the hall. After another sandwich dinner, the electricity came on, but the Internet and phone lines were still out.

  Rafe convinced her to take him to the living room and play the piano. At first self-conscious about her mistakes due to her hand being unable to stretch to its fullest, she soon became lost in the sound of the notes moving through her. She began to sing as she played, and he was convinced it was even more lovely than the first time he heard her.

  Casting his mind back to what she had endured caused his heart to clench again. Her strength awed him. Her courage humbled him. Her determination inspired him. But, her pain had him wanting to be her champion, fighting her fights and battling back her fears. He hated that narrow-minded people had taken away her spirit and caused her to retreat.

  Leaning his head back, he breathed deeply as the music flowed between the two of them, swirling around and connecting them in ways that words could not. He reached his hand up, gently touching the gauze bandage over his brow and eyes. The skin around his eyes felt less tight so he lifted the bottom edge just a bit. A sliver of light came through and he almost yelled out in excitement. The movement sent a slight pain through his forehead, but not nearly as bad as before. Looking over, he could just see Eleanor’s body rocking back and forth as the music filled the room.

  Not wanting to interrupt the moment, he lowered the bandage back into place and stayed quiet. Hopefully, tomorrow I’ll be able to see her. The desire to hold her close while looking into her eyes was overwhelming, but he wanted to have his vision fully back before he surprised her.