by Cora Seton
“It might help for someone she cares about to know what she went through when she wakes up. Understand?” Cab shifted back in his seat.
“Yeah,” Clay said again. He did understand that. There was nothing as soul-crushing as having lived through a tragedy that others hadn’t, and couldn’t imagine. His memories bound him to Boone, Jericho and Walker. They’d served together much of their time in the Navy. They’d shared experiences they didn’t speak of, but that haunted all of them.
“We’ve got the same ghosts,” Walker had said once. That summed it up for Clay. But Nora wouldn’t have anyone to share hers. He’d have to do the best he could.
“She fought, Clay.” Cab watched him. “She fought like a she-devil. You need to know that. Pennsley might have won in the end, but she made him pay.”
Clay had made him pay, too. With his life.
He had no regrets.
“I got the coroner’s report. Pennsley had contusions on his head—big enough to suggest he might have suffered a concussion. He had scratch marks on his arms and face. That’s to be expected.”
Clay nodded, his stomach slipping sideways at the thought of Nora fighting for her life.
“He had several bite marks. Deep bite marks. If he’d come in for treatment, he’d have been given a tetanus shot.”
Clay frowned. Bite marks?
“His neck shows signs of bruising. She must have gotten him in a choke hold at some point.” Cab’s admiration was clear in his voice. Clay’s throat thickened, as it had too often in these past forty-eight hours.
“And this is the part I like the best,” the sheriff went on, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “His balls showed extensive trauma as well.” Cab looked up. “She kicked him so hard she ruptured a testicle.”
A sound came out of Clay that might have been a laugh, if it hadn’t been so full of pain. It caught in his throat and almost turned into a sob. “Jesus.”
“I know.”
He fought for control and wished to God they were anywhere but in a public place. But what would he have done if they weren’t?
No. Cab had chosen wisely.
“It’s going to take time, Clay. First she’s got to heal enough to wake up, and that in itself is a battle. Then she’s going to have to decide to stay numb or come back to the land of the living. You’ve got all this pressure on you to marry.”
That he did. He was still being filmed, even now. He turned in his seat, and Ed saluted him from across the restaurant. The man was being as discreet as he could be, but he was still there. At least he was keeping far enough away he wasn’t taping their words.
“Fulsom doesn’t get to dictate this,” Cab told him. “I’ll make sure through Boone that he understands that, okay?”
Clay nodded, swallowing hard again. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Remember, she’s a fighter. She’ll fight her way out of this, too. We’re all rooting for you, you know. For both of you.”
By the time he made it back to the hospital, Clay felt like he’d fought another war. His mind kept picturing what the struggle between Nora and Andrew must have looked like. Each time he thought about it, he had to fight down nausea and the urge to kill the man all over again.
He stopped short when he entered the waiting room and found his mother there. She sat on the edge of a seat, looking older than she had the last time he saw her. When she stood to greet him, he noticed her fingers trembling. Had his father taken a turn for the worse?
“Mom?”
“Your father’s fine. Your sisters and brothers are with him. He’s… fine.” She sagged into his arms and began to cry as he crossed the room and crouched before her, thin heaving sobs he’d never heard before. His mother was a pillar of strength. She wasn’t an emotional creature. Clay was at a loss for what to do, so he simply held her, patting her on the back as she cried.
“I’m sorry,” she wept as the tears kept coming. “But I could have lost him. I sent him away, Clay. I made him leave… and he was shot… and he could have—”
“Shh, Mom—it’s okay. He’s safe.”
“I held it together for all those years while you were in the Navy,” she sobbed. “Every time you went overseas, I knew you were in danger. I knew you might not come home. But then you did. You did! And you were safe. Everyone I loved was safe—but then you both went after that monster and left me behind—” Her voice spiraled up, and Clay hugged her tight. He hadn’t known how his deployments had affected his mother. He knew she worried, but this pent-up pain—it stabbed him to the core to know how scared she’d been. “He could have shot you. He could have killed both of you. And I sent your father away—”
“Mom.” There was nothing he could say. He understood her regrets. “Everyone’s okay now.” He held her until her tears finally ran out, then stood awkwardly by as she mopped up her face.
“Oh, I’m a mess,” she said, blowing her nose into her handkerchief.
“You’re fine.”
“Don’t you tell your father I acted like this. He’d be ashamed of me.”
“No, he wouldn’t, Mom. He loves you.”
She nodded. “I know. God, Clay, I know. I thought I was doing the right thing; forcing him to figure out what would finally make him happy. I was a fool.”
“I don’t know about that.” He patted her arm. “How about we go see him?”
She nodded. “Give me a minute to clean myself up.”
Ten minutes later they entered his father’s room together, and found Dell and Clay’s siblings watching television.
“How are you feeling, Dad?” Clay asked him.
“Fine, just like I was an hour ago when you last asked. I don’t know why they’re keeping me here. It’s just a scratch.” Dell’s fingers tapped on the remote, and Clay could see there’d be trouble keeping Dell in bed much longer. But his father’s restless energy gratified him. It meant Dell was truly recovering already. He itched to go check on Nora.
“I’ve got something to say,” his mother said. She stood by the side of Dell’s bed and gripped the metal side rails with both hands. “I was a fool. I should never have—”
Dell made a noise. “I was the fool.” He turned off the television and caught sight of Clay, who’d taken a step back toward the door and was motioning to his siblings, thinking this was a conversation his parents would want to have privately. “You stay here, Clay. All of you stay. You need to hear this, too.” He set the remote down on the bed. “I’m proud to be a father. Raising you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me, except marrying your mother. I’ve had a good life. But it’s no secret we started young, before we had time to make real decisions. One of the things I left behind when I married was my chance to study to be an architect. That was my dream back then.”
He sounded like he thought he was issuing a revelation, but all of them knew this. They waited patiently for their father to go on.
Dell nodded finally. “Well, I thought I’d given it up for good. That’s where the foolishness comes in. What I forgot is that I’m not in this alone. I have your mother, and I have you. It’s time for me to go after that dream. I might need help. I guess I know I can count on getting it. And it’s not like I’ll be going it alone, right, Clay?”
“No, you won’t. I’ll be right there with you,” Clay said, realizing his dad had finally gotten it—all of it. Knowing Dell would be on his side when he returned to school eased a long-held pain.
“I have another dream,” Dell went on. “You all might not know about this one. I always thought… Well, maybe one day…maybe one of my kids might want to work with me. I know I’m a sonofagun, sometimes…” When his children all laughed he looked up. “I guess I’m a sonofagun a lot of the time. Maybe you’ll say no, Clay, but this new sustainable nonsense… it’s kind of interesting.”
Clay reeled back, unprepared for this. “You’ve disagreed with everything I’ve done!”
“Not everything. That’s what I was trying to tell you the
other night in your tent when I said you’ve gone about it all wrong. You don’t have to tell Americans what to do. You have to ask them what they’d do in your position. I don’t like being ordered around. No one does. But once I saw what you were after, I started thinking, ‘How would I make a house sustainable?’ That’s why I came up with the way to catch the water running off the roof. But you didn’t want to listen.”
“You’re right. I was so afraid you’d catch a mistake I didn’t want to hear it,” Clay said slowly. “That’s what I’ve been afraid of all along. I’m no architect. What makes me think I can design a house?”
“You’ve designed a damn good one. Once you’ve gone through school, you’ll do even better. Who knows what we’ll get up to?”
“Sounds like a plan, Dad.”
“Good. Now you go check on your girl.”
“Yes, sir. Dad—”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being with me when I went to get Nora. You saved my life.”
“Yeah, well… I think you and your mother helped save mine.”
“Nora? Everyone’s ready.” Several weeks later, Avery came to sit beside her on the bench Clay had built for her between the tent camp and the bunkhouse. The view wasn’t as spectacular as it would have been up near the manor or down near Pittance Creek, but Nora felt safe here among all the activity, and safe was what she needed to feel now.
The doctor had explained that her nightmares would fade, and so would the sudden bouts of tears that overtook her no matter how hard she guarded against them. Her gunshot wound ached, and would for some time, but her fear drained her far more than her physical pain did.
She’d spent several days in the hospital before being allowed to come home. In the weeks since then, she’d alternated between resting on the thick air mattress Clay had bought for her tent and sitting on this bench, soaking in the sunshine and trying to convince herself she was still alive.
She hadn’t told anyone about her experience on the operating table. It was just a dream, she’d decided. Her mother couldn’t have nagged her back to life from beyond the grave. Every time she thought about it she had to smile a little, though, which inevitably ushered in a new storm of tears. Caught between numbness and anguish, she wasn’t sure how to go on.
“All right,” she finally said, although she was having a hard time focusing even now. There was a cotton batting barrier between her and life these days. Clay stood on the other side of it, keeping his distance, watching her warily. She knew he was afraid to touch her—to hurt her. She wished he knew that the distance between them hurt more than anything else.
At her worst moments, Nora wondered if he had stopped wanting her. She thought maybe Andrew’s attack had changed the way he felt about her. Other times, when her confusion cleared, she knew he was waiting for a sign that she was ready to receive attentions from a man.
The problem was, she didn’t know if she was ready, and the more time passed, the harder it got to reach out to him at all.
“Do you want me to help you up?”
She wanted Clay to help her up, but he wasn’t here. He was never here—never close enough to touch, anyway.
“The new house,” Avery prompted her gently. “The second one’s all done. We’re going to celebrate.”
Of course. And she had to come, too, even though all she really wanted to do was slide back into sleep and dream of Clay. Dream of the days he used to hold her.
Except those weren’t the dreams that came when she went to sleep. Instead, nightmares haunted her, in which she fought and fought and Andrew kept coming—
“Put your arm over my shoulder,” Avery said. “That’s right.”
Nora gritted her teeth against the pain as she moved. Avery was on her good side, but every time Nora shifted—or breathed, for that matter—her shoulder ached. She’d been warned she might lose some of the range of motion in her left arm.
She couldn’t find it in herself to care.
She was alive—even if nothing seemed real. Sometimes in the morning the sunlight glistened on dew dotting the surrounding pastures, and Nora’s heart felt like it would break. The world was so beautiful—and peace so fragile. Was this what Clay had learned from Yemen? She would have to ask him someday.
Avery helped her walk to the building site, an arm around Nora’s waist, even though Nora was perfectly capable of walking. She appreciated the gesture, though. Sometimes she felt so insubstantial she thought if she closed her eyes she might drift away. Still, she wished it was Clay’s arm around her waist.
All of Base Camp had gathered around the beautiful home Clay had built. The small crowd parted to let them through. Nora took in Clay’s satisfaction and the happy faces all around her. She wanted to feel happy, too—reached for it, but fell short. The numbness encircling her was too thick to penetrate. The hum of voices and Renata’s low commands to the cameraman all seemed to be coming from far away. Nora wavered a little, but Avery was there. “Can you stand for a minute or two?” she asked.
Nora nodded, blinking to bring the scene in focus again.
Just like Boone and Riley’s house, the new little home was built into the side of the hill. Large, south-facing windows lined the front of the structure, and the roof was angled to let in plenty of light while shading the front rooms from the summer glare. What Nora could see through the windows looked lovely, and for one short second something sparked to life inside her—a longing she couldn’t name. It was extinguished as fast as it flared, leaving her confused and almost bereft.
Clay, who stood near the door to the house, was watching her. He did that a lot lately. He was afraid to hurt her, Riley said. Afraid to scare her, Savannah had added.
Nora knew they were right, but she wanted him so badly to take her in his arms and press her close so she could hear his heartbeat and know she was alive. Because what she had learned on the operating table that day was that Clay was her life. Not in a possessive way. Not in a helpless way. In the same way the sun set the droplets of dew on the pastures afire.
She wanted to feel that again, and Clay was the key to it.
If only she could put words to her longing.
If only he would come close enough to hear.
A cheer went up from the crowd as Clay opened the door and ushered the first of the onlookers in.
“How about I ask everyone to hold off and give you a turn?” Avery said.
“No.” Nora composed her thoughts. “Let’s wait. I want to take my time when I go in.”
Avery hesitated. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
They waited until the rest of the crowd had walked through and oohed and aahed over the new building. When the last of them had left and were trailing back toward the fire ring, where Kai was serving a celebratory dinner, Clay turned to them.
“Want to come see?”
His deep voice beckoned to her, and Nora blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. She cried too easily these days. She nodded.
Avery helped her over, but when they reached the door, Nora said, “Clay will take me through.” She caught the look he exchanged with Avery.
“I’d… love to.” His voice was husky. Avery nodded swiftly. “I’ll be at the fire ring. Let me know if you need anything. Stay with her, Clay. She’s unsteady.”
“Of course. You ready?” Clay said. He slipped a hand under her good elbow. Nora entered the small house and stopped, tears filming her eyes again. It was beautiful. A work of art. While it was built from the same plans as Boone and Riley’s home, Clay had used raw wood and hand-carved pieces to personalize it. He’d eschewed corners and angles for rounded lines, and the effect was to make the little home appear as if it had grown out of the ground itself. Every spare inch was utilized for storage, with tiny doors opening to cupboards under the stairs and in nooks and crannies like a fairy’s house. There was nothing feminine about it, though. It was evident from the moment she stepped in that this was Clay’s home.
She wanted it to be
hers.
“Nora,” Clay said. “I…” It seemed like he couldn’t finish his sentence. “I’m sorry. I screwed up.”
She didn’t understand.
“I didn’t get there. I didn’t find you—” His voice broke. “I think about it all the time. How I should have been there. How I should have stopped him—”
How could he think he’d fallen short in any way? Nora put a hand on his chest to cut off the flow of his words. “You saved my life.”
He placed his own hand over hers, and lifted it up to press a kiss into her palm. Just as quickly he let go, and backed away. “Sorry.”
“For what?” She couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice. Didn’t he know what she wanted?
“I’ll hurt you.”
“No, you won’t.” She begged him with her eyes to know what she needed. “Clay—”
“Your shoulder—”
“It’s fine.”
“But—”
“I’m stronger than you think.” She didn’t sound strong. She couldn’t blame him for holding back. “Please, Clay.”
He came toward her slowly, and he put his arms around her so tentatively she wanted to scream. Instead she pressed herself against him, tucking herself into the circle of his arms.
“Is this okay?” he asked as he cradled her gently.
“It’s not enough,” she whispered into the hollow at the base of his neck.
He tightened his embrace a fraction.
“More. Please.”
He did as she asked.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered. She didn’t mean for him to hear.
But he did.
“Never.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I will never leave you. Not for the rest of my life. I promise.”
She let out a breath that was more like a sob and twisted the fabric of his shirt in her fingers, clinging to him. She wanted to make him promise over and over again, because without him she didn’t know how she’d go on.
“I’m here,” Clay said, holding her tight. “I will always be here.”
“Kiss me.” She’d never had the courage to demand such a thing from a man before, but Clay wasn’t just any man. He was hers; the one she wanted to share her life with.