Returning to Eden (Acts of Valor, Book 1): Christian Military Romantic Suspense

by Rebecca Hartt

  “Thanks,” he said again. In reality, holding the phone made him feel like he was holding a grenade with the pin just pulled. He set it back down on the arm of the couch and licked the moisture from his upper lip.

  Eden regarded him with gathering confusion. “Are you good?” she asked him.

  He nodded and pointed to the television to convey that Miriam’s show was more important than their conversation.

  With a firming of her lips, Eden conveyed she knew there was something wrong. Something entirely in his head.

  Dear God, please don’t let me have PTSD.

  Only one thing could be worse than that—an actual threat. But what could it be? And what would happen to him and to his family if he didn’t remember?

  Chapter 7

  Driving onto the adjacent Navy base, Eden replayed the scene that had taken place between Miriam and Jonah. He had apologized for having issues.

  Recalling his words, she clapped a hand to her head in disbelief. The old Jonah had never once apologized, as he was never in the wrong, at least not to his way of thinking. The new Jonah hadn’t only complimented Miriam on her intelligence, he’d hit the nail on the head about his former self. The old Jonah did have issues, but he’d never once admitted it until now.

  How could anyone have changed as much as he had? Surely a blow to the brain wouldn’t change him for the better. Maybe it was his memory loss that made him seem so different? What if he became exactly like he used to be when his memory returned?

  Eden parked in her usual spot in the shade. A glance at the clock told her she was five minutes earlier than usual. She should use that time planning new and interesting exercise routines. Instead, she let the engine idle to keep the air conditioning blowing cool air in her face and pondered her circumstances.

  Was it fair to Jonah to keep her plans of leaving him to herself? She thought of how Jonah had made waffles for them that morning. Didn’t he deserve to know where his marriage stood before he invested too much of himself? Already, he seemed to be forging a special bond with Miriam.

  Perhaps she ought to come clean with him, let him know she intended to split once he was able to look after himself. Given his comment about taking care of them the other day, she doubted he’d be shocked to hear of her decision.

  “What should I do, Lord?” she murmured, searching her heart and her conscience while listening for a quiet nudge. “Please show me what to do,” she pleaded.

  Silence was her only response. Cutting the engine, she took off her seatbelt and headed into the gym for work, wondering all the while what Jonah’s psychiatrist would think of her planned desertion.

  Two hours later, Eden pushed into the house still sweaty from her work out. She faltered at the sight of Jonah and Miriam sitting side by side on the sofa. Jonah sat with his head against the back of the sofa, his eyes half-closed. Miriam was reading out loud to him—her required summer reading, To Kill a Mockingbird. Eden had been trying all summer to get her to start it.

  Gratitude toward Jonah vied with guilt. He was doing it again—investing himself in his stepdaughter. He sent Eden a sleepy smile when she met his gaze, but Miriam, who was too caught up in the story to acknowledge her mother, kept reading. Eden left her purse inside the door and went right back outside to tend to her wildflowers. If they didn’t get regularly watered, they tended to wilt and die in the sandy environment.

  As she weeded and watered, she asked herself the same question she had entertained earlier that afternoon. Should she tell Jonah they were headed toward separation or let him figure that out on his own as time went on? Which tactic was kinder?

  God wasn’t giving her any clear signs, not so far as she could tell. She wasn’t any closer to making a decision when she went back inside, even hotter and sweatier than she’d been an hour earlier. Miriam was still reading. Jonah slit his eyes and closed them again. Feeling sorry for him, Eden crossed quickly toward her bedroom and briskly showered. She had yet to make a decision by the time she emerged from her room wearing a comfortable, cotton romper.

  Miriam reached the end of a chapter as Eden sidled up to the couch.

  “How’s the story?” she asked, as Miriam set the book aside.

  Jonah scrubbed a hand over his face, visibly trying to rouse himself. He lifted his nose in her direction and inhaled.

  “You smell nice.”

  His comment caused Miriam to snicker.

  Eden repressed the pleasure that spread through her at his compliment. “How’s the book?” she repeated.

  “It’s pretty good.” Miriam’s tone betrayed surprise. “We’re like halfway through already.”

  Eden dared to meet Jonah’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said simply.

  The slow, sleepy smile he sent her made her stomach cartwheel. “It’s time for Miriam to walk the dog,” she said briskly.

  Her daughter groaned.

  “I’ll do it,” Jonah offered.

  “No.” Eden dreaded a repeat of what had happened that morning. “It’s Miriam’s job to walk the dog. That was the deal we struck when we got a puppy.”

  “Fine.” With a long face, Miriam pushed herself off the couch.

  “I’m going to order pizza for dinner,” Eden added, knowing that would motivate her daughter. “When you come back from your walk, we’ll decide what kind to order.”

  Miriam headed straight for Sabby’s leash. “Cool,” she said, then looked over her shoulder at Jonah. “You want to come with me?”

  He blinked as if he couldn’t quite bring her into focus.

  “I think Jonah needs a nap,” Eden commented. She had thought about having a talk with him while Miriam was gone, but it didn’t seem fair to tell Jonah the truth about their marriage when he was struggling merely to keep awake.

  He sent her a look that was partly gratitude, partly self-directed frustration. “Don’t let me sleep for more than an hour,” he requested, pushing to his feet.

  “Use the alarm on your cell phone,” Eden suggested. She had yet to see him use his Android.

  Mumbling something to the affirmative, he headed blindly toward the study. Miriam, who was snapping the leash on the dog, watched him disappear then sent a worried look at her mother.

  “He’ll get better,” she said, reading her daughter’s thoughts. Neither one of them were used to Jonah being anything less than invincible.

  Exactly one hour later, Jonah appeared fresh-faced and visibly rested. It wasn’t clear to Eden if he’d used the alarm on his phone or if the dog barking at the pizza delivery man had wakened him.

  “Let’s eat in the dining room,” Eden suggested, as she transferred pizza slices onto plates. “Veggie or meat-lovers?” she asked as he went to get glasses from the cupboard.

  He hesitated, looking momentarily at a loss. “Which kind do I like best?” he asked her.

  “Veggie,” she said, testing him.

  A dubious look crossed his face. “No, I don’t.”

  She laughed despite herself. “You haven’t changed that much,” she said, even though that wasn’t true. The old Jonah had always known exactly what he wanted and had no compunction about demanding it.

  With their plates and drinks, they all took a seat at the table and dug into their pizzas.

  “Have you called your master chief yet?” Eden prompted.

  Jonah shook his head and looked away.

  “You should ask him when the others get back. If you want, we can have another party on our deck,” Eden offered. Anything to involve Jonah’s teammates in Jonah’s life.

  “Yes, a party!” Miriam chimed in.

  Jonah regarded the deck through the nearest window. “Okay,” he said with rising enthusiasm. He clearly seemed to like the idea. “Thanks.”

  Thanks. The word seared Eden’s conscience. He obviously thought she was being kind, offering to celebrate his return when, in actuality, she wanted him to rely on someone else besides her and Miriam for companionship. Letting him think that everything was hunky-d
ory wasn’t ultimately fair to him.

  Making up her mind to be honest with him, she saw that Miriam was nearly done eating her second slice. “Honey, when you’re done with that, can you put your plate in the sink and give Jonah and me a minute alone?”

  Miriam froze with a bite of pizza in her mouth. She pulled it slowly out and, meeting Jonah’s quizzical look, laid the remainder on her plate and pushed her chair back.

  “You can finish eating,” Eden protested.

  “I’m not the one who needs fattening up.” Without a backward glance, Miriam marched to the kitchen, dumped her uneaten pizza in the trash, put her plate in the dishwasher, and disappeared toward her bedroom, calling the dog after her.

  Jonah, clearly puzzled by Miriam’s abrupt departure, wiped his hands on his napkin and, with a tense look on his face, waited for Eden to explain herself.

  She drew a shaky breath and let it out again. “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” she began.

  He just looked at her, waiting.

  “Please don’t think you’ve said or done anything to bring this on because you haven’t. You’ve been great. I have no absolutely no complaints about the way you’ve behaved or how great you are with Miriam.”

  “What was I like with her before?”

  The abrupt question forced her to put off what she had to tell him. “You never would have let her read out loud to you.”

  “Why not?” He sounded genuinely perplexed.

  “You said, ‘Children should be seen and not heard,’” she said quickly.

  Jonah smiled faintly. “My stepfather used to say that.” With a look of self-loathing, he shook his head. “I can’t believe I repeated it.”

  In spite of his semi-apology, Eden pressed on. “Things weren’t great between us, either. When you were home, we disagreed a lot.”

  Her confession got his full attention.

  Finding her throat dry, Eden swallowed in order to push the words through it. “I realized, after the Navy declared you dead, I’d made a mistake marrying you as quickly as I had.” Her voice wobbled. Was this really the right time to tell him? “I wanted you for stability.”

  The words were true, but that wasn’t why she had married him. “And you wanted me for a trophy, I think.”

  Falling quiet, she waited for his response. His face remained a mask. Then he blinked, averted his face, and stared out the window at the ocean. She watched him draw a measured breath, heard him let it out again.

  “I’m not asking for a separation. Not right now,” she qualified.

  He stared outside with eyes that had lost their luster. “Let me guess,” he stated on a bitter note. “You’ll give me twelve months.”

  Guilt stabbed her in the heart as he looked to her for corroboration.

  “Unless you get your memory back sooner,” she confessed.

  His laugh of irony twisted the knife in deeper.

  “I’m so sorry,” she added. “I feel terrible. You don’t deserve this.”

  Jonah looked down at his hands. For a long time, he said nothing. When he finally looked at her again, his expression betrayed neither rancor nor betrayal. Yet there was something in his eyes she couldn’t read.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Now I know why you want my teammates back in my life.”

  “Right.” She swallowed down her guilt. At least, he seemed to understand.

  Pushing his chair back, Jonah left the table, taking his dishes with him. Like Miriam, he put them in the dishwasher then retreated to his room without a word.

  Eden sat alone at the table, thinking. She had done it. She’d told Jonah their marriage had an end-date, and he’d accepted her ultimatum with seeming equanimity.

  Nina would be so proud of her.

  Why, then, wasn’t her heart winging at the prospect of her freedom? Instead it ached. She knew a ridiculous urge to chase Jonah down the hallway and tell him she’d spoken in haste. After all, twelve months was a long time. Who knew what could happen?

  Pressing a fist to her churning stomach, she whispered, “Forgive me.” Only she couldn’t have said whether the words were for Jonah or for God.

  Jonah lay across the daybed in the study stripped of energy and motivation. The pizza on which he had gorged sat heavily in his stomach.

  His wife wanted to divorce him.

  Okay, that was probably an exaggeration. What she’d said was, when he got his memory back, they were going to separate. But, basically, they were headed for divorce.

  Why should he care? Aside from her heavenly scent, he didn’t even remember her. He didn’t know when her birthday was, what her favorite food was, or whether she was ticklish. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted her to welcome him into her world, into her bed. And not because he thought of her as a trophy. Certainly, any man would be proud to show her off in public, but that wasn’t the reason he’d married her. He had loved her, hadn’t he?

  Thinking back to his wedding photos, he searched for an indication he’d been smitten. He had to have been or he would never have abandoned his private oath never to marry.

  The album was still under his bed. He rolled over, reached for it, and set it on the mattress next to him. Coming up on one elbow, he cracked the cover, this time to look at pictures of himself.

  The confident, possibly even arrogant smile he’d worn in every image disturbed him. Thinking back on his life, was he really that sure of himself? How could he have been? Life had leveled him some staggering blows. What if that confidence had been pure façade? Come to think of it, his love for Eden might have secretly terrified him.

  Now that made sense. Jonah plumbed each picture searching for evidence of his secret insecurity. If he thought of Eden while working, his concentration might have been compromised. He could have endangered his own men, put the whole troop at risk. Oh, yes, he’d had every reason to fear his love for her.

  As for his attitude toward children, it wasn’t that he’d considered them a nuisance. Rather, he hadn’t known what to do with Miriam. He could barely remember his own gentle father. His stepfather had completely disregarded him. Jonah’s parenting toolbox had been consequently empty.

  Little wonder he had been such a lousy husband and father. Who could blame Eden for thinking she’d made a mistake, for wanting her freedom?

  With a groan of defeat, Jonah slapped the album shut and shoved it back under his bed. Rolling over, he faced the wall and closed his eyes. A sense of déjà vu washed over him, telling him he had searched his heart during captivity and realized his shortcomings. Had he remembered Eden then or had he already lost his memory? Just when had his memories been stripped from him?

  Either way, he knew he’d had plenty of time regretting the way he’d lived and vowing to become a better man. In that lowest of low places, he must have called on God for help. And God, in His mercy, had answered.

  “‘To give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,’” he whispered. The words were from the Bible, he decided. But how did he know them?

  A sudden urge to seek comfort from his master chief prompted Jonah to roll back over and look at the door. His phone was still in the living room. Summoning the strength to get up and fetch it, he overheard Eden call the dog and leave the house, taking her on a walk. The opportunity to get his phone without running into her propelled him to his feet.

  He hurried to collect it, carried it quickly back to the study, and sat on his bed texting Rivera.

  Master Chief, it’s Jonah. When did you say the guys are getting back?

  Rivera responded in less than five seconds. Tomorrow around midnight. They can’t wait to see you. How are you holding up?

  A sound that was half laugh and half sob escaped Jonah’s throat. No memories yet, he answered.

  Give it time, Rivera replied.

  The pressure grew behind Jonah’s eyes. He knew Rivera was a profoundly spiritual man. He knew he could count on him to be supportive.

  I ne
ed you to pray for me, Santiago, he requested.

  I am. I will. In a separate text, he added, Would you like to talk?

  Jonah’s eyes went to the window. It was still light outside, but the advent of twilight made him nervous. Remembering the car that might or might not have been following him earlier, he had no desire to exacerbate his nervousness by stepping outside with nightfall on the way. On the other hand, it would come as a relief to talk to someone about his precarious domestic situation.

  Can you come over here? he asked.

  Sure. When? Santiago asked.

  Jonah opted to wait till Eden got back from her walk. Then he and Master Chief would sit out on the deck so as not to disturb anyone. In forty-five minutes?

  See you then.

  Thanks. Instead of putting his phone down, Jonah typed a group text to the men in his troop with whom he felt the closest bond: Saul, Theo, and the youngest SEAL in Alpha Troop if not the whole Team, nicknamed Bambino. He added Blake LeMere’s name automatically before remembering with a pang that Blake was dead. How strange that his death was a full two years ago! To him, it seemed like yesterday.

  Look forward to seeing you all when you get home.

  There was no response, of course. The men would be busy training right up to their return.

  Noises from the next room had him putting down his phone. He could hear Miriam climbing her bunkbed.

  Having peeked into the room on a couple of occasions, he pictured it in his mind’s eye: a sturdy white bunkbed drowning in stuffed animals, pink walls, white furniture. The innocent-little-girl setup was ruined by posters of pop stars, rap musicians, and bumper stickers with slogans like ALL STRESSED OUT AND NO ONE TO CHOKE plastered at intervals along the wall.

  Concerned by Miriam’s departure from the table earlier, Jonah got up and approached her closed door. He gave it a light knock.

  “Come in.”

  He saw her tuck a magazine out of sight as he poked his head into the room. “That’s not your book,” he chided with a smile.