Back in the Soldier's Bed

“Oh Jonas, look at you,” she lamented, her lips downturned as she struggled to explain. “You were young, we both were. You were in the military, on the fast track to Special Forces. I knew it. You would be moving around all the time or deployed. And what would we do when you were gone for months at a time? Wait for you to come back, perhaps more of a stranger each time? A part-time father for a daughter who didn’t understand why Daddy wasn’t around? Or worse—what if you didn’t come back at all? I didn’t want to give my daughter a father only to have him ripped away from her in some foreign country.”

“So you took her away from me. Denied me the chance to know my own flesh and blood.”

“I protected her!”

”From me! From her father!”

“Not from who you were! From what you were!”

Heads turned in their direction as their voices raised. She took a deep breath, spoke more calmly and tried a different tack. “Did you want to be a father then? Be honest.”

He paused, clamping his lips together. Of course he hadn’t. He’d been twenty-two, at a brand-new posting with a new stripe on his sleeve. He’d been well on his way to becoming the best shot in the regiment. He had his eye set on deployment and making his mark. And as much as he’d cared for Shannyn, the last thing he’d wanted was to be tied to a wife. A family. He’d had things to accomplish first. A wife and children had no place in that world.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t have a right to know.”

She turned away so she was staring at the lighthouse in the distance. “I did what I thought was best for my daughter.”

“Our daughter.”

Even saying it felt foreign on his tongue.

How had his life come to this? Back where he started? He stretched out his leg, trying to relieve the ache that settled in his quadricep. Why couldn’t things have just stayed the same? Being with the battalion. Doing what he did best. Being the best.

He stared ahead. He could see Chris’s face before him still, wide and smiling after cracking some joke. The two of them running laps around the compound before the desert got too hot to breathe. The quiet, reassuring sound of his voice while Jonas stared through the scope.

Their last mission.

The taste of dust was everywhere.

Parker’s voice was low beside him telling him to hold his shot. The midday sun beat down harshly, and Jonas wondered if it was possible to bake in one’s own skin. He held his position; sweat trickled down his neck, sticking to his skin, but he didn’t move a single muscle. Hadn’t moved for the last three hours, twenty-seven minutes and fifteen seconds. “We’ve got someone at the door, Park.”

“Not yet.”

God forsaken desert, Jonas thought, biding his time. He’d been in the desert long enough that he was sick and tired of it. There were nights when he lay awake for hours, thinking of home. Of cold beer in a sports bar and a bacon cheeseburger, instead of army chow and warm water from his canteen. Instead of dusty roads and the same unending landscape as he traveled from assignment to assignment. At least he had Chris Parker to keep him from going crazy.

“Jonas? Jonas, are you okay?”

Shannyn’s voice broke through and he turned his head slowly, surprised to see her sitting there beside him. She reached out to touch his arm and he flinched. She drew her hand back automatically, her blue eyes suddenly troubled.

“I’m fine,” he answered roughly. The flashes of memory were happening more and more frequently, and always at the strangest times. He couldn’t seem to control them, and he frowned. They were always, always of that one day. Bits and pieces here and there that hit without warning. Leaving him feeling raw and exposed and it took him some time to reestablish himself with his surroundings.

“You don’t look fine.” Her voice was low with concern. He hated that tone. Hated it every time someone looked at him the way Shannyn was looking at him now. As if he didn’t quite make sense.

“I said I’m fine!” he snapped, rising to his feet and taking a half dozen steps to get away from her. Faces turned again in his direction, and he took deep breaths to try to get his heart rate to return to normal. He wished the memories would all go away so he could get on with what was left of his life. Only now that too was thrown into chaos by learning he was somebody’s father.

Shannyn stared after him, warning bells pealing madly in her head. What was going on?

They’d been talking and then suddenly he’d gone. His eyes had blanked and every muscle in his body had stilled. It had been eerie, watching him dissociate, until she realized his breathing was accelerating.

She’d tried to call him back, and the empty stare she’d seen before he came to frightened her more than anything else.

What in the world had happened to him?

She was getting in far deeper than she cared to. Now that he knew Emma was his, naturally he’d assert his rights and demand to see her. She couldn’t deny him that now. And seeing him this way, knowing something was horribly wrong, she could already feel herself being drawn in. Wanting to help him almost as much as she wanted him gone.

What if he shouted this way at Emma?

When he turned back, she fortified herself with all the courage she could muster. “This is a perfect example of why I didn’t tell you. Emma is five years old, Jonas. She’s not going to understand if you blank out and then shout at her. She’s not equipped for that.”