Back in the Soldier's Bed

A sigh escaped as she released Emma and turned to the refrigerator. She didn’t want to care, didn’t want to need him. It would be so much simpler if she didn’t. If they could agree to parent Emma separately. If only she could turn her residual feelings off.

She put potatoes on to boil for salad and as she cut vegetables, Emma arranged them on a pretty plate. Together they mixed the potatoes and dressing and she let Emma sprinkle the paprika on the top. She lit the barbeque and got out the package of hotdogs, leaving Emma to carry out the condiments and plastic dishes.

Emma came back inside after a load of plates and cutlery and slid the patio door shut with far too much force than necessary. It banged loudly against the frame, the harsh slam echoing through the house.

Shannyn jumped, then jumped again as a horrific shout and crash came from the living room. Without thinking, she rushed around the corner, Emma on her heels, and the sight that greeted her froze her to the spot.

Jonas stood in the middle of the floor, his chest pumping heavily and the coffee table overturned. Picture frames and her favorite vase lay scattered on the floor.

“Jonas! My God, what happened?”

His head turned, nothing else. Shannyn took a step backward at the sight of his cold eyes. Now she knew what he’d meant when he’d said he wanted to spare her the details. There was a dark side he hadn’t wanted her to see. The Jonas before her now wasn’t the same man she’d held in her arms earlier. At Emma’s whimper, she automatically put her arm out, pulling Emma close to her side, comforting.

Jonas stared at them blankly. The dream was still so real. Vignettes and faces that made little sense, and then cut to the hospital in Germany. He’d been shouting to the doctor about Chris’s body and then suddenly he’d been screaming that it was Shannyn’s body and he’d broken his promise…

Now, slowly, slowly her face registered. As the fog cleared, he realized he was standing in Shannyn’s living room. She was staring at him with horror etched on every feature. Eyes wide, mouth open, face pale.

Behind her right hip stood Emma, wearing the same expression but with an added emotion he recognized. He’d seen it before. More than he cared to recall.

She was afraid. Not just frightened but afraid of him.

He looked away, only for his brain to register the chaos created by his outburst. The silk flowers in the vase were scattered in a tangle of red, orange, and green. The coffee table was on its side. A picture frame lay face down, but bits of broken glass showed from around the wooden perimeter. He didn’t remember jumping up. Didn’t know if he’d knocked the table over or had overturned it.

He turned back to Shannyn and Emma. This was so wrong. They both deserved so much better. But especially Emma. She didn’t understand any of this. “I’m sorry,” he tried, but the words came out choked. He cleared his throat. “Emma…”

But Emma spun around and ran from the room. Her footsteps pounded on the stairs and moments later her bedroom door slammed.

Shannyn glanced at the stairs and then back at Jonas, undecided.

“You were right, Shan. About everything.” His voice was quiet and broken in the silent aftermath of his outburst. “Go to Emma while I clean up this mess. While I get my head on straight. I need to talk to both of you.”

Shannyn quietly did what he asked. She turned and walked away from him, up the stairs to Emma. It was the right thing for her to do. Emma needed her mother now more than anything.

He squatted and picked up the picture, careful of the broken glass. It was a five-by-seven of Shannyn and Emma together. Shannyn’s arms were looped around Emma’s neck, both of them smiling. A set of blue eyes and a set of green, both with a dusting of freckles on their noses.

Carefully he righted the table and then placed the pieces of glass on it gently. He’d broken their family as surely as he’d broken the picture, just be being here.

This was why Shannyn hadn’t told him about Emma. He understood that now. And he knew that somehow he had to make it right. It was too late for him to walk away. Emma wouldn’t understand him leaving now.

Hell, he wouldn’t understand, if it came to that.

He’d made a promise to be a father, and he wasn’t going to break it. And Shannyn…she’d already put her feelings out there in order to help him and he’d thrown them back in her face. Somehow he had to find a way to fix it for all of them. No more running away.

He picked up the vase, held it gingerly in his hands before placing it precisely in the middle of the table. The nightmares weren’t stopping any more than the flashes of memory. Today had been the worst day since it had happened.

In this one he’d dreamt it was Shannyn at the end and he’d overturned a doctor’s trolley trying to find her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that she was there because he’d started caring about her again. He could bluster and protest all he wanted, make light of it. In his heart he knew he wasn’t coping very well. With losing Chris or with losing Shannyn.

Shannyn’s footsteps came back down the stairs and he straightened, his hand full of silk flowers. He put them on the table when she came back in the room.

She’d put everything on the line for him today, even though he’d been a complete jerk, using whatever feelings she had for him against her. No matter where they ended up, at the very minimum she’d always be a part of his life because of Emma. And he’d hurt her enough over the years. He knew that. He was done with hurting her. It was time for him to attempt to make things right.

“You were right.” He began the conversation by taking responsibility for all of it. “I can’t do this by myself. I need help and I’m going to get it. I can’t do this to you and Emma.”

Shannyn crossed the floor in quick steps, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek to his chest. Slowly he put his arms around her, unsure of what to do. She was crying. He could tell by the irregular jolt of her chest against his, the hint of wetness that clung to his shirt. It wasn’t what he’d expected. She should be shouting at him, kicking him out after what he’d done! Instead she was giving him acceptance and comfort.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” he whispered into her ear, overcome. “God, Shan, you should be afraid.”

Her head shook against him. “No. I’m not afraid of you, Jonas. I’m afraid for you. If you mean it about getting help, I’m relieved. It kills me to see you in so much pain.”