His earlier magnetism to Callie had shifted since he’d nearly died. Now, he salivated like a starving wolf to be around her. Cherishing her laughter, the sparkle in her green eyes, that wicked smile of hers, lifted him as never before. In some ways, he felt like a male Persephone from Greek mythology.
Persephone was the daughter of Mother Earth, Ceres. Hades, the god of Hell, had lusted after young, beautiful Persephone and kidnapped her, taking her to his underground lair where he lived inside the dark, sunless earth.
At first, because she’d been kidnapped, she pined away for her mother, for sunlight, and fresh air. She became depressed. No matter what Hades tried to do to lift her spirits, nothing worked. She was slowly dying before his eyes and he felt helpless. Finally, he went to her mother, Ceres, and asked her what to do. The mother made a deal with Hades: let her daughter live above the earth with her for two seasons out of the year. The other two seasons, she would live inside the earth, in the darkness, with him. Hades took the deal to Persephone, who instantly agreed to it. She came alive again, filled with hope and infused with life once more. When she came above the earth, spring and summer flourished. When she went below to live with Hades, fall and winter came to the planet.
Beau felt a lot like the young goddess. His life had been hijacked by that bullet, changed forever. He’d never known depression before and it was Bay who diagnosed it. It was something he’d live with while he wrestled silently within his own psyche about nearly dying. Bay knew about almost dying, too. And she shared her deep, dark bouts with him. After hearing her trials, Beau didn’t feel so alone. And he began to understand the process that he was slogging his way through, one agonizing step at a time. Bay and Gabe had gone through their own ups and downs. Bay pointed this out one day to Beau had Callie, and that they still loved one another. She’d found that having Gabe, and their love for one another, helped her get through those dark patches, which still came and went. She could not control them, she told him, and neither would he. But when he found himself falling into that dark abyss of depression, he should reach out for Callie and draw her tightly to him. “Talk to her, let it all hang out. And don’t worry what she might think of the dark places you have to travel through sometimes,” added Bay firmly.
Drawing in a long, slow breath, Beau opened his eyes, knowing he had to share his concerns with Callie. He’d been hiding so much from her and he knew it hurt her. He could see the anguish in her eyes sometimes, wanting to ask him questions, but holding back and asking nothing.
She’d learned early on that if she pushed him with too many questions, he would snarl and became irritable, even angry with her. Then, looking sad, she’d leave the cabin and go over to his parents’ cabin. Beau didn’t blame her. Who would want to live with a snarly bear like him? He sure as hell wouldn’t!
Beau felt tears stinging his eyes and forced them back. He cried too much already when he was alone, where no one could hear or see him. Supposing that his Delta Force training reinforced that men didn’t cry, he didn’t want to be found out. He was too ashamed of himself.
“Hey, son,” Cletus said, casually leaning his broad shoulder against the opened door, “you doin’ okay?”
Beau’s Adam’s apple bobbed once and he looked away for a second and then turned, meeting his father’s concerned blue gaze. “Yeah, Pa, I’m fine.”
“You seem far away, like something’s eating at ya, son. Want to tell me about it?”
“Just a lot on my mind, is all,” Beau said. He didn’t want to lie to his father because he’d taught him that honesty and truth were golden.
Cletus pushed his burly shoulder off the door jamb and came out, sitting down near Beau.
“Callie looks happy workin’ with Ma,” he said, gesturing in that direction.
“Yeah, she loves the earth, too.”
“Just another reason to love her.”
Nodding, Beau could feel his father’s concern for him. Sometimes, he felt as if Cletus had radar capability or could actually read his mind. “Has she told you much about where she comes from? The Eagle Feather Ranch outside Butte, Montana?”
“Oh, not too much. Your ma, now, knows everything under the sun about your woman.” He smiled a little, smoothing some of his mustache away from his upper lip.
“They get along well,” Beau said, grateful. How badly he wanted to talk to his father about so many things, but he was afraid to.
“Indeed they do. They’re like twins, almost. Your ma is a part of the land and so is Callie. That’s a good thing.”
Beau nodded, saying nothing, watching the women going up and down another long row they’d just weeded. “When you were in the Army . . .” he cocked his head, catching his father’s gaze.
“Yes?”
“You said you were in the motor pool. Were you a driver?”
“I sure was. They didn’t have any careers for me in woodworking or furniture making,” he said, a chuckle rumbling out of his deep chest. He finished wiping his hands and added, “I was good with my hands and the Army in all its wisdom gave me a job tinkering with truck engines.”
Smiling absently, Beau watched his mother in her bright red calico skirt that hung to her ankles, the colorful fabric swirling in and around her legs as she leaned over the row between them. Callie was in the next row, dressed in a pair of khaki twill capris, hitched up toward her knees as she began pulling weeds from the rich, black soil. “You’re good with anything you touch, Pa.”
“Rightly so, son. But my four years in the Army was tame compared with what you, Coy, and Jackson are doin’. I never got shot at. I was never overseas. So it was different from what you boys are having to deal with.”
“You served your country, Pa. That’s something to
always
be proud of,” he said, holding his father’s thoughtful gaze.
“That’s true, son. But you boys are in black ops, something that I never was a part of. And something I don’t have enough experience to understand.”
Giving a soft snort, glad that there was no longer pain when he coughed, sneezed, or growled, Beau said, “And we can’t tell you because it’s all top secret.”
His father’s lips drew into a wry, twist. “They get you comin’ and goin’, Beau.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Cletus said, gesturing toward the two women, “Callie told Ma about a week ago how you would wake up about four out of seven nights, yelling. It scared the bejesus out of her, of course. What was worse, according to Callie, was that she couldn’t help you. She couldn’t understand what you were going through to ask you the right questions. Ma pointed out to her that even if she did have the right questions, you couldn’t answer them because you worked top secret and could tell no one, anything.”
“Yeah,” Beau muttered, shaking his head. “It’s a gotcha for sure.”
“Not just for Callie, though,” he said gently, holding his son’s stare, “but for us as well. Can you say anything to me about those nightmares that are waking you up screaming, son?”
Beau looked away, his gut in turmoil. “It’s just one nightmare, Pa. It replays the day I got shot.”
“Humph,” he rumbled. Frowning, he looked down at the ground in thought for a moment. “Is that something you can share with Callie?”
“I tried, but it was bloody. It’s upsetting to her. I don’t want to paint her a word picture of everything I went through. She’s been through enough herself from that ambush. If I shared all of my nightmares, I think she’d start having nightmares again like she did at first when she got home. She’s got PTSD just like me, Pa. And of late, those nightmares are becoming less and less frequent.” He pushed his fingers in frustration through his short hair. “I’d just trigger more of those bad memories for her, Pa. That’s not what I want to do.”
“I hear you, son. And I don’t disagree with you. We didn’t know that Callie was having nightmares and PTSD.” His dark brows fell and he studied the women for a moment. “You know, I think Callie is an awful lot like you, son. Only she doesn’t have the excuse of having top secret information.”
“What do you mean?”
“She tends to hide how she really feels and doesn’t talk to anyone about it.” Cletus gave him a knowing look. “Just like you three boys.”
“But we can’t talk about these things, Pa,” he protested.
“That’s all well and good for the Army. But in your case, it’s hurtin’ you, son. We all have to talk about what ails us to someone. Even if it’s a tree or a rock.” He pointed his bearded chin toward the women. “And Callie seems to be pretty closed up. She’s not talkin’ to anyone, either.”
“Yes, that’s a trait she has for sure,” Beau said, scowling. “If it weren’t for Graham McKinley, who was Marine black ops. He started pulling her out of it and got her to talk more to him than anyone else.”
“Including you?”
“Yes, even me.”
Scratching his head, Cletus rumbled, “From where I stand, you’ve got two clams who love one another and neither one of them knows how to open up and let the other one in. You don’t know how to talk to one another, son.”
Beau closed his eyes for a moment, pain ripping through his heart. Opening them, he rasped, “Pa, I’ve gotten some things out of Callie, but not a whole lot. I’m frustrated, not with her, but with myself. I guess I’m not asking the right questions or something. I don’t know how to talk with her. I’m stymied.”
Grunting, Cletus said, “It takes time for a man to learn how to talk to the woman he loves. Your ma and I had our ups and downs, for sure. She’s emotional and it’s the last place I want to be. For me, everything is black and white. It’s like math: the answer is there if you just follow the common sense rules to find it.” He smiled a little, watching Amber with a warm gaze. “All women are emotional, Beau. It’s just who they are and I wouldn’t change a hair on their heads. But it takes men a while to figure out what they’re
really
saying, underneath the words.”
“I’ve run into that with her, too. When she cries, I ache for her, Pa. I want to fix it. I want to do something to stop her from hurting, but I don’t know how to do it.”
“Oh,” Cletus said, chuckling a little, “that one.” He placed his hand on Beau’s shoulder. “Tears for women are a release. They always feel better when they can let it all go. There’s nothin’ there for you to fix.”
“Callie told me that.”
His hand tightened a bit on Beau’s shoulder. “And I taught all you boys that it’s all right to cry. Better out than in, I say.”
He knew his father was right. “I guess,” he stumbled, his voice fraught with pain, “I feel like I’m staring at a big brick wall and there’s no way over it or around it.”
Patting his shoulder, Cletus said, “Then let Callie in, son. She’s a lot stronger than you think she is. And even though she’s still coming out of her own trauma from that ambush, she gets her strength from loving you. I’ve seen the heart give a person miles and miles of strength they didn’t even realize they had until the vice grips were applied to ’em.”
Lifting his hand off Beau’s slumped shoulder, he added, “At hard times like these, let love be your compass, not your head. Don’t let fear or pride ruin what you have with her. The more you both open up, the stronger you’ll be together, in good times, and tough times. Just watch what happens, son. You’ll be amazed.”
June 5
D
espite his lack
of interest in food, Beau forced himself to eat his dinner that night in their small cabin. Callie had gone out of her way to make him a special dinner of beef pot roast with mashed potatoes, to get him to regain the twenty pounds he’d lost. He was now mobile and no longer having chest pain. His stomach was tight with anxiety and he didn’t taste the food.
She had come in and showered earlier after being out in the garden half the day. Now, at the dinner table, her red hair was up in a loose knot on top of her head, looking beautiful with those half curled strands brushing her sunburned cheekbones. She smelled of fresh lemon and he knew Amber had given her a bar of the handmade soap she’d made out of citrus flavors.
“Your nose is as red as your hair, Callie,” he teased, watching her eat hungrily at his left elbow.
“Oh, I know. Amber told me to wear a hat, but I didn’t listen,” she laughed, shaking her head. She poured some gravy into the mashed potatoes on her plate. “Next time, I’ll borrow one of her straw hats.”
“You look pretty,” he said, watching her green eyes grow soft.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “I saw you and your father out by his furniture barn. What were you talking about?”
He pushed the roast beef around on his plate, “Nothing much.” His throat tightened.
“I’m so glad you have such a wonderful relationship with him.”
“Do you miss your parents and grandparents?” She’d been with him at his home for a couple of months now. Beau had to think she was homesick or becoming so.
Callie frowned and then said, “I do and I don’t. This time of year, everyone is gearing up to ride miles and miles of fence line to repair what was destroyed or weakened during the winter after the snows have melted. I would look forward to riding the fence line, but I hate handling barbed wire even with thick elk hide gloves on. I always got cut by it sooner or later, so no, I don’t miss this part of the summer duties.”
He looked toward the living room. “How are you coming along on that blue afghan of yours.”
“I like working on it at night when I’m tired. It’s relaxing to sit and knit and watch TV with you.”
“You really aren’t homesick?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted, using half of a fresh homemade biscuit to soak up the last of the gravy on her plate. “But getting to talk to everyone at home on Skype every week helps a lot.”
He pushed the half-eaten plate of food away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m not hungry, Callie. I know you worked hard to make this great meal for us tonight.”
Giving him a worried look, she said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll put it in containers and we’ll keep it for lunch tomorrow.”
Nothing was ever wasted around here. Beau held her wide green eyes. “Do you think you’d be happier if you were home, Callie, instead of having to stay here and take care of me?”