It Had To Be You (10 page)

Suddenly, the air around Beck shimmered.
Suffocating heat surrounded him and there was no breeze.…

“
Bet you hate this, huh, Cap?” Sergeant
Jason Kono, the combat engineer asked the question from the
driver’s seat in a Husky land-mine–detection vehicle. The
million-dollar truck had wheels like a tractor, on top of which sat
a steel cab that resembled a small tank. Its best feature was that
it could detect IEDs, and if necessary, survive their explosions.
“No problem.”

“
Sorry, Compton’s sick.”

Beck’s sergeant had a bad case of diarrhea,
so Beck had gone on this tactical mission.

Ahead of them, something appeared out of the
sun. A mirage. A small figure and an even smaller one, coming
toward him.

Kono stopped the Husky. “You see that,
Cap?”

Without answering, Beck swung open the door
and jumped down the ten feet to the ground. He started toward the
pair but was head-locked from behind before he covered any
distance.

“
Hold on, Colonel,” Kono shouted. “It’s
a trap.”

“
Let me go, Sergeant. That’s an
order.”

“
No. It’s…”

Suddenly, their surroundings exploded. Kono
pushed Beck to the ground and jumped on top of him. An
ear-splitting blast reverberated around them. Shock waves shook the
ground and shrapnel rained down on them, piercing their skin in
many places. When it stopped, Kono slid off him. Beck tried opening
his eyes, but the dust was so thick, they stung too much. After a
bit, he tried again, and his vision cleared. His gaze caught on
something next to him.

At first, he didn’t know what it was. Then
reality hit, harder than the shrapnel. For some reason he reached
out, grabbed it, felt its tiny weight.

He was holding the child’s hand.…

“
No, no, no….”

“
Beck, Beck, it’s me, Lela.”

“
No…not this…”

Strong fingers gripped his head. Shook him.
“Beck, you’re here, at the Fire Academy. You had a flashback.…”

Beck became aware of hard ground beneath him.
He was staring into dark brown eyes, framed by an angel’s face.
Other times in theater, he thought he’d seen an angel, but…

He looked around; he wasn’t in Afghanistan
now.

There was pavement beneath him, the air was
clear. A cool breeze fanned his face. He could smell the rich loam
of the earth. Hear the sound of chirping birds. No wind, no soil
like this, or wildlife, existed in theater.

Bile rose in his throat. He choked it back.
“Oh, God.”

Now she pulled him to her breasts. He grasped
her hips when he realized she was straddling him.

“
Fuck!” he said this time.

She soothed down his hair. Kissed his brow.
“It’s okay. Really. I understand.”

When he could lift his head, he asked, “What
happened?”

“
You dropped to the ground all of a
sudden and started yelling. Thrashing. So I climbed onto your
lap.”

Swallowing hard, he said, “You knew what to
do. From experience.”

Her face was so close he could see…not
repulsion but relief in her eyes. “I was an army medic, Beck. I saw
plenty of PTSD attacks. Len used to go off, too. I…subdue pretty
well.”

He didn’t want to let her go, so he kept his
hands on her. “I haven’t had an attack in nearly a year.”

“
What triggered it? I didn’t see or
smell anything.”

“
I caught sight of an Afghan mother and
her child leaving the Academy.”

“
And it took you back to the
war.”

He nodded.

“
Tell me.”

“
No, I can’t give you that
image.”

She grasped his head again, only her hands
were gentle on his cheeks. “Don’t do that. Don’t stuff it. I’ve
seen horror, too. Tell me.”

He blurted it out. “We were looking for IEDs
in a Husky. Out of nowhere, two people appeared.” He felt his eyes
well. “They blew up, Lee. And the kid’s hand…”

He couldn’t finish. Again, he buried his face
in her breasts.

She tugged him even closer. “Oh, God, I’m so
sorry. So, so sorry.”

He tried to gulp back the emotion. But
couldn’t. Nor could he speak again. What was there to say,
anyway?

o0o

In the spacious room, still set up in two
semicircles, Lela sat next to Beck when they joined the Trauma
Survivor’s Group room. Tension radiated from his body, and his
hands were fisted. This poor, poor man. He’d tried to retreat, go
into himself.…

“
I don’t want to go to the group,” he’d
said when he’d sobered from the attack.

Conscious of her position on his lap, she
slid off him, stood and held out her hand. He took it and climbed
to his feet.

“
I never want to go in there,” she said
softly, holding on to him. She studied his face. “Any nausea,
dizziness, disorientation?”

A smile broached his lips. “No, Nurse Lela.
It all passed.”

She found the ability to smile, though she
ached for him. “Then we should go inside. You don’t have to talk
about what happened. I won’t bring it up.”

He swallowed hard. Stood close. Held on to
her.

“
But here’s my medical opinion. You
should
talk about it. You should tell everybody what
happened.”

Briefly he closed his eyes. “I’m not sure I
can get the words out.”

“
All right. But don’t leave. Please. It
hurts me to think of you alone now.”

Finally he’d agreed.…

“
So, how is everybody?” Harrison asked
in his usual congenial manner. The atmosphere in the room tonight
was different from before. More somber.

“
Just peachy,” Zach Malvaso commented.
He hadn’t shown up at other meetings.

“
Ah, yes, I heard about the fire
similar to Sinco. Were you hurt, Zach?”

“
No, but the ceiling fell on us again.
On Casey.” The man’s face crumbled and his hands fisted like
Beck’s. “I told her not to go into that building. That the fire was
too much like Sinco. She got mad.”

“
Of course she did,” one of the others
stated. “She’s a firefighter.”

“
You can’t keep her safe.” This from
the man whose wife was a combat leader. “You can’t keep anybody
safe.”

“
I had an attack,” Zach admitted.
“Later, when we got home. Luckily none of the kids were
there.”

“
How’d Casey react?” Harrison
asked.

“
Like she always does. She knew what to
do.”

Beck glanced at Lela. She searched his face
and he gave her a sad smile.

Zach said, “You know, I just want this to
stop. I can manage it now, but I hate the whole thing. It’s gone on
so long.”

No one spoke for a moment. Then Beck said,
“Me, too. I hate it, too.”

Zach faced Beck. “You have an episode
lately?”

Beck snorted. “Yeah. Just now in the parking
lot.”

“
Hell. You okay? I’m a wet noodle after
I have one.”

Beck gave a sardonic laugh, but Lela noticed
his body relax somewhat. “That about describes it.”

His honesty called for others’ stories.
Harrison let everybody talk. Then he scanned the group. “So what’s
the consensus? You ever going to be able to control the
attacks?”

A statuesque woman with blond hair and blue
eyes spoke up. “No, never.” She looked more like a Barbie doll than
a lieutenant. “And as much as we hate it, most of the time we can
only manage the fucking symptoms.”

“
Beck?” Harrison asked. “What else can
we do?”

He sighed heavily. “I guess we can talk about
it. I wanted to go home. Lick my wounds. But being here turned out
to be better for me. And I hadn’t had an attack in months, so I
guess that isn’t too bad.”

The discussion went on until time was up.
“Beck and Zach, you want to stay after and talk?” Harrison
asked.

Both men shook their heads. Beck said, “I
just want to sleep.”

Zach was going to go home to Casey.

And a stark truth hit Lela. She wanted to go
home with Beck. To hold him, comfort him with words. And her body.
The urge was nearly overwhelming.

As they filed out, several people approached
the two men who’d made big confessions tonight. A couple of women
hugged Beck. Guys patted him on the back. Lela noted that no one
mouthed platitudes. She waited off to the side until everyone left,
then stepped up to him.

“
I’ll walk out with you.”

He nodded.

He was silent on the trek to the bottom floor
and after they got outdoors. So she didn’t talk, either.

Turning when they reached her car, he grasped
her shoulders gently. She swayed toward him. His touch felt so good
she wanted to weep. “I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry. And
thanks for riding it out with me.”

An image hit her. Of sitting on his lap,
holding his head close to her breasts. That she wanted to do that
again, in far different circumstances, flooded her with feeling.
But she said only, “You’re welcome.”

He stepped away. She reached for the handle
of the door but looked over her shoulder before she slid inside.
And lost the battle. “You sure you’re okay? I could, um, follow you
home.”

“
That’s a very bad idea, Lee. Very bad.
Now get inside and start the engine so I know you’re all
set.”

Always the protector, even when his world had
exploded a few hours ago. “Good-night.”

“‘
Night,” he said and walked
away.

Lela did as he asked, backing up and heading
out of the lot. In the rearview mirror she saw him standing there,
hands in his pockets, watching her leave.

It just about broke her heart.

Beck sat tall and straight in Cal Erikson’s
office, waiting for the battalion chief to arrive. His secretary
had let him inside. The space was roomy, but…homey, too.
Firefighter prints decorated the walls, the conference-table
furniture comfortable, as Erikson rarely sat behind his desk. Beck
noted the picture of his wife on the sideboard—his wife, Parker
Allen Erikson. Allen, as in Lela. Damn, he’d never made the
connection.

No, don’t think about her. About how she
felt straddling your lap
.
About an offer she made in a
moment of weakness that took all your remaining strength to
refuse.

He focused back on the photo. Everybody
around him had a happily-ever-after. Beck wondered if he’d ever
find one for himself. For a man like him, he didn’t think so.
Unless…

Don’t think about her.

The chief strode through the door and to the
table. He appeared rested—lucky him—this morning, which Beck
envied. The sun caught the battalion-chief bars, which spoke of a
long and fulfilling career, on his crisp, white shirt. Once, Beck
had worn bars like that signifying his time in theater. “Hey, Beck.
My secretary said you were here. I’m late. Problems at home.”

Beck frowned. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

“
Damned serious to us.” He shook his
head. Then an Olympic-size smile spread across his face. “I might
as well tell you. I’m breaking the news to my groups today.
Parker’s three months pregnant.”

Beck’s heart lurched in his chest. He
remembered the time he’d heard those words from his own wife. He’d
been poleaxed. “That’s terrific, Chief. Congrats.”

“
Thanks. I just wish I didn’t worry
over every little bout of morning sickness and fatigue.”

“
I hear those symptoms are
common.”

Erikson took a bead on him. “You have a kid,
don’t you?”

“
Yeah, but I was stationed in Iraq
during the pregnancy.”

“
Well, that sucks. You were deprived of
so much, to fight for our country, Beck. I admire your willingness
to serve.”

Time to change the subject. Beck said glibly,
“Now—what?—that makes you and Malvaso prospective parents. Ramirez
just had one in November. Hell, is that going to be contagious,
too?”

“
Probably. But I know what you’re
feeling. I remember when all this went down with my group. I felt
like I was on the happy planet. Then it happened to me.”

It wouldn’t happen to Beck. Ever.

“
So, what’s got you looking like you
committed murder, Firefighter Sloan?”

He squeezed his hands tight and watched his
knuckles turn white. “I, um, had a flashback last night.”

“
I’m sorry to hear that.”

“
I thought you should know. I haven’t
had one since I came on the department, but this wasn’t at
work.”

“
Good.” Erikson studied Beck with
intensity that made him want to squirm. “Do you think I’m worried
about you?”

“
You should be.”

“
I’m not. If you have an attack at
work, we’ll deal with it. The same as we do with the others on
staff who experience symptoms of PTSD. In case you don’t know, we
had a hell of a time in this department after 9/11 since we’re so
close to the city. We aren’t giving up on our own guys, or
veterans, because of what happened to them trying to protect
others.”

Beck didn’t know what he’d expected with this
visit, but it wasn’t unconditional support. He didn’t remember the
last time he’d felt so accepted, so warmed by it, as he did right
now.

He was saved from responding, which was good
because his throat felt too tight to talk, by the PA blasting out,
“Accident on Broad and Main. Quint/Midi 7, Rescue 7 go into
service. Bus hit a biker.”

Both men bounded out of their chairs. This
was likely to be a gruesome scene. And Beck didn’t need any more
gruesome to remember. Still, he blanked his mind and did his
job.