It Had To Be You (2 page)

Hating the impotence those dreams engendered,
she flung off the covers, grabbed a robe and padded to the bathroom
off the hall. Ten minutes later, she crept down the steps, walked
through the big living room, noting that it needed dusting and
vacuuming. Once in the small but efficient kitchen, she made
herself a cup of coffee. Sitting at the breakfast nook, she glanced
at her watch. Five p.m. She had two hours to eat and dress for
tonight. She calmed herself with slow sips of coffee. And thought
about the invitation that had come to her. Her friend and colleague
at Memorial Hospital, Sophia Ramirez, had offered it when she told
Lela about the spouse-concerns group she attended at the Anderson
County Fire Academy.…

“
Now that Jack Harrison is
available”—he was the department shrink—”he’s starting another
group in a few weeks for sufferers of PTSD and their
families.”

Lela was confused. “I don’t have PTSD. Len
does.”

“
I know, and it’s amazing you escaped
the malady after what
you
went through in
Afghanistan.”

Now Lela was a trauma nurse in the ER, but
for five years, she’d been a medic, stationed in Afghanistan in a
small medical outpost that treated soldiers right off the
battlefield. She’d seen some hideous injuries: limbs blown off,
faces unrecognizable, evisceration of torsos, as well the vacant
look of death in soldiers’ eyes. But for some reason, Lela had been
spared PTSD. There were three-hundred thousand returning vets with
the condition. No one seemed to know why some combat personnel
developed it and others didn’t. In that area at least, she was
lucky.

Sophia had continued, “The group is open to
veterans
and
their families.”

“
That’s an odd combination to treat
together.”

“
What, the spouses and the
sufferers?”

Lela nodded.

“
Jack thinks having people on both
sides of the condition together in one group will increase
understanding of what each person goes through.” She smiled. “And
you know how much I adore the man.” Sophia had confided in Lela
what she’d gone through with her husband last year. She’d gradually
become unable to bear the danger Tony was in every day and her fear
had almost destroyed their marriage.

“
Why is the fire department including
veterans?”

“
There’s a big initiative out there for
organizations to help returning soldiers in any way they can. Maybe
you should give the group a shot.…”

So, after she’d tried to get Len to join
instead of her and he’d refused, Lela had enrolled. What could it
hurt?

When she’d erased the aftereffects of the
dream with high-test coffee, a quick sandwich and a shower, Lela
dressed in blue jeans (her Southern mama would have had a fit) and
a nice, deep maroon sweater, which brought out the red highlights
in her hair. Driving to the Fire Academy made her tense, so she did
some shrugs and stretches to loosen her shoulders. All too soon,
she arrived at the big glass-and-brick building, servicing several
surrounding towns as well as Hidden Cove. Lela had moved to the
town, about a hundred miles outside of New York City, after she’d
left the service, because Len had grown up here and had wanted to
come back home when he’d gotten out. She’d thought being with
family and friends might help him. Though Len had moved into his
childhood house after their separation almost a year ago, he was
still in bad shape.

Lela had visited the Fire Academy once for a
refresher training on sunken chest wounds, given by a paramedic.
The building held offices, but its main purpose was to train
firefighters from several counties. As she approached the entrance
a second time, her heart beat a wild tattoo in her chest at what
she was in for tonight.

From her right, a man came up flush to the
door when she reached it. He was definitely the armed forces. She
could spot them anywhere. Impossibly erect posture. Still-short
hair. This one had chiseled features, but his eyes were
world-weary.

“
Ma’am,” he said in short clipped
tones.

“
Sir.” She responded unthinkingly to
the greeting.

He cocked his head and stared at her a
minute. “Army?”

She nodded. “Nurse turned medic. Kandahar.
You?”

“
OCS, twenty years. Iraq.
Afghanistan.”

Wow, Lela thought. Len had only been in ten
years.
This poor man’s wife.

Together, they took the elevator to the third
floor. He gave her a little smile. “Don’t much see Southern belles
who turn into army medics.”

He must have caught what remained of her
accent. “My mama would have agreed with you. God bless her heart.
But I joined after both my parents died.”

He chuckled. The sound was deep, masculine.
When they reached the third floor, he held the elevator door so she
could exit before him. Chatter drifted out from the first room on
the left, so she headed for it, with him behind. As they entered,
Lela noted the muted lighting and how the chairs were arranged in
two half circles, not one with chairs that would back to the door.
The soft blue walls and grass-cloth paper soothed on sight. “I see
somebody knows what he’s doing.”

“
Ma’am?”

“
Please, call me Lela. Ma’am makes me
feel like your mother.”

For a brief second, his eyes perused her in
anything but a parental fashion. “Lela. Beckett Sloan. I go by
Beck.”

She held out her hand and they shook. His
palm dwarfed hers and his clasp was firm. Since they’d reached the
chairs at the same time, he stood while she took one, then dropped
down next to her. Sitting, he seemed bigger. Taller. But for some
reason, maybe his manners, she didn’t feel threatened.

Not so of everyone who had assembled. As she
glanced around, she saw in a couple guys’ expressions, and one
woman’s, the confusion and acute anxiety she’d lived with for
years. Without her conscious intent, she leaned in toward Beckett
Sloan.

Promptly at seven, a good-looking man with a
full head of dark hair graying at the temples, entered the room and
pulled up a chair facing them, his own back to the door. “Hi, all.
I’m Jack Harrison. You can call me Jack, Doc or Dr. Harrison.
Behind my back, I hope you’re kind.”

A bit of laughter.

“
I’ve been the psychiatrist for the
fire department for close to two decades. Thanks for coming to this
very first meeting of our Trauma Survivor’s Group this year.
Whether you’re a sufferer or related to one, you’re all
survivors.”

Before Dr. Harrison could go further, the
door slammed open and Lela gasped. In the entry stood her
soon-to-be ex-husband, Len Allen, once again crazy-eyed and, from
the looks of him, drunk.

o0o

Unruffled, Jack Harrison turned and glanced
over his shoulder. Then he stood and asked pleasantly, “Can I help
you?”

The man said, “Staff Sergeant Len Allen, sir.
I came for the group.”

Harrison scanned the clipboard he held. “I
don’t see your name here, Len. Did you enroll?”

“
No, but I changed my mind.” His gaze
scanned the semicircle. “I wanna be here with my wife.”

A quick intake of breath from the woman next
to Beck.

“
I’m sorry, Len.” Again Harrison spoke
calmly. Almost gently. “We don’t allow spouses to take the sessions
together.” He looked to Lela. “You’re signed in, right?”

“
Yes, I’m Lela Allen.”

Harrison fished something out of his pocket.
When he gave the card to the soldier, the guy’s hand shook. “Here’s
my number. Maybe we can schedule some individual counseling.”

“
Don’t wanna. I’m stayin’
here.”

“
No, I’m afraid you’re not.”

Jack wisely didn’t touch Allen, just moved in
closer. “Let’s go out into the foyer, Len.”

The man stood his ground. He sported a medium
build, but his physique consisted of a roadmap of corded muscles.
Beck remembered working out till he dropped, trying to conquer the
demons. “No.”

Harrison hesitated and Len started toward the
group. Beck took another glance at Lela. Her lips had thinned and
her jaw was tight. But she held her head up to face down whatever
was coming.

Rising, he stepped between her and her
husband. “Atten-
tion
, Staff Sergeant Allen. Colonel Beckett
Sloan here.”

Reflex kicked in. The guy halted, stood
straight and saluted, just as Beck suspected he would.

“
We’re going into the hall. That’s an
order, Staff Sergeant.”

“
Yes, sir.”

Turning, he followed Allen out of the room.
Harrison said to the others, “Be right back,” and went with
them.

In the corridor, Beck hadn’t forgotten how to
lead men. Standing over Allen, he donned a stern expression. “Have
you been drinking, Staff Sergeant?”

“
Some.”

“
A lot, from what I can see. Hand over
your keys.”

“
Excuse me?”

“
I want your keys. You aren’t driving
home.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
We’ll get you a cab.”

The man’s chin raised. Expecting
belligerence, Beck leaned in some.

“
I wanna go in there. I need
help.”

Beck glanced at Harrison, who had let him
handle the situation to this point. The psychiatrist spoke softly.
“Yes, you do, Len. Call me and we’ll set up an appointment.”

“
I wanna be with my wife.” He sounded
like a little boy, and it angered Beck that the disorder could turn
good soldiers into whiny children.

“
I remember her application now. She
said she asked you to come alone, and when you said no, she decided
to attend. She also said you’re legally separated and soon to be
divorced.”

“
Don’t want it.” The man began to waver
on his feet.

Beck moved in closer. “Come on, Staff
Sergeant, I’ll get you in a cab. We can talk some more while we
wait.”

Harrison nodded. “I’ll call one of our
staffers. He’ll drive the Staff Sergeant home.”

By the time they reached the elevator, Len
Allen was slumping onto Beck’s shoulder. He murmured, “It’s fucking
hard. Sometimes I don’t wanna live anymore.”

“
I felt the same from time to time. You
can get better.”

“
Tried.”

“
I know what I’m saying for a
fact.”

“
Then why’re you here?”

“
Requirement of my job.” They reached
the parking lot, and a fire department Jeep pulled up in front of
them. A uniformed firefighter got out. “I’ll take him from
here.”

“
Okay.” Beck hesitated, then took
Harrison’s card, which Len still held in his hand, and scribbled on
it. “Here’s my cell number, too, if you need to talk to someone
who’s been there.”

“
Thanks, Colonel. Sorry about the scene
in there. See if Lela’s okay, will you?”

“
Just go sober up. And get
help.”

Beck watched as the car sped off, then headed
inside and took the elevator to the third floor. He walked into the
room, and the person speaking halted.

Harrison said, “We’re giving our reasons for
being here. We’ve only covered three people, and I’ll catch you up
later, Colonel.”

Beck nodded and took his seat next to Lela.
She looked over at him and her eyes were bleak, but she hadn’t
cried or left. She was tougher than she looked. But, of course,
she’d been an army medic. “Thank you,” she mouthed and he
nodded.

The spouse of a female marine spoke next. He
was a big teddy bear of a guy. “Dennis Lewis. My wife’s not the
same person since she got back. Actually, I’m afraid to leave her
alone with the kids. We need help, big-time. And she’s not going to
be the one to get it.”

Two firefighters talked about having been
trapped in an elevator that was about to plunge fifty feet. “I
didn’t think we were gonna make it out,” the younger one said. “I
can’t sleep because of the nightmares.”

Next was Lela. Her face was flushed, but she
spoke clearly. “First, let me apologize for Len. I’m
embarrassed.”

Harrison took a bead on her. “Lela, listen to
me. Your husband’s behavior is no reflection on you. He’s sick and
needs help.”

“
Well, y’all know my circumstances.
Len’s why I’m here. We
are
getting a divorce.” She nodded to
the husband of the marine. “My son’s afraid of him. He won’t spend
any time alone with his father, and it breaks Len’s heart. I
encourage him to go to Len’s parents’ house, so they can supervise,
and that’s what Josh does now.”

“
How about you, Lela?” Harrison asked.
“What do you do?”

“
I’m a trauma nurse at Memorial
Hospital. Sophia Ramirez told me about this group. I was an army
medic for five years, too, and made NCO status. I met Len over
there. I left the service when I got pregnant, but Len stayed in
for five more years. He’s been home about two years, and things
have gone from bad to worse.”

“
A lot to contend with,” Harrison
commented. His gaze transferred to Beck. “Colonel?”

Beck’s heart started to gallop. His brow got
sweaty. Subtle physical reactions happened whenever he talked about
his experiences in the war. “Beckett Sloan. People call me Beck.
Career soldier. Now a firefighter. Haven’t had an episode since I
joined the department, but before that, I was…” he glanced to the
door “…a lot like the Staff Sergeant.”

o0o

“
Can I walk out with you, Beck?” Lela
addressed him as soon as the group ended. His face was lined with
more fatigue than when they’d arrived.