It Had To Be You (4 page)

“
Meet anyone interesting?”

Unusual green eyes came to mind. “Yeah, a
former soldier turned firefighter.”

“
Would it be Beck?”

“
Beckett Sloan, yes. How’d you
know?”

“
He took Tony’s place on the Rescue
Squad when Tony made lieutenant and went to Group 2.” Now the
woman’s eyes danced. “Beck’s a looker.”

“
Oh, you should talk, married to
America’s most beautiful man in the world.”

“
Did I hear my name
mentioned?”

Both women glanced up to see Tony standing
before them in his light blue uniform shirt. He was startlingly
handsome with dark hair and eyes and a smile to die for. “Hello,
carina.”
Bending over he gave Sophia a not-so-demure
full-mouthed kiss. For a moment, Lela was stunned by the notion
that she hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time, if ever. They
seemed to absorb each other.

Straightening, he smiled at Lela. “Hi,
Lela.”

They made small talk, then Lela’s cell rang.
“Lela here.”

An on-duty nurse in ER said, “Incoming, bad
car accident.”

“
Be right there.” Lela disconnected and
stood. “Gotta go. Car accident. Take care.” And she was
off.

She made it to the ER just as two
firefighters wheeled in a stretcher. One guy—Zach Malvaso—said,
“Give the report, Beck.”

Oh!

Beckett Sloan began without hesitation.
“Vehicle accident. Victim was trapped. BP 150 over 200. Cuts and
bruises, lacerations on the face. Possible head injury.”

“
Got him,” Christian Singer, a calm and
dependable doctor, said. He was one of her favorite coworkers. “ER
4, Lela.” He looked at the firefighters. “Thanks, guys.”

Lela and a second nurse pushed the gurney to
ER 4, followed by the firefighters, who needed their equipment
back. Once they retrieved the gurney, they left the room.

“
Okay, Lela, check his vitals again.”
Christian’s blue eyes twinkled at her. “Not that I don’t trust
America’s Bravest.”

“
Yes, sir,” she joked.

“
Oh, Lord, can the
sir
stuff. It
makes me feel old.”

Christian was easy to be with, too. He was
forthright, had a great sense of humor, and he was particularly
sweet to her.

A half hour later, the injured man went up
for surgery on his spleen. Christian accompanied him, to make sure
they got the right information, and Lela made her way back to the
ER. Surprisingly, she found Beckett Sloan at the desk. “Hey. You
stayed?”

“
Yeah, we phoned the station house. We
only have a half hour left on our tour, so they said we could go to
a call from here if we had to. We, um, wanted to see how the victim
made out.”

“
CT showed no brain injury. He needs to
have his spleen removed, though. He’s in surgery right now.” She
glanced around. “Where’s Zach?”

“
He found somebody he knew and went to
get coffee. I said I’d text him about the patient.” Beck shook his
head. “I swear, those Malvasos are friends with everybody in
town.”

She smiled. He returned it. “Where’s your
coffee?”

“
I was hoping you’d take pity on me and
get me a cup.” His eyes danced a bit, and Lela was surprised at the
taciturn man in good humor.

“
I’d love to.”

Beck pulled out his phone. “Let me text Zach
first.”

Nodding, she said to the desk, “I’ll be in
the lounge.”

They headed down a corridor to the staff
room. Compact and clean, the space was about twelve by twelve,
painted light blue with comfortable sofas and chairs. “Black?” she
asked as she went to the pot.

“
Yes.” Like she took hers.

They settled on adjacent couches. For the
first time, she noticed he was in a navy T-shirt and bulky pants.
He looked…good…though his face was somber. “Any fallout from last
night?”

She shook her head. “No, Len didn’t come to
my house or contact me. I’m glad because when Len makes a scene, it
hurts Josh, my seven-year-old.”

“
I have a boy who’s ten.” He scowled
this time. “My episodes did the same thing to him.”

“
I’m sorry. I’m coming to see that it’s
hard on both sides.”

He glanced at the clock. “Who watches him
when you work?”

“
I have a night sitter. Mrs. Campoli.
She’s a godsend.”

“
No family in town?”

“
No family at all. I’m an only child.
You?”

“
My parents live near West Point, where
my father consults. He was army, too. I don’t see them much, but my
brother is here.” Now he smiled, and it did something to his whole
visage. His eyes crinkled at the corners, their unusual green color
twinkling in the overhead lights.

Her insides turned soft. “You love him.”

“
I do; but more so, I owe him my life.
He’s helped me…a lot with this…thing.”

She thought of how hard it must be for such a
strong, brave man to be out of control sometimes. But she said,
“Family can be invaluable. I’m glad you have him.”

Lazing back, he crossed a knee over his
ankle, revealing rubber boots. The gear seemed dwarfed by his big
frame. “So, what time do you get off?”

“
Seven.”

“
What will you do after
work?”

“
Go home, get Josh on the school bus,
shower and go…”

When she hesitated, he arched a brow.

“
I volunteer at the Veteran’s Outreach
Shelter on Collins Ave. It houses thirty-eight vets.”

“
Do you volunteer as a nurse or regular
helper?”

“
Nurse. I do screenings for diabetes
and blood pressure, dispense some over-the-counter medicine and
treat minor cuts and bruises.”

“
That’s a big thing to tackle with a
kid and a full-time job, which apparently requires some night
shifts.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but I really like being
there. And I can help. There’s a young man who assists me in the
clinic. He’s not making any progress with their counselors, but he
opens up a bit to me. I worry about him.”

“
Any specific problems?
Injuries?”

“
Severe depression, which caused him to
leave his home with his wife and move into the shelter.”

“
That’s too bad.”

“
It gets worse. He got close to an IED
in a backpack an insurgent was carrying. Nick lost his foot.” She
bit her lip. “And his face is badly scarred.”

Contrary to moments ago, the bleakest eyes
she’d ever scene stared back at her. “I hate those stories.” He
sighed. “Did you ever hear one of those go off?”

She nodded. “It sounds like a tornado.”

“
I know soldiers are injured just from
the effect of the blast, even if they don’t get blown apart by
one.” Just then his cell rang. “Must be Zach.” He seemed relieved
to end the gloomy topic. “Sloan…okay…uh-huh.” Clicking off, he
stood up. “Gotta go.”

She nodded. He crossed to the door but turned
after he opened it. “Thanks for the coffee. And good luck today.
It’s great that you’re helping our guys.”

She said inanely, “Thanks for what you did
over there, Colonel.”

“
Back at you. And make it
Beck.”

When he walked out the door, Lela stared
after him. What an interesting guy. She thought of Sophia’s words.
Yum-my. He’s a looker.

Well, that too, though she hardly noticed men
that way anymore. But she’d noticed him.

o0o

Exhausted, Beck drove home slowly from the
station. Too bad he wouldn’t sleep after the shift. That was his
nemesis now. He’d read the literature—a common symptom of PTSD was
insomnia. Interesting, though, he slept at the firehouse when he
was on the night shift, with only occasional nightmares that made
him get up at three a.m.. Something about belonging, about
security, a shrink would say. Maybe he’d bring it up at the PTSD
group.

As he went in through the garage of his
two-story condo, set his keys precisely where they belonged in the
dish he’d placed next to the phone, he noticed the blinking light
on the answering machine. Crossing the small galley kitchen, he
pressed the button and leaned against the countertop. “Hey, buddy,
it’s me.” His brother Linc. “Just checking in. We miss you since
you moved out. Want to get a beer tonight? Call me back.”

Linc was a software engineer at a local
company in Hidden Cove. He had two boys and a darling wife. When
Beck had first gotten divorced from Patty, Linc had insisted Beck
move in with him and his family. Having a loving family around him
had been a godsend, but Beck had made sure to leave before he’d
become a nuisance.

Next message: “Beck, it’s Patty. Tommy got
detention after school again. Think you could call him at supper
time to talk about it?”

Beck swallowed hard and closed his eyes.
Mostly to block out the image that ambushed him: his son cowering
in the foyer closet while Beck had a flashback to Afghanistan and
broke a mirror, the hall coat tree and his right hand. It was hard
for him now to be around the boy. Was it because he didn’t trust
himself?

“
End of messages.”

Instead of returning the calls, Beck left the
kitchen, bypassed the large living room, with nothing out of place,
and took the stairs to his bedroom. He headed for the shower and
yanked on the faucet as hot as he could stand it. Water always
seemed to calm him, maybe because there was so little in the
desert.

Afterward, he lay down naked on the lake-size
bed, which you could bounce a quarter on, and stared at the ceiling
fan. Sometimes, he’d give his right arm if he could fall asleep
easily.

One shrink had told him, “Think of something
pleasant.”

Huh. What was pleasant in his life? Linc. The
group at the firehouse. The people who’d risked hiring him. For
some reason, his mind went to seeing Lela Allen this morning. She’d
looked cute in her pink scrubs, hair coming out of a braid and a
little fatigue showing in those pretty, brown eyes. He kept that
image in his head and soon his eyes closed.

o0o

Twenty-three-year-old Nick DeBlasio stared
out the window of his new home, counting to one hundred. Sometimes,
occupying his brain was the only thing that got him through the
hour. He used to say,
One day at a time,
but the length that
he could stay sane had shrunk over the six months since he’d come
back from theater. Images of war had bombarded him from day one
when he arrived on American soil, whether he was awake or asleep,
rested or exhausted, stoned or sober. He and his buddy, Billy,
who’d died in that fucking hellhole, used to get high before they
went to theater, and Nick had begun smoking joints again when he
first got home. He hadn’t been stoned since he’d been at the
Veteran’s Outreach Shelter, and he wasn’t sure which was worse, the
hazy drug-induced state turning into the bitter disappointment of
reality and even physical sickness, or facing his problems head on.
In any case, he’d chosen to come to the shelter after living at his
house for only a week got to be too much for him.

“
Nick, hi.”

For a minute, he pretended the voice came
from Amy, his wife, even though he’d screamed at her the last time
he saw her that
he didn’t need her fucking help
and to
leave him the hell alone.
Problem was, he did need her help,
and a lot of others’. Too bad he couldn’t force himself to accept
it.

Turning, he found one of those
others
behind him. Lela Allen, R.N. Dressed simple in blue jeans and a
pretty pink top, she brought sunlight into the room with her. “How
are you today?” she asked.

“‘
Bout the same.” One promise he’d made
to himself was that he’d be honest here. But not whiny.

“
Bad night?”

He nodded. Little Afghan boys with missing
limbs and hopeless eyes had paraded through his unconscious all
night long.

“
I’m sorry.”

“
Were you on the graveyard shift?” he
asked, noticing the smudges under her eyes. “You look
tired.”

“
Afraid so.” She nodded to the clinic
set up for her on her twice-a-week volunteer days. She did routine
checkups, helped plan the menus in a health-conscious way, dealt
with minor things like skin rashes or referred the men to doctors.
And Nick’s chore (all the residents had some) was to help in this
clinic. He’d get things ready and stay with her throughout the
morning because the staff here thought she shouldn’t be alone with
the men.

He didn’t mind the task. He couldn’t work yet
because he wasn’t rehabilitated and still went to physical therapy.
Not that he had much of a future anyway. A gimp couldn’t get a job
in the blue-collar world and businesses wouldn’t hire him because
his face looked like it had gone through a meat grinder. Besides,
the jobless rate was staggering among vets. Limping, he followed
Lela into the small room and didn’t look down at the prosthetic at
the shin of his right foot. The sight of it disgusted him almost as
much as the raw and bumpy skin, which was all the best the doctors
could do after he’d been ambushed by an IED carrier.

As Lela got out supplies from a row of white
cabinets near a big window, and he changed the paper on an
examination bed, she talked. “We had a bad car accident victim come
in last night. It turned out okay, though. The fire department
medics had done a good job.”

He nodded. She didn’t seem to mind if he
didn’t talk, and her voice was soothing. He imagined she calmed a
lot of injured guys over there.