Jane's Long March Home (10 page)

*

Chase couldn’t keep his eyes off Jane as she hovered protectively over his littlest surprise boarder. Together they made breakfast, the Marine quietly instructing Abby over a banked campfire.

Dressed in jeans, her usual tank and an oversized blue shirt that matched her eyes, with her hair falling haphazardly around her face, this woman was a far cry from the tense soldier who’d shown up at his ranch a week and a half ago.

Her recovery plan called for recreational activities to help introduce her again into a normal life. A camping trip was the most
normal
activity he’d been able to come up with.

Admittedly, most people didn’t go camping on horseback, but with this little trip in mind, he’d begun researching equine assisted therapy for post traumatic stress disorders in returning veterans. He’d wanted to find out if the modality would help the woman firing off his senses as if there could be no tomorrow without her, and had been pleasantly surprised by how much information there was on the net.

A campground that allowed horses was close enough to get to by way of a short ride. Hoping to reach Jane in this somewhat unconventional way, he’d worked the horses into her treatment plan.

But, he couldn’t do it alone, so he’d enlisted Gus’ help and spent the days since Maxine delivered the animals, giving riding lessons - lessons the Marine, with her usual endurance, discipline and intelligence, had passed with flying colors.

He’d introduced all three to the beasts, made them spend hours grooming and getting to know the personalities of their respective mounts. All the while, thinking...

Thinking what? That he could be more than Jane's therapist? That she somehow fit his idea of the perfect woman?

Her arrogant, brooding edginess should have been a solid put-off. He liked his woman soft, feminine and easy on the senses. The Marine was definitely not that. Unfortunately, her courage and headstrong determination was sexier than any traditional female archetype he’d thought, before meeting her, was the kind of woman he might someday marry.

She was tough as nails; her emotions locked up where no one could get to them. But when she opened up enough to allow Abby and Bobby inside her defensive walls, how could he resist the attraction?

Before she'd shown up, his life had been organized exactly the way he wanted. Quiet. Uneventful. Without undo responsibility. Then, she’d arrived on his doorstep and all but dragged him back into the profession he’d given up.

Inexplicably, he wanted more. Something elusive he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

After failing his brother, Chase had been afraid to be responsible for anyone else and their mental health. Thanks to Jane, whether he ever went back into private practice or not, she’d forced him to face what was done, and then, begin to trust himself to do the right thing. If he didn’t accept the truth of that, how could he expect her to?

Jane’s delighted laughter at Abby’s attempt to cook shot straight to his besieged heart.

“Here’s your breakfast.” Abby brought him a plate. It was piled high with potatoes, scrambled eggs and fried bread. She fairly danced in her excitement. “I helped cook it.”

“I saw that.” He took the plate from the child and couldn’t help smiling as she raced, as fast as her cast would let her, back to Jane to get her own food.

They brought their plates to the half-moon arrangement of logs he'd set up. A still yawning Bobby joined them.

It took two to tango – his mother's saying, not his. Chase pushed away the image of him and Jane learning each other’s moves.

If this little adventure worked, she’d be gone from his life, and back in the one she'd almost destroyed. 

Abby plunked down next to Jane, barely giving the smiling woman elbow room. With one exploring finger, she tentatively touched the bracelet he’d never seen the Marine without. “I like your bracelet.”

The flat, hammered piece of metal on a long, narrow knotted strip of worn leather wound around her wrist multiple times as though it’d originally been made to be a necklace.

Jane looked down and froze. Her eyes glazed over. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Chase swore and moved fast, barely saving her plate from falling to the ground. Squatting in front of her, he placed it on the log beside her.

A flashback. Not uncommon in returning vets. Having no rhyme or reason, anything could set them off.

He cupped her knee so she would know he was there, and that he cared. Perhaps more than he should. Definitely not in a you’re-my-client, I’m-your-therapist kind of way.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

But, was he?

CHAPTER

XI

“W
hat’s wrong with Miss Jane?” Abby's voice shook.

“Bobby, get Jane a blanket.” Chase took both her fists, rubbing his thumbs urgently over her white knuckles.

Behind him, the horses stomped, blowing air out their nostrils. She blinked, then blinked again. He knew of only one way to break the flashback’s hold on her. Practical, reassuring words to remind her where she was.

“Jane, you’re having a flashback. You’re safe at the campground. I’ve got a hike planned for later, but first we’ll finish eating and take care of the horses. You and...Pete made a fine breakfast this morning.”

Bobby quickly returned, a blanket balled up in his arms. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Wrap her in it. Pete, can you help? Stay close to her.”

Chase had to give the kids credit. Though they looked scared, they didn’t panic.

After dragging the blanket around Jane’s shoulders, Pete...Abby leaned against the Marine’s arm. Bobby closely guarded her other side.

“Come back Jane. You can do it.”

A shudder racked her stiff body. She briefly met his gaze, then leaned forward, and laid her forehead against his galloping heartbeat. Her hands shook. His almost did too.

He slipped his arms around her in a crushing hold that threatened to never let go. Silky hair brushed his chin. The tremor that snaked through her stiff body nearly undid him. Never had he been so gut-wrenching effected by the sight of one of his patients experiencing a side effect of their time on the battle field.

“I can’t go back, can I?” Her voice was a broken whisper.

He knew exactly what she was asking, and he ached for her. Too much to keep his vaulted objectivity. He rushed to reassure her with what he hoped was the truth. “You can.”

“The flashbacks are getting worse.” Her shoulders slumped.

“That’s because you’re starting to heal.”

“I don’t want to put my buddies in jeopardy.”

For the first time, she sounded defeated. Chase tightened his arms around her. He couldn’t leave the courageous lady alone in that dark place. Rashly, he told her, “You won’t. I promise.”

He felt the sharp intake of her breath as though he were the one fighting for air. She raised her head, looking at him so full of self-doubt, it cut deep into his heart.

“How can you know that?”

He took her by the shoulders. “We’ll give you the tools you need to fight your way back.”

To his surprise, he
wanted
her to lean on him, take what strength she could from him. Never had he needed to help a patient overcome their demons the way he did with this inspiring woman. It brought him up short.

She studied him for a long moment, the panic and doubt gripping her lithe body starting to recede. “What do I have to do?”

 He didn’t want to leave her, but he motioned her to stay where she was. Taking several searching steps toward the fire, Chase found what he was looking for.

When he returned, her gorgeous blues had cleared of the horrific images he was sure were sharper than the day she’d gone through the terrifying events. His stoic Marine was back, which could be a good or bad thing, depending on how she reacted to his next suggestion.

It was a little unorthodox out here in the middle of ranching wilderness, and with the kids looking on, but he had to take a shot while she was willing to give anything a try.

She'd angled an arm around Abby. He handed her the slender stick he’d picked up. “Draw a picture of Linus in the dirt here.”

She frowned. “I can’t.”

“You can.” He squatted in front of her, leaving room between them for the drawing.

For a long second, all he could see was a beautiful woman who hurt beyond anything he could imagine. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and make it all better.

He cleared his throat. “Tell us about Linus while you draw.”

Bobby hovered nearby, his eyes locked on her face, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. Abby wiggled into a comfortable position on Jane’s lap.

The lady had no idea how much the kids had grown to care about her. How much
he
cared about her.

“What if I have another flashback?”

She was breathtaking. A stubborn survivor. The bravest woman he’d ever met. And, he was fast on his way to being in way over his head.

Before he could make sense out of it all, he had to get her to talk her way out of the foxhole she’d dug herself into. “Concentrate on where you are, the sounds you hear. The campground. The horses. The campfire. Making breakfast with friends. Think about how fresh the air smells. The birds talking. Make a mantra of it. You’re safe, and we’re right here with you.”

She nodded, took a deep breath, then gave Abby a squeeze. “I’m sorry I scared you. Linus was my friend. He gave the bracelet to me for my last birthday.”

She leaned over, keeping the little girl in place on her lap, and began sketching in the dirt.

Shaken by the depth of his feelings, Chase fought for his lost objectivity, struggling to sort his feelings out. How could he see her as just another client, when the crack in her tough shell and her dauntless spirit took the wind right out of his sails?

Determined to play his part, he focused on the drawing emerging on the dirt palate. It was a basic stick drawing, with hair sticking straight out from a long oval head.

Jane was talking, more to herself than her audience. “Linus was ten when I first met him. By then, he’d already been living on the streets of Madrid for two years.”

Bobby edged closer. “Spain?”

She nodded. “His favorite food was goat cheese and olives. That day, I gave him his first chocolate bar. After that, I always had to have one in my pocket.”

She added a baggy tunic and pants, with bare feet sticking out of the wide pant legs.

Abby shivered in her lap. “Something bad happened to him, didn’t it?”

“He was killed.” Jane’s gaze jerked up to his, and he saw the instant she figured it out.

It was terrorists who’d drugged the boy and turned him into a suicide bomber, not lack of diligence on her part. He watched her fight the stark realization and had to catch himself before he fell irrevocably into a situation he couldn’t walk away from.

She dropped the stick and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, breaking their tenuous cord.

“You’re okay.” Abby said in her more adult than little girl way, and wrapped too thin arms around Jane’s neck in silent comfort.

When she drew back, her tiny hand tangled in the chain just visible above the neck of Jane’s tee. Dog tags tumbled free.

Jane’s gaze snapped back to him, seeking answers. Answers she would only find inside herself. When he slowly nodded, the tension she’d carried like a shroud from the moment she arrived on his doorstep, eased from the depths of her eyes.

It turned to something else between them. Something light and - not that he’d experienced it before to know exactly what it was - magical.

Careful, Russell.
 

Without breaking their simmering connection, she spoke to Abby, “Yes, I believe I am going to be okay.”

Bobby stared at the dog tags. “You’re a soldier?”  

She looked over at the boy. “Yes.”

“A Marine?”

“That’s right.”

A look passed between the kids. When Bobby turned back to Jane, unconscious pride lifted his chin. “Our father is a Marine.”

“He is? Where’s he stationed?”

“I don’t know.” The kid squared his shoulders. “Could you help us find him?”

“It’s possible. What’s his name?”

Chase could see the wheels turning in Jane’s head. He’d bet the ranch she was thinking the same thing he was.

Bobby glanced at his sister and hesitated.

“You should tell her.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Jack Malone. Sergeant Jack Malone.”

“Not Jones?”

Bobby kicked at the dirt and remained silent.

“Okay. What about your mother. Where’s she?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, the teenager crossed his arms over his scrawny chest. Watching them go toe to toe gave Chase some insight into what it would be like if she was still around when the kid hit seventeen.

He went motionless at the thought; made a grab for fleeing reality. Jane would be leaving. Soon, if how well she’d recovered from this flashback was anything to go by.

Her calculated shrug had his pulse lurching. “I guess you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“She was killed in a car accident.”

Easy enough to verify. Chase waited, his heart warming as he watched the remarkable woman put her talents to good use.

“I’ll ask around about your dad, but only on one condition.”

Bobby pushed his hands deep into his pants pockets. “What condition.”

“Tell us your name.”

Abby slapped a hand across her mouth. Bobby pinned her with a disgusted look. “You told didn’t you?”

Dropping her gaze in abject misery to her shoes, the little girl nodded.

Jane stood, carrying Abby with her, as if that alone would offer protection against a brother's anger. Chase took a hard punch at the sight. She was just beginning to believe it, but the woman emerging? She really was going to be all right.

Right then, he lost the fight to stay objective, to keep himself aloof from her spell. There was nothing he could do but cross his fingers, and hope he hadn’t taken the biggest fall of his life.

Throwing his shoulders back and stretching to his full height, Bobby, or whoever he was, faced them head on. “My name is Zach. Zach Malone.”

*

For the first time in a long time, Jane felt good. Strong. Like she could take on the skeletons in her closet and win.

Thanks to Chase. She thought of him that way now. In her mind where her restraints had been broken and the fearless Jane Donovan she used to be had been set free.

And, she knew one thing. She was going to have to fire him. Soon. Because he couldn’t be her therapist any longer. Not when what she wanted from him had nothing to do with behavior or cognitive therapy.

She wasn’t totally free of Madrid, but she was closer than she’d been since her arrival on the ranch. When she’d followed his voice back from the dark place the flashback had taken her, he’d promised to be there for her.

What she wanted from Chase Russell was a little play therapy. Oh, not children games. Adult, hot sweaty games that involved bare skin, heavy breathing, and intertwined bodies.

A little voice poked her. Was she the classic patient falling for her therapist? Did it matter? Not really. She’d be leaving soon. With the Doc's blessing.

But before she ran him to ground, she had a couple of kids to take care of. Waiting patiently, she listened for the click of Zach and Abby’s bedroom door, then moved up the stairs on silent feet until she was close enough to hear the murmur of their voices. It probably wasn’t fair to eavesdrop on their conversation, but she’d given up playing fair in Madrid.

Zach wanted her to find his father. If the man could be found, she would.

“You lied.” Abby’s voice was almost too quiet to hear through the door. Jane leaned closer.

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was a short silence. “What if they find out?”

“They won’t.”

Lied? Of course he did, but about what?
 

“Zach?”

“Shh.”

“Do you think Miss Jane can find Pop?”

“Maybe.”

“Should we tell her he flies helicopters?”

“Don’t be a worrywart. I’ll tell her at dinner.”

Jane eased away. In her room she flipped open her cell and dialed. “Johnson? Donovan here. I need a favor.”

 “What can I do for you, Ma’am?”

No hesitation. That was the Corps for you.

“I need you to find a Jack Malone. He could be assigned to an Air Wing.”

“Sure thing. Anything specific you’re looking for?”

“His current duty station, and intel on his family - wife, two kids.”

The click of Johnson’s computer keys brought back good memories. Jane welcomed them, moved to the window to stare at the high desert landscape.

She wondered if the Malone’s marriage had ended in divorce. It wasn’t uncommon in the military. It took a tough spouse to stay married to a soldier. Which was one of the reasons, besides never finding the right guy, why she hadn't gone down that road herself. When it didn’t work, it was often the children who paid the biggest price.

“I can give you his location. I’ll have to get back to you on the rest.”

Johnson was a whiz kid on the computer. If anyone could get answers, it would be the junior Marine.

It took longer than Jane expected for him to locate Malone’s personnel records. The news wasn’t good.