More Than a Touch (Snowberry Creek #2) (6 page)

“I’m sorry, Zoe.”

She looked up from the file she was studying. “For what?”

“For whatever happened this afternoon that knocked the wind out of your sails.”

At first she just stared at him, her mouth open but with no words coming out. Finally, she sighed. “Thanks, Leif, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t tough.”

She looked up again from her paperwork, her expression stark and sad. “No, it sure doesn’t.”

•   •   •

Two hours later, Leif turned into the driveway and slowed the truck down to a crawl to avoid throwing up any gravel that could chip the paint job. When the front wheel hit a pothole with a hard lurch, he cursed. Damn, he hoped that fixing the heavily rutted driveway was near the top on Callie’s list of things to do to Spence’s house. The place wasn’t exactly home, but it was the closest thing to it that Leif had these days.

Right now, he would’ve settled for a foxhole as long as he could stretch out and not have to move for the rest of the day. At least he’d have the weekend to recover before having to do it all again.

He parked next to Nick’s truck and tried to muster up enough energy to climb down out of the cab. Damn, his leg hurt so badly right now that he would’ve had to pencil in a few extra numbers on Zoe’s pain scale to come close to how it felt. The only thing that had him opening the driver’s-side door was the knowledge that once he got inside the house he could take one of his pain pills and veg out on the couch until the throbbing subsided.

Leif slid down to the ground. Hell, when had the truck gotten so high? He hit the ground with a jolt, setting off another string of curses. Rather than give in to the pain, he concentrated on making it as far as the sidewalk in front of the porch.

Mission accomplished. The steps presented the next obstacle. Bracing himself with the cane, he counted them off as he hauled his ass upward and onward: one, two, three. Objective achieved. Now all that stood between him and comfort was the distance from the front door to the kitchen and then back to the couch.

As soon as the screen door slammed shut behind him, Nick stepped out of the kitchen with a pill bottle in one hand and a can of root beer in the other. “Get yourself settled on the couch, soldier, and I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Damn, there were times Leif really loved that man. Any other day, he might have growled about being fussed over, but right now all he felt was grateful. He changed directions and hobbled straight for the couch. Mooch trailed after him but hung back far enough to avoid getting in Leif’s way.

As soon as he was settled in with his leg propped up on a pillow, the dog jumped up on the couch and carefully maneuvered until he was stretched out next to Leif, his head within easy petting distance.

Leif obliged him.

Mooch had saved all their asses one night in Afghanistan when he inexplicably joined their patrol in time to sound the alarm that they were about to walk into an ambush. The mutt had taken one for the team that night. Spence had been the one who insisted that they make Mooch an unofficial member of their squad, but in truth the dog had actually adopted all of them.

Whenever they’d come back in from a tough day, he’d be waiting with a friendly wag of the tail and doggy kisses for anyone who needed them. If anyone ever bottled the restorative power of canine love, he’d be a rich man overnight.

Nick popped the top on the soft drink and handed it to Leif. “How many pills do you want?”

“The whole damn bottle,” Leif muttered as he held out his hand, “but I’ll settle for one. No, make it two.”

“It was that bad, huh?”

“Worse.” Leif swallowed the pills and washed them down with half the can of root beer. “My leg hurts like hell, but Isaac and Zoe both warned me I wouldn’t feel like going out clubbing tonight. And here I was going to dazzle you and Callie with all my best moves.”

Nick plunked down in the closest chair. “Well, that is disappointing, especially considering I don’t remember ever seeing you do anything out on the dance floor that could be described as dazzling. Bizarre, maybe. Definitely herky-jerky, but never dazzling.”

Leif held up his middle finger in salute. “Liar. I have mad skills, or at least I did. You’re the one who always hid in the middle of a crowd so none of us could see what a crap dancer you are and make fun of you.”

Nick dragged the ottoman closer to the chair and put his feet up, clearly settling in for a while. “Not true. I didn’t want to make the rest of you look bad. Especially Spence.”

That was true. “I’ll concede that he was the worst of the bunch. After a couple of beers, he’d ask some poor woman to dance. There he’d be, arms and legs flying every which way like a marionette being operated by a drunken puppeteer.”

They both chuckled at the memory, which felt good. Wheels’s death had torn both of them up pretty badly, but Spence wouldn’t have wanted either of them to wallow in their grief. He’d want to be remembered with laughter, not tears.

Or guilt, for that matter, but too bad. Leif was alive only because Spence was dead. That was a fact. Maybe time would eventually soften the edges of Leif’s regret, kind of like the way the pills he’d taken didn’t actually make the pain disappear, but made it bearable. He hoped so.

Nick dragged Leif’s attention back to the present. “So how did it go today? And don’t try to bullshit me. I want the truth.”

Leif shifted so that his head rested on the arm of the couch. The narcotic was definitely kicking in, enough to make it hard to stay awake.

“Isaac showed no mercy, but I shouldn’t complain.”

Nick laughed. “Since when has that stopped you?”

“True enough, but at least I got to keep my leg. He’s working with a couple of guys who weren’t that lucky.”

Rather than dwell on how close he’d come to joining that particular club, though, Leif kept talking. “Starting Monday, I’ll be seeing him three times a week for a while. I’ve also got a list of god-awful exercises to do here at the house the rest of the time. Mostly stretches for now.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

Leif pried one eye open to glare at his friend. “That’s because I’m not. I’m also pretty sure that in a prior life Isaac honed his skills working for the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Sounds as if I’d like the man. But, Corporal, if you slack off on what he tells you to do, I’ll kick your ass for you. Repeatedly.”

Now that was the Nick Leif knew and loved. “That’s some motivational speech, Sarge. Seriously, I think you should embroider that on a pillow or some such shit.”

His friend took a different tack. “I could always put a chart on the fridge and give you a gold star every day you do them. Maybe buy you an ice-cream cone when you’ve earned a few. Does that work better for you?”

Leif stared up at the ceiling and pretended to give the matter some hard thought. “Yeah, all things considered, it does. Or maybe instead of ice cream, you could spring for a steak dinner when I’ve earned a month’s worth.”

“Whatever works, Leif. I want to help.”

He didn’t have to look at Nick to know he suffered from the same guilt that plagued Leif, but his was twofold. Nick had been in charge the day their M-ATV had hit an IED. Nick had a nasty scar on his arm to show for his efforts, but they both knew he’d gotten off light. All things considered, so had Leif. He’d come out of it with a fucked-up leg; Spence had died that day.

“I love you, too, Sarge. Now go away and let me sleep.”

Mooch, ever sensitive to his people’s moods, jumped down off the couch and followed Nick out of the room. Leif missed the warm press of the dog against his leg, but right now Nick needed Mooch more than Leif did.

He hated the way the pain pill fogged up his mind, but he didn’t try to fight it this time; he just let sleep claim him.

C
hapter 6

Z
oe dumped her purse and keys on the kitchen counter. What a bitch of a day. It had started off all right but had gone to pieces by the end of the afternoon. She hated—HATED—losing a patient. Granted, Mr. Wolfe hadn’t actually been one of her usual clients. He preferred to see the “real” doctor instead of a nurse practitioner even for something as simple as a sinus infection. She never took it personally. Not much, anyway.

At least Dr. Tenberg had been there within minutes of Mr. Wolfe’s arrival. Zoe had finished taking the man’s vitals and was only too glad to step aside and let the doctor take over. The EMTs had arrived in less than ten minutes to whisk Mr. Wolfe off to the hospital.

He’d gone into full cardiac arrest on the way, dying shortly after they’d arrived at the emergency room. Maybe he would’ve survived if his wife had taken him straight to the hospital, but maybe not. Second-guessing anyone’s actions at this point wouldn’t change a thing.

For certain, the man’s death would have far-reaching implications for the town. After all, his company was the single biggest employer in the immediate area. And yet she was far more concerned about Mrs. Wolfe. How was she taking the loss of her husband? She had to be devastated. After all, they had to have been married for thirty-plus years.

While they’d been waiting for her husband to be transported to the hospital, the woman had hovered in the corner. She’d looked so darn fragile, as if the slightest touch would shatter her. The couple had a daughter, but Melanie no longer lived in Snowberry Creek. There was no telling how soon she would arrive to help her mother deal with everything.

Again, not Zoe’s crisis to solve. She and the Wolfe family had never moved in the same social circles, and it had been years since she’d seen Melanie. Right after high school, Zoe had gotten her nursing degree and then joined the army, returning to Snowberry Creek only after her enlistment was up.

She was proud of her service to her country, but those years had definitely left their mark. Without warning, memories of Iraq would come flooding back. So much blood. Wounds that no amount of nursing care could ever heal.

She shivered. The small movement snapped her out of the past. Looking around, she realized she’d been standing in the middle of the kitchen floor for nearly ten minutes. Damn, she hated losing chunks of time like that. She’d been doing so much better lately, but every so often something happened that triggered another episode.

It didn’t help that her day had ended watching Leif Brevik struggle to do even the simplest of the exercises that Isaac had asked him to try. By the end of the session, Leif’s shirt had been soaked through with sweat, and he’d been panting as if he’d been running a marathon instead of dragging himself up a few steps.

He hadn’t appreciated her being there, either. Once, when he stumbled a bit, she’d rushed to help steady his footsteps. Leif had snarled and jerked his arm out of her grasp, making it very clear he didn’t want her assistance. He obviously didn’t have the same issue with Isaac propping him up, so it had to be something about her.

Right after that, she’d left. The stubborn idiot! She’d only wanted to help. Of course, some guys had that macho jerk thing going where they couldn’t appear weak in front of a woman. How stupid was that? She was there as a medical professional, not someone he was interested in impressing.

Well, for the time being she’d leave him to Isaac’s tender mercies. The therapist would keep her posted on Leif’s progress or if there were any problems with his treatment plan. Still, it was a crappy ending to an even crappier day.

She opened the freezer and picked out a frozen dinner at random and read the label: frozen mystery meat with frozen vegetables smothered with some unidentifiable sauce. Yum. She couldn’t wait. Maybe she should’ve accepted Brandi’s invitation to go out for pizza, but it was too late now.

After programming the right time into the microwave, she punched the
START
button and headed for her bedroom to strip off her clothes. Tonight was definitely a time for the comfort of her favorite flannel pajama bottoms and oversized T-shirt.

After shoving her feet into her bunny slippers, she shuffled back to the kitchen just as the bell pinged, announcing that her dinner was ready. As tempting as it was to stand over the sink and eat it right out of the container, she took the time to set a place for herself at the table. After dumping the steaming mess onto her plate, she opened the fridge and considered which wine went best with a frozen dinner.

She settled on the red simply because it was sitting in front and easy to reach. At least she had enough class left to drink it from a wineglass instead of straight from the bottle. After all, a woman had to have some standards, didn’t she?

Before taking a bite, she lifted her wineglass and offered a toast in memory of Mr. Wolfe and his family. “May he rest in peace.”

Then as an afterthought, she added, “And Leif, I hope you can see past the pain to the possibilities.”

Because if he could, maybe—just maybe—she could do the same.

•   •   •

Monday morning rolled around all too quickly. Making good on his threat, Nick had posted a hand-drawn chart on the front of the fridge. The squares were a bit crooked and the writing nearly impossible to read, thanks to Sarge’s illegible scrawl, but the important part was that Leif had earned four gold stars over the weekend.

Right after dinner last night, Sarge had produced the chart and then added the four stars to it with great ceremony and a speech that was supposed to be inspirational. To top it off, Callie had presented Leif with a bowl filled with two huge scoops of ice cream with all the fixings.

Even now, the memory made Leif grin. He would’ve been happier with just the ice cream and no hoopla, but he appreciated the fact that Nick and Callie had made the effort. It had been tempting to bring the chart to his appointment with Isaac, figuring the other man might get a kick out of it.

Zoe would, too, but Leif wasn’t supposed to see her today. He’d been a bit of a jerk to her on Friday. He regretted his actions, but he’d reacted instinctively. It was hard enough having Isaac hovering nearby.

Besides, he didn’t want Zoe to think of him as damaged goods. Stupid, he knew, but he was getting sick and tired of even total strangers staring at him with pity and curiosity as he hobbled around.

He pulled into the clinic parking lot and drove around back, to the door of the physical therapy department. Since he wasn’t seeing Zoe today, he didn’t need to check in with the front desk.

Isaac looked up and waved as soon as Leif walked in. “Stow your gear and hop up on that table over there. I’ll get Mitch here situated and be right with you.”

As soon as Leif got himself settled on the table, one of the assistants joined him. After helping him remove his boot, she put some heat on his leg to get the muscles warmed up.

“Do you want some magazines to read?”

Leif smiled at the young woman. “Thanks, but I brought a book this time.”

She left him to read in peace while she moved on to another patient. The place was busier today than it had been on Friday afternoon. Leif tried to focus on his mystery, but all the activity was too much of a distraction. He finally gave up and marked his place.

Isaac was still sitting with the same patient. Whatever the two men were talking about had to be some serious shit. Maybe Isaac was giving another rendition of his patented “get serious or don’t waste my time” lecture.

For sure, the other guy’s body language reeked of resentment, with a touch of “fuck off” thrown in for good measure. Isaac, on the other hand, wasn’t putting up with it any more than he had with Leif. His deep voice rang out across the room.

“Fine, Mitchell, sit here and do nothing if that’s what makes you happy. When you decide you’re ready to get to work, let me know. Until then, I’m going to be over there with my man Corporal Brevik.”

Isaac stalked away, leaving the other patient glaring at his back in frustration. Embarrassed for the other man, Leif opened his book again and pretended an interest he certainly didn’t feel. While he stared at the page, it dawned on him that the other man looked familiar for some reason. Maybe he’d seen him around town.

Before he could place him, Isaac appeared at his side. “So, Corporal, how did you do with your exercises over the weekend?”

Leif sat up taller. “I’m bunking with my sergeant here in Snowberry Creek. The jerk made me a chart and gave me a gold star for each time I did them.”

Then he added proudly, “I earned a bowl of ice cream for all my hard work.”

Isaac’s deep laugh rang out and his mood brightened considerably. “Seriously? That’s some great stuff.”

Then he raised his voice enough that it carried across the room. “At least some of my patients are smart enough to take responsibility for their own rehab, unlike some lazy-assed people I could mention.”

Leif couldn’t help but look to see how the other patient reacted to Isaac’s comment. His embarrassment was obvious, but so was his anger. His hands coiled into tight fists, and if his eyes could have shot bullets, Isaac would’ve been dead. Leif jerked his focus back to his therapist, figuring the other patient didn’t need everyone staring at him. It was hard, though, until Isaac’s big hands started digging into the painful knots in Leif’s leg.

“Son of a bitch, Isaac, that hurts.”

Isaac didn’t ease up on his efforts. “Yeah, Leif, I know. Doesn’t mean it isn’t good for you, but let me know if it gets to be too much.”

Leif nodded and bit his lip. Holding on to the sides of the table, he tried to resist the need to cuss loud and long. He might have given in to the urge if it had been just Isaac and him in the room, but Leif’s mother had raised him better than that, especially when there were women present.

Isaac’s dark eyes were sympathetic. “I know this hurts, but the muscles are actually not as tight as they were on Friday.”

It sure as hell didn’t feel like it, but Leif gritted his teeth and didn’t complain. Not out loud, anyway. After a few more minutes of legalized torture, Isaac stopped. He flexed his hands as he looked around the room.

“Think you can handle a little time on the exercise bike over there? I’m thinking low resistance and going slow, aiming to stretch things out a bit more but without putting too much stress on the leg.”

“You’re the boss.”

Leif slung his legs over the side of the table and gingerly eased down to the floor. He hadn’t done much walking without the boot’s support, so he held his breath and waited to see if his leg would hold up under his weight. It was dicey at first, but the first step was the hardest. After that, he managed to find his balance as he slowly shuffled across the short distance.

Isaac matched his steps to Leif’s, staying close enough to rescue him if necessary. A slug could’ve crawled across the floor faster, but at least Leif reached the bike on his own. Wow, what a victory. With considerable effort, Leif hoisted himself up onto the seat while Isaac set the controls for ten minutes and the lowest resistance the bike offered.

“If it gets to be too much, stop. The idea is to push yourself a little further each time but not so much as to cause more damage. Got that, Corporal?”

Isaac put enough growl in the question to have Leif grinning. “I’ve got it.”

He pushed down on the pedal, wincing when his muscles protested a bit at being stretched beyond their comfort zone. After a few repetitions, though, it became easier and he picked up some speed.

“Slow it down, Leif.”

He should’ve known Isaac would be keeping an eye on him. The man must be attuned to the whir of the bike, because right now he had his back to him. Evidently that other guy had finally decided to cooperate. Good for him.

Leif pulled his MP3 player out of his pocket and lost himself in his music for a while. It gave him something else to think about while he kept spinning the bike pedals. Slow, fast, it didn’t matter. Regardless of the speed, he wasn’t getting anywhere fast, and if that wasn’t a metaphor for his life right now, he didn’t know what was.

•   •   •

Mitch knew he was being a total jackass, but he couldn’t seem to help himself these days. For sure he owed Isaac an apology. He was lucky the big man hadn’t flattened him for a few of the things he’d said.

Luckily, the two of them went way back together, so hopefully the man would cut Mitch some slack. He automatically fell into the same rhythm on his stationary bike as the guy next to him. Isaac had referred to him as Corporal something or another. At the time, Mitch had been too pissed about his own situation to pay much attention to anyone else.

He risked a quick peek at the soldier’s left leg and winced. Damn, the poor bastard’s lower calf looked as if someone had carved a road map in it using scar tissue. That had to have hurt.

At least the new scars on his own right knee were tidier. The surgeons had told him he was damn lucky they managed to repair the damage this time. One more hit like that last one and he could be looking at a total knee replacement.