Authors: Lindsay McKenna
Pulling a set of night goggles over his head, he let them rest against his chest. Then, he picked up his M4 and quietly moved to the rear door. He wanted to check in on Lia in her bedroom, but resisted.
Outside, the cooling breeze moved past him as he quietly closed the door behind him. The house stood on a flat plain. In the distance, he saw glimmering sulfur lights along the main. Remaining in the shadows, his M4 in a chest harness, he stood still and listened to the familiar jungle sounds. A few birds squawked, thunder rumbled in the distance, and he saw the flash of lightning many miles west. The breeze felt good against his skin and he carefully perused the jungle tree line. If anyone were going to attack, they would come from that direction, no question. It would be foolish for the drug soldiers to walk up to Lia’s house out in the open.
Pulling up his NVA’s, night vision goggles, he settled them across his eyes and flicked them on. Everything became two-dimensional and a grainy green at that point. But he could see everything. If a shadow moved along that tree line, he’d spot it in a heartbeat. Liking his location at the corner of the house far from Lia’s bedroom, he stood and communed with the night and its silent denizens.
At one point, he saw a jaguar poke his head out of the cover of the tree line, but the cat quickly reversed his course when a dog in the village began howling. Like the shadow he was, the jaguar melted back into the darkness.
Bats were everywhere, flitting across the low-hanging sky. The milky opalescence of the moon filtered through the thinner spots here and there. It was easy to squat back on his haunches, the M4 across his knees, arms on top of it, to watch and listen.
For the next hour, at different points around the house, Cav slowly moved into another position, crouched, waited and watched.
By the time 3
A.M.
arrived, he’d made a full circuit, convinced that the only thing moving were the insects, the bats and predators deep in the jungle.
The dog that had been barking had stopped. The rustle of the leaves against one another as a thunderstorm moved in their direction convinced him to go back inside.
Inside, Cav closed the door, locking it. Frowning, he remained tense as a faraway sound drifted toward him. What was he hearing? Cocking his head, he realized it was coming from Lia’s bedroom, or close to it.
He moved silently down the hall and halted abruptly as he saw Lia. She was in a light blue cotton gown that fell to her knees, and she was walking back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen. Her eyes were wide open.
What the hell?
Cav watched her. Although her eyes were open, she wasn’t blinking. Confused, he wondered if she saw him. She was breathing hard, her hand against her chest, just walking back and forth.
Sleepwalking? Was that it? Cav’s gut tightened over that possibility. Lia’s hair was mussed, making her look very young, and the open neck of her gown revealed her slender collarbones and long neck. Then, he saw long scars on her calves and her arms, which she kept hidden by day.
She was walking to the sink, washing her hands, drying them on a towel, turning and then walking to her bedroom.
He heard her whimper from time to time, saying nothing he could make sense of. Cav watched her wash her hand five times in fifteen minutes. Now, he was convinced Lia was sleepwalking, because if she were really awake, she’d have seen him standing here in the doorway of the kitchen.
Cav felt Lia’s pain. How many times had his mother told him that she’d found him sleepwalking as a child?
Far too many.
Cav never remembered any of those times, but his mother had smiled sweetly at him, fluffed his hair and said that she’d had a conversation with him while he was sleepwalking. Cav never recalled any of those conversations.
He just wished he knew what Lia was whimpering about. Her sounds were like those of an animal caught with its paw in a painful trap. He saw her brow scrunch and heard her breathe fast and hard. Then, she was washing her hands, again and again. What had happened to her?
His mind moved back to those times when his mother would gently tease him at breakfast the next morning. “You were sleepwalking again,” she’d tease, and then asked,” Don’t you remember talking to me?”
Apparently, she’d always ask him where he was going, and he’d reply that he was running away from his father. Where would he go? Anywhere to get away from him.
Cav always felt humiliated and stupid for not remembering, because above all, he believed his mother. She had always been good to him, loving and trying her best to protect him from his druggie dad.
Now, Lia walked back into the bedroom. Should he stand in the kitchen so she would be fully aware of him? Should he talk to her? What would it do? Would it scare the hell out of her? Make her scream? Awaken her?
Cav had researched online the causes of sleepwalking. What he read, he didn’t like. Certain foods, sleep deprivation, traumatic incidents, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, otherwise known as PTSD, could cause it.
Grimly, he wondered how often this occurred in Lia, and how long it had been going on. And of course, she wouldn’t know because sleepwalkers never did.
Cav had learned that when he had a sleepwalking episode, it was hell waking up the next morning. His head felt as if it was caked with mud, and he didn’t even have the strength to pull himself awake. All his senses were distorted, slow to come online, and he felt tired.
As he grew older, he began to see his episodes were directly linked to fights with his father when he would be beaten, yelled at, or hit with that damned thick belt he always wore around his waist.
Was Lia’s sleepwalking due to the trauma of the school burning down? Could it be the loss of her good friends, Maria and Sophia? Cav thought it was entirely possible, based upon his own experiences. A SEAL shrink who had talked to Cav after a harrowing mission had asked him if he ever had such episodes. He didn’t want to tell her, but finally, he admitted to it “once or twice.”
She smiled sympathetically and somehow got inside his head, won his trust and listened to him spill his guts out. He’d been afraid he’d be kicked out of the SEALs, but nothing happened. The shrink had held their conversation private and sacred; she was the first woman he’d ever trusted after his mother.
He owed that SEAL shrink, Dr. Amanda Hunter, a debt of thanks. She told him it was a normal response to being under threat. Some people, she’d told him, acted out what had happened. Some people dreamed about an event time and again until the shock of the incident wore off. Sleepwalking was just another way of doing the same thing if it occurred because of a trauma or shock. It was a way of healing the wound that scarred one’s soul. And by doing that, it was a good thing.
Eventually, most people stopped sleepwalking once they removed themselves from the source of the threat.
Cav had found that true for himself, and to his knowledge, he’d never sleepwalked again after leaving his father’s house.
Now, Cav hoped that Lia had finally gone back to bed. But she hadn’t. Again, she came out of her room in that same trance-like state. It was actually the deepest sleep a human being could know, which is why people never remembered the incident.
He slowly walked into the kitchen, watching her closely for a reaction. Her eyes were glazed, unseeing as she headed to the sink.
“Lia?” he asked softly, “What are you doing?”
She hesitated at the sink, lifting her hands, opening them and slowly turning them in front of herself. “My hands…they’re bloody. The cuts…they hurt so much. I’m bleeding. I need to stop it. I need to wash the blood off…”
“Okay,” he rasped, “go ahead and clean yourself up.”
She opened the faucets, placing her hands beneath them.
Cav watched, distressed, as she washed each finger separately, making whimpering sounds as she did so. The soap dish was there, but she didn’t see it, intent only on washing her hands again and again.
Finally, she stopped, pulled the towel of a nearby hook, and slowly patted them dry.
“Lia? Why are your hands bloody?” He saw her brow draw down, her hands stilling in the towel as she considered his question.
“The men…they attacked me. I thought they were going to kill me. I-I fought back. My hands…my hands are so cut up—,” and she sobbed, gripping them within the damp towel.
“Lia, it’s all right. They’ve stopped bleeding. You’re safe now. The men are gone.” It took everything Cav had to stop from walking that half step forward and pulling her into his arms. But he knew not to touch her. To do so could cause major shock. Talking to the person was okay, but not touching them or trying to awaken them from that deep, unconscious state.
“R-really?” she whispered, pulling the towel away, lifting her long slender hand, studying her fingers as she opened and closed them.
“Yes, they’re fine. You’ve washed the blood off. You need to go to bed now and sleep. Your hands are fine, okay?”
She sighed and placed the towel on the hook. “Okay….” and she turned and shuffled off towards her bedroom.
Cav followed to be sure she indeed got into bed. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, staring off into her own private world.
“I need you to sleep, Lia. Come and lie down, okay? I’ll cover you up.”
“Oh,” she murmured, pushing her palms against her nightgown. “I-I’m cold…I’m always cold now…so cold….”
Cav stepped over to her, knowing she didn’t see him but could only hear him. “Come on, you’ll be warm soon.”
Nodding, Lia lifted her legs and pushed them beneath the sheet and thin blanket. She lay protectively on her side, drawing her knees up toward her chest. Even in the shadowy gray light, Cav could see a long, savage scar that scored her right calf from top to bottom.
He lightly placed the blanket across her shoulders. “There,” he said comfortingly, forcing himself not to touch her as she closed her eyes, burrowing her head into the pillow, gripping it with her hands. “You’ll be fine now, Lia. Go to sleep. Your hands are clean. You’re safe.”
T
he strong aroma
of freshly made coffee made Lia’s nose twitch. She moaned, pressing her head deeper into her pillow, not wanting to wake up. Slowly, she moved her legs outward, giving a luxurious stretch beneath the covers. Her fingers moved against the pillow and she heard other sounds drifting into the opened door of her bedroom. She thought she heard soft classical music drifting from somewhere, but she wasn’t sure.
It felt so good to languish between sleep and wakefulness, and for some reason, she felt safe…really safe. It was an alien feeling to her, and it actually pulled her toward the surface of wakefulness, abandoning the warm cocoon of further sleep.
When she forced open her eyes, she saw sunlight peeking here and there around the drawn blind on her window. Huh! She never slept this long, what was going on? Lia hadn’t slept so deeply in so long that it simply felt luxurious to stay in bed dozing.
She heard a soft knock on her open door and turned her head in that direction. Cav stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee invitingly towards her. Instantly, she felt that strong wave of protection emanating from him, encircling her, shielding her from the dangers that swirled around her.
“Interested in some coffee?” he asked, holding it out to her.
Lia groaned and sat up, suddenly realizing that he could see the scars on her arms. Her first reaction was to grab the sheet and haul it up and over her, but she felt silly even considering it. Her nightgown was sleeveless.
She drew up her knees and whispered, “Yes, but later. I need to wake up. What time is it?” and she twisted toward the bed stand. Her eyes widened when she saw it was eight
A.M.
Oh, my God! She was late!
Before she could leap out of bed, Cav gave her an intense look, walked into her bedroom, and placed the cup of coffee on her night table.
“Relax,” he growled. “Dilara said that she’d meet you at noon over at Tabacon.”
“What?” she murmured, rubbing her eyes confused.
“I talked earlier with Dilara,” he said, halting briefly at the doorway, his hand resting on the jamb. “She said for you to sleep in and take it easy this morning. I’ll drive you over to Tabacon at eleven-thirty.” Cav quietly closed the door, leaving her to get up when she was ready.
Stunned by the turn of events and relieved Cav had closed the door, Lia scooted out of bed. She hung her legs over the edge, her soles connecting with the cooler wooden floor. Reaching gratefully for the fragrant coffee, she slid it between her hands, taking small sips. It tasted so good!
Outside, she heard the jungle sounds of morning. Her mind bucked and resisted, urging her to return to sleep.
Glancing at the clock, Lia realized she had slept nearly twelve hours and she’d had no nightmare. Thank God for that! She lived in abject fear that she’d start screaming, scare the hell out of Cav and embarrass herself. She needed to warn him about that, but she’d been too tired last night.
Humming with pleasure, she closed her eyes, sipped the coffee, and realized that for once she didn’t have to rush off to work. Then, she was struck with the memory of her loss of Maria and Sophia. Her two friends had been brutally murdered.
Her mind jolted awake and she realized that Cav had been sleeping out on that couch in the living room. He was her “guard dog.” Lia, while appreciating his adherence to his responsibilities, still wasn’t comfortable with him being in her home. Could she convince Robert Culver to change the PSD orders? But then, how could he keep her safe? She’d met Medina twice, and a cold shudder worked through her.
Cav was definitely the lesser of two evils. In fact, in her heart she knew Cav was the opposite of evil. Not only was he being paid to shield her and put his life on the line for her, he had also looked at her this morning with real caring and tenderness. It had surprised her, and his mouth, usually thinned, was more relaxed.
Cav was just too good-looking, Lia decided with a sigh, feeling the coffee working its magic on her drowsy brain. He had changed into a dark green polo shirt that stretched across his powerful shoulders and chest. Today, he wore jeans instead of chinos, and they hugged his lower body in the most delicious way.