Waiting for You(43)

There were flashes of joy in her awareness—a joy that seemed bigger than she was.

And then there were moments of fear, fear that nearly overwhelmed her.

Real thoughts began to articulate themselves, like questions surfacing slowly to the top of a magic eight ball. And eventually all her questions coalesced into one.

What was she going to do?

From the time she was a teenager she’d planned out her life like a general waging a campaign, with short and long-term strategies carefully laid out. She’d be self-employed, so she could be her own boss and decide when and where and how she worked. She’d live alone, so she wouldn’t have to depend on roommates or housemates for anything.

And she would never be like her mother, who lived at the mercy of her whims and impulses—and the vagaries of male desire.

She’d achieved her goals. She had everything she’d planned for. She could hold her life in the palm of her hand—everything under control, every unknown variable contained.

Jake was the only unpredictable force in her carefully managed existence. When it came to him, all her common sense went out the window.

Now one night of passion had changed her life forever—and Jake wasn’t even here. He’d left Iowa—and her—without looking back.

She put her head in her hands.

She couldn’t blame Jake for this. He’d been up front with her from the beginning. He’d told her he didn’t want a relationship—he’d even told her he couldn’t stay the night. And after what had happened, she understood why.

Even now, with the fabric of her life torn to shreds, her memory of that night slammed into her like a tsunami. His hands, his mouth, his body on hers…despite the painful way things had ended, when morning came, she hadn’t regretted what had happened. At least she’d had one moment of glorious madness in her life, one passionate encounter to remember and cherish.

She would always be glad that her first time had been with Jake.

Her first and only time. And she’d gotten pregnant?

Sudden indignation at the unfairness of it made her sit up straight. She looked at the pregnancy test one more time before dropping it deliberately in the trash. Then she got up off the toilet seat and went to pace her living room.

How had this happened?

They’d used protection…but they’d also fallen asleep while Jake was still inside her. Had the condom leaked? Or…

Condoms sometimes broke. If theirs had, would she even have known? She didn’t have anything to compare the experience to.

Suddenly sick of her empty, silent house, she went out the front door and sat down on her steps. It was quiet outdoors, too, but at least she could see further than the four walls surrounding her.

She sat there for a long time.

It was a beautiful day. How long had it been since she’d just sat still like this, looking out at the world?

It was easy to forget how big the sky was…how far the horizon.

She took in a deep breath. The truth was, she’d never know why this happened. She only knew that it had.

And that she had some decisions to make.


Jake shifted in his chair and glanced at his watch for the tenth time in five minutes. Why the hell had he agreed to this appointment? He’d come down to Texas to help Paul, not put himself through this crap.

“Why do you think you’re so resistant to this process?” Dr. Mitch Sorenstein asked.

They were sitting in armchairs by a picture window. The office was big and open, full of light, but Jake still felt trapped.

He shrugged irritably. “I just don’t think every veteran needs counseling. Soldiers have been going to war for thousands of years. You think the men who fought in the Revolutionary War came home and got therapy? They came home to their farms and tried to make a damn living.”

Mitch nodded. “Yes, that’s true. Also, limbs were amputated without the benefit of anesthesia, blacks could be owned as property, and women weren’t allowed to vote. Don’t you think that some of the progress we’ve made in the last few hundred years could be called change for the better?”

Before meeting Mitch, Jake thought shrinks were bland and cautious and never told you what they thought. But Mitch had plenty of opinions and wasn’t afraid to share them.

“Look, I’m not saying this crap…sorry, process…can’t help some people.”

“But not you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need help. You want to know who needs help? The guys lying in hospital beds with their arms and legs blown off.”

He surged to his feet suddenly, holding his arms out. “If you’re looking to help a veteran, go find one who left a piece of himself behind. I don’t have a mark on me.”