A Soldier's Christmas Read online

  "Oh, my God!" Suddenly her arms were around him, holding him tight. Her voice was whispering in his ear, "No, Seth, no…"

  And inside, all he could feel was glacial ice.

  "It's not the same, Seth. It could never be the same. You don't set out to kill dozens, hundreds, even thousands of innocent civilians simply to make a point. You don't take people hostage and shoot them one by one to make a point."

  "No."

  "You don't wrap explosives around yourself, then climb onto a bus full of men, women and children. You don't hijack airliners or grab entire teams at the Olympics. You don't encourage people to do that. You're not the same at all."

  The ice inside him thawed a bit, but not a whole lot. He still had a lot of ugly memories.

  "You're being too hard on yourself," she said. Her cheek was pressed to his, her lips near his ear, her voice a quiet murmur. "Yes, you've done things that are hard to live with. I'm sure you have. And I'm glad you've done them so I haven't needed to."

  Through the frozen pain, the ice that filled him, he began to feel her womanliness. It was like a small candle flame of heat deep within him, and he needed desperately to reach for it, to turn it into a blaze that would melt away all the awful things within him.

  But she was a guest in this house, the house of his parents. Whatever else he might or might not do, he'd never taken advantage of a woman in his life. He knew better than that.

  But it felt so good to have her arms around him, to feel the soft pressure of her full breasts against his chest. To smell her perfume, rising right from the curve of her shoulder, so close to his lips right now.

  He could have devoured her. He could have clung to her as if she were a life preserver. But his self-control was still intact. As always. So instead, he contented himself with wrapping his arms gently around her slender waist, returning her hug.

  Thanking her for it.

  They stayed that way for a long time. Little by little her fire melted away the iciness, until he began once again to feel warmth within him. It was only a small thaw, but it was a beginning.

  Finally she startled him by kissing his cheek softly. Then she released him and settled back onto the couch. Reluctantly, he let her go, feeling bereft.

  She sighed, as if she, too, felt the loss. "Don't do this to yourself, Seth," she said quietly. "If you're starting to hate what you do, then do something different. But don't be your own judge, jury and executioner, because you're not being fair to yourself."

  Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just worn out. Worn down. Or maybe he just needed to take a good hard look at all the things he'd been burying. Maybe he just needed to let the emotional dam burst, so there'd be room for all the new stuff he was bound to accumulate.

  And maybe he just needed to get over himself.

  "So tell me about teaching," he said, shrugging off his self-pity.

  He had a feeling she withdrew from him a bit then, as if his change of topic had been received as a rebuke. He didn't know how to tell her otherwise, especially when she didn't say anything about it.

  "It's a rewarding job, for the most part," she answered. "It's the best job in the world when I can actually manage to instill some excitement in my classes. If it weren't for this gypsy urge in my blood, I'd probably be content to live and die a teacher."

  "Sounds like a wonderful job. You know, maybe you could get a job teaching overseas. There are American schools everywhere. I bet you could get a job almost anywhere."

  "I've thought about it. The problem is I'd be tied to one place again."

  A chuckle escaped him. "Lady, you've got a significant problem."

  She laughed in response. "Difficult to please, that's me. I want to have my cake and eat it, too. And yes, I've checked into working for cruise lines, but their in-port turnaround is so fast it wouldn't leave much time ashore. A few hours if I'm lucky."

  "Travel agent? Then you'd have an excuse to go to exotic places. You'd have to check them out."

  "That's one thing I haven't considered."

  "Flight attendant?"

  "I don't think I have the patience for that. I can tolerate misbehavior in children, but I'm not very understanding of idiocy in adults."

  He laughed again, realizing that in some odd way this conversation was lifting his spirits. He turned on the couch, raising one leg and leaning against the arm so he could look right at her. "You are indeed a difficult woman." His tone was teasing.

  "I know," she said mock mournfully. "I've got objections to every single thing I've thought of. I guess I'm a perpetual malcontent."

  "But you don't seem discontented."

  "I'm not really." Her voice grew serious. "If I have to, I can live without all the travel. But I may break down and move to a larger town, where I have a choice of more than one movie a night."

  He laughed. "That is a good point."

  "They're talking about putting in a second theater, but I may be gray before they get around to it. Besides, this is a really hardworking town. In the evenings most people are ready to collapse with their families. And I've usually got papers to grade or lessons to plan. It's not like there's a huge demand for entertainment around here."

  "No, I don't suppose there is."

  "It's not like I don't have enough to do, because I do. More than enough. But I feel restless, anyway."

  "Something's missing."

  She nodded. "Exactly. I was even saving for a cruise to Antarctica…until I actually checked into the cost of it. So now I'm saving for a cruise to Alaska. But it won't be the same thing, and I can't quite tell you why."

  He thought about it. "Maybe it's not adventurous enough."

  "That could be." She tilted her head. "Maybe I'm an adventuress," she said jokingly.

  He laughed at that but shook his head. "Adventurer. None of that diminutive stuff. I've had more than enough sensitivity training, and I can tell you, no more actress, waitress, stewardess…"

  "Okay, okay! I didn't know you guys got sensitivity training."

  "Mostly it's race relations stuff, but since Tailhook we've been getting stuff about dealing with the opposite sex, too. Much needed."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because I still know guys who think it would be an insult to them personally if a woman were allowed to try out for the SEALs."

  "What do you think?"

  "If she can do it, more power to her. But if you want my honest opinion, any woman who tries right now is apt to find herself getting twice the crap and ten times the guff."

  "Isn't that always the way?"

  "Sure it is."

  "Well," she said, "I don't want to be a SEAL. I know I don't have what it takes. I want to see the world from a more comfortable viewpoint."

  He laughed again, and realized that he liked, really liked, this woman. She had humor and common sense by the bucketload, and she was beautiful besides.

  And he wanted her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE SILENCE BETWEEN THEM GREW of its own accord. It was as if, at the very same instant, their minds had had the same thought. And between them had sprung this pregnant quiet, a quiet that grew deeper and thicker with each passing instant.

  Maria had never felt like this before. Oh, she'd been attracted to Seth from the instant she laid eyes on him, but that had been only yesterday. And while she'd avoided dating since coming to Conard County, largely because if she married someone here she would be here forever, she had had some hot-and-heavy relationships during her college years.

  But nothing had ever felt like this, as if the whole world were holding its breath, waiting. Instead of growing tense with expectation and anticipation, she felt herself growing soft and languorous, her muscles relaxing as if she trembled on the very edge of sleep.

  But sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. She was yielding. Without a touch, without a word, her entire body was readying itself to yield to this man, as if he already owned her heart and soul.

  It was strange. It was w
onderful. If she was still breathing, she didn't know it. She was afraid to make even the slightest move, for fear of shattering the moment. Afraid that he would touch her, afraid that he would not. Wanting and not wanting.

  A yearning grew to match the softening of her every muscle, an aching tingle between her legs that superseded everything else. A heaviness that seemed to pin her to the couch.

  His eyes…even in the dim, flickering light from the fire his eyes bored into her, asking questions to which she had no answers. At least not yet. He wasn't something she had planned on, or even wanted, but he was here. Now. And like an irresistible force, he held her in thrall.

  Somehow, the distance closed between them. So close now she could reach out a single hand and touch him. Her breath locked in her throat, and warring signals ran through her body, paralyzing her, as they at once demanded she reach for him and wait for him.

  She would never know who moved first, and in the end, it didn't matter. Suddenly they were clinging together as if they would drown if they let go. Hungry mouths met and fused, stealing and giving breath all at the same time. Hands clutched, arms gripped, skin found skin….

  One of them groaned. It might have been her. Something deep inside her felt as if it were clawing its way to freedom, rising up within her to sweep her away from everything.

  There was only one thought in her dazed mind…more!

  Her hands found their way under his shirt, discovering warm, smooth skin and a ridge of scar tissue that for now she ignored. His stubbled cheeks scraped hers, burning her delicate skin, and for once she savored the feeling.

  Then his hand slipped within her robe and found her breast. She sucked air with the delight of it, the feel of his roughened palm against her tender skin, his fingers playing skillfully with her nipple, feeding the ache deep inside her until her every nerve ending throbbed in time to his touch.

  Another groan from somewhere…then…

  She was holding her breath. He had pushed her away so that she'd fallen back against the arm of the couch, and he stood over her, a shadow against the fire.

  "I can't…I won't…." Then he turned and left her.

  She heard the door closing, but she lay there feeling dazed, as if she'd been hit by a truck.

  She had been hit by a truck. She'd opened herself to this man, made herself utterly vulnerable and then…he walked away.

  At that moment, if she thought she could have succeeded she might have tried to kill him.

  But only in that moment. Anger gave way swiftly to the pain of humiliating rejection. Burying her face in her arm, she let the hot tears fall.

  * * *

  FOR MARIA, CHRISTMAS DAY PASSED in a blur of noise and confusion and laughter. The wind had stopped, so the plows managed to clear the streets in town by 9:00 a.m. The family promptly went to church, where they met up with Wendy and Yuma and the boyfriends. Then back to the Tate house for the opening of presents while the aromas of roasting turkey filled the house.

  Everyone took Seth's IOUs in good part and suggested he send them something from his military base, preferably, as Krissie said, "Something that says My Brother Is a Navy SEAL on it."

  Seth laughed and teased her about sending her a Zodiak signed by all his teammates.

  In fact, Maria thought with a twinge, he was in good spirits throughout the day, as if he had exorcised some kind of demon during the night. And good spirits only made him even more damnably attractive.

  He and the guys cleaned up after dinner, letting all the cooks rest, then life devolved into naps and board games, and a de rigueur double feature of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street.

  But then the wind started to pick up again and the snow started flying. Nate switched off the Christmas carols that had been playing on the stereo and put on the TV, tuning in to the weather.

  "Hell," Nate said, "it's starting again. We're going to be snowed in again tomorrow."

  The three girls immediately insisted their boyfriends be allowed to stay at the house. Nate hemmed and hawed about sleeping arrangements.

  "Well, someone can have my bed," Seth offered. "I'll go home with Wendy and Yuma. I've hardly had a chance to talk with them."

  Nate frowned, as if he wasn't sure.

  "It's okay," said Seth. "Really."

  "I can sleep on the floor," one of the boys said. "Right here in front of the fire."

  "Better yet," said Wendy, "Maria can come with us, too. We've got plenty of room."

  Maria's heart slammed. It was the last thing on earth she wanted to do. The very last thing. Yes, she was friends with Wendy and Yuma. That was how she had become part of the Tate family circle. But if she could be at the opposite end of the planet from Seth Hardin tonight, so much the better.

  "Really," said Marge, "I don't want to shove her out…."

  "No shoving, Mom," Wendy said confidently. "Maria and I have been friends for years. It would be nice to have her stay with us."

  "I can just go back to my place," Maria volunteered quickly.

  "No!" and "Not in this weather!" were the answers she received from Marge, Nate and Wendy.

  That seemed to decide it. The girls wanted their boyfriends, nobody was going to let Maria stay alone during this next blizzard, and so…

  So. She tried to smile as if she were happy with the arrangement. And really, she promised herself, it wouldn't be so bad. Not with Wendy and Yuma there. They'd probably stay up well into the night, playing clubs or hearts and gabbing they way they usually did when they got together.

  There was time for dessert, rich pies and ice cream and hot coffee laced with brandy, before it was time to go. Still, it all seemed to happen too fast.

  All of a sudden she was in the back seat of Yuma and Wendy's battered Suburban, only a few inches away from Seth, while the snow whirled whitely around them, promising to bury them once again.

  * * *

  "ALREADY THE WORST WINTER SOME portions of Wyoming have seen in recorded history," the TV weatherman was saying when Wendy switched the set on.

  "Oh, goody," she said, happily. "Everybody stay home so we can stay home and drink hot toddies and enjoy our holiday."

  Wendy and Yuma—nobody called him Billy Joe except Wendy—worked for the county's emergency response team. She was a flight nurse, and he a helicopter pilot. He was also a lot older than she was—nearly two decades—but it was not the first or even second thing you noticed about them when they were together. You noticed the love.

  Maria's friendship with them had begun her first year of teaching in this town, when Wendy and Yuma had come in to tell her class all about their work, and later to take them out to the airport so they could see the rescue helicopter.

  Somehow in the midst of all the confusion, she and Wendy had hit it off, and later over dinner, she and Yuma had hit it off, as well. They'd been close ever since.

  "Like family," Wendy was fond of saying.

  Maria helped Wendy unload the hefty portion of leftovers Marge Tate had sent with them: turkey, gravy, stuffing, pie, yams, spinach casserole. Everything went into a well-stocked refrigerator.

  "I tried," Wendy said, "to tell Mom that I'd shopped for a bunch of young males. I'm stocked to the rafters already. I figured those boys would go through this house like a wave of locusts. They made a pretty good start on it, too. Trust me, if we get snowbound for a month we won't starve."

  Maria laughed.

  "You think it's funny? Sam sat here last night and ate a whole jar of peanut butter with a spoon."

  "You're joking!" Maria couldn't imagine it.

  Wendy laughed. "Kid you not," she said. "I suggested he'd get fuller if he put it on bread, but he said it was better plain."

  "Wouldn't I just love to have a metabolism like that. Sam's so thin and tall!"

  "Me, too." Wendy patted her midsection. "I'm battling this tummy all the time."

  The women exchanged looks of understanding. Neither of them would ever be a runway model or a movie st
ar. Instead of the current vogue in female beauty, they simply looked healthy.

  "On the other hand," Maria said, "neither of us is living on lettuce leaves."

  Wendy laughed again. "Nor am I ever going to. I'll just keep fighting the battle of the bulge."

  In the living room, Seth had helped Yuma build a fire on the hearth. The house was an older one, built around the turn of the century, with high ceilings, tall windows and ornate woodwork. It was also full of drafts.

  "I keep plugging holes," Yuma said, pointing to how the heavy curtains over the windows stirred a little each time the wind gusted. "It may take the rest of my life to find them all. We're saving for some double-paned windows. Maybe they'll help."

  "It's still a great house," Seth remarked.

  "Oh, sure. Built to last. But leaking like a sieve right now. It's a good thing all the rooms have fireplaces or wood stoves. Otherwise we'd go broke on heating oil."

  The living room was furnished in comfortably battered furniture. Yuma waved Seth into one of the easy chairs, and took the other himself.

  "How have you been doing?" Seth asked Yuma. Years ago they'd discussed Yuma's posttraumatic stress disorder, a remnant of his days as a medivac pilot in Vietnam.

  "Actually," Yuma told him, "I haven't had a flashback in nearly two years now. I have the odd nightmare, but that's been it."

  "I'm glad to hear it."

  "But what about you?" Yuma asked. "Something's bugging you, man. You're not looking good at all."

  "I'll deal with it."

  "Sure. Like I did."

  The words hung between them on the warming air, too insightful for Seth's comfort. Finally he said, "Damn it, everybody's looking straight through me."

  Yuma laughed quietly. "Not hard to read the signs when you've been there. Listen, I won't badger you, but I'm here if you want to talk. Other than that…maybe it's time to consider a change, man."

  The thought panicked Seth, although he wouldn't have expected it. But fear suddenly rose in him, grabbing his throat, stifling his breath. He knew fear. He knew its every mood and savagery, he knew what it could do to him and he knew what it could do for him. But this…this fear was something else.