A Soldier's Christmas Read online

  And he didn't know how to read it.

  "You can do other things," Yuma said, sounding as if he came from miles away. "You can take a training position. Switch to the Coast Guard and work in a rescue crew. Hell, you can go to work for Nate as a deputy, if you want to give up the adrenaline kick. But there are plenty of things you can do, Seth. Plenty. You've sure as hell done your part for this country."

  Seth didn't reply. He couldn't.

  As if on cue, the women joined them then, bearing cups of coffee and a tray of nibbles. Conversation drifted into more desultory avenues, reminiscences of the day, talk of the blizzard. Ordinary things.

  Seth sat among them, half listening, saying nothing, feeling as if he were miles and centuries away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SETH AWOKE DURING THE NIGHT AGAIN. Of course he did. He was in an unfamiliar place, and when he was in an unfamiliar place, he rested with his senses on high alert. Years of training and experience had made that impossible to turn off. Besides, his job made him something of a night owl, anyway.

  The wind was still blowing hard, causing the house to creak around him, singing a high-pitched note at his window. The room was warm, though, from the heat of the woodstove in the room directly below him.

  Finally, too restless to stay in bed, he rose and pulled on his clothes, then reached for the parka and gloves Nate had lent him.

  He needed to feel the wind on his face, and thought maybe the cold air would clear some of the cobwebs that had been stifling his brain for days. He needed to face the elements, if only briefly, because they were the only pure and untrammeled thing in his life.

  He crept down the stairs as quietly as he could, then through the hallway to the front door. He could hear the sting of icy snow against the stained glass mounted in the door, and was drawn to the sound as if it held some kind of promise.

  He opened the door. The wind and snow slapped his face. He stood on the porch on boards blown clear by the wind, staring into a night that was surprisingly well-illuminated by the streetlights. The snow caught their light and reflected it a million times, until the whole world was wrapped in a white, hazy cocoon.

  The streets had vanished again, though, filled in between the hills left by the snowplows earlier. The snow was so dry that it formed little eddies like dust devils, and snaked across the level areas like sidewinders. All around him the night was filled with the hiss of moving snow and the whistle of the wind.

  A gust whipped around the corner of the house, catching him unawares and slapping his face with stinging crystals. He closed his eyes tight; then when the assault stopped, he pulled up his hood. The parka was warm, but his thighs were rapidly registering the deadly wind, even through thick denim. It was well below zero, and he had no illusions about staying out here very long.

  But the air smelled so crisp and clean, so much drier than what he was used to. Although he could only draw in small bits at a time because it was so cold, it still invigorated him and refreshed him.

  God, it was beautiful!

  He suddenly wished he could go cross-country skiing, just strap on a pair of boards and skim away into the darkness, into a pristine world made virginal by the snow. Maybe later in the week, he promised himself, when the weather settled and he could rent the gear.

  He needed a really good workout. His body wasn't used to as much idleness as he'd put it through these last few days. Too much food, too little activity. No wonder it felt as if his brain were buried in sludge.

  Finally he could no longer ignore the warning ache from his legs, and the shivering that started despite the heavy parka he wore. Regretfully, he went back inside.

  The warmth of the house felt overpowering now after being outside. Still shivering, he hung the parka on a coat tree in the hall and went to the kitchen, figuring it was the room farthest from the fireplaces and woodstoves, and therefore the one in which he could warm up again without feeling quite so smothered.

  To his surprise—or maybe not—Maria was already there, sitting in the near dark at the table. The only light on was the one over the stove.

  "Oh!" she said, startled, when he came into the room. "I didn't know you were up."

  "I stepped outside," he replied. "It's amazing out there. Beautiful."

  She nodded. "I love blizzards. Can I get you something?"

  "No, thanks. I just want some water."

  "Glasses are in the cabinet to the right of the sink."

  "Thanks."

  He filled one, then sat across from her at the table. She was, he realized, rapidly becoming part of his nights.

  She didn't make any jokes this night, however. Nor did she even speak to him beyond the minimal courtesies. She was upset with him, he realized, and as the memory of last night reared in his mind, he understood why.

  But he didn't know what the hell to do about it. Mentioning it might embarrass her further.

  "Excuse me," she said. Then she rose and carried her mug away with her.

  He had hurt her, and he didn't have the words to explain why.

  * * *

  IN THE LIVING ROOM, AWAY FROM SETH, Maria sat sipping her tea and growing angrier by the second.

  Last night she had been hurt, humiliated, embarrassed. All day long she had put that on the back burner, being a courteous, pleasant guest, participating in everything and laughing as hard as anyone. But tonight, alone, the memory came back to haunt her, and hard on the heels of rejection and humiliation came a scalding anger.

  He owed her something beyond "I can't…I won't…." He owed her, at the very least, an apology. But he'd come into the kitchen and sat there like a brooding sphinx, saying not a word.

  Well, damn him to hell. He could sit there in his private pity party, tearing himself to pieces emotionally, letting no one even try to help.

  But even as she had these bitter thoughts, she knew she was being unfair. Okay, the guy was genuinely troubled. Now he was paying the price for the last sixteen or seventeen years of his life. People did that, if they didn't deal with things as they happened. He needed some time to indulge himself and sort things out so he could bounce back.

  Perfectly normal. Wendy had told her what Yuma had gone through, and Yuma himself had shared some of it.

  But if he needed to be alone with his demons, why had he reached out to her in such a way, then cast her aside?

  He had no right to do that to anyone. Not anyone!

  But as she sat there fuming, staring into the embers of the dying fire, her anger, too, began to burn down.

  She needed to be honest with herself, and honesty forced her to admit that she wouldn't have been at all happy with herself if she'd made love with Seth last night.

  She wasn't the type to fall into a man's arms. She wasn't the type to give herself so readily or freely. Somewhere deep inside, she feared her attraction to him had less to do with his personality than it had to do with the fact that he was exotic in her experience. He'd traveled the world, done countless dangerous things. And even when he was struggling with himself over his past, he still had an aura of danger.

  Maybe she was attracted to the idea of him, rather than the man himself.

  But a period of reflection told her that was not the case at all. It wasn't the dangerous things he'd done that attracted her; it was the fact that he could agonize about them. That he had a heart and soul that remained unhardened despite it all.

  And of course, he was just a very attractive man. Lean, weathered, muscular. Handsome, but not too handsome. In fact, he was very like the imaginary lover she had dreamed up in high school.

  Maybe that was why she had succumbed so quickly. But whatever it was, she ought to be grateful to him for pulling them both back from the abyss. If she'd had half a brain at the time, she'd have done it herself.

  But that didn't ease the sting that came from knowing she had been completely lost in his arms, but that he had not. That he hadn't been as overwhelmed by her as she had been by him.

  In f
act, he had left her feeling downright unattractive. And she had made herself so vulnerable to him that she still felt like a raw nerve ending.

  Sighing, she sipped her tea and told herself to grow up. It was ridiculous to be both grateful that he had retained some sense and spared her, and angry that he hadn't been so overwhelmed by her charms that he'd forgotten all common sense.

  She was appalled by her own inconsistency.

  But, as she stared into the embers and listened to an occasional coal pop, she realized that this was about something far more significant than mere physical attraction. The simple fact was, she cared for Seth in ways that had nothing to do with his attractions as a man. She had known him for such a short time, and yet she yearned for his companionship. Yearned to sit in the quiet dark with him and just be.

  It didn't matter whether or not they spoke a word. What did matter to her was that they be together. Near enough to touch, even if they didn't.

  What was growing inside her was far more dangerous than mere physical attraction, and had far less of a basis. She hardly knew the man.

  Yet she felt as if she'd known him all her life. How silly. How…scary.

  And now, strangely enough, she was beginning to wish she hadn't given him the polite cold shoulder in the kitchen. Began to think of ways she might go back in there and apologize, then wondered what exactly she needed to apologize for? For not being chatty? He hadn't exactly been chatty himself. She'd been polite, asked him if she could get him anything, then when he sat there in silence, she'd gotten up and left.

  That didn't call for an apology. She wasn't his hostess, for crying out loud.

  And what's more, she didn't need another rejection. There had been too many rejections in her life.

  "Maria?"

  His voice, so close when she had thought herself all alone, startled her and she jumped. Her tea sloshed dangerously close to the edge of her mug.

  "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

  "It's, uh, not a problem," she said, hastily setting her cup on the end table so the tremor of her hands wouldn't give her away.

  She didn't want to look at him, didn't want to see his tall, powerful shape highlighted by the dim red glow of the fire's embers. It was scant relief, however, when he sat on the couch beside her.

  "Look," he said quietly. "I want to apologize."

  She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the fire. Her hands knotted together, and her heart climbed into her throat. "For what?"

  "For the way I behaved last night."

  It appalled her to realize that if he apologized for making a pass at her, she was going to feel even more crushed than she did now. "No…" She had to find some way to forestall those words.

  "No, really," he insisted. "I'm sorry. The way I…"

  She was going to knock his block off if he said he was sorry for kissing her. He was going to find out just how much fury a scorned woman could produce. Her fists clenched until her nails bit into her palms.

  "I'm sorry," he said again, "for the way I…pulled away from you."

  For an instant, she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. He couldn't really be saying…

  "I've been thinking about it since," he continued. "I had no right to…make a pass at you. But when I did…well, the reason I left was because I didn't have the right to do what I was doing. You were the guest of my parents, you hardly know me…."

  Relief flowed through her. The reasons he had just given her were valid, reasons she would have chosen herself. They weren't a rejection of her, but of the situation they were in.

  "It's okay," she said, smiling at him. Her insides still had a severe case of the jitters, but the smile came naturally.

  "Well, I'm still sorry. I can imagine how I made you feel."

  Which surely put him on the list of the world's most sensitive men, she thought. Still smiling, she shrugged. "You did what was best. I'm not sure that either of us…was ready for where we were heading."

  "Probably not." He sighed and sank farther down on the couch, crossing his long legs at the ankles, then folding his hands on his flat belly.

  "Are you feeling any better?" she asked him.

  "You know, I think I am." He glanced at her and smiled. "I've been drowning in self-pity for so long I think I almost forgot how to climb out of the pit."

  "And you've remembered?"

  "A bit, anyway. Because it struck me a little while ago, as I was sitting in the kitchen, that yesterday doesn't matter nearly as much as tomorrow. I can't change the past. But I can change what I do from here on out."

  "Will you?"

  "I don't know. Because the truth is…I'm honestly not sure I've been such an awful person. I don't like some of what I've had to do, but someone had to do it. And I'd like to think more good has come out of it than bad."

  "I'm sure it has." She hesitated, then offered, "Unfortunately, life isn't black and white. It's all kinds of shades of dirty gray. It's rare that we get to do something purely noble."

  "If ever." He sighed and leaned his head back against the couch, turning it so he could look at her. "I was being purely noble last night, or so I thought. Then I couldn't get your face out of my head. I wounded you."

  She could feel her cheeks redden and was grateful he couldn't see it. Bad enough that he had read her so well last night.

  "Maria?"

  He was asking, but she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him. Then she remembered how forthright he'd been with her, and the painful things he'd been willing to share. This was the very least she owed him.

  Her voice muffled with shame, or possibly embarrassment, she said, "I felt…rejected. It's just…I've been rejected too often."

  "I'm truly sorry. Because I wasn't rejecting you. Not at all."

  "I understand that now."

  "But what do you mean, you've been rejected too often?"

  Did she really want to go into this? She hesitated for a long time, then finally plunged in. "I knew I wasn't the prettiest girl in school, and I was too smart, or so people kept telling me. No big deal."

  "Maybe it was a big deal."

  "Maybe," she admitted. "I never even got asked to the prom."

  "Ouch."

  "Exactly. So off to college. And I met this guy in my Bible study group and we started dating, and he hardly ever touched me. I figured he was being a good Christian, you know. We had all promised to abstain, and so on. So I didn't let it bother me until I found out he was sleeping with my best friend."

  "Oh, Maria…"

  She shrugged again. "I was young, and unfortunately it messed me up a bit. So I got involved with this guy who was different. You know what I mean? He was on some kind of edge, he was different from the people I usually hung around with and his attention was flattering. I got suckered right in. So one night I gave him my virginity, and the next morning he tossed me out and never spoke to me again."

  "Oh, babe, I'm so sorry."

  "Hey, a lot of women could tell you the same stories. I'm not special."

  "I think you are special, and you're also a very pretty woman."

  She gave an embarrassed little laugh. "Well, all the pieces finally grew together in proper proportion."

  "I'll say!"

  The obvious admiration in his voice caused her to blush again, and once again she was grateful the light was both dim and ruddy.

  "You don't have to perjure yourself," she told him jokingly.

  He laughed. "I'll swear it on a stack of Bibles. You're a very attractive woman. And if nobody else has noticed that, the world must be blind."

  "I don't know if they have noticed. I've been here since college, and I've made it a point not to date."

  "How come?"

  "Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life here. Crazy, I know. It's the kind of place most people would love to live. But…"

  "But you're a gypsy."

  "Yes, at heart I guess I am. At least until I've seen something of the world."

  "Well, it
's a good idea to do the things you want before you tie yourself down."

  "Exactly," she said. "What about you, though? Don't you ever want children?"

  He sighed again and turned to stare up at the ceiling. "Yes, I do want kids," he said quietly. "But it would probably be best to wait another few years, until I can retire."

  She looked at him, feeling surprised. "You're going to retire?" The idea seemed amazing.

  "Sure, when I get my twenty in. I'll be thirty-eight, plenty of time to start a new life."

  "Well, of course, but…"

  "But what?"

  "You balk any time someone suggests you do something else with the rest of your navy career. I guess I just assumed you'd never retire."

  "There was a time I figured I'd go for thirty. But I've got to be honest, Maria. I won't be fit to be a SEAL much longer. Age catches up with the best of us, you know. In fact, statistically speaking, there's a good chance over the next few years that I'll display a cardiac anomaly that will ground me. It happens to folks like me all the time. Nothing to really worry about, but enough to get you pulled off special duties. Anyway, nobody can do this job forever."

  "I wouldn't think so. But a training position…"

  He shook his head. "I think I'd be better off making a clean break. I don't want to feel as if I'm on the outside looking in."

  She nodded slowly. "I guess I can understand that. But what will you do then?"

  "I've got plenty of time to decide. But I've been thinking about going back to college. I didn't have the chance to go when I graduated from high school, and over the years I've taken some correspondence courses. I think I'd like to get a degree."

  "In what?"

  He smiled. "Who knows? All the possibilities are still open to me."

  She smiled. "I remember feeling like that once. It was my sophomore year in college. A glorious fall day, with cool dry air and lots of sunshine. And I remember this elation just bubbling up to fill me because I stood at a cusp, I could take any direction I wanted. It was a feeling of such sheer freedom."