Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family] (6 page)

Before Holden could utter another spiteful word, he began to shake violently, his hands clenching and unclenching the tray. It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that Christina was shocked into inaction; she could only watch as the tremors raced throughout his body, spasming uncontrollably and jerking his torso first one way and then another. The tray that had held his meal flew from his grasp and crashed to the floor, shattering the plate and glass and tossing food and splashing milk over books and against the bedspread. Through it all, Holden’s face was a tortured mess, his teeth clenched in a grimace and his eyes wide and full of pain.

“Holden!” Christina shouted. “What’s happening? Are you all right?”

A series of grunts and wheezes were his only response as Holden turned his back to Christina, who couldn’t tell if it was involuntary, as he deliberately lowered himself to the edge of a chair filled with books. He managed to grab one of the arms, clenching it tightly, as if it were a life preserver in a raging sea. His shaking caused his glasses to slide off and clatter to the floor, where one of his shuddering feet kicked them farther away. Safely in the chair, cradling a shaking arm, he waited for the tremors to subside.

Christina stood beside him, unsure of what, if anything, she could do. She wondered if she shouldn’t run to the stairs and shout for help; Holden’s family would want to know what had happened, but because of all she had seen as a nurse, she felt certain that he wasn’t in any significant danger; in fact,
leaving
him could be worse. She wanted to comfort him, to put a hand on his shoulder and help him through the worst of it, but because of how annoyed he had been with her entering his room she decided to keep her distance. In the end, she began picking up the broken pieces of glass and food that littered the floor, all the while keeping an eye on Holden’s condition.

“Leave…leave it…leave it there…,” he managed when the worst of the tremors had ended.

“I’m almost finished,” Christina said, wiping a smear of mashed potatoes off a tip-in plate image of George Washington. “Then I’ll ask your mother to prepare another plate. You can—”

“No,” Holden said defiantly. “Just…just leave it all…and go…”

“I need to pick up all of this glass first. You could hurt your—”

“Get out!” he shouted.

Christina leaned back on her haunches and looked at him. Holden still sat on the edge of his chair, holding his left arm in a way that reminded her of a wounded fox, trapped in a hunter’s snare. She could see in his eyes that he was horrified that she had seen him in such a state, and that he regretted having ever allowed her into his room. But even then, she felt the strong urge to help him, just as she had already aided so many others.

The question was whether Holden would ever allow her that chance.

“
Is this
why you never leave your room?” she asked.

“I want…you to leave…,” Holden said sharply, refusing to answer her.

“This was caused by something that happened to you in the war.” It was a statement.

Silently, he stared at her, his eyes smoldering.

Christina had seen this response in many of the soldiers who had arrived at her hospital in Michigan. Whatever wounds they had suffered, both physical and mental, challenged them in such a way that they could not even bring themselves to acknowledge the wounds, choosing instead to ignore the problem. Even if there was a way to get better, they would rather accept the misery they knew than dare to try a different course with its own dangers. If Holden was the same, if his trauma had affected him in such a way that he refused to deal with it, then he would never get better and would remain trapped, both in his head and here, in his room.

“How often does this happen to you?” she pressed.

Again, Holden stood firm. “I told you…to get the hell out…”

Frustrated, Christina stood, holding the tray stacked high with fragments of glass and ruined food. “You might ignore my questions,” she admonished him, heading toward the door. “That’s your choice to make. But while you stay in this room, acting like a stubborn ass, you’re ruining the lives of your family. If you care about them at all, you’d do well to change while you still have the chance, because someday, when you’ve burned every bridge you have,
no one
is going to bring you your meals, and even your own mother won’t give a damn what goes on behind this door.”

With that, Christina left him, not willing to wait for an answer.

C
HRISTINA HURRIED DOWN
the front steps of the Sutters’ home, refusing to slow down as she turned on the sidewalk and headed toward downtown Longstock and her new apartment above the bakery. Dark clouds bruised the bottom of the half-full moon, sliding off to the south on the light breeze. Thousands of stars watched silently. While the day had been pleasantly warm, the night was cooler; Christina shivered as her skin goose-bumped.

With every step, her heart raced, pounding in her chest. Ever since she had left Holden Sutter’s room, it had been a struggle to contain her emotions; what began as confusion became anger, then disappointment, before turning into still something else, something she could not identify.

If Christina were to be truthful with herself, she was angry that she had become so upset. Back in the Army hospital in Michigan, she had endured even worse verbal abuse. Once, an angry, wounded soldier had thrown a vase of flowers at her. Even in those difficult moments, she had managed to stay calm and detached, not allowing herself to take things personally.

But Holden had unnerved her.

She supposed it could have been because of the way he was treating his family. No matter what they did, he couldn’t accept that they only wanted to help. Things had grown so bad that he could no longer stand listening to the constant barrage about his condition from his mother. Let alone listen to her worries.

The worst part is that I know I could help him.

Violent tremors such as Holden’s were not that unusual; Christina had treated them before. The horrors of war caused many different reactions in the soldiers who experienced them. Men who were quiet, composed civilians could become hardened leaders under gunfire, while others, who previously had been loud and full of bravado, froze in the face of danger. Some hid the terrible events they had witnessed, pushing them down so far that they would never be talked of again, while yet others were overcome with fear. No man was the same.

Clearly,
something
terrible had happened to Holden.

When Christina had come down the stairs with the shattered remains of Holden’s dinner, Clara Sutter’s first assumption was that her son had become angry and hurled the tray.

“Oh, how could I have ever allowed you to go up there!” she wailed.

Even when Christina explained that the plate and glass had broken because Holden had suffered a tremor while holding the tray, tears continued to race down his mother’s cheeks. Nothing Christina could say managed to calm her. Clara finally slumped in a chair at the kitchen table, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed.

“How was he?” Dr. Barlow asked once he had moved Christina out of earshot of his grieving sister.

“Stubborn, angry, difficult,” Christina explained, recalling her first encounter with Holden. “You know that he suffers from tremors?”

“I’ve only seen them twice. Each time was very unpleasant.”

“He won’t let you treat him? But you were a military doctor; surely he knows that you could help him.”

“Even if he’d let me try, I’m not sure I could do much for him,” Dr. Barlow admitted. “My time in the United States Army was spent in a field hospital, cutting into soldiers who had already been punctured by bullets and shrapnel. Maybe if I knew what had happened to him…”

“He hasn’t told you?”

“He hasn’t told
anyone
. Not me, not his mother, not even Tyler. Once upon a time, back when they were boys, those two were as thick as thieves; now there isn’t a word spoken between them.”

Remembering Tyler’s outburst during dinner, Christina wondered, if they had once been as close as Dr. Barlow described, how many times Holden had rebuffed his brother to reach this stage of isolation. Tyler must have been the first bridge destroyed. Listening to his mother’s sobs, Christina had little doubt that more were coming.

“He’ll never get better if he doesn’t talk about it,” she said.

“
You and I
know that, but don’t say it too loudly around these parts,” the doctor said with a glance at his sister. “There isn’t anyone living under this roof who wants to hear it.”

Eventually, Christina had excused herself, refusing a ride back to her apartment by explaining that she needed a breath of fresh air. At the end of the street, she stopped and looked back at the Sutter home.

Lights were on in one of the upstairs rooms. It was Holden’s; she was sure of it. Even from far away, she could see his silhouette standing at the window, pulling back the curtain, watching her.

Christina turned and walked on.

Holden Sutter watched from the window as Christina Tucker stopped at the end of the street and turned to look back at the house. For an instant, he thought of ducking behind the curtain, out of sight. But by then it was too late; he felt certain that she had seen him. To hide now would be childish. Instead, he continued to look.

He saw her wipe a strand of dark hair from her face as the soft breeze stirred the fabric at the bottom of her skirt. He moved closer to the window, his hand pressing against the cool glass, fingers splayed; he wondered if she could see his movement, because of the light shining behind him, and imagine that he was waving to her.

When she turned once again to walk away, Holden finally released the curtain and returned to the solitary sanctuary of his room.

“Damn it all,” he muttered to himself.

When she first walked into his room, Holden had been shocked and embarrassed. Certainly, he hadn’t expected anyone other than his mother, so to find someone else standing before him had momentarily stopped him in his tracks. The embarrassment had come soon after; he knew that his room wasn’t tidy, but in that moment he had seen what a mess he had allowed his life to become.

He was not prepared for someone young and beautiful.

Meeting Christina Tucker had set something stirring in Holden’s chest, a longing he’d never expected to feel again. There had been a time when he had believed he would meet a woman, fall in love, marry, and have a family. Everything would have been perfect, but then he had gone off to war…

Since his return from France, Holden had been trying to convince himself that being alone was all right, that he could be happy without someone to share his days, but then
she
had opened his door, and in that moment he’d recognized the lies he had been telling himself. Her dark hair, sparkling green eyes, the warmth of her smile, even her scent, pulled at him, intoxicating him, making him that much more aware of what he still wanted but could never have.

Angrily, Holden kicked at a pile of books, spilling them.

Instantly, he regretted it. A slight twitch raced down one arm, causing his fingers to flex of their own accord. He’d found that his moods, particularly angry ones, triggered a spell of tremors. Most times, that first tingling was an unstoppable indicator of a full-blown episode, but there were other times he could hold it at bay, and he hoped that this one was containable. Patiently, he waited, every sense attuned to detecting another spasm. Seconds ticked by slowly, but eventually he felt certain he’d succeeded in not becoming a shaking mess.

Why did she have to see me that way?

Every time he suffered a shaking spell, Holden wished that he had died on that rainy day in France. He saw his tremors as a weakness, cowardice, a handicap. He could feel the leering eyes of everyone who saw him, their looks of pity, their offers of sympathy he did not want. In his worst moments, he still saw the woman on the train home…

But Christina hadn’t reacted that way.

Picking his way through the piles of books that littered the floor, Holden looked at himself in the mirror that hung over his dresser. On most days, he couldn’t recognize the man who now looked back at him. The man he remembered, the one he had once been, was hidden, lost, and all that remained were memories. Running a hand over his stubble, Holden wondered what it was Christina had seen before turning away in disgust. He was afraid that he knew the answer.

As she walked, Christina shivered. The wind seemed to pick up with her every step. Boughs bent and leaves whistled. Occasionally, a strong gust tugged insistently at the hem of her skirt. It was quite cold for June, as cold a night as any she could remember this time of year. She regretted not bringing a sweater.

To distract herself from her discomfort, Christina concentrated on her new surroundings. Lights shone in nearly every house she passed, revealing families sitting around their dinner tables, older couples reading silently, and young children laughing loudly as the sounds of that evening’s radio program drifted out an open window.

Flower gardens were plentiful, though none as lovely as Clara Sutter’s. Row after row of tulips, roses, and other varieties glistened in the moonlight. Occasionally, a dog barked at Christina until she was out of sight.

But try as she might, Christina’s thoughts kept returning to Holden.

Over and over she replayed the things he had said to her, the way he had looked, searching for something she could have done differently, for a way in which she might have reached him, but nothing revealed itself. The whole encounter had been a disaster.

“Why did he have to be so resistant?” she asked aloud.

Thankfully, the day hadn’t been a complete loss. Recalling the way she and Dr. Barlow had helped the Simmons family gave her a tremendous sense of accomplishment. She was concerned over whether, at that moment, they had a roof over their heads. In particular, she worried about little Sally. She hoped that the girl was warmer than she was.

Lost in her thoughts, Christina was startled by the sudden honk of a horn.

Quickly, she turned to see a car creeping along behind her. The glare of the headlights made it impossible to see clearly. She had no idea who was behind the wheel, or even if the driver was a man or woman. She’d been so distracted by her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard it approach.

While she looked, there was another playful honk. The more she stared, the more certain Christina was that it wasn’t the doctor’s car.

Leave me alone!
she insisted silently, turning away and hurrying her step. Over the clicking of her shoes on the sidewalk she could hear the car just behind, the driver increasing his speed to follow.

“Don’t you want a ride?” a man’s voice asked into the night.

“No!” Christina shouted, suddenly growing fearful. Her instincts were to run, heading either down the street or off into someone’s yard. If she screamed, surely someone would hear her and come to her aid.

“Jeez!” The man chuckled. “Was I that big a jerk at dinner?”

Christina came to a sudden halt as the car slowly idled up to stop just beside her. Through the open passenger’s window she recognized Tyler Sutter sitting behind the wheel, a mischievous grin on his face.

“I suppose you think you were being funny,” she said, annoyed.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, wounded.

“Stop acting as if you don’t know what I’m talking about, coming up behind me and honking like that! It scared me half to death! You’re lucky I didn’t start screaming for someone to call the police!”

“A lot of good that would have done you.” Tyler laughed. “Most of the police in these parts can’t catch a cold!”

At that, Christina had had enough. With the memory of how one of the Sutter brothers had treated her still fresh in her mind, she began walking, determined not to let herself be made sport of again.

Tyler pressed the gas pedal and was instantly beside her.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he pleaded. “You aren’t really planning on walking the whole way back to your apartment, are you?”

“It’s not that far,” Christina said, never breaking stride.

“On most nights I’d agree with you, but a chilly one like this, a frail gal like yourself could catch her death of cold.”

“I’m
not
frail,” she snapped.

“Sure doesn’t look that way,” Tyler admitted while still matching her pace. “So how about if I admit that my coming after you is more than just concern for your well-being? What if I said your leaving so abruptly hurt my feelings?”

“Then I’d call you a liar,” she answered, her chin held high.

“I’ve been a lot of things to every person I’ve ever met, but I can’t imagine a one of them thinking I was being untruthful.” He chuckled easily.

“I suppose that makes me the first, then.”

“Maybe so, but the least you could have done was stop and say good-bye.”

“After the way you left the dinner table, the last thing I would have expected you to want was company.”

“Depends on whose company it was,” Tyler said slyly.

“Well, I’m not the sort of woman who associates with strange men.”

“Who’s a stranger? I sat across from you at dinner! Besides, you’d never met my uncle before he picked you up at the train depot, and you got into his car.”

“That’s because he didn’t act like a total jackass,” Christina snapped.

“Just give him time, darlin’.” Tyler laughed loudly. “Now listen, I just got the old girl fixed,” he explained, slapping his palm down on the dashboard, “so why not hop in and share the first ride with me.”

“What was it that fixed it? Your tools or your swearing?”

“A little bit of both, to be honest.”

“I’m sure the whole neighborhood heard you. I wasn’t raised to associate with uncouth men who cussed with every breath.”

“Why do you have to be so darn difficult? I’m just offering you a ride home; it isn’t like I’m asking you to go to bed with me.”

The blatant suggestion stopped Christina cold, dropped her mouth open in shock, and flushed her cheeks a deep red with embarrassment. Never in her life had she been spoken to in such a way! Deep down, she wanted to scream at him, but she was so insulted that she couldn’t even face him. Nothing Holden had said to her had struck so deeply. Without a word, she hurried away.

“What got under your skirt?” Tyler asked, revving the engine in order to keep up.