If You Believe in Me (4 page)

What if his had faded while she’d turned hers into some impossible ideal he could never live up to?

Was holding on to him noble and loyal? Or foolish and cowardly because she didn’t want to risk getting hurt again?

Chapter Four

Fever dreams, they were called. And they sucked ass. Unlike the dream-memories of his best Amber moments, these were full of anxiety and desperation. Worse, they made it impossible to convince the doctors he was well enough to be shipped stateside.

He did everything the nurses told him to, despite the instincts that urged him to get out of bed and run a few miles to prove he was fine. He took his antibiotics, drank gallons of whatever they gave him, forced down food he had no appetite for—every bite making him miss Amber’s cooking even more—and slept as much he could.

And dreamed.

His father loved to tell stories. “Frank was so mad at the guy just standing around, he asked how much he made a week. The guy said about three hundred dollars, so Frank peeled that out of his money clip, shoved it in his hand, and said, ‘take it, and you’re fired!’ When he asked the supervisor how long he’d been working there, the guy told him he didn’t! He was just delivering a pizza!”

Everyone howled with laughter. Kale grinned at his mother’s indulgent head-shake and the tears Amber had to wipe from her eyes. “We should make this a tradition,” he said, feeling stupidly sentimental. “No matter what’s going on for the holidays, exactly one week before, we should all have dinner. Amber’s chicken marsala.” He forked a bite as everyone agreed, but then his father began another story, and everyone ignored Kale.

His father’s voice began to warble like a bad radio. The table stretched and stretched until Amber and his parents were at the other end, talking avidly, leaving Kale by himself at the far end of the room.

“Hey!” he called, testing. “Someone pass the salt!” No one moved. They didn’t seem to hear him. He pushed his chair back and stood. That worked, but when he tried to walk along the side of the table, tried to reach for Amber, nothing happened. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t make progress on the slick floor. The harder he tried, the more he hurt. Burning in his side. He looked down. His fatigues were red with blood.

“Time for meds!” a cheery voice rang into the dream, and Kale blinked his eyes open. Thank God. That wasn’t how that night had gone at all. His father’s stories, yeah, but Kale had sat next to Amber instead of at the end of the table. Their thighs had pressed together, and Amber kept giving him little touches. Stroking his hair from his temple to the back of his neck. Gripping his arm when she laughed or remembered something. They’d made the meal together, the two of them, and Kale had been struck by the rightness of everything. He’d wanted to propose to Amber right then, but he still had just under a year to go before he could leave active duty. So he’d suggested the tradition, instead. They’d all loved the idea.

And then he’d fucked things up. They’d have had that meal a couple of nights ago, without him. Again.

“Come on,” the nurse urged, shaking the little paper cup at him. “Last dose today. I think you’re doing better.”

Kale tossed the pills back and accepted the water she held for him. “Good enough to get out of here?”

She made a skeptical face. In a weak moment yesterday, he’d shown her the simple blue diamond he’d bought in Japan and carried through all his missions since. She’d been sympathetic, had given him a little extra attention to help him battle the infection, but she also kept telling him to manage his expectations.

“We’ll see how you are tomorrow.” She patted him on the shoulder and flipped off the light on the wall behind him. “Night, Captain.”

“Night.”

The sedative that was part of his nighttime dosage took effect quickly, pulling him down, down into dark nothingness. Next thing he knew he was standing in bright sunlight.

He hadn’t seen Amber in weeks, and he ached at the sight of her running across the grass toward him. She slammed into his body, his arms wrapping around her and lifting her off the ground. He tasted salt, her tears cool on his cheek, but the kiss was hot and hungry. A command shouted by another officer interrupted the kiss. Kale stood with his unit, his parents, and Amber on the other side of the parking lot. Hundreds of duffel bags were lined up next to the curb. Soldiers’ names were called and responded to.

“Riker.”

He didn’t want to go. But then he was inside the building, his backpack over one shoulder, surrounded by the men and women who had become his new family. Then outside again, standing alone while people wept and murmured and shouted around him. He had to find Amber, say his final goodbye, assure her they could get through this. He’d be in contact as often as he could. They’d write, they’d plan their future. Spend every leave together. He had to find her. Tell her he loved her. Make sure she knew. Make sure she’d wait for him.

She had to wait for him.

Kale looked out the window when he woke again, checking the position of the sun before he looked at the clock. Hard to tell from here, but he’d slept a lot today, so it had to be afternoon. Yeah, after three. He needed to talk to the doctor before he was gone for the day.

First, though, he took inventory. He maneuvered his hand around IV tubes and monitoring lines to lay his palm on his forehead. Dry. And miracle of miracles, cool. His mouth was a little gummy, but his throat wasn’t stuck to itself like it usually was when he woke up in here. He bet his breath was deadly, but that didn’t matter now. His stomach rumbled, and Kale smiled. Hunger. First time he’d wanted food since he got here.

Now for the real test. He fumbled for the bed controls and held his breath while he raised the head of the bed into a full sitting position. His side twinged, but he didn’t have the burning, gut-deep pain from before. He forced himself to keep breathing while he tossed off the blanket and swiveled, much more carefully than the first time. When he pushed to stand, everything stayed right where it was supposed be.

Oh, yeah. He was getting out of here. Now he just had to convince the doctor and the OIC.

…

Two days before Christmas, and Amber couldn’t figure out what to do with herself.

Tonight, miracle of miracles, no one needed her. Everything on her to do list was done, and she was free until it was time to put on her red velvet Santa’s helper costume and hand out presents. But the emptiness of her house made her all too aware of the space inside her, so she dragged Rina out to Murphy’s, the downtown pub, hoping the company Christmas parties and celebrating singles would distract her. At minimum, it was an acceptable place to drink herself stupid.

“You’re a great friend,” she told her cousin, who had endured dozens of whinefests over their decades-long friendship. “Thanks for coming along and not being all psychologic-y and stuff.” She pulled some of her frozen Brandy Alexander—her third—through a straw. Kirby, Murphy’s bartender, really knew how to make the best drinks, especially the kind that let you get drunk without trying.

“Don’t thank me yet. It’s early.” Rina twisted in her tall chair to survey the crowd. “You see any out-of-towners? I don’t want to waste this dress.”

“It’s a good dress,” Amber agreed. The plunging, overlapping neckline of brilliant blue silk showed off Rina’s assets without looking trashy. Rina slung a long, smooth leg over the other knee and let her matching stiletto hang off her toes. “You have sexy-approachable down pat. Wish I could do that,” she grumbled.

“No, you don’t.” Rina smiled at a guy at the bar, but then sighed and turned back to the small round table. “Damn, that’s Fireman Fred.”

“So?” Amber tried to squint past a group of women from the software company up the street.

“Been there, yada yada.” Rina pulled a mozzarella stick from their basket and bit off a chunk. “He’s okay in bed, but too eager. Needs a lot of encouragement. I’m too tired for that.”

Amber had forgotten who they were talking about. Oh, yeah. Fireman Fred, assistant chief of the west side fire company. He bought jeans from her sometimes.

Rina checked her watch and leaned her head on her hand, elbow on the glossy table. “Look, I know you said you don’t want psychologic-y stuff, but you know you have to talk about this, right?”

Amber stirred her drink with her straw, watching the air bubbles in the slush slide into different patterns. “Talk about what? It’s the same old stuff as every year.”

“No, it’s not.” Rina met Amber’s gaze, and her eyes were kind, sympathetic.

Crap. “You talked to Danny, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for Rina’s nod. “I’m not talking about that.”

“Okay.”

Some of the tension inside Amber eased when Rina didn’t push her. She shoved her straw deep into the curvy glass and sucked hard. The sharp, creamy cold hit her tongue and eased down her throat. “He deserves more than to be second best. He deserves someone to love him like I lo—” She stopped, infuriated by her inability to choose a verb tense.

“Like you love Kale,” Rina said easily. “Or are you starting to question that?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay then.” Rina shrugged. “But somehow I don’t think that’s why we’re at Murphy’s tonight.”

Amber looked miserably around the bar. Murphy’s was more than a place to drink and hook up. It had the best comfort food in Hempfield, and everyone came here. “I can see at least four people who told me this week that I should give up on Kale and move on with my life.”

Rina shrugged again and ate the rest of her cheese stick. “Moving on doesn’t have to mean with Danny.” She chewed slowly, savoring, and swallowed. “It could just mean to stop waiting.” Her casually bored air disappeared and she studied Amber. “You’ve been in a holding pattern for a long time, now that I think about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Amber drank until her glass was exactly half-empty. Her head had gone swimmy, a nice change from the hard, intense circle of thoughts she couldn’t escape.
If I can finish it before anyone else gives me advice…

“Of course you do.”

A tall, lanky guy in a trucker cap and red-and-green flannel button-down took a few steps in their direction.

Rina turned her back.
His shoulders drooped. He sighed
, shoved his hands in his pockets, and continued on to the bar. Amber hid her smirk in her melty brandy cream.

“What were you going to do with your degree when you graduated from college?” Rina asked her.

Amber frowned. Her degree was in merchandising with a minor in business. She’d interviewed at a couple of small chains and one major independent store in various cities, but had no job offers before her parents were killed and she had to come home. “I hadn’t decided. But what does that have to do with Kale? We weren’t together then.”

“I know. But that’s actually when you went into the holding pattern, wasn’t it?”

“No. I just changed my goals, that’s all.”

Rina straightened, her eyes glinting. “Yeah. Changed from long-term, big-world goals to small-town, get-what-I-can-get goals. Right?”

Amber wanted to deny it, but Rina had her. “Okay, yeah. But it doesn’t matter. I’m happy here. I have tons of friends, people I care about, who I’ve known all my life. If I can’t have true family, that’s the next best thing.”

“But what do you also want that you can’t have here? And don’t say Kale.”

She hadn’t been about to. But she was a little stunned that the answer came so easily. Rina gave her a knowing smile when she didn’t voice it, and she knew she didn’t have to. She just needed to know it.

This wasn’t the life she’d be living if things were different. Her shop was fine. It made her enough money to live on, since her parents’ house was paid for and the cost of living here was reasonable. But it wasn’t a challenge anymore. Planning, launching, and running a business had been great, but there was nowhere else to take it.

If she accepted the common belief that Kale was dead, what would she do with her life? Not her romantic life, but her
life
life?

She wouldn’t stay in Hempfield.

It didn’t free her. There was no miraculous lifting of weight or swelling of hope, because she
didn’t
accept the common belief. Okay, yes, her resolve had been battered by the negative viewpoints of everyone around her. Their certainty that Kale was gone made her question whether she was being stupid, putting so much faith in something so unlikely.

But this wasn’t
their
lives. It was hers, and what Rina just made her consider was likely to make life after Kale’s return easier, not harder. With the clarity of the nearly drunk, she found that central core of faith and clutched it with both hands.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” she asked Rina, who grinned.

“You going mushy on me now?”

Amber shook her head. “No. I just really, really,
really
appreesheeate you.” She scowled. That word had sounded funny. She peered into her empty glass. Whoa. That went fast. She blinked up at the twinkly lights around the perimeter of the bar. They hadn’t been twinkly when they came in. “I think I shhhould probly eat shomething.”

Rina pushed the appetizer a few inches toward her. “Have at it. But isn’t getting sloppy in the head the reason we’re here?”

Amber nodded and tried a cheese stick, grimacing at the rubbery texture. They were too cold, but the bite hit her stomach and suddenly she was ravenous. She signaled the server and ordered a cheeseburger and side salad. And a glass of water, to head off tomorrow’s hangover.

“So what are you thinking now?” Rina asked. “About Kale.”

“I don’t know.” Amber sighed and suppressed a burp. She hoped the kitchen was quick with that burger. “I guess we’ll shee tomorrow night.” Her words were still shlurry, and she had the vague sense that her thoughts were, too. But who cared? She felt better than she had yesterday. Better than today, when the mail carrier hung out in her store for ten minutes. He’d gone on and on about all the guys he knew who’d been messed up in the Iraqi and Afghan wars and hinted how much better off she was that Kale hadn’t come back.

Who knew how she’d feel tomorrow? Especially when they did the Santa thing with the kids. She could get overwhelmed again. Despair was relentless, really. Wasn’t that why Kale’s parents had given in? Just like the townspeople. Amber knew they cared about her. That was why they were pushing her so hard. They wanted her to be happy. Or…no, that wasn’t right. How could she be happy if she thought Kale was dead? So they wanted her to accept that he was dead because it was…healthier?