Saving Sam (The Wounded Warriors Book 1) (15 page)

He slid his fingers down one trembling arm until he found the hand buried between her face and his leg. The other remained trapped against her chest in a gray sling from which the stark white case seemed to glare, accusing him of yet another crime. The skin of her fingers was wet with tears. He helped her to her feet, waiting for her to pull away, to leave his sorry-ass self for good.

I couldn't save my own best friend… I outranked him, so I was responsible for his wellbeing. I failed on all fronts and then I tried to blame Ray for it.

“I'm a coward,” Sam professed. “And a soul-sucking leach. I couldn't even make love to you without hurting you.”

Sam gave Amy a heartbreaking look, but when she tried to deny his words, he laid his fingers against her lips, gently, tenderly. He shook his head, closing his eyes, as he silently pleaded with her not to say the words he knew she would, if given the chance. It was just another painful remainder how giving she was; how loving. Her nature presented a striking contrast to his and he knew it.

All you bring is pain, suffering and… death. It would serve you right if she did leave, if she found another man to raise your kid for you…
And though a part of him truly meant it, another part, the selfish part, tried to hush him. This was the greedy monster he'd always been, the part he'd tried, but obviously failed, to grow beyond. That part didn't want to let Amy go. It cried out for her selfless comfort, her innovative passion, and her warm, slender arms wrapped around him at night, keeping his nightmares at bay.

“You should go,” he croaked, his voice cracking. “Leave me, please… before I ask you to stay.”

“I want to stay,” Amy replied, desperate, her eyes wild as she searched his.

“I'm not worthy of another moment of your time. I've used you my whole life, and you're too good for that. Too good for a man who couldn't acknowledge the beautiful gift of your virginity because I didn't want the commitment. Too good for the man who turned an act of love into a source of pain. Too good for a man…” his voice broke and it was with great difficulty that he continued, forcing out the last words. “A man who left his best friend to die…”

He tried to release her hand. She clung to him, forcing her way past his defenses to slide her body onto his lap. She wrapped her good arm around his neck and urged his head down onto her shoulder. She said not a word, and silent tears splashed into his hair, one after another.

“Sam,” the voice of the Major cut through his orgy of self-loathing with the sharpness of a bayonet. “Sam, whatever history you and Amy had, it can be worked through. She's still here. If you want to change, if you chose to, you will. I think she's earned that. As for your friend… there are no words to express how sorry I am you had to go through that.”

Sam shook free of the embrace enough to say, “Don't pity me. Jorge is the one who suffered. He had a beautiful wife and two amazing kids. Why did he die and not me?”

“Jorge is at peace, Sam.” Sam closed his eyes against the softness of Amy's voice. “He died in peace, grenade or not, and I know he never blamed you. You're a good friend, Sam.”

“That's ironic coming from you. I never treated you right. I wouldn't have a friend who treated me the way I treated you.” He opened his eyes and stared into her baby blue ones, seeking the answers in the burning, tear-stained depths. “Why do you stay, Amy? Why don't you tell me to go to hell? I deserve it. Even though I've always loved you, I was stupid about the way I handled it. And now that I finally understand…”

“Because I've always understood, Sam,” she replied in a voice that remained steady and strong despite her tears. “I've always known you loved me, only somewhere between your heart and the way you expressed it, the message got garbled. I don't know why, and honestly, it doesn't matter to me; it never has.”

Amy took a deep breath and continued. “I've always valued you, even when you were selfish. Your pain hurts me, and I wanted to take it for you, hoping to spare you because your happiness makes me happy. You're not just in my heart, Sam. You
are
my heart. And if we…” this time Amy's voice wavered. “If we separate, you'd take my heart with you. I would never choose to leave, only…”

“Only you have to do what's best for the baby?” Sam guessed, laying his hand on the slim convexity of her lower belly.
What will it feel like later? Will I still be around to find out?

She shook her head, covering his hand with hers. “It's not just that, though the baby is the most important thing in my life now… Look, I have to do what's best for you. Even at your worst, just before you left for boot camp, I knew you would never intentionally hurt me.”

“But I did,” Sam interrupted. “I hurt you by preten-”

She laid a hand over his mouth. “You did. You're right, you hurt me, yes and I can say it now, but listen, Sam. Please let me talk.”

He nodded.

“I have to do what's best for you. It's not right for me to provide you the opportunity to become an abuser, to become a shallow, selfish man who takes advantage of women. I thought I was helping… supporting you,” she shook her head as she searched for the words to best express herself. He could see her struggle in her eyes. “I thought I was giving you what you needed, but in reality, I was hurting you just as much as you were hurting me. By not insisting that you become a better man, I let you wallow in your base animal instincts; satisfying your urges without consequences or consideration. That didn't help you mature, I see that now.”

She continued. “I wish I had seen that sooner because I realize now that I made your PTSD worse. No matter how well-intentioned my actions were, it was my fault you didn't get the help you needed sooner, isn't it?”

He closed his eyes, unable to admit that she was absolutely right.

“Our connection has always been a bit… unhealthy,” she confessed sadly. “I just don't know how to change it and loving you… I'm sorry to say, it's not enough.”

“Amy,” Major Hansen spoke gently, “you wouldn't be the first girl with low self-esteem to give more than she should, and in all the wrong ways, but we can all see that your heart is in the right place.”

Amy glanced at Janie and Dusty. The staunch cowboy, looking stiff from holding his emotions in check, nodded, showing he agreed with the doctor's assessment. Janie was crying as she clung to Dusty, burying her face in his chest. Amy didn't need her reaction to know what her opinion was.

Major Hansen resumed, saying, “I don't think this relationship is doomed. Your concern for one another and your willingness to set side what you want for the other is a testament your love, but both of you need to commit to behaving differently.”

“How? How do we change?” Amy asked, her voice quivering. “Half the time I think I'm doing something right and it ends up being wrong… How do I change something I don't even realize is happening?”

“Well,” the doctor replied. “For starters, I suggest you seek counseling. Until you can learn to respect yourself, no one else will.”

“See, I'm not sure I even know what that means,” she took in a ragged breath.

“It means that you need to learn how to set limits, assert yourself and your needs in a healthy way, and though you've displayed amazing communication skills here today, you need to improve on your interpersonal communications,” Major Hansen explained. “You are able to help Sam, in real, substantial ways. But you're right; it's going to require a great deal more backbone to do it. The good news is that I think, if you both agree, you can work on it together. You can help heal each other.”

Without conscious thought, Sam lifted both hands and cupped Amy's cheeks, staring into the depths of her eyes. “Why do you love me, Amy? Are you just looking for someone to save?”

She shook her head without breaking eye contact. “I just love you. That's all. I always have. I always will. Shall we walk this path together, Sam? Turn a selfish, broken love into something beautiful?”

“It'll be hard as hell, for both of us,” he reminded her.

“I know,” she replied. “You're right. So we'd better get to it. We have about eight months to do everything that's hard, so our baby can be born into a family instead of a mess.”

“Is that enough time, Major?” Sam asked without looking away from Amy.

“It's not really a matter of time, but if I were to answer your question truthfully, I would have to say that the time will depend on the two of you,” the counselor replied. “And let me make it clear that your problems will never be entirely fixed. The unhealthy life patterns you are accustomed to for dealing with stress will require daily conscious choices for the rest of your lives. I can give you tools, strategies and newer, healthier thoughts to replace the ones you're currently using, but you'll always have to strive against the habits you're prone to; namely the roles of the narcissist and the enabler. It's not going to be easy, but if you don't deal with it, it won't matter if you stay together or not; you'll both continue the destructive patterns. You'll seek other partners with similar issues and chances are you'd find them. For your own sakes, and for the sake of your baby, I suggest you commit to overcoming them. Just remember, therapy only works if you're willing to participant actively in the process.”

Amy nodded. “I'm willing.”

“Me to,” Sam agreed, smiling at Amy with love. “Whatever it takes, I'm in; no matter how long or how hard. I want to make this right, baby.”

Amy beamed back at the man she loved.

“That's good,” Major Hansen commended the pair. “I'm particularly glad to hear you say that, Sam because the only person who can save you, is you.”

“Ah, doctor?” Dustin asked nervously. “What about the PTSD?”

“What do you mean?” the major turned to Dusty, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You can cure it, right? I mean, you said my boy would be okay.” Dusty looked worried.

The major smiled with understanding. “Just like any mental disorder, PTSD isn't truly curable. You can find ways to help manage the trauma, reducing its effects, but just like their other proclivities, it will come and go. Generally, you'll see an influx of symptoms when the individual is under duress or intense stress of some sort. As I've said, we can give you the tools you need, but in the end, it's going to depend on you and the choices you make.”

“But…” Dusty wasn't sure where to go with his thoughts.

“It doesn't matter,” Sam stated loud enough for everyone to hear him. “All my life I've dodged taking responsibility for my actions. I'm not doing that anymore.” Then, looking at Amy, he said, “Having you and our baby will be worth anything I suffer. Remember when I told you one day I'd be ready?”

Amy nodded with bright eyes.

“I know it's going to be a lifelong battle, but this soldier is ready to face it.”

Damn, why is this thing so hot and itchy?
Sam fought the urge to tug on his buttoned up collar. Though he'd worn his Dress Blues countless times, today it threatened to strangle him.
I'll never be able to choke out my vows in this straightjacket.

His hands, slick with sweat, wanted to slip through Amy's, but he maintained his hold. Her blue eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter and the corners of her mouth threatened to break into a wide smile.

A soft coo attracted his attention and he glanced over Amy's shoulder to where Janie stood, holding their most priceless possession, their six months old daughter, propped against her shoulder. It was baby Alyssa, rather than a bouquet, that Amy had carried up the aisle. The tiny girl, dressed in a long white gown that resembled her mother's, a white bonnet on her head to protect her from the Texas sun, made another soft sound.

Now, Amy really was smiling, and Sam could feel his own lips tugging upwards.

In his mind, the last year flashed before him. Endless counseling. Medication. At first, it had been harder than he'd ever imagined. He'd wanted to quit countless times, succumbing to the darkness inside him, but Amy's beautiful eyes and the growing swell of their child in her belly always gave him the strength to continue.

Her own progress had been just as painful. A lifetime of negative self-talk couldn't be cured overnight, after all, and she'd had problems with her own mother to work out. Her own pending motherhood added to her worry and increased in her anxieties, challenging her to face even her most secret of fears, but her determination remained steadfast.

And then his dad and Janie had eloped, triggering a relapse. It was only the feeling of Alyssa moving inside Amy that had gotten him over the hump. It had surprised him to discover what it meant to love unconditionally; to love someone more than you loved yourself, but with Alyssa, that love came instinctively. Though he loved Amy deeper than he'd ever thought he could, even that love paled to the devotion he felt for their child.

A cool, gentle breeze kissed Sam's face, bringing his attention back to the ceremony. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a slight movement. A lovely Hispanic woman with light brown hair wept softly into her hands.
And no wonder. It must be hell to see her late husband's portrait standing there, instead of the man himself.
The two kids, a little girl and a tiny boy, sat to the right of their mother, kicking their feet and staring at the painting. Jack wrapped his arm around Marithé, trying to comfort her. She leaned into his embrace. Further down the row, Mike, his ugly glasses replaced with contact lenses, smoothed his gingery hair away from his eyes and glanced at his date, a stately black woman who watched the proceedings with a serene smile. Of Ray there was no sign, as he'd remained active and been deployed in Europe. Sam didn't miss his smart-ass comments.
We've all walked a hard road,
he thought.
We've all suffered. War changed us, changed our paths, and we've all made some mistakes trying to deal with it. But now, there's hope for us all.

Major Hansen had been right that their issues would require a lifetime of effort to overcome, but with his help over the last year, Sam and Amy had learned the tools for healthy interaction, and how to combat their inner demons to make their love as beautiful as they'd once hoped. More was needed. More would always be needed. But at least now they knew how and they vowed to face it together, in good and especially in bad, when they needed each other most.

A bright future stretched before them. Amy now reigned as office manager of the family ranch and Sam was preparing to take over things over so Dusty could finally retire and devote his time to his beloved heifers. In a few months, Sam would begin animal science classes at the university. He couldn't wait, and neither could Janie because Dusty had promised her a delayed honeymoon in France, where they'd make a tour to taste all the local cuisine!

A new house was under construction in a flat area near the main house. Though they'd been content to share Amy's tiny suite on the back side of the ranch, the addition of Alyssa had made the space suddenly too small. Their hopes of expanding their family someday reflected in the almost completed four bedroom home.

As the chaplain read a passage from Second Corinthians, Sam risked a glance over his shoulder. Looking at the portrait of Jorge, Sam's smile turned wistful as he recalled his best friend and always his best man.
Amy says you're with me, man. I hope you are and I hope heaven is as great as they say because you deserve it. I miss you.

From a tree beside them, a mockingbird sang a sweet, trilling tune and then took wing. A feather drifted slowly toward the earth, carried by the breeze. It landed on Alyssa's face, tickling her cheek and making her giggle. The sound was like music to her father's ears.

“Do you, Samuel, take Amy to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”

Sam looked into Amy's beautiful face, shining with love, filled with hope for a future they could only imagine and spoke the words he waited his whole life to say, even when he was too selfish to admit it.

“I do.”