Soul Scars (Dog Haven Sanctuary Romance) (37 page)

“ALTHOUGH IT IS structured, the proceedings are also free-flow in that things arise, unique to each group of people, well, each person, really. Meditation and discussions are guided so that we stay on track and so that each veteran has the opportunity to share what they want without feeling rushed. The last thing we want is for a veteran to hold stuff back.”

Lulah sat in the passenger seat of Adoette’s car traveling to the retreat. She was coming to like the chaplain, pleased to have Adoette to school her through her nerves before they arrived.

“Will I have to talk?”

“That’s up to you. Nobody has to do anything, but many are compelled.”

Compelled in the same way she was when she’d received Vince’s letter. There was no hesitation on her part in contacting Adoette. Not because she was determined to spend the weekend at the retreat, but because of a need to find out more information. And what she’d found out made her want to go and be with Vince. What she didn’t want was to damage the healing he’d already done, so she’d confessed to the chaplain that she and Vince had fumbled their way in and out of an intimate relationship.

“You may be surprised in what you discover about yourself. Approach the weekend with an open mind, eyes wide, defenses down. Bring only a listening heart; it’s all Vince will want.”

“I’m frightened I’ll let him down, that there is something he’s expecting from me that I’m incapable of giving him.”

“Are you worried that Vince may think that since he is improving he will want to deepen your relationship? Expect some sort of commitment?”

Of course, she didn’t know. Maybe deep within her she worried that she would never heal from the wounds of being let down by her parents.

Finally, they turned down a narrow tree-lined drive that opened to a wooden lodge built by a lake. Around the lake’s shore were small cabins, and a couple of rowboats were tied at a jetty. Adoette parked the car beneath a large covered entranceway. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

The door opened, and Vince stepped through then stopped. Lulah’s heart began to hammer in her chest. “Why am I so nervous?” she asked in a half-whisper.

Adoette clasped her hand and squeezed. “Perhaps there’s more in that heart than you thought.” She opened the car door. “I’m going inside, I’ll leave you and Vince for a moment. He should know which cabin they’ve put you in.”

Vince came down to the car. He opened her door, and when she climbed out, she couldn’t quite go to him, couldn’t grasp their connection that seemed to wave about in the breeze, teasing and taunting and hovering out of reach.

“Relax, Lulah.” His voice sounded soft, barely making its way to her, and she drew a breath, wondering if he had spoken at all. Gradually, she pulled her gaze up to his face, to see a light in his eyes she’d never seen before. Despite it being nearly winter, his skin looked darker, as if burnished by the crystal air up here. But it was the light in his eyes that spoke to her.

She nodded. Yes, she could relax, soon, once she’d found her footing, because this was disarming, this different person who stood before her. “Hi, Vince.”

“Thank you for coming.”

She smiled, and he seemed to drink it in, a sip to test before gulping, as if quenching a massive thirst. He grabbed her bags and suggested they walk to the cabin.

“Where’s Calliope?” she asked.

“Right here.”

And she was there beside Vince, somehow not such a big presence at his side, as if the dog in a sense became an extension of him, moving through their world in gentle peace. Both, it seemed, had eased up the hyper-vigilance.

Vince walked her to a cabin at the end of a small group of buildings. “We’re all housed down here,” he said, holding the door for her. “You and I are sharing; I hope that’s okay for you. There are two bedrooms.”

“That’s great, Vince.” The cabins were dotted around the lake, and to be honest, it seemed more like a resort than a retreat.

“I swim in the lake each morning.”

“You’re kidding! It must be freezing.”

“Yeah, well, you know how much I like cold water.”

Only too well.

“Are you okay? You’re so quiet. I’ve never known you this quiet.”

“I’m a bit disoriented. You look well, Vince. How are you?”

“I’m good. Do you want to walk? We can talk about what happens here. We’re free until dinner in a couple of hours.”

They took the path around the lake. Other veterans were with their families and partners. Some parents, some wives and girlfriends. Vince reached for her hand in a warm, comforting grasp, so different from other times when his hold contained a desperation that mirrored the way he tried to hold himself together.

“I feel as if I’m healing at last, Lulah. It’s a revelation to know that being a warrior is a good thing instead of something inside myself to despise, something I thought of as some destructive beast the war awakened in me. The beast wasn’t the warrior, not in the mythic sense; the beast was the warrior unbalanced.

“That’s hard for me to understand.”

“I know. It was hard for me, too, at first, but as we’ve worked through various programs so that we understand and identify with the warrior spirit, well, we can start to love ourselves again.”

His hand gripped hers tighter now, the desperation of him needing her to understand what he said was in the firm pressure of each finger, the circle completed by his thumb so that she became captured, physically and emotionally, by all the hope contained in that grasp. Her own anguish grew as she understood that she hadn’t stayed there for him those times when he’d felt she’d seen his soul. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t be his healer; he needed to do it himself.

“I couldn’t help you, Vince.”

“You’re helping me now.” The grip of his hand eased, and he nudged her with his elbow. “Sorry for the bone-crusher moment.”

“I imagine there will be more.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“I said I’d be honored to hear your story, Vince. I still feel that way, and I mean it from my heart. To understand what broke you is a privilege.”

“It’s a risk, Lulah. You may be disgusted by what I’ve done or hate me.”

“No. I want to understand. You’re so different, now. Even physically.”

“Does that mean I’ve lost my UHT Guy status?”

She stopped him on the track, and with a fingertip to his chest to indicate he should stay still, she made a slow, appraising circle of him. “It’s enhanced, dude. Seeing you now, I hadn’t realized how much of the pain you carried was evident on your face. Your eyes, Vince, they’re so different. You don’t look haunted anymore.”

“I think that washed away with all the tears I’ve shed over the past weeks.”

As they caught up to another couple, Vince steered Lulah along a side path into a more forested area. She had so many questions. “I don’t know where to start, Vince.”

“You’ve started already by coming here. But the truth is, you started a long time ago when you accepted me as I was each time I walked through the gates at the Sanctuary. You probably never realized the importance that a single area of my life existed where people would allow me to be me, without pressures or expectations.”

Lulah nudged his arm. “We were all scared of you, that’s why.”

“I don’t blame you. I was scared of myself.”

Chapter 31

T
HEY ENTERED THE meeting room after breakfast the following morning. It looked so different now, filled with wives, siblings, parents, and friends who came to join them. The professionals and counselors were here along with members of the wider local community who regularly came to participate in these ceremonies. Voices were a low murmur, and the expectations, in contrast, were high.

Eric, the spiritual leader, guided the veterans in meditation, the way he had so many times through the past weeks. Initially Vince struggled with it, as surely every other vet who came here. This setting aside of the carefully positioned barriers to find a place of calm within himself initially set off every alarm and warning system he’d built over the years. Now, though, he found he could reach that place quickly without experiencing any anxiety, and he sought it with relish.

He knew what would happen; they’d had it explained the night before, but when the veterans were asked to step to one side of the room, to remove themselves from their civilian friends and families, from the small community they had become within the building, he had to fight to keep the calm he’d found. Stepping away, in a sense, mirrored their deployment, and he went to the far wall with the other veterans. They’d done this sort of thing before, but having Lulah here as a representative of all those he loved gave him a sense of loss and longing, different though just as intense as what he felt for Gable.

His fear rose, feeding the monster, giving it strength, and he fought an emerging need to reach for Lulah, to touch her and feel her goodness and warmth. God, he was going back months, back to the time before he’d arrived at the retreat. What a mistake. He’d wanted so badly for it to work that he’d foolishly put his blind faith into rituals and myth. What he thought had been the rediscovery of his soul had been his monster playing a cruel trick, pretending to back down when faced with the goodness and love of these people, while all the time it rested, gathering strength to come back and claim him when his defenses were finally lowered.

He was hot, way too hot; the room was suddenly airless. Calliope stood on his foot, nudging him. He needed to escape from the building, and he could use her, say his dog needed a break. He’d encourage her to act up, and the pair of them could get the hell away. Perspiration soaked his shirt, and it clung to his back. Eric spoke, his words a rumble of sound, and,
fuck it…

He eyed the door. Two men stood beside it, like sentries, but he could break past them easily. They wouldn’t expect him to make a run for it. He reached slowly for Calliope’s leash, and Lulah caught his eye. As they made contact, he saw her frown, and right there, her disappointment flooded through him.

Letting her down again.

Now the monster was euphoric, inhaling her dismay like a huffer with a bag and solvent. They were supposed to circle the civilians as a symbol of their protection of them and their way of life while they fought their battles. He would aim to situate himself near the door so that when the circle completed, he could duck out.

The other veterans moved to create the circle but try as he might, Vince couldn’t shift. Something else inside of him, his soul maybe, tried to beat down the monster, and that whole battle needed fighting again. Calliope nudged him harder, and her leash that he held broke the peace when it clattered to the floor. Everyone turned at the sound, and the small safe world he’d created with these men in the past few weeks crumbled away.

He’d fooled himself, thinking he was improving. The exit and the woods beyond were the only things that made sense now, but when he turned for it, something caught his sleeve. He reached to swipe it away and heard Adoette’s smooth voice.

“Settle, Vince; don’t let it beat you. Don’t fight the love and forgiveness in this room.”

Was she insane? He’d started shaking.

“It’s a panic attack, nothing more than that. You must believe in yourself. There’s nothing inside you trying to take over, to make you fail. It’s too much stress.”

“I can’t do this. Look at me! The others, they’re making progress because they’re good men. But I have something evil inside me that won’t let me go.”

“No, you haven’t. You only have goodness inside. It’s because you feel so deeply that this affects you so.”

He tried to pull away, but Adoette slipped her hand into his, and at the same time, one of the other vets took his free arm. “Come on,” he said gently, “we need you to complete the circle.”

Vince searched the faces of those around him, expecting recriminations, anger that he’d broken the calm to ruin a moment of healing for them all. Instead, all that was truly there was acceptance and concern. He sought Lulah and stayed with her eyes as she drew him towards her, to finish the circle, and at that moment, he found another piece of the jigsaw in the strength that came with the love of the person left at home.