Healing A Hero (The Camerons of Tide’s Way #4) (3 page)

Chapter 4

January 2015

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

PHILIP’S LONG strides ate up the distance between the rehab center and his new duty post as if he were trying to outrun an enemy.

Elena’s sudden reappearance in his life had rattled him to the core. He was over her. Years ago. But now he couldn’t walk fast enough to outdistance the memories.

The last time he’d seen her, he’d been so in love it had taken every ounce of self-discipline not to ask her to elope with him before he had to return to duty. But he’d married in haste when he was barely out of boot camp, a mistake that ended in betrayal and a loss that still haunted him. Haste was a mistake he wasn’t about to repeat.

He’d been certain about his own feelings, and was pretty sure Elena was in love with him, but he didn’t trust it. She’d been so young. Just beginning to think about what she wanted out of life. So he hadn’t asked for a commitment. He’d promised to stay in touch instead and made plans for Christmas together in Tide’s Way.

Then 9/11 had happened. Everyone’s plans had been thrown into turmoil, and he hadn’t been able to return when he’d promised. Thoughts of her had sustained him through those long months of separation and isolation, but when he’d finally returned stateside eager to make up for lost time, it turned out he’d been the one left behind.

It had taken years to get over her. But he had. He was so over her. So over letting his heart get involved. After the cruel trick Holly had played on him, he’d ached even more to be a husband and a father. He’d wanted to be Elena’s husband and for her to bear his children, but she’d crushed that hope forever.

So why did every nerve in my body come to total alert the instant I heard her voice?

The wounds in his thigh ached, but he ignored the pain and increased his speed. Then realized he’d almost walked right past the building he was seeking. He did an about-face and hurried up the walk and into the building.

He started to reach for the doorknob with his right hand and swore. Then he jerked the door open with his left hand and entered the building.

As he walked down the hall toward his new and hopefully temporary duty assignment, he chafed at the uncomfortable sling supporting his right arm and the fact that he’d be stuck at a desk job until he got this rehab stuff done with. Couldn’t happen soon enough. Being close to that woman without letting on how she affected him was going to be hard. Harder than the actual rehab. He couldn’t let her get to him. Not again.

He squared his shoulders under the stiff new uniform, wishing he’d been able to salvage the old one that had been broken in and comfortable. It would have been a lot easier to get on and button up. He might be willing to let Elena Castillo teach him how to do a hundred other useful things with his left hand, but buttoning his trousers was not one of them. Why couldn’t the Marine Corps put zippers in their pants like the rest of the world?

At least he was finally out of Walter Reed. At Lejeune, he’d be able to visit home more often and reconnect with his family. Of course, he would have had leave time to accomplish that anyway if the MRAP hadn’t set off that mine.

The eerie echo of silence as the armored vehicle slid into the muck of the canal was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. He glanced down at his nearly useless right hand and grimaced. He’d managed to pull all of his men free, but he hadn’t been able to save Corporal Perry and he’d ruined his hand in the attempt.
I might never hold a sniper rifle again.

I’m a warrior, not a desk jockey. I’m supposed to be in control.

Until now.

Control over his life and career had been stripped away in those frantic, desperate minutes. Minutes he did everything he could to forget while he was awake. Minutes that haunted his dreams. He’d been hailed as a hero, but he didn’t feel much like one. He still had all his limbs, even if one of them didn’t work the way it should.

And now he’d been assigned to a new therapist he had a history with. A history that was definitely going to make rehab even more hellish than it had been up to now. And if working with Elena Castillo wasn’t bad enough, he was stuck ashore answering to a pissant Captain who, from everything Philip had been able to find out, had never once seen action yet took great pleasure in making sure everyone was aware of his Annapolis ring.

Rehab was going to be a bitch in more ways than one.

The door of the office he sought stood open. He stepped inside, only to find it was a small foyer furnished with only a buzzer, an intercom, and an iris scanner.

He pressed the buzzer.

“Intel. Name and purpose?” A disembodied voice echoed flatly in the small foyer.

“Gunnery Sergeant Phillip B. Cameron. Reporting as ordered,” Philip responded to the clipped query.

A moment passed. Then, “Welcome aboard. Come on in.”

A soft click alerted Philip that the door had been unlocked. Somehow, this was not how he had pictured this job in spite of all the interviews required before his new security clearance was issued. How could whatever went on behind these doors be that top secret? Wasn’t all that spook stuff supposed to go on up at Quantico?

He pulled the door open and stepped into the other half of his new life.

ELENA STEPPED into the comfortable condo she’d found for herself and her daughter just outside Lejeune’s main gate. She dropped her messenger bag on the floor and tossed her car keys in a bowl on the table next to the door.

“Julie?” She kicked off her Crocs and padded to the kitchen in stocking feet.

“Hey, Mom.” Julie looked up from the books spread across the kitchen table in front of her. “How’d the first day of your new life go?

Elena’s heart swelled at the sight of her pretty, dark-haired daughter. Julie was taller than Elena by two inches, even though she wouldn’t be officially a teenager for another four months. She had Elena’s coloring and heart-shaped face, but she had her father’s eyes. And his dimple. A stab of loss shot through Elena at the familiar thought.

“It’s just a new job, not a new life,” Elena answered, opening the refrigerator door to grab a jug of sweet tea.

Julie frowned. “Feels like it to me.
My
life is in San Diego.”

Elena stopped pouring herself a drink and looked at her daughter. It was hard moving to a new school. Harder moving in the middle of the year. Elena would never have asked it of her daughter had this new position not been so advantageous and needed to be filled now rather than at the end of the school term.

She smoothed her hand over Julie’s sleek hair and cupped her face. “I know it’s hard, and I’m sorry it feels that way to you. But you’ll make new friends. Give it time.”

Julie moved out of reach. “Time isn’t going to get you and dad back together.”

“That was never going to happen. Even if we’d stayed on the west coast.” Admittedly, moving east had forced Eli out of Julie’s everyday life, but it couldn’t be helped. The opportunity to move closer to home and family, secure a very advantageous position, and rebuild her life had been something Elena couldn’t turn down.

Her daughter shrugged one shoulder, as if irritated by Elena’s reply.

“Did the permanent replacement for your Pre-Algebra class show up?” Elena asked, trying to change the subject. “Didn’t you tell me you had a sub in that class last week?”

Julie rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about permanent. He was wearing a uniform. Like someone borrowed him from the Marines to get through the rest of the year. Half the girls in the class are making idiots of themselves.”

Elena lifted her brows. “But not you?”

“Just because he’s hot? Mom! He’s old. You’d probably like him. You seem to like the warrior type.”

Another obvious dig. Eli was a pacifist and anti-military. Her working with Marines and sailors and her concern for the traumas they had experienced had been another of the fissures that destroyed her marriage.

“I was invited to join the tennis team if I want.” Julie stacked her schoolbooks in a pile and pushed them to one side. “Tryouts were a month ago, but I’d have made it anyway according to my gym teacher. Only problem is, I need to figure out how to get home after practice.”

“Is there no sport bus?” In California, there had been a late bus for kids involved in after-school sports.

“There’s just one late bus, but I’d have to get dropped off at the gate to the base, or at the corner of the Food Lion plaza. It’s a long walk home from either stop, and you aren’t likely to let me walk that far if it’s dark out.”

“You could walk up to the PT department on the days you have practice. That’s pretty close. Then you could ride home with me. You could do homework while you wait.”

Julie grimaced. “Like, hang out with you? While you work?”

“You used to enjoy coming to work with me.”

Julie rolled her eyes.

Elena sighed. “Maybe it would only be temporary. Once practices start and you get to know your teammates, you might find someone whose parent picks them up and wouldn’t mind dropping you off on the way. Or I can ask the coach if you prefer.”

“I’ll take the bus to the gate,” Julie muttered, then turned her attention back to the notebook she’d left open.

Elena drank her tea and watched Julie work. Maybe her daughter’s attitude was more about being a teenager than about the move and missing her father. Elena’s dad had been killed in an auto accident when Elena was even younger than Julie was now, and she had missed him horribly. But she’d coped, and so would Julie.

Julie paused and looked up. “I put a tuna casserole in the oven, but I didn’t turn it on because I wasn’t sure when you’d get home.”

Elena smiled. In spite of everything, her daughter was a good kid and beginning to take on responsibilities even when she hadn’t been asked. “Thanks, sweetie.”

As Elena reached to turn the oven on, the phone in her pocket vibrated. She pulled it out and checked the screen.

Philip Cameron
.

Chapter 5

January 2015

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

“HOW DID YOU get my number?” Elena’s voice sounded brisk and annoyed. Was she irked that someone had given him her number? Or was she just ticked off at him?

“How did you know it was me?”

“Caller ID,” she answered, her voice still clipped and impatient. “I logged your number into my cell phone—you know—” She broke off. A heavy sigh followed as if she was frustrated about something. “In case I needed to reach you for some reason.”

“Turns out it’s the other way around. I needed to reach you, instead. And don’t blame your brother. He didn’t know you were angry with me.”

“I’m not angry. I’m just—”

“Just what?” He wasn’t happy about having her back in his life. But she was the one who’d ended it. She hadn’t waited for him like she promised. It wasn’t her fault that he ended up in her PT department now. But it wasn’t his, either.

“What can I do for you, Philip?” Her tone softened.

The way she said his name filled him with a disconcerting mix of warmth and regret. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start caring about her again, and that wasn’t going to happen. Getting dumped had been painful; getting sucked in again would be stupid. He needed to state his business and get off the phone.

“I didn’t want you to think I was blowing off my appointment tomorrow morning, but it turns out that I’m going to have to rework our schedule.”

“But I thought you wanted mornings.” The irritation was back.

“I did, and I’m sorry. I wanted to get the therapy over with and get on with my day but it turns out my day needs to start early. Like at oh-dark-hundred.”

“What on earth are you doing that you have to be to work before dawn?”

In his world, there were clear-cut boundaries between need-to-know and not. And she didn’t have a need to know what his current assignment was. But if they were going to be working together, it would be a lot easier if they could be friends. He needed her whether he liked it or not.

“Most of what I’ll be doing isn’t focused on the Eastern Time Zone. But that’s about all I can tell you.”

“O-kaaay?” she drawled. It sounded as though she was trying to fit this bit of information into some framework she could understand. “Hang on.”

He fidgeted with the fabric of his trousers while he waited, rubbing the fold of material until the sharp crease wilted.

Then she came back on the line. “I can’t see you until four. Will that work for you?” All of the annoyed impatience was gone from her words, replaced by the soft huskiness he’d once loved and let himself be aroused by.

It had been fourteen years since that time. Why did the sound of her voice still make his heart rate skip? He shook his head trying to dispel the unwanted response.  “Four is good.”

“See you then.

After she’d disconnected, Philip stood staring at his phone.

There had been moments during his first session with her just hours earlier when her professionalism had slipped and some of the warm, generous woman he knew her to be had slipped through. Moments that had reminded him how easily they’d become friends, and how much that friendship had meant before he’d let passion take over their relationship.

Perhaps they could still be friends. God knew he was going to have to spend plenty of time in her PT department. Wouldn’t those hours be easier to deal with if he could let the pain and anger of her betrayal remain in the past where it belonged? Or was it even possible to be friends with a woman who had once had your heart in the palm of her hand and then crushed it?

He didn’t know the answer and wasn’t sure he had the courage to find out. Somehow, he’d just have to tough it out, get through the therapy as quickly as possible, and get on with his life.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and turned away from the window to face his new quarters. A helpful young corporal had carted all his gear up the stairs for him and dumped it in a pile beside the door.

The place looked more like a college dormitory than a senior NCO billet, although far more spacious. At least he had the place to himself. He snorted. First time in years he hadn’t shared quarters with at least one other person or a whole lot of others.

He’d still be eating at the mess hall. At least for a while. Until he got used to muddling through with just his left hand, or Elena did her thing and got his right hand back in working order.

He glanced down at his hand where it protruded from the sling. He stretched the fingers, then closed them into a fist and stretched them again. The pain he could deal with. If only he could get the function back.

“Suck it up, Marine,” he muttered aloud.
Gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself and focus on what you can do
.

He bent to the pile by the door, hoisted the biggest of the duffels to his shoulder and carried it over to dump onto his bed. Then he began sorting and stowing his belongings.

After hanging his uniforms in the closet and lining his shoes up underneath, he carried his toiletry kit into the bathroom and emptied it into the cabinet over the sink. Then he set his computer on the desk, plugged it in, and turned it on.

While it booted up, he sat down on the edge of his bed with a small canvas bag his sister had made for him that he’d carried pretty much everywhere he’d ever been assigned. It held all the little things that tied him to family and home.

He set three framed photos on the headboard over his bed. One of his parents, one of himself with his siblings taken several years ago, and one of a dark-haired young man wearing a cap and gown. Then he tipped the remaining contents onto his bed. The rosary his gran had given him slithered out along with a battered silver cross with no chain, his worn and much-read New Testament, and a folded square of paper. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up the cross and held it in the palm of his hand.

Until very recently, he’d worn it on the chain with his dog tags. Until some nurse somewhere along the line between Afghanistan and Walter Reed had removed it. Had he opened the little bag before today, he’d have returned the cross to the chain around his neck. Hastily, he dropped it back into the bag and reached for the folded square of paper.

A much happier memory. He smiled as he unfolded it and looked at the childish rendition of a Raggedy Ann doll sitting on the lap of a Marine in his dress blues. His niece had been a toddler when she drew it.