Today the sample is from my July 2011 release Kinfolk because the publisher, Champagne Books, is currently offering it and all titles at half price!
Here are the important details, then the sample, then the sale:
Also available at Amazon.com, Amazon.comUK, Amazon.comde, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes and Noble and more.
Here are the important details, then the sample, then the sale:
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You should have told me--we could have gone home.”
“It’s all right; I’m used to it and I didn’t want to head home. I’m not a damn invalid.”
His voice roughened as he spoke; she had hit a sensitive area but probed further.
“You told me it’s an old injury. Ben, how did you get hurt?”
His face hardened and he looked at her, his eyes dark and unblinking. The harsh lines seemed to deepen and there were shadows across his face that did not come from the ambient light. Her question had been too personal so she struggled to apologize.
“I’m probing. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He inhaled with force. “It’s all right. I don’t usually talk about it but I’ll tell you. It’s not a pretty story but you asked.”
As if he needed a boost, he paused for a long swallow of tea, face paler than she had ever seen it.
“You know I was a SEAL. I don’t know how much you know about what SEALs do but it’s a little of everything, special ops that most people never hear about. I was in Grenada and I’d been in the Gulf but not during the first Gulf War, not the second either. After about ten, eleven years, some of the thrill of being a SEAL faded. Hell, I was thirty-six, not twenty-six and life seemed more valuable. I felt like I might have used up all my luck and as it turned out, I had.”
He fumbled for a cigarette and lit the Camel. His hand trembled as he dropped the match into the ashtray.
“A few months before I got hurt, I had to choose whether to re-enlist or get out and I came home on leave. Pop and I talked about it but I hadn’t decided when I went back. About six weeks after I got back, we were training, making jumps.”
“Jumps?”
He exhaled smoke. “Yeah, jumps. A jump is jumping out of an airplane with a parachute. I’d made thousands of jumps by then and it should have been routine.”
She could guess what was coming. “But it wasn’t.”
“No, it wasn’t.” His voice sounded hoarse and he spoke so low she had to lean forward to hear. “I don’t know if it was my mistake or the equipment but the altimeter setting was off. And the chute malfunctioned. It didn’t open right so I was free falling hard and fast with a half-open chute.”
His left hand held the cigarette but his right lay on the table. She wrapped her fingers around his hand and held it.
“If I had hit the ground straight on, I’d have died but I hit the trees. Christ, I’ll never forget the impact. I hit hard and bounced from one limb to another before smacking the ground. If I had any luck at all, it was that I bounced off trees and not rocks.”
“My God, Ben.”
His grip on her hand tightened and his voice choked.
“I was hurt pretty bad. My left knee split in half and my leg below the knee, the tibia was shattered. I’ve seen puzzles with fewer pieces than my leg. I broke my left hip, some ribs, and bruised my entire body. It hurt like hell.”
He crushed out the cigarette and grasped her other hand too tight, his face naked. His normal control had vanished. His eyes glittered with suppressed fury and old anguish.
“They told me that my lung collapsed and I would have died en route to the hospital except for a corpsman that saved my life by inserting a breathing tube. Most leg injuries as bad as mine result in amputation but the docs wanted to try two fasciotomies, one medial, and one lateral to ease the pressure. That kept blood flowing to the leg; without it, the flesh would have died. I would have lost the leg if that happened.”
Nothing she could say could touch his agony but she tried. “You had a terrible ordeal.”
He released her hand to fire another cigarette, grey eyes black with emotion.
“That was just the beginning. You sure you want to hear the rest?”
“I do if you want to tell me, if you can.”
His shoulders shrugged. “I want to but I’m damned if I know why. To make a long story short, I had seven extensive surgeries to rebuild the leg. I have eight pins in the leg, five in my knee. By the time I had enough sense to know what was going on, I was so weak I could hardly sit up. I didn’t have much will left and I endured months of physical therapy. I went from bed bound to a wheelchair.”
She tried to imagine this virile man in a wheelchair and couldn’t but the idea upset her. Tears flowed down her cheeks unchecked.
“About that time, I had to either re-enlist or get out. I decided to leave--I didn’t want to go from being a SEAL to some office jockey gimping around and remembering the glory days. The Navy paid the medical bills, though, which is good. Otherwise, I imagine I would have a wooden leg or no leg at all or live on the street with a sign saying, ‘Help a homeless vet.’”
Bitterness tainted his voice and even as she cringed at the venom in his voice, she realized stubborn strength, willpower, and determination were what carried him through his recovery. If he had faltered, he wouldn't have made a full recovery--if he lived.
“So you came home?”
He snorted as smoke exited his nostrils like a dragon. “Yeah, home to the VA hospital at Fayetteville. I had more surgeries there and learned to walk again. That’s where I met Jill--she was a nurse. Around the time I started walking, Pop’s health went downhill. He had several falls and the last one broke his hip so he had to go into the nursing home. I sure as hell couldn’t help him--shit, I thought for awhile that I might be joining him for long-term care.”
In an effort to uplift both the man and the conversation, she tried to smile. “But you didn’t.”
He released her hands. “No, I didn’t. It does not give me trouble most of the time, just when the weather’s damp or I do not keep my leg worked out. The only reason it’s bothering me now is the cold and sitting in the truck in the same position so long.”
“Ben, I am so sorry.” The words were lame but her sympathy was real.
His look would have quelled most women. “Sorry I’m crippled, sorry you had to listen to my sob story, or sorry we went out today?”
“I’m sorry that I asked. It was painful for you to tell me but I don’t regret hearing about your injury and I’m glad we’ve spent the day together. I like you, Ben.”
“Yeah?” He raised one eyebrow as if he questioned her words. “Let’s go.”
His genial behavior vanished and the man who led her to the truck was a silent stranger. She could not understand why his demeanor had changed until he pulled out in traffic.
“I’ll take you home now.”
“Why?”
His head whirled. “I thought you’d be ready to go home. Don’t you want to?”
“No, not if you plan to dump me out at Aunt Ruby’s and go sulk alone.”
“You like pity parties?” The words were a challenge, a verbal gauntlet tossed down but if he wanted a fight, she was not about to give him one.
“No. Look, I’m sure it was hard to talk about what happened and if you want to go home, fine. I don’t feel sorry for you and I don’t think you’re a pitiful cripple. Like I said, I like you and I’m glad I know you.”
His pulse beat in his throat as he stared, eyes large. After a moment’s hesitation, the ghost of a smile moved across his lips.
“You make me glad to know myself.” The teasing tone was back, bitterness absent in his voice. “Come over here and sit by me; we’ll go home and you can make me some of that tea.”
Her voice was quiet as she nodded. “I’d like that, Ben, very much.”
He drove with one arm on the wheel; the other rested around her shoulders. She felt victorious, as if she had won some strange unspoken battle. Contentment warmed her and she smiled through the dark miles back to Decatur.
The Sale:
Also available at Amazon.com, Amazon.comUK, Amazon.comde, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes and Noble and more.
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