Drawing Blood (31 page)

By the time Elliot got to the hospital, she was reading out loud to him. Elliot’s foot scuffed the doorway, and she looked up, book forgotten. “Elliot!”

“I’m sorry it took so long.” He was across the room like a shot, hugging Janet the best he could. That got her crying again.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

They hugged for a while, and David took that as his cue. He got up quietly and left the room. Neither of them seemed aware he’d left .

Chapter Fifty-One

Abigail

She entwined her fingers with David’s, lying on her side, eyes closed with sleepy happiness. He drew circles on the inside of her wrist.

“You’re smiling,” he murmured drowsily, and she opened her eyes to catch him smiling at her with what she assumed was the same expression she likely had.

“Of course I’m smiling,” she replied. “I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he said, sliding closer to her in bed. She watched his face as he settled in to his pillow. He had gone home to shower and change before coming to see her, which she found endearing. And she very nearly told him to keep a razor, soap, and a few changes of clothes at her house. She didn’t though; it still seemed too soon for that; even though he would probably spend the whole night.

He opened one eye and caught her looking. His grin broadened. “What are you looking at?”

“One of the sweetest people I’ve ever known.”

“I’m not sweet.”

“Yes you are!”

“I’m a scoundrel.”

She had to laugh at that. “You are not.”

“No man wants to hear that he’s sweet.”

“Fine, fine. I am looking a ruggedly handsome, sexy, dependable and caring man.”

“That’s better.”

She tweaked his nose, and he caught her hand, laughing with her now. She tried to pull back but he held her hand tight, pinned her hand over her head and then rolled half on to her, kissing her neck. She was giggling quietly, not wanting to wake Archie. “David,” she whispered, trying to push him off in an intentionally weak attempt.

When he stilled he was gazing down at her, stroking her hair gently. He gave her a very tender and slow kiss, more of that soft brushing of his lips on hers. Abigail found she could spend all day in that kiss. The second she saw David she wanted that kiss immediately.

David wasn’t making any big moves, he had to be as tired as she was. She’d waited for him to visit, worried that something had happened to him. Which sounded silly even to her: he had been through much more dangerous situations than driving to her apartment from his office. When he told her that Janet had gone in to labour and he had to take her to the hospital, Abigail actually felt a flare of jealousy. She had no idea why her first though was,
Why were you with Janet? Janet has a husband.
She then felt like a bitch. Going in to labour had been terrifying, and if Madeline Petit hadn’t been there when her water broke Abigail couldn’t imagine what she would have done. The baby came fast, because they were both so skinny, Madeline told her.  Not a lot of women could say they coached their “midwife” through their own delivery. Thank God she’d been a nurse.

He told her that the Murphys had a girl, which made her smile. She could just imagine how easily that little girl would have her father wrapped around her finger.

No, she had no right to be jealous: that was ridiculous. Elliot wasn’t hers, but before she had seen him again here in Canada she had a fantasy she called up before going to sleep. He was her husband, raising Archie with her, back in France. He worked, she took care of Archie and the house, he came home for supper, they’d bathe Archie, put him to sleep and then make love every night until they fell asleep.

Ridiculous. But at the time those fantasies were what put her to sleep each and every night. Seeing Elliot in the flesh again made her feel foolish.

She pushed that aside. David was here, David was kissing her. David made her feel wonderful, and he cared about her.

After dozing off Abigail was woken by the sounds of drawers and cupboard doors being opened and closed in the kitchen. She rolled on to her back, confused and listening for evidence of what might be happening in the next room.

She stretched and yawned, turning on the bedside lamp and checking the clock. It was almost 3:30 in the morning. That’s when she realized David wasn’t in bed anymore.

She sat up and strained to hear more, but it was just opening, closing doors, pacing around. Abigail threw back the covers, slipped her robe on, and padded down the hallway, yawning and praying the noise didn’t wake up Archie. All the lights in the main living area were out, and Abigail felt a sudden chill. Something was certainly wrong.

“David?” She said softly, catching his shadow move across the light coming through the window. It made her jump but she instinctively knew it was him. “Is everything okay?” She was wondering if the power was out, but she’d been able to turn on the bedside lamp. She could still see the light coming down the hall, and then the fridge kicked on and started running. David jumped, turning to the noise. “It’s okay, it’s just the -”

“Shhh,” he said, taking her arm and pulling her next to him along the wall between the kitchen and the living room. It didn’t hurt her, but she was startled. “Quiet, just for a minute.”

They waited for … something. Abigail wasn’t sure what they were listening for, but she held her breath anyway. David was calm next to her, his back to the room like he was protecting her from something.

“David, I don’t -”

“Shhh,” he hissed sharply, and she felt that prickle of unease again. “I don’t know where the goddamn sentry got to. I can’t find my 303.”

She frowned in the dark, her eyes just barely able to make out the shadows of his face. His head was to the side, eyes not focused on anything, like he was honestly expecting to hear something. “Go find Sergeant Murphy,” he whispered so softly she wasn’t entirely sure he was actually speaking. “Move quiet, and turn off that fucking light.”

“David -” he shoved her to the hallway again, and she stumbled a bit, almost falling. She caught herself on the table edge, but that knocked the vase on the centre of the table over.

David was immediately there, grabbing her shoulders whispering frantically, “Noise discipline! Noise discipline!”

She tried to pull away, eventually getting free and backing away from him in to the living room. She turned on the lamp next to the sofa, and he was moving forward saying, “Put that light out -” when he stopped, stock-still in the middle of the room. She stood there, hands out, watching him
snap
awake, was the only term she could think of. He had an empty look to his entire face and suddenly his eyes focused and tension returned. He looked around, looked down at himself in only his shorts, then up at her. He rubbed his hands on his arms.

“Abby? Are you … are you okay?”

It gave her pause. “David?”

He nodded. “What just happened?” She lowered her hands and came forward. He immediately opened his arms, and she stepped in to his offered embrace. He wrapped her up in a tight hug, and that’s when she realized his skin was slick with cold sweat. “Was … was I sleep walking or something?”

“I think so.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”

“A little bit,” her voice broke a bit, and she fought back the impending tears.

He squeezed tighter. “I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry. Usually I just get nightmares. But maybe I do sleep walk on my own. I have no idea.”

“It sounded like you thought you were still in the war,” she said, voice stronger now.

“Yeah. In my nightmares I’m usually dying.”

“I’m sorry David, I didn’t know.”

“Hey, I’ll be okay.” He rubbed her back. “Maybe there was a certain amount of stress in sitting there waiting for the baby to be born. I think stress triggers it.”

She leaned back and took his face in her hands, giving him a quick kiss. “You feel cold. Let’s get back in bed.”

She turned off the lamp, held his hand and led him back down the hallway, climbing back under the covers before shutting off the lamp. He immediately curled himself around her, pressing his chest to her back and flinging his arm over her waist like he was staking his claim.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Abby,” he mumbled, his breath tickling her neck.

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize.”

He gave her a slight squeeze. “I’m scared I might hurt you.”

Funny, she’d been thinking the same thing. But she wanted him to feel better, not worse. “You wouldn’t. I know that.”

“You are the most understanding person I’ve ever known.”

She smiled in the dark.

“That’s likely why I was pining for you all those years,” he continued. “You’re just what I always wanted.”

“Shhh … go back to sleep and rest.”

Now he kissed the back of her neck. “You’re perfect. You should just marry me.”

She chuckled, what she hoped sounded like a casual sound and not a nervous one. “Go to sleep.”

He was out within minutes but Abigail was stewing over the sleep walking and nightmares. She had assumed he was okay.  She thought of James, and knew it wasn’t as bad as all that but still, letting him in her house, with her son  …

David sighed in his sleep, and he snuggled closer to her without waking. This gentle man with the biggest heart she’d ever known would never hurt her, she decided. He was nothing like James had been.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Elliot

Caroline Marie Murphy was lying on her back, bundled tight in a blanket, flat on the mattress between him and Janet. They both lay on their sides facing down at her, quietly watching her sleeping.

Her breathing had to be the sweetest thing he had ever heard in his life. Elliot felt like he had to be touching her at all moments, just to confirm she was real. It had been three days, and his head was still spinning with all the revelations this little life was bringing out.

Janet’s smile was brilliant and gorgeous, her hand resting on Caroline’s stomach. He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss. She turned those eyes on him, and he had to smile. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered, setting their hands on the bed at her feet.

“She is, isn’t she?”

“Like you.”

She smiled but looked back at her daughter, dropping her head down to her arm.

Elliot knew this reprieve didn’t mean she’d forgiven him entirely. The affair she could forgive, but a constant visual confirmation of it was something else. And he knew her concern was that other people they knew, hell, people they didn’t know, would immediately know what he’d done.

But right then he could let himself imagine that everything was perfect.

Caroline was perfect, that much was true anyway. She yawned in her sleep, and they both reacted like it was the most amazing thing they’d ever seen.

“Are you … are you sure you want to still do this tonight?” He asked softly, scratching his head and yawning himself.

“Everyone wants to see her. They may as well all come over at once. But you’re going to be the one barbecuing, right?” She looked up at him again.

“That’s right. But that part’s not hard.”

She smiled. “Most men take credit for grilling when it’s the wife that marinates, makes the salads, the dessert, gets the dishes and tables ready …”

He chuckled. “I know.”

“You are … you are the exception.”

He swallowed. “No, I’m not.”

She took her hand away and brushed his cheek. “I say you are.”

“Then I am.” He looked at the clock on her night stand. “What should I do to help get everything ready?”

“Get the potatoes ready. If you really want something to do.”

That was a change; her not being the one that had to be up and moving at all times. “Oil and foil?”

“And don’t forget to poke the holes.”

“I won’t.” He carefully eased his weight off the side of their bed and left the two of them alone, partially closing the door in case Janet wanted a nap, too.

Elliot recalled the doctor handing him his daughter to hold the first time. He froze.  He didn’t know where to put his hands, what to do. The nurse showed him the right way, but his hands had trembled the whole time.

He’d lived through D-Day, Caen, Falaise and the Breskens pocket, but the thought of holding a newborn had him literally shaking.

Caroline hadn’t minded. Actually, by the time she’d been cleaned up and wrapped in the receiving blanket she’d stopped crying.  Her bright eyes rolled around the room and he knew she wasn’t really seeing anything, but as he brought her close to his chest she had sighed. She was fine with him being her dad, apparently. That felt pretty fantastic.

Perhaps his jitters had come from watching Janet go through all that pain. But she was so strong, much stronger than he had ever been in his entire life. She’d asked to see the baby, and when he’d turned to her she was so pale, hair damp with sweat. There were circles around her eyes, but she had wanted to see Caroline. He eased the little bundle in to her arms, and she’d started sobbing immediately. He knew she was happy but he’d been making her cry so often he instinctively felt guilt.

Now they were home and had spent three days just staring at Caroline in complete wonder. Tonight they ended their isolation and invited their families and close friends over for a barbecue, and to meet Caroline. It had been Janet’s idea, and she even told him to invite David, Abigail and Archie over for it, too.

So that had led to him having to explain to his parents and her parents that he had fathered a child in Europe. He was still waiting to see in person how that news would be received. On the phone his parents had been … Well, they sounded politely surprised. Her mother had been completely silent on the subject and actually handed the phone to Janet’s father when she couldn’t speak.

Everyone had a nights’ sleep on it. If they wanted to see their granddaughter they’d have to deal with it like grownups. He only owed his apologies to his wife.

Right on cue, just as his guilt flared up again, he caught sight of Hank Talbot over the fence, mowing his lawn. He watched the man push the clipper back and forth in rows, stabbing at the potatoes with a fork. It was easy to do with that asshole in sight. Elliot didn’t want to invite the Talbots, but Janet insisted that Elizabeth was her best friend and she wanted the Talbots there. She promised that Hank would be fine.

The potatoes were wrapped and ready and he checked on the steaks that were marinating. Janet and Caroline were both fast sleep, so he stretched out on the sofa, closing his eyes. Sleep hadn’t been plentiful.

The warmth of the sunshine flooding through the room was as comforting as any bed, and he dozed off easily, falling in to a half-sleep that usually comes from napping in the afternoon. He knew what the sounds were in the room, could hear the cars driving by outside, heard kids run down the sidewalk shouting. Elliot was perfectly content to just drift.

When he did hit a deep sleep, it wasn’t the neighbourhood sounds of a Sunday afternoon that serenaded him. He was on his stomach, head down, eyes closed, body entirely tensed up, holding his breath; which hurts when your heart is racing.

Overhead he heard bombers; that low, intense droning that sounded like a flock of the world’s biggest bumble bees passing over. When their loads hit the ground, his entire body shook with it. It rattled his teeth and buffeted his ears painfully. Jesus, that was close.

He raised his head, noting that the gunfire had stopped. The town over the swell in the dirt road ahead of him was just a cloud of dust, and dust and small bits on concrete were raining down on them, hitting his helmet like sleet. No one was moving, no one made a sound. They were all hoping that raid had taken out every German in that town. So far, it sounded like it did.

He hit the shoulder of the man next to him, something-Wilkins. He only knew last names for most of these guys. “Take two men further up, we’ll cover if anything starts shooting.”

He got no answer, and Elliot rolled the man on to his back with a sinking feeling. He’d taken a shot to the neck, he was bloodied and dead. The medic – yeah, that was Wilkins.

“Shit,” he mumbled, looking around. Everyone was still lying low. He rolled on to his back in the grass, grabbing his magazine and sliding the new one home while discarding the nearly empty one back in his pocket. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and readying himself before cresting that rise and starting down the road. He hoped someone saw him and would cover him …

Wait. This was something else. He was still on his back in the grass. But someone was on top of him. Something soft and warm and certainly female –

His eyes flew back open. He was still lying in a ditch outside Caen, but Abigail was astride his hips, naked, undoing his pants. He tried to push her hands away but he had his rifle in hand and he didn’t get to her in time before she freed him of his shorts.

“Elliot?”

His eyes flew open. Janet was standing over him, cradling Caroline in her arms. She was frowning, and all he could think about was how he had been so close …

What the hell are you thinking?
Elliot cleared his throat and sat up, aware that he had an erection and hoping like hell she didn’t notice.

“Elliot, are you okay?”

He nodded, running a hand down his face and looking at the sweat that left behind. “Bad dream,” he muttered, trying to catch his breath.

“You were making strange noises. Where were you?” Janet perched next to him, concern on her face. He felt like a shit.

“Caen,” he said, instantly recognizing the day those events happened. Well, most of those events. The end was … new.

“Sorry, honey. You don’t talk about that one very much.”

He nodded. “A lot of our company got wiped out there.”

“I was going to take a shower before I got supper ready. Can you take Caroline?”

“Of course,” he said, already reaching for her.

“Just lay back down and relax,” Janet instructed, and he did. Janet settled Caroline on her stomach against his chest, and she flattened right out, sighing and rolling her eyes around the room, not fighting. He put his hand on her back, chuckling at how warm she was and how he could feel her heart beating – so strong yet small. He knew she couldn’t roll off but he held her in place with one hand anyway.

He closed his eyes again, not interested in going to sleep. He’d never dreamed about Abigail before. It was strange that his mind lumped her in with one of the bloodiest parts of his war, but maybe it made sense. What they’d done had caused a lot of damage, in the long run.

Elliot hoped that was the only time she took over his nightmares. If his subconscious got frisky again, it better be Janet he dreamed of.