Whole Once MORE
A Novella
By Christine Chianti
Smashwords Edition
Published by Robin DeMarco Enterprises. Inc.
Copyright 2012 by Christine Chianti
This is a work of fiction. All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to a real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental
Smashwords Edition License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free e-book. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy.
Chapter 1
September blew in on a cold west wind as Robyn Flynn walked slowly through the Mount Calvary cemetery. Her shoulder length red hair whipped into a tangled mess that framed her pale face. She hated it here, but pushed on out of love and duty.
Stopping to catch her breath, she peered out over the small town below. Sunderland, Vermont was nestled into a small valley of the Green mountains. The first time John had shown her the town from a perspective like this, she immediately thought that it looked like something from a Currier and Ives collection. But now gray had replaced all of the colors of her image over the last year-and-a-half.
Silently, tears began to trickle down her cheek and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. Wasn’t this supposed to get easier? This wasn’t the first time she had been here on this date.
Leaves covered the little knoll where she turned left and started through the rows of headstones; her eyes now fixed on one particular stone. It sat at the western most edge of the north plot. Nothing fancy, a simple white marble stone with an arched top. Two urns of faded flowers flanked the headstone. Her heart broke a little more with each step.
She walked slowly over to the stone, holding her hand over mouth, as if trying to hold the sobs that were building in. She could feel the tightness in her chest; the ache of her heart for the man she’d loved. Reaching her hand out to touched the stone her fingers lovingly traced over the inscribed name, John Desmond. It was cool to the touch, yet a further reminder that he was not here. Kneeling down, the tears fall in sharp, heavy sobs. The bouquet of flowers fell from her hands.
“Hi, John. Happy birthday, honey.” Lovingly, she brushed her hand over the name, as if trying to find some comfort. She shifted her body to tuck her legs under her. “Why is life so unfair?” she asked.
Leaning back with her head resting on the marble, her fingers ran through the grass and the tears freely flowed. She cried until she could cry no more. At least for now, she hoped. She only came on the important days of their lives, otherwise the trek was simply too painful to warrant it. Never wanting anyone else to see how badly she had been destroyed when he had died as a result of a car accident, she always made the trek alone.
In an instant, she was back there, on that fateful night.
It was Valentine’s Day, and they had been at an engagement party at her best friend Jessica’s place. Tom, Jess’ boyfriend, had worked hard to plan the party so he could propose to her in front of everyone that Jess loved. When the answer was ‘yes’, the real party began. Through the celebratory mood, Robyn had found herself to have several glasses of champagne. John, being the sensible one, had forgone any alcohol and stuck to having only Cokes throughout the night.
As the party started to wane, John had led her back to his little blue Ford Focus. She had been a little too tipsy and hadn’t even been able to work the seatbelt until the third try. John had settled into the seat next to her and they started off.
They were rounding a curve in the road, about a mile from her house talking about how they restore it together after the wedding. Suddenly, there was nothing but the blinding light. Even in her inebriated state, Robyn knew there was a problem well before she felt the car lurch to the side. Her world turned upside down, catapulting her into a dark abyss.
The next thing she could remember was waking up in the hospital and screaming for John. The doctors and nurses worked to calm her down and sedated her. It was later when she found out that John had died in the wreck two weeks before. She had been touch-and-go for the most part of the two weeks, only being upgraded in the last twenty-four hours. Then the long, hard days of therapy began. Harder yet, was the process of trying to rebuild a life once the cornerstone had been decimated.
The trial hadn’t brought any relief either. The driver of the SUV that plowed into them had been drunk. Four times the legal limit! It was an ironic twist of fate that he’d walked away from the accident with barely a scratch. He’d pled guilty, and was now serving his sentence in the state jail. But John, her John, had been planted here while she was still in a coma. She’d never had a chance to say goodbye and therefore hadn’t felt whole since.
Opening her eyes, she decided that her life was still the same troubled mess it was when she’d arrived. “John, I’ve got a problem. Well, lots of them actually.” Leaning her head back further, she whispered “Look at me, will you. Here I am talking to someone who died a year-and-a-half ago and hoping for a response.” A light laugh escaped her mouth, and with a grin she added, “Well, what the hell?”
“When I bought the house, John, I moved right in and set up my business there. And, as you remember, we were planning on your workshop going in the in-law apartment in back.” She stopped to gather her thoughts, and then continued. “Well, here’s the thing. My business was just barely keeping its head above water, and then the economy took another turn down. Now, it’s in trouble. I’m in trouble. I’ve got an idea that I think will give it new life, and bring in those much needed customers, but I need money.”
She looked away from the stones, and towards the distant town before going on. “The other problem is that the house is starting to need some minor repairs, all of which require money. And that brings me to where I am now.” Hanging her head down, she took a deep breath and finished. “I had to clear out your workshop. I’m selling most of the tools that you had in there, and converting it back into an apartment. An acquaintance of mine from church has a nephew who is moving into the area. He’s a writer, apparently, and is looking for a relatively quiet place to work. He’s going to rent the apartment for the next few months.” The tears started falling again. “I’m sorry, John. So sorry.” She leaned forward so her head rested on her knees, and wept.
The feeling of warmth and comfort came over her slowly. It felt like he was there, so she sat for the better part of an hour, and let herself dream he was comforting her.
Sun glinted off of the windows of the houses of the neighborhood as she turned onto her street. Glancing skyward, she saw the first hint of blue peeking through the clouds. Perhaps the weatherman would have it right today, and it would turn out to be a nice afternoon. She had to finish up a project that was due out by the end of the week, making it impossible for her to be able to really enjoy it. Besides, the thought of being a landlord and meeting the nephew of Mrs. Wilcox from church had put her stomach in knots.
She pulled into the driveway next to the house and turned the key to the off position. Unfortunately, her aging Taurus didn’t get the message and continued running for several seconds more. Her head slumped forward; what was she going to do about this? Her budget was already stretched to the breaking point. The car would just have to wait. Luckily, it wasn’t often needed for her business as a graphic artist.
Climbing out of the car, she leaned back on it and stared at the large blue Victorian that was hers. It had been purchased nearly two years ago, shortly after she and John had gotten engaged. Inside the four bedrooms had held the promise of family and space. The previous owners had added an office over the back porch, which was perfect for her to use to run her business from. The plan had been for them both to be able to work from their home. She sighed. The memories of what were supposed to have been were now marred by what was. And what it was now, was time to go in and get started on her day’s work.
Opening the side door, she stepped into the neat family parlor that was just off the kitchen. Hanging her sweater on a padded hangar and setting her purse on the little table next to the deacon’s bench she sorted the mail on the short walk to the kitchen. Detouring to the refrigerator on her way to her office, she grabbed a diet Coke and half of a turkey sub before climbing the curved wooden staircase that led almost directly to the door of her office.
Pushing the door open, she used her elbow to flip on the lights. Staring out the picture window on the back wall, towards the woods behind the house, she crossed to the ornate oak desk that took up the corner. Waiting while the aging Macintosh computer wheezed to life, she tried to reassure herself by saying, “Have no regrets, for each decision was the right one at that time.” After a few deep breaths, all of the concerns had been replaced by an inner calm, which allowed her to answer e-mail as she ate her lunch.
Continuing to work long after the sub and Coke were distant memories, Robyn let the project consume her, as it had for much of her time for the last week and a half. The sudden touch on her shoulder made her jump.
Spinning around in her chair, she exclaimed, “Holy cow!” and prepared to bolt from whoever had intruded into her sanctum, only to find herself face to face with Jess.
“I rang the doorbell for five minutes.” Jess explained with her eyes conveying the unspoken apology. “I knew you were home, so when you didn’t answer, I let myself in with the key you gave me. I knocked on the office door as well, you really do go to your own little world when you work, don’t you?”
“It’s okay, Jess. I just got so caught up, I guess I tuned everything else out.” Robyn paused to look at the little clock on the screen, “Actually, it’s good that you interrupted me. My new tenant should be here shortly. And he wouldn’t have been able to find me here.” Robyn stood, stretched her back, and motioned towards the door. “Why don’t we go down to the kitchen, get a cup of tea and you can tell me what’s new.”
Ryan O’Connor was driving slowly into town in his new Toyota Four Runner after spending the day driving up from Maryland. The doctors at the Bethesda Medical center had finally given him the clearance for him to go home. The problem was, he really didn’t have one. Upon his entering the Naval Academy, his parents had sold the house of his childhood. From that point on it had been either on campus or on base housing for him.
Now his parents lived in a retirement community in Mesa, Arizona, and he was facing the prospects of recovering from losing his leg in Iraq and being a civilian again by himself.
That thought brought him up short. The girl who had professed her undying love to him three years ago, who had been there during his last two leaves and had visited him in the hospital right after he had come back, had left him flat. She didn’t want a cripple. Mary Ann had only been a banner waver, talking about her ‘hero’. Returning as a decorated soldier, just not whole, was too much. Mary Ann’s departure had delayed his recovery significantly. It had only been the visit by a former commanding officer that had gotten him out of bed. Slowly the pain of rejection had ebbed, and he’d stopped feeling sorry for himself.
Now he was taking his best shot of making his life on his own, and on his own terms.
Observing the quiet neighborhood he steered his car onto the wide avenue. It looked like a nice homey place. His mom and aunt had known him well when they’d recommended this particular setting. Reaching over, he pulled a sheet of paper from the duffel bag on the passenger’s seat and looked at the address. Glancing at the numbers on the passing houses and guessed that it would be about three more blocks to his new apartment. To be honest, all he wanted right now was peace and quiet. All right, a beer. He wanted to enjoy a beer in that peace and quiet.
His eyes automatically caught sight of the large blue Victorian on the left. Checking the address brought a smile to his face.
The grounds were well kept, but simple. An aura of elegance seemed to radiate from the house. It quietly whispered home to him.
Personal experience of watching his mother had led him to the conclusion that women typically liked to play in their gardens. Apparently, the woman who owned this house either didn’t garden or was too frail to. Perhaps he could lend her a hand. It would make him feel good to help an elderly woman out. Besides, it might be therapeutic.
Ryan climbed out of the car, and had to stretch to grab the rosewood cane that had been thrown in on the other side of the car while packing this morning. He hated using the damn thing, but was still trying to get used to the prosthetic, which caused him to limp slightly. In honesty, he liked having the little extra help with his balance. He walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
When the door opened, his eyes locked on the redhead before him. Tall, slim with moss-green eyes that looked like they would bore right through a man and a clear, almost translucent complexion topped with a smile that made his heart skip a beat. “Um, good afternoon. I’m Ryan O’Connor. I’m supposed to meet with a Mrs. Flynn. I’m renting the apartment.”
Robyn smiled at him, “Come in, Mr. O’Connor.” She stepped back so he could navigate the passage into the main parlor and then closed the door behind him. Leading him into the first room on the right, “Please take a seat. I’ll go get the paperwork, and we can get you all set.”
Heading to the office via the kitchen, she said to Jess on the way through, “My new tenant is here. He looks pretty good, and even has an air of mystery to him.”
“Then why are you leaving him down here?” Jess asked.
“He’s walking with a cane, and the paperwork is up in my office. I’ll grab it and bring it down. Why don’t you hang out here, and then we can go out and grab dinner after I get him set.” Robyn said before heading up the stairs.
Walking back into the sitting room a minute later, she found Mr. O’Connor casually hobbling around the room looking at the pictures that hung on the wall. “Here you go Mr. O’Connor. I’ll just need to get your signature on these forms and the deposit.” After handing him the packet from her office, she sat in one of the armchairs.
“Just out of curiosity,” O’Connor said as he took his own seat, “When will I get to meet my landlord?”
“I’m sorry Mr. O’Connor, I never introduced myself. I’m Robyn Flynn, the landlord.” His eyes went nearly as wide as saucers. Obviously, this was a surprise to him.
“Oh.” He visibly gulped, trying to regain his composure, “I’m sorry as well. My mother said that someone who went to church with my aunt owned this house. I just assumed it would be an older woman.”
“I’m sure we can get through this quite well.” Smiling at him, she collected the completed forms, and handed over the keys for the apartment. “Would you like me to take you back and show you the apartment?”
“No, I’m all set. Thanks.” He rose and walked to the door.
She let him out and watched him go towards the back of the house. There was something about the look on his face and his eyes that spoke volumes of a mysterious past that was hidden there. There were few things more fun than solving a good mystery.
**********
Chapter 2
Mumbling, Ryan O’Connor tossed in his bed. He had never found a good way to sleep soundly at a new place, and obviously this was no exception. His insomnia was exacerbated by the images of his tight-bodied landlord that wouldn’t get out of his mind. He was sure that there was something that she was trying to conceal beneath her brave veneer. The dark areas under her eyes told the story to anyone who knew how to interpret it.
Ryan turned the light back on, and reached for the novel that sat on the bedside table. Hoping to lose himself in the story and lull himself to sleep within an hour, he laid back and began reading. Thirty minutes, with the light still burning bright, Ryan fell asleep. And plunged into own personal nightmare.
Standing in the sunlight, looking out over the desert, the place was very familiar. It was just a half-kilometer from his barracks on the base in Iraq, just outside the low drab building that housed the intelligence community for this theater of operations.
Walking to the barracks felt wonderful after being hunched over the computer for the last too many hours and it allowed his mind take a mini vacation. With almost thirteen months in country now, and only six more before heading stateside, there was plenty to think about. For one, it was time to settle down with Mary Ann. She always called him ‘her hero’, but he really didn’t feel like much of one. His job as an intelligence officer kept him fairly isolated form the action. But his work allowed the others the best chance of success in their roles. Others gathered the information, he used his skills to interpret it so those on the front line could make use of it. They all had their positions to play on this team.
Walking by the main gate, his subconscious noted the small truck parked just down the way from the sentry. The five men who were gathered around were most likely the trigger that made him stop and look. “Ah, crap! Those look like AK’s.” He took off at a sprint, heading towards the main guard gate.
Approaching the gate he yelled out “Sergeant!”
The sergeant who was in charge of the guards looked up, “What is it, Sir?”
He started to respond, but was cut off by the sounds of gunfire. Everybody hit the ground, looking for cover.
The world around him seemed to erupt. Gunfire echoed throughout the base, shouts of men running to lend aid, the screams of those hit. In the distance, a truck gunned its motor and then came directly at the gate. The screeching metal indicated that the main gate had been breached. More gunfire sounded, with muted explosions as various munitions detonated. Out of reflex, he drew his berretta. Taking on men armed with machine guns with a pistol wasn’t exactly the most intelligent thing, but it was either that or the rocks at his feet.
To his right, the truck he had seen earlier was now sitting on its sides with flames licking the gas tank. The bodies of men he knew were strewn like toys. His training forced him to do the job. As a Marine he would defend his country, or die trying. The first task was to figure what was going on. Rising up enough so that he could see over the edge of the parking barrier he’d taken cover behind he took in the scene before him.
Marines were under cover, shooting outward towards unseen targets. Beside the truck sat a small red car, he couldn’t tell the make, all of the doors were open. Four figures were crouched down shooting wildly at the Marines.
Something didn’t make sense. Looking again at the four gunmen, Ryan wondered why had they parked there? The burning truck did more to cover the Marines than it did for the aggressors? This wasn’t the final part of the attack. This was merely the opening act he realized. What would be the headliner? Finding out became the main priority.
Looking around cautiously, there was no action going on near him at the exact moment. The main gate was too far way to see anything. Taking a deep breath, Ryan pushed up from the ground, took four large, quick steps and rolled onto his shoulder and behind the sandbags that had been lined up to the right of the gate. The four visible gunmen were just shooting wildly. He was about to take out the man on the left rear of the car, when an approaching sound caught his attention.
Kneeling so that his torso was still behind the sandbags, he peered down the street and saw two things that made him gasp. The truck that was barreling down the street directly towards the smashed gate was covered in what looked to be cases of dynamite. A little girl, scared stiff, was standing directly in its path. Leaping up with out a thought of his own safety, he darted towards the little girl. New gunfire erupted, coming from the oncoming truck. He leveled his berretta in the direction and loosed the entire clip while running towards the still frozen girl. The truck veered and hit a parked vehicle just as he grabbed the girl. The explosion knocked him back into the concrete dividers. The pain in his leg was searing, and his vision blurred before he screamed.
Ryan woke with a scream in his throat, thrashing in bed and tangled in the sheets. The phantom pain in his left calf ached as bad as it had right after the explosion. Reaching down his fingers gently massaged the stump, which ended, just below his left knee. Running his hand across his brow, he wiped the sweat away and hoped that someday this agonizing nightmare would fade to be a faint, unpleasant memory. Until then, all that could be done was to just push through it and survive.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and he cradled his head in his hands. The novel was laying sprawled open on the floor. Retrieving it and tossing it on to the nightstand, his eyes lingered on the small drawer. Inside were the pills that the doctors had prescribed, and Ryan hated the things. But, on occasion, one was needed to help get him through the night. No, he wouldn’t take one now, maybe in an hour.
Closing his eyes, he sat there on the edge of the bed, forcing himself to take slow deep breaths to cleanse his mind and relax. It took five minutes of concentration to calm down and forget the worst of the memory. The pain in his missing leg had vanished during the time as well.
Picking up the glass of water from the nightstand, his hand still shook noticeably. “Not as calm as I thought?” he mumbled. The cool water felt good sliding down his raw throat. His mind wandered, thinking through the rest of the nightmare.
It had been nearly eighteen months since that day in Iraq. A year and a half that had been spent almost exclusively in hospitals or recovery units. Waiting for the physical wounds to heal, learning to walk again without the sensation of knowing his footing was secure or not, and dealing with the emotional pain that came from being injured both physically and mentally.
Allowing himself to think back to the time right after the attack and then the first few weeks that he had been back stateside was something that still brought him pain. Pulling on his inner mental strength he called forth the rest of the memory.
Oh, God, don’t let me die here. He took a brief examination of himself as much as possible, trying to ascertain what had happened to him. Please, help me his brain pleaded. He heard screaming in his ears, not realizing that it came from his own mouth.
Looking left his mind relaxed slightly at the sight of the little girl that had caused his reckless behavior running down the street, towards a woman who had her arms open for her. She was alive and, hopefully, well. His mind had a brief moment to rejoice before it succumbed and went under.
His body was being jostled along with an unfamiliar pressure on his side. Squeezing his right hand, rewarded him with the familiar bunch of muscles as he made a fist, his left hand also moved on command, coming up to rub at his eyes There were tubes and wires attached to him, and he realized that his lower body wasn’t acting right. Oh, no. What does that mean? Rolling over toward his right side, he braced himself on his elbow and tried to push himself up. A firm hand pushed him back down, followed by a stern voice. “Hang on there, Sir. You’ll be okay in a few minutes. We’re almost to the hospital.”
Rolling his eyes and squinting through the red haze that clouded his sight the beige-and-tan splotches of the desert camouflage that the medic wore came into focus. Letting himself fall back to the stretcher, he asked the question he needed answered, “How bad is it? Give it to me straight, Corporal.”
“You’re in bad shape, Sir. You’ve got several gashes that appear to be from shrapnel. Judging by the bone that is poking through, what looks to be a broken femur on your right leg. And the left one, Sir, is severely mangled. At the moment, everything has been field dressed. The docs at the hospital are ready for you. They’re going to get you ready, and then most likely you’ll be airlifted to a better hospital before you head back stateside.”
The next two weeks were a blur. Only snippets of what happened found their way into his memory. During the five different operations that were done to repair the damage from his wounds, and recovery periods, he’d been kept heavily sedated. There was no memory of arriving at Bethesda Medical Center.
His eyes opened slowly. Sun streamed in the window, heating his arm that lay above the covers directly in the beam. His ears picked up the sounds of machinery; the constant whirring and beeping. There was also the sound of shallow breathing that was coming from his right. The smell of bleach was strong on the sheets that covered him. Forcing his eyes to open further the shapes came into focus. First it was the drab walls that were painted a boring white, then the cheap furniture. Looking towards his right foot, he saw that his mother, Patti, was napping in a chair there.
That had been the highlight of the recovery. Shortly after waking, the doctors had come in and explained what had happened. They had tried several times to save his left foot. Unfortunately, infection had set in and they had to amputate it just below his left knee. There would still be one more operation to come, probably in about a week, where they would actually close the wound, by wrapping the skin around the stump. After this healed, they assured him that a prosthetic would be fitted allowing him to resume a relatively normal life.
The next few weeks were a steady stream of OT and PT, but there was definitely progress being made. There was a constant rotation of visitors: his parents, his sister Donna, and his girlfriend, Mary Ann. Everything fell apart though when it was time to get him up and out of bed. Mary Ann just stared at him; more to the point, stared at where his left leg had been. Her grimace as he tried to maneuver his wheelchair had foretold the future. She had lasted less than a week longer, leaving him with a tale of not being able to be attracted to someone who had been so changed by the war. The emotional pain had been worse than the physical at that point.
The next part of the memory brought a smile to his face. Lying in the hospital bed, refusing to even get out of bed and try any of the exercises that the PT wanted him to do. That was until a hulking shape came into the room, blocking the light from the window, Ryan remembered.
Colonel Kenneth James, USMC-retired, came into his room and laid the facts out straight. Essentially, he’d been injured doing exactly what he had promised to do defend his country’s interest. Nothing to feel bad about, to accept his sacrifice because that was what freedom had demanded as its price. Now it was time to make a new choice; accept what was and take the advantages that were before him or give up. As a Marine there was really only one choice.
Looking back, Ryan agreed that James was correct, and went after recovery with passion. Thriving on the burning feeling in his muscles as they fought to come back to the strength they had once known. He looked forward to going to PT, and the table there turned as well. Instead of fighting him to try, now the therapists fought with him not to overdo. As his body gained strength, so did his mind.
Mary Ann had been forgiven and now here he was in a little town in Vermont. Ready for a new challenge.
As the memory of what had brought him to Vermont ended, he drained the last of the water from the glass still held in his hand. This was a new challenge to him. Captain O’Connor had traded the life of patient and former intelligence officer for that of a writer named Ryan. Now it was time to begin the process and write out his thoughts and see if they would excise the demons that hid there
Robyn had been awoken by a strangled scream. Was it one from her dream, or was it real? Sitting up in her bed, she looked out the window of her second story bedroom, and noticed that the light in the in-law apartment had come on at about the same time. Either the scream was real, or this was one heck of a coincidence.
Running a hand through her hair her thoughts went to wondering about the man who now lived behind her house. The fates hadn’t really given her much of a chance to him during the day. Rolling out of bed and shrugging into her robe she headed down to the kitchen. Past experience had taught her that once she had woken in a scare like this, her mind would take several hours to settle, meaning that a cup of chamomile tea would be appropriate.
In the kitchen, she filled the pot, turned it on to heat and picked up the paperback that sat on the breakfast bar. Pulling up one of the stools, she eased herself into the novel. After her tea was brewed she sauntered off to the living room in favor of the large beige wrap-around couch that sat in the corner of the room across from the brick hearth of the fireplace. Immersed in the novel her worries and problems were lost in the story. Sleep came an hour latter.
Sun gleamed in through the east-facing window showering the room with a cascade of colors as it refracted through the various ornaments that hung on the curtain rod. Robyn opened her eyes slowly, and stretched. She retrieved the paperback from the table and debated the option of reading more before breakfast, but opted that it would be best to get going on the day.
Pushing off of the couch, Robyn headed out to the kitchen for breakfast. As the water heated for her oatmeal and tea, she looked out the window and could see Mr. O’Connor in the little kitchenette of his apartment. In a strange, but distant way, it was interesting that they could share their breakfast at such an early hour, albeit in different places. What was he doing now? Hoping that perhaps they’d actually talk today.
As if Ryan had heard her thoughts, he looked up from his own breakfast and stared back. Their eyes latched onto each other; his gray to her green. Each wondering what the other was thinking about this morning. Her hand came up, and gave a slight wave as she smiled. He smiled back, nodded and raised a cup.
Perhaps the day would give them the setting to meet and begin the process of perhaps becoming friends. One could only hope. Whatever thoughts that Mr. O’Connor had, Robyn decided it would be up to her to take the first step. Eventually they would get to know each other.
**********
Chapter 3
It was mid-October, and the foliage was ablaze in color. Robyn’s had been feeling moody all week, and right now her mind was somewhere else. Thinking about the expansion that was desperately needed for the business to survive was proving to be a full time job. This morning’s presentation local bank’s officers had been right on the mark, she thought. Turning the car into the parking lot of the Price Chopper supermarket things were looking up a bit. Hopefully her money problems were at an end and she could now get back to concentrating on producing high quality products.
Money issues not withstanding, Robyn was still had a plethora of other interruptions that were waiting for her. Jess had called her, yet again. This time, it was with every intention of trying to set her up on a blind date. She liked dating okay, but it was the thought of spending an evening, one that had previously been planned to catch up with work on, then there was the making of small talk with someone that she knew nothing about. It was not something to look forward to. It might be easier, she decided, if she was an extrovert as opposed to being an introvert. Adding to her concerns, she’d tried several times to talk to her tenant, the irascible Ryan O’Connor, and look how far that had gotten her.
Occasionally the elusive Mr. O’Connor would be willing to talk for a few minutes, but usually he was as talkative as a rock. No, she thought, the rock at least told you its history if you knew how to interpret it. She still had little knowledge of O’Connor’s past. He almost treated his stay here as if he was a prisoner in one of the old war movies her dad liked to watch; name, rank and serial number. That was about as much as she had managed to get out of him over the past month.
Ryan was going into his apartment when she was turning into her driveway. Well, hopefully someday soon she’d manage to crack his secrets. But right now, what was needed was to get her thoughts back on track and make a living.
Opening the door, she dropped everything and rushed to get the ringing phone before the answering machine picked up. You could never know when a big client might call.
Her elation was short lived, only lasting thirty seconds from yanking the receiver up full of hope to finding the bank manager lettering her know that her request had been denied and hang up. Hope had changed into full-blown depression in less than a minute. They said that it was just too risky.
“Well, now what am I going to do?” she asked the ceiling. In response, the phone rang again. Looking at it with contempt. “Now what? Did they forget to rub extra salt in the wound?” she growled and answered, “Hello?”
“Hey there, Robyn.” the perky voice on the other end greeted her.
“Oh, hey, Jess. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Um, you okay, Robyn? You don’t sound like yourself today.”
Robyn closed her eyes and tried to force herself to be more cheerful. It just wasn’t going to work today. “This isn’t the best time for me right now.” She thought for a moment before going on. Jess was her closest friend, and knew almost everything that was going on in her life. Friends shared the ups and the downs, right? “Actually, Jess, right now my life is a mess. Just before you called, the bank called and let me know that they weren’t going to give me the loan for the expansion that I need to do. So, you’ve just caught me in a bout of self pity.”
“Ah, Honey, that really stinks.” There was a pause and Robyn would’ve sworn that the gears turning in Jess’ head were making an audible sound. “I’ll tell you what, lets meet for lunch in about an hour. I’ll buy, and you can tell me all about it, and perhaps we’ll find an answer that works for you.”
Robyn took a moment to think it through. Why not? “Okay, Jess. It’s about a week early for our monthly lunch date, but what the heck. I don’t think I’m going to get much done here right now anyway.” Checking her watch, she judged that she had about fifty minutes that she could pretend to work for before leaving, and headed for the office.
Jess was just getting out of her sleek red BMW convertible when Robyn pulled into the restaurant lot. To Robyn, the cars were the epitome of the two of them; Jess had come from a long line of money, and had been bred in wealth and sophistication, while she had been middle class all of the way. Robyn checked her makeup in the rear view mirror before getting out, “Hey, Jess. Now that’s what I call timing,” she laughed as she walked over to her friend.
The two women embraced, Jess ran her hands up and down Robyn’s back twice before she turned them both towards the door. “Come on, let’s get lunch and gorge ourselves as we solve the world’s problems over chocolate cake.”
“I’m don’t know about the world’s problems, but I’d settle for just solving mine,” Robyn said following Jess through the door.
They were quickly escorted to a table near the back patio. It was too cool to sit outside, but they could enjoy the view that was provided to them through the French doors. The efficient staff quickly took their orders and then left them alone as soon as their lunches were served. “Okay,” Jess started, “give me the whole story.”
For the next ten minutes, Robyn told Jess about the financial troubles and what needed to be done for the business to continue, a list of new equipment, and how much capital it would take to make it all happen. Jess listened to story attentively, and only interrupted her twice with relevant questions. When Robyn finished, they sat in silence for a few minutes, Jess constantly twirling her fork in a way that conveyed that she was thinking about something.
Pushing the remnants of her desert around, Jess looked at Robyn. “Have you ever considered going to a venture capitalist with your idea?”
“Not really. First, I don’t know anyone that is a venture capitalist; second I really don’t want to give up any control of my business. And lastly, I’m scared of what could happen.”
“I’m asking only because I know that you’d reject my offer of a personal loan to you, just like every other time I’ve offered. I happen to know a VC slightly. My college roommate’s half-brother, and he lives here in town. He might be willing to give you a fair shake, if you are interested.”
Cocking her head, Robyn held an internal debate with herself. The prospect of letting go of any control of her little business nearly drove her to the brink of sanity, but without that money she was probably going to end up losing it all. There really wasn’t much of a choice. “I guess I could sit down and talk to him,” she agreed.
“Great. I’ll call Terri and see if she will help me get you in to see him. His name is Michael. Michael Hertzstein. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll give you a call about it.” Jess seemed to relax now that she had found a possible solution to Robyn’s problem.
Staring out the window, lost in her own thoughts, Robyn didn’t notice much on the drive back to her house. If things worked out, she would have the money that was needed to upgrade her computers, get a new printer and scanner as well as a few other tools that were needed. Hopefully, the cost to her would be reasonable enough. She still didn’t trust working with a VC, but if it had to be done, at least her best friend knew this one. Well, sort of, she thought. She’d just have to allow herself to do what had to be done.
The miles passed under her wheels, and really too soon ready, she was coming back into the little town. Her mind now focused on the traffic. When driving through an area that was populated with school age children who were just getting out for the day, all it took was one moment of inattention and whole different type of trouble would fall into your lap. But today, the kids were well behaved, and stayed on the sidewalks and let her by with out any darting in front of her.
Minutes later, she made the final turn onto her street, and looked at her house. Her safe hole; the place she felt most secure right now. A small smile creased her face, and a dimple popped out on her right cheek. She was happy that she still smiled when she saw the house. Right after John had died, the thought that she would ever be able to stay there, with the memories all too fresh, seemed outrageous. That had been proven incorrect, and instead the house had become her refuge. The smile widened as she pulled into the driveway.
Parking her car, she sat for a moment and gazed out the window at the house. It hadn’t changed at all in the two years that she had owned it, but there were several areas that improvements should be made. Someday. Maybe she should pickup a few books on landscaping, and study from them over the winter. That way she would have a base to begin with next spring. Of course, that would require time and money; two things that were always a struggle to find.
Glancing around, she saw young Scott Stefani who lived cross the street with his mother and two sisters. And next door to them was the Fitzgeralds’, whose children were grown and only came back to visit occasionally. Looking again at her house; the reasons that she had chosen this house had not changed. Not one iota. It was just the dreams that had changed.
She climbed out of the car, and turned to look down the street. Her eyes focused on someone, or something, that was coming down the street, wobbling unsteadily. It wasn’t possible to tell exactly who it was, but the closer it got it looked like a man. Was that? Why would he be-?
Robyn watched as her tenant stumbled into clear view. His face was contorted in pain and he was weaving like a drunk. She watched him fight to keep his balance. His gait wasn’t the steady, rhythmic pace that most runners used she noted and wondered what caused his unique stride.
Looking at him, she reviewed what she about him along with her observations she had made. His aunt had said that he was a decorated vet, who had recently left the Marine Corp and was beginning his writing career. Her eyes noted a good build; solid, but perhaps a little underweight, but overall in what looked to be good condition. Was there some other type of condition that caused the staggering? The memory of him using a cane when he first arrived came back to her. “I wonder why he used that?” she asked softly.
Concern suddenly exploded into her throat as she watched him stumble, which broke his incredibly lopsided gait. He spun around, flailing his hands like a traffic cop, trying to keep his balance but then toppled. Her hand shot to cover her mouth, which stymied the worst of the scream that had built in her throat. Dropping her purse by the front of her car she ran to him.
Less than fifteen-seconds later, Robyn was bending down to offer aid to him. He had gone down hard. “Oh, God. Mr. O’Connor, just relax! Please don’t move.”
“Let me up, Ms. Flynn. I’ll be fine,” Ryan panted.
Pointing at his foot that was pointing backward Robyn commented, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’ve broken your left leg.”
O’Connor looked down at his leg and then startled her by laughing out loud. “Well that’s easily fixed,” as he reached down and twisted the foot back into position.
She stared, wide mouthed in disbelief, “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“No.” The tone in his voice indicated that this was no joking matter, “I lost the real one almost a year and a half ago.”
She heard her audible gulp. “I’m sorry.” Offering him her hand “Let me help you up.”
Ryan sat and glared at her. “I don’t need your pity, or your help, Ms. Flynn.” He pushed himself back to his feet, and hobbled off towards the house.
Robyn watched him go. Returning to her car, she retrieved her purse, and made her way to the back door. Nearing it, she could hear O’Connor carrying on in his apartment. The anger in his voice was unmistakable. Her heart felt for the man. It had to be incredibly difficult to make that kind of self-sacrifice, and he appeared to be completely alone. And yet, when she had tried to help, he’d gotten angry.
Alone in his apartment, Ryan slammed the door to the refrigerator after he’d pulled out a can of Coke. His landlord frustrated him; showing a sign of weakness in front of her was horrible. It was only worse since she had tried to ignore it and be helpful.
Popping the top, he sat down in one of the two kitchen chairs, and gazed out the window. He could see her now as she leaned against something, probably the counter he thought. She was waving her hands, gesturing as if she was having a conversation with someone. His eyes swept to the side window that overlooked the driveway. No other cars were there. He returned his attention back to her.
She was now leaning, and had her head bowed down. The shudder of her shoulders seemed to convey that she was crying. He set his drink down. He had snapped at her when she tried to help him. Perhaps she was one of those truly nice people, and wanted to help him because that was the way that she was. Maybe it wasn’t out of pity.
He decided whatever her reason had been, she had not earned his response, and she was at least owed an apology. He downed the last of his coke as he headed towards the shower.
**********
Chapter 4
Dusk was taking over the sky when Robyn looked up from the computer screen. After her run-in with her tenant this afternoon, she decided the best way to get rid of these nagging personal feelings was to submerse herself in work. She was determined that she would get through all of the personal hardships that seemed to be piling up on her right now. If this project was out the door in the next few days, she might just be able to do a little brainstorming in the remaining few days of the month for some ideas that would allow her to get the new equipment that her business demanded. But right now, she felt hollow in her stomach and hoped that maybe food would help her demeanor. She turned off the computer for the night, afraid that she wasn’t really hungry, and that her stomach was the result of being attracted to the good looking man who lived in the apartment behind her house.
Standing, Robyn looked out the office window, and the light from the apartment. For some reason that she couldn’t understand, she mumbled to herself, “I wondering what you’re doing now, Mr. O’Connor.” She stretched before heading down the stairs to the kitchen.
In the kitchen she rummaged though the cupboards, and found that her mind was not focusing on the task of finding nourishment, but was instead thinking of her tenant. Again. She hunched over the selection of can goods that she had pulled out and tried to concentrate long enough to pick something for dinner. It wasn’t working; her mind was still too distracted. Perhaps she would just give up on the entire idea and head back up to her office and force herself to work through it.
Shoving all of the cans back into the cupboard, she banged the door closed and started walking towards the stairs. She climbed the stairs, reviewing the projects that she could use tonight to pass the time. There was the project that she was just finishing up; it still needed to be edited. That would take a while, and it had the benefit of requiring all of her concentration. From past experience, she knew that once she got into it, she would be able to work for hours, free from any thoughts of Mr. O’Connor. She entered the office, and was just preparing to turn the computer on when the sound of a door closing drew her attention out the window. She glanced down as she saw him walking towards his car. Stepping back before he could notice her she crossed over to the computer and started the process of firing it up. The sound of her door chimes echoed through the house a moment later and had her swearing.
Chimes rang again, signaling that there was someone at her front door. She looked out the window again. His car was still there, so she had a pretty good idea who it was going to be. “Wonderful! This is all I need now. I’m trying to get my mind off of thinking about him, and now he shows up at my door.” Looking to the ceiling she asked, “Why me?” She quit hoping for an answer, and made her way to the front stairs and headed down. Might was well see what he wanted. But, she decided, if he tried to pull that crap he had earlier she was going give him her own wrath.
As she descended the last few stairs, she could make out his head framed by the windowpane of the front door. Strange, she thought, his head was down. Grabbing the handle of the door, she yanked it open with enough force that the glass rattled. His head shot up at the noise. “Yes?” she demanded.
Facing her, she noticed his eyes scan her quickly as if they were taking their own readings; trying to feel the emotion in the air. He jutted his chin up and tried to speak. “I, er, um, hi.”
She was perplexed. Why was he having such a hard time talking to her? This afternoon, he had almost joked with her before he snapped at her. Did he have a multiple personality disorder? “What can I do for you Mr. O’Connor?” she queried.
This time, he closed his eyes, gathered himself and when he opened them he stared straight ahead, not at her but beyond her. “Ma’am, Captain Ryan James O’Connor, United States Marine Corps. I need to formally apologize to you for my abhorrent behavior that occurred this day at fourteen hundred hours. I am truly sorry for any duress that I may have caused you, Ma’am, and would like permission to speak with you in regards to said incident.”
She stared at him, with her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide. He was standing ram-rod straight, at attention, she thought. His eyes were still not focused on her, but she could see by his slightly shaking hands that he was nervous. Stepping to the side, she gestured with a slight wave, “Please come in, Captain. Have a seat. Would you care for a drink?” she hoped that he would understand that she was trying to be a good hostess, and was not trying to play on him.
He was not using his cane, but walked with an almost imperceptible limp. If he had not spoken of his injury this afternoon, she never would have looked for anything. He crossed into the sitting room and took a deep, steadying breath.
He turned to face her then, and she could read the uncertainty in his eyes. “Mr. O’Connor, I’m going to put some water on for tea. Would you care for a cup? Or, perhaps a soda?”
“A soda, please.” As she turned to head to the kitchen, he asked, “Might I join you in the kitchen? It might make what I need to do a little easier.”
She was unsure what he needed to do, but he didn’t look like he wanted to hurt her, so she reluctantly agreed, “Okay,” and led him back to the kitchen. She pulled out the soda, handed it to him and was again struck by how nervous he looked. “Mr. O’Connor, please”
“Ryan. Please, just call me Ryan,” he interrupted her.
“Okay, Ryan, I accept your apology for the incident earlier today. But, if you don’t mind my saying, you look like there is something more on your mind.”
“Ms. Flynn “ this time she interrupted.
“It’s Robyn, please.”
“Robyn, this afternoon you did nothing more than to try to help someone who had fallen down. And I took my anger, my frustration and my self-loathing out on you. It was behavior that was unbecoming for a Marine officer. I don’t think I can tell you how sorry I am for hurting you that way.”
He looked down at his foot for a minute and then up to her. His eyes searched for understanding. She recognized the look as something that was on her face not that long ago; one that said ‘I need to talk’. She got a cup of Earl Grey tea for herself, settled onto the stool at the breakfast bar and let him have the time that he needed to organize his thoughts and tell her what he needed to say.
Pulling the top off of the soda, he rolled the cap in his hands, staring at it intently as if it might give him the key to open up. Finally, he looked at the woman who sat across from him, and he started. “Robyn, I’ve never completely told anyone about what happened over there,” he said nervously, “so please bear with me.” He began the story of how he was injured. It was the same as he had told everyone else, so far. “Now, here is the part that I’ve left out until now. The reason that I left the bunker was not to gain better tactical advantage like everyone seems to think. It was because of a little girl.” His eyes came up and locked onto Robyn’s green eyes. “That little girl was totally innocent; the wrong place at the wrong time and she was going to be killed. I left the relative safety of the bunker I was behind to get her. I pushed her out of the way and managed to prevent her from being hit in the explosion, but it was the explosion that took my leg, and ended my career.”
He paused, and took a long drink before he continued. “When I returned state side, I knew that I had lost my planned future, but I kept thinking that I had done the right thing with saving that little girl. And then Mary Ann came to the hospital. In the years previous, she had constantly called me her ‘hero’, and now as I laid in that hospital bed, I was a decorated soldier. One honored for his heroic actions that saved lives that day, but now all she could see was that I wasn’t whole any more.” His eye began to water, “She stayed for a while, before she said she couldn’t love me anymore and left.”
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