A Scarred Soul: A Small Town Love Story (Safe Haven Book 2) (13 page)

“Jesus, Lulah, really?”

“Really.”

“Adam and Marlo are your friends.”

“It doesn’t come to work.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do. Tomorrow, you give me all the information you have. I know people who might be able to help.”

Lulah laughed. “Gonna have your people call your other people?”

“Something like that.” He loved that laugh, loved the way she bounced back to being Lulah. But he already knew this stuff. It hadn’t gotten her down before, so there must be more. “So what else troubles you?”

“Nothing else.”

Her response came way too lightly and quickly. He wanted to call her out on it, but in fairness, everyone had stuff to hide.

Yes and no.

He headed to the hills to commune with his friends. The four of them were like his cardinal points, his north, south, east, and west. All he wanted to do was find direction again, find the focus of his life that vanished when the IED had blown them to bits—literally to bits—before his eyes. Survivor guilt.

Fuck survivor guilt; he wanted his mates back. Their souls beckoned to him that day, called on him to follow because they knew what his, at that time, did not. So he tried to say goodbye to them as he patched up his own soul wounds and carried on, with the self-imposed burden to make it right.

Now, Lulah had gone out and punished herself physically, driving herself to exhaustion, and it angered him to think that she had something or someone troubling her that way. He was one person who truly understood how bad it had to get before you went and did that sort of thing.

“Vince?”

He pulled his gaze back down to her and…oh God, right there in her face
. It was him
. “Lulah, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.” He dropped her hand.

“Don’t do that.” She slapped at his chest and grabbed for his hand again.

Her eyes glistened, jewels caught by the light cast from the workbench lamp.
No, not tears.
He let her take his hand. The push and the pull of this was becoming messy because he wanted the pull, all pull, so that he could haul her up against him, tell her that they’d be fine. But they wouldn’t, and the worst thing was she had always known that. That’s why she’d gone off today, to burn off some angst and ride someone out of her head. “I apologize.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Last night—”

“Yeah, actually, you’re right. Let’s talk a bit more about last night. That hurt, Vince, that you wouldn’t come and have a drink with us, play a game of pool.”

“I know. I tried to tell you. My behavior was inexcusable. I’m not saying that by explaining what happened makes it any more acceptable. What I’m saying is that this is me. I try to control it but I can’t. Stuff rolls in and intrudes on situations.”

“Are you going to use PTSD as a pass every time you feel like being an ass?”

He pushed himself up. “I get enough of this from Taryn—”

“No, really, Vince, I need to know.”

“Know what?”

“Know that you’re totally invested in helping yourself.” She swung her legs to the floor and swore.

“There, right there. You are hurt.”

“Yup, I’m hurting, Vince, and you can fix it. However, this”—she pointed to her bruised thigh—“three or four days and this will fix itself.” When she reached the door she called Joker to her side. “Breakfast is at six-thirty.”

Through the window above the workbench, he watched her cross the yard and carefully climb the steps with a leg that was giving her grief. What an idiot he was. Bringing Taryn into this was fucking childish. Nothing like comparing Lulah to the woman you’re about to divorce. He should go after her, apologize, explain, fix it, but her cabin was her sanctuary and busting in there was too intrusive. For her sake, she had to be confident that allowing him to stay in the barn didn’t mean he was going to intrude on her private space.

Back at his workbench, he started on a fresh sheet of paper and sketched Lulah as she’d looked stretched across the sofa. Drawing her was the highest level of intimacy he could allow.

B
y Monday evening
, he had shifted his gear out of the house and made the repairs to the kitchen door. Jono, from the Sanctuary, came over to give him a hand with moving. All these people being so good to him were pretty amazing, but their generosity was countered by the pressure of a growing emotional debt.

The more help he accepted, the more faith people put in him, the greater the potential of his failure. It didn’t matter what he tried to tell himself, he had reached a stage where solitude was so damned easy. As he finished unpacking a box back at the barn, he found his favorite picture of Gable. With the bottom of his t-shirt, he cleaned the dirt from the frame glass. Solitude might be easy, but it wasn’t going to be an option.

L
ulah sat
in Marlo’s office chair, her hand hovering the mouse over the ‘submit’ button on the web page in front of her.

“I’ll count to three for you to press that button, Lulah.”

“I feel sick.”

“You’ll be great. Get ready to do it. You can close your eyes if you want, but you have to press the damned button or you’ll time-out on the website. You know what those sites are like.”

Lulah spun the chair around. “I clicked it, quick, Marlo, tell me what’s on the screen!”

“No,” Marlo shut her eyes. “They’re your results. Come on. I can’t believe you’re being such a baby.”

Lulah spun back. “Ohgodohgodohgod…” She grabbed at her chest. “Pass, Marlo, I can’t believe it, I’ve passed! No more nasty written assignments.” She grinned. “Looks like I need some time off, Boss, because now I have three five-day lab courses to do. I feel sick and excited. How much time do I have before applications for the Director of Training position close?”

“You’ll have plenty of time to apply, Lulah. The CRAR Board knows you want the position, and they understand that for us, you’re the best choice.” CRAR, otherwise known as Canine Rescue and Rehabilitation, was the umbrella organization that funded a number of dog sanctuaries, including Dog Haven. They were generous but, in return, insisted on professionalism and transparency on behalf of their benefactors. Branching into the PTSD service dog training program was Lulah’s idea, but if she didn’t complete her Animal Behavior degree, someone else would raise that baby.

“What if I don’t make it?”

“You’ll make it. Hey, come on, tough chick, you’re never like this.”

Right there, Marlo nailed it. Always coping, being the strong one for everyone, hiding behind a laugh, it made it that much tougher when you were vulnerable because nobody thought to step in and help. And at this moment, she’d belted through a tide of vulnerability in more ways than she’d ever done in her life. Proud and scared all at the same time. Who’d have thought? “I’ve never passed any sort of exam before. I can’t wait to tell Vince; he helped me so much with this.”

“He’s going to be proud of you. Why don’t you stay for dinner and we’ll celebrate? Adam’s overnighting in Seattle for more interviews tomorrow. He was going to come home tonight, and drive back in the morning, but I convinced him to stay. He still doesn’t like leaving me alone in the house so I told him I’m completely safe with Justice around, and that he wasn’t actually needed.”

“I bet he loved that. Why don’t you come to the cabin for dinner instead? Vince is cooking and right now I think he needs to be close to home. He’ll probably go and work after dinner, but he may want to stick around.”

“How is he since the weekend?”

“Contrite and concerned. He had a session with his doctor this afternoon, so he might not be too talkative tonight. He’s inclined to shut down a bit after that. Horrific as the weekend was, at least it pushed him into fully committing to dealing with his issues. He seemed to think that if he worked hard at burying the emotions, being a good person, and generally holding his shit together, everything would be fine.”

Marlo winced.

“Oh, sorry, Boss. You have that t-shirt, huh?”

“At least I know it doesn’t work. Let me talk with Vince. We haven’t had a chat without Adam around for a while. Love that man with all my heart but hell, he thinks it’s his job to fix
everything
.”

“
H
ow lucky for
you to have your own in-house chef.”

Lulah and Marlo were sitting on the sofa among a scatter of cushions and a jumble of dogs. Fala, Marlo’s old dog, made a rare trip out for the night and as befitting a grand duchess, commandeered the best dog bed. Justice, Marlo’s rescue pit bull, Joker, and Calliope lay on the floor in between wrestling bouts. Vince cooking looked happy and relaxed.

“Clarification, that would be
hot
in-house chef,” Vince called out to Marlo.

“Hot because of the spiciness of his food,” said Lulah.

“She’s a liar,” Vince added. “Somebody set the table, dinner is almost done.”

While Lulah set the table, Marlo opened the Méthode Traditionnelle she had earlier placed in Lulah’s fridge. “We’ll have champagne when you’re qualified, and when you buy yourself a matching set of appropriate glasses. Is this all you have?” She gestured to the two mismatched wine glasses and tumbler Lulah set out.

“That’s it.” Lulah grinned. “Now, pour away, sister, before those bubbles expire.” When Marlo finished Lulah picked up the bottle. “Oh, someone’s in trouble when Adam gets back, you’ve raided his wine cache again.”

“
Our
wine cache.”

“Except I think Adam’s brought this from New Zealand. You won’t be able to replace it.”

“He’ll never notice.”

“Right, sure. He was probably saving it for a special occasion.”

“This is a special occasion.” Marlo winked.

Vince tapped his glass with his fork, placing it back on the table when he had the attention of the two women. “I know, tacky, but it was the only way I could make you two to listen up. It’s time for a toast—”

“Toast? I want risotto!”

“Lulah!”

“Sorry.”

Vince stared at the ceiling. “Patiently waiting with glass in the air…”

“Sorry, even more. Go ahead.”

“Here’s to your perseverance, Lulah, for going after what you want, despite the obstacles. And for reaching your goal.”

Lulah raised her own glass. “And here’s to you, Vince, because I wouldn’t have managed this without the way you patiently helped me put the words in the right order.”

Marlo cleared her throat. “And here’s to both of you for giving and receiving help, because for some of us, that’s a difficult concept to grasp.” She paused, “Now, let’s drink.”

They started with a simple white bean soup, followed by a risotto Vince made using mushrooms he’d foraged up in the hills, along with a side dish of braised Cavolo Nero from Lulah’s vegetable garden.

“Vince, this is excellent,” Marlo said after her first mouthful. “You can come and cook for Adam and me any night.”

“No way,” said Lulah, “he’s all mine. I enjoy cooking, but Vince is so adventurous. I’ve hiked past mushrooms for two years now. Who knew they were all edible?”

“Not all of them are,” said Vince.

“So how do you know which ones to gather?” Marlo asked.

“It’s easy; you only pick the wrong ones once.”

When they finished dinner, Lulah had Marlo and Vince move to the living area while she warmed an apple crisp she’d made earlier for dessert. Vince stopped at one glass of wine and now carried a glass of water over to the fireplace where he studied a small picture on the mantle.

“This is you, Lulah.” He held the oil painting of a young girl and her dog.

“Yeah, me and Trilby, my first dog.”

Vince rubbed his finger around the edge of the frame.

“You checking on my housekeeping skills?”

He ignored her, still studying the picture. “You looked like a little imp back then, too,” he said quietly as he placed it back on the mantle. Lulah crossed the room carrying a tray with their dessert and a jug of cream which she set on top of the old trunk that multi-tasked as a storage unit and coffee table.

“Who painted that?”

Glancing quickly at the picture then Vince, as if to be sure they were talking about the same thing, she answered. “My dad.”

“It’s good. Really good.”

“He never believed in his painting; he preferred gambling instead. He said he was an average painter among thousands of other average painters. What a pity he never grasped the idea that he was a below-average gambler.”

She went to the picture and picked it up. Despite the fact that it had traveled with her throughout her life, sat on her mantle and been dusted each week, she hadn’t studied it closely in years. There she sat on the grass with Trilby stretched out at her feet. He carried a red ball in his mouth while she leaned back on her arms, a quirky smile on her face. Her father had captured them well. The picture spoke of a child without a care, a time before the gambling losses, the fights, and the vanishing assets.

“You know, it’s all I have from my childhood. Obviously books didn’t feature much, and my mother disappeared with the little left once the repo man had been through.” Her laugh was hollow.

“Really, that’s it?”

“Yup, that and a few photos, which is more than what Marlo had.”

Marlo set the cream jug back on the tray, using her forearm to guide Fala away from the food. “I had books. That was something.”

“No photos?” Vince asked.

“No. It’s odd, isn’t it? They’re something most people take for granted, but I don’t have any. I don’t know if photos were taken. I don’t recall. None made it with my belongings to the school where I boarded after Mom died. An actual record of my life in that sense didn’t begin until I met Adam. Now he makes up for it. I feel as though every time I turn around I catch him taking a photo of me.”

Lulah crossed her hands over her heart. “Aw, young love,” she teased.

“Having books and normal parents are no guarantee for an easy life. Look at me, I’m the biggest wreck of all of us, and my upbringing was all sunshine and apple pie.”

“True dat.”

“Lulah!”

She grinned at Vince. “Oh, so I wasn’t supposed to agree?”

“I’d accuse you of leaving the gate open, but I’m not letting you away with that any more. That’s your excuse for making mischief.”

“You haven’t seen me close to misbehaving, Vince.”

Marlo cleared her throat. “Hello, I’m still here. If you two need privacy go ahead, say the word.”

Vince smiled. “It’s okay, I’ll leave you ladies to it soon. I have work to catch up on.” He faced Lulah. “What comes next with your course?”

“I have to travel.” She laughed. “That doesn’t happen too often these days, thank god. I go to Massachusetts and do three practical labs and if I pass, that’s it. Qualified.”

“Qualified, wow, girl with a degree.”

“I’m not there, yet. Let’s not jinx it.”

“But you will be, Lulah, because you’ll put everything you have into it and succeed.”

No pressure. She’d never passed a thing in her life and she felt incompetent, washed with an old but familiar dread. In her experience, the unknown frequently meant unattainable.

“Hey.” Marlo broke the silence. “You okay there?”

“What if I don’t pass?” She threw out her fear without thinking.

“You’ll pass.”

“But what if I don’t?” She hated the childlike whine that edged her voice.

“Lulah, stop.” Vince’s voice was low and calm. “You will pass. They’ll love you—the dogs, roosters, llamas—whatever animals they’re going to line up for you to work your magic on. This is your chance to show them how smart you are. Anyway, what’s the worst thing that could happen if you don’t pass?”

“That’s easy. No promotion. No position running the service dog program here at the Sanctuary.”

Vince grinned. “Walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Straight into the trap, soldier.”

“Marine.”

“Semantics.”

“You’re on shaky ground there, girl. Don’t forget, I’m friends with the woman who runs that Sanctuary. One word from me and your prospects of promotion are down the drain.”

Lulah nudged him. “That’s okay,
Marine,
I have a backup plan. Mike says if I don’t make it through, he’ll give me a job any day.”

The grin slid from Vince’s face. “Sure…good, a backup’s good.” He stood. “I’d better head over to the barn. I’m behind, and I have other demands on my time. I’ll better move along.”

“So, Vince, did you sort things out at the VA today?” Marlo asked.

Vince’s mouth tightened. He rubbed at that spot behind his neck that he liked to trouble when he was edgy.

Lulah flicked a quick look at Marlo but saw that she seemed to be watching the situation the same way she focused on a new dog, and Lulah relaxed. No way Marlo would push him too far. What amazed her wasn’t her friend’s skills at reading the situation, but the fact that she was poised to step in and protect Vince, even when he’d acted like a total jerk. Yeah, the dynamic between them was changing. A subtle shift, but definitely on the move.

So long as she remembered UHT guy was unreliable.

Vince’s mouth eased with a small comfort smile. “I did, yeah. I made some appointments. We’ve set up a treatment plan, twice a week: one private session and one group.”

“Wow, how does that feel?”

“Terrifying.” He watched his feet for a moment, raising his focus slowly towards Marlo. “Really terrifying. I keep hoping that I’ll wake up tomorrow and find that I’ve slept away the last nightmare, the last fear, the burst of adrenaline, but that’s not going to happen, is it?”

“No, it’s not. In fact, it’s probably going to become worse if you don’t take this chance to find a way to live with it. You have to understand, it can improve, but it doesn’t go away.”

“Sure. I’m going to do some carving.” He glanced at Lulah before asking Marlo if she had told her about his latest project.

“She hasn’t said a word.”

“Are you keeping secrets these days?”

“Smart guy. I thought you’d prefer to tell her when you were ready,” Lulah explained.

“Why don’t I show you instead? Come over to the barn when you’re done with all the girl talk. Bring tea. Lulah makes the best tea.”

“Yeah, yeah. Flattery for a feed or a drink only works during the honeymoon period.”

“Yeah, yeah, back,” he called as he reached the door, managing to duck through and close the door as Lulah flung a cushion at him.