Don't Cry for Me (2 page)

Within minutes they had the hiker’s condition assessed, started an IV in his arm, sluiced the rest of the ants out of his wounds with disinfectant, loaded him onto a stretcher and strapped him down. The eight-man crew would take turns, two at a time, carrying him down the mountain to the clearing where the evac chopper was waiting.

Another crew was recovering the other hiker’s remains. It would be dark before Quinn got home.

* * *

Quinn drove up to the cabin, turned off the headlights of his Jeep and got out. With the sun down, the air was already getting cool. He took his boots off on the deck, unlocked the door and then carried them through to the utility room. He would clean them up later, but not now. He needed to wash the blood off himself first.

He stripped where he stood, tossed his clothes into the washing machine and started it up before heading through the house to his loft. Within minutes he was standing beneath a spray of hot water with his eyes closed, willing away the gore of what he’d seen.

His life was solitary for a reason. Until he could figure out how to cope with his flashbacks and nightmares, he wasn’t in any frame of mind to build a personal relationship. He knew this and accepted it, but it didn’t make the lonely nights any easier to get past.

* * *

A couple of hours later he’d finished cleaning up in the kitchen and grabbed a beer as he headed for the sofa. Even though living in the mountains was usually a recipe for poor-to-no phone or TV signals, the satellite dish he’d had mounted on the roof served him well. There were a couple of shows he liked to watch, and later he hoped to catch the local news to see if they reported on the injured hiker’s condition.

He’d just kicked back and reached for the remote when his cell began to ring. The Caller ID showed an Out Of Area message. He frowned as he answered.

“Walker.”

“Quinn, it’s me, B. J. Pettyjohn.”

The hair crawled on the back of Quinn’s neck. It had been over three years since he’d heard from anyone in his old unit.

“Hey, B.J. How the hell did you ever get this number? And tell me this isn’t bad news.”

“No, oh, hell no, sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a start or nothin’. And I called a good number of Walkers before I found one who would claim kin to you. He gave me your number.”

Quinn grinned. “Then it’s good to hear from you.”

B.J. laughed. It was a silly kind of nervous laugh, but a three-year gap made chitchat difficult to pick back up.

“Look, the reason I called… I remember you saying you were from Kentucky, right?”

“Right. Why?”

“You remember Conrad from our unit?”

The smile slid off Quinn’s face. “Yeah, why?”

“So I heard through the grapevine that Conrad—who by the way is a corporal now—was in a Humvee when it hit a land mine and has been stateside at the army hospital in Fort Campbell, Kentucky, for the past two months. The doctor’s about ready to sign off on a release, and I remembered hearing Conrad grew up in foster care, without any family or anywhere to go. I just hated to think about one of us turning into some homeless vet and sleeping on the streets, you know? Thought you might know of a place that could help.”

Quinn didn’t have to think twice. “Yeah, I know a place. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“That’s great! It’s a worry off my mind.”

“Yeah, sure. Are you home on leave or what?” Quinn asked.

“No. I’m out for good as of six months ago. Can’t wrap my head around normal living yet, but hey…it’s bound to come back one of these days.”

Quinn knew exactly what he meant. “One of these days for sure,” he echoed.

“So, talk to you soon, and tell Conrad I said hey.”

“Will do, and thanks for the heads-up.”

“Right.”

Quinn ended the call, and then set the phone aside and reached for the remote. He found the show he wanted to watch and then kicked back and took a drink of his cold, yeasty beer.

But the show was the furthest thing from his mind. He kept remembering the last time he’d been with his unit. They had been doing a sweep of some empty buildings when the world had blown up in his face. He’d been burned and bleeding and half out of his head when someone grabbed his arm. It had been Conrad, shouting, “We got you, Hillbilly, hang on! Hang on! Don’t you dare die.”

Now Conrad was the one hurting. The least he could do was provide a place for R & R until his fellow soldier was one hundred percent. Tomorrow he would make a few calls. Make sure the doctor didn’t sign the release papers before Quinn could get there, and see if he could borrow Ryal and Beth’s SUV. The backseat lay down flat, making the rear of the vehicle into a fairly decent bed. It was a long way to Fort Campbell, which meant it would be a long way back here. A hard drive for anyone who was healthy—and the ride from hell if everything hurt. They had a history of getting on each other’s last nerve but also had a great respect for each other as soldiers.

* * *

Just after daybreak, Quinn began making phone calls. He found out Conrad’s doctor was a man named Dr. Franks, then called around the hospital until he located him. After he explained the situation to Franks, the doctor assured Quinn that he wouldn’t sign the release papers until he arrived.

Then he called Ryal.

“Hey, brother, are you up?” Quinn said.

“I am now,” Ryal said, and then chuckled.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Look, I need a favor. A soldier from my unit is in Blanchfield. That’s the army hospital on base at Fort Campbell, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. That’s where
you
were, right?”

“Right. So this friend is about to be released and needs a place to stay. I’d like to borrow your SUV so I can make a bed in the back for the drive home.”

“Yeah, sure! When do you need it?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Come get it. Anything else I can do for you?”

“I have to go back up on the south side of Rebel Ridge and help look for a rogue bear or I would do this myself. But since you asked, there are some things I’m going to need. Are you up for a trip into Mount Sterling?”

“Wow, this must be some good friend.”

“It was Conrad who pulled me out of the fire after the explosion.”

Ryal frowned. “Enough said. Bring your list and your money, brother. I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

“Thanks. I’ll owe you.”

“No, I’ll never be able to repay you for saving Beth’s life. Just consider it a favor from one brother to another.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah…but what’s the deal with the bear?” Ryal asked.

“Killed a hiker and tore another one up pretty bad. We’re thinking it’s either sick or wounded, and it’s still out there. Even though the attack happened on the far side of the mountain up on Greenlee Pass, I would nix any personal hunting trips until further notice, okay?”

“Definitely, and I’ll spread the word in the family.”

“Thanks. Kiss Sarah for me and tell Beth I said hi. See you soon,” Quinn said, and disconnected.

After that he began gathering his hunting gear. By the time he reached the ranger station and checked in, he learned that the trackers and their bloodhounds were already on the mountain.

The backcountry of Daniel Boone National Forest was huge, and there were places he had yet to see. Given that they’d had a pretty dry winter, he needed to check out the amount of deadfall on the mountain, which could impact firefighting should a blaze break out. Deadfall was also a place where a sick bear might shelter. After picking up a handheld radio and a map of the area, he headed out in one of the forest service trucks.

The day passed without incident, as did the following day. The bear was still in the wind but had not been seen again. They’d passed the message on to all the people living in the area and hoped they could find the bear before it killed again.

For Quinn, it was all he could do to focus on work. It was going to be weird having someone else in the cabin, and he had no idea how messed up Conrad was. The possibility existed that he was making trouble for himself, but he couldn’t turn his back on the situation, either. He slept fitfully, knowing that tomorrow his life was going to take a drastic turn.

* * *

Quinn was on his way to Ryal’s house by sunrise to trade vehicles. Upon arrival, he wasted no time transferring the pillows and blankets that he’d brought or pulling down the backseats to make the rear of the SUV into a bed.

“Need any help?” Ryal asked.

“I got it,” Quinn said, and folded a quilt until it fit the space, then threw in the pillows and a blanket. “That should work.”

“You said you had a list?” Ryal asked.

Quinn took a paper and a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket. “I think this should cover it, but if it’s more, we’ll settle up when I get back.”

“Was Conrad hurt bad?” Ryal asked.

Quinn stopped.

Ryal didn’t know what was going on, but all expression had just disappeared from his brother’s face.

“I don’t know, but it won’t matter.”

Ryal sighed. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“Let it go, brother. It’s just me being me,” Quinn said softly. “I’d better hit the road.”

“Yeah. So…drive safe and we’ll see you soon.”

“You, too, and thanks for helping me out,” Quinn said.

As Ryal watched Quinn driving away, he had a sense that Conrad, whoever he was, was going to make a positive difference in his brother’s life.

* * *

As Quinn drove in one direction toward Fort Campbell, Ryal, Beth and the baby went the other way into Mount Sterling to fill Quinn’s list. Once they finished, they headed back to Rebel Ridge and took everything up to the cabin.

Beth washed and dried new sheets while Sarah played on a blanket nearby. Ryal pulled out the sofa that made into a bed and pushed some furniture around to accommodate it. As soon as the linens were ready, Beth made up the bed, adding an extra quilt at the foot in case of cool nights, then went to tell Ryal she had finished. She found him standing on the back deck with Sarah in his arms, looking out across the meadow.

“Hey, I’m ready if you two are,” Beth said, and kissed her baby girl, who was almost asleep.

Ryal slipped an arm around his wife, holding her a little longer and tighter than usual.

She sensed something was bothering him.

“Honey, what’s up?”

He shifted Sarah to a more secure spot on his shoulder, then looked back across the meadow. “I was remembering what happened here and how close I came to losing you.”

Beth leaned against his shoulder, the one without the baby. “It’s you we nearly lost, and all because you threw yourself over me when the house blew up.”

He shuddered. “If you had died, living without you wouldn’t have been possible.”

Beth cupped the side of his cheek. “But I didn’t. All that’s in the past, and look at what a beautiful place Quinn has made here.”

“Yeah, it suits him.”

“Because of the solitude?” she asked.

He nodded. “And the memories. This was Granddaddy Foster’s old homestead, remember? We loved coming here as kids. I think this is a good place for him to heal.”

Beth frowned. “Do you think he will? Heal, I mean.”

He shrugged. “He’s already healing, but who knows to what extent? War changes people. He’ll never be the same.”

“But he’ll be the best Quinn that this Quinn can be.”

Ryal smiled. “That’s for sure. He’ll never settle for less.”

Two

I
t had taken just under four hours for Quinn to reach Fort Campbell. Since it was the same hospital where he’d been sent after he was wounded and where he’d mustered out, he knew the base setup. He drove straight to the visitors’ center at Gate 4 to get a pass. Although he hadn’t been here in over three years, he had the weird feeling he’d never left.

The feeling persisted as he drove through the base, and the closer he got to Blanchfield Hospital, the more his anxiety grew. By the time he pulled into the parking lot the skin on his body felt tight and hot. He resented the anxiety. It made him feel weak, and weak was not an option. This was about Conrad, not him.

He got out of the car, checked the bed in the back one more time, making sure nothing had shifted out of place, and then made a call to Conrad’s doctor to let him know he was there. The doctor answered on the third ring.

“Dr. Franks.”

“Hello, Dr. Franks, this is Quinn Walker. I spoke to you a couple of days ago about having one of your patients, a Corporal Conrad, released to my care?”

“Yes, yes, I remember.”

“I’m here on base and in the parking lot at Blanchfield. How do I go about getting Conrad signed out?”

“Hang on a sec, let me check,” Franks said, and put him on hold.

As Quinn was waiting, a van drove up and pulled into a handicap parking space across from where he was standing. A woman got out, then circled the van and opened the side door. He glanced up just as a platform slid out, lowering a man in his wheelchair. Quinn’s gut knotted, and then he looked away, feeling guilty for being thankful that wasn’t him.

When Franks came back on the line, Quinn’s focus shifted.

“Mr. Walker, are you still there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I remember you telling me you’d been a patient here before. Do you remember where Physical Therapy is located?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Conrad is there now. I’ll meet me you in PT in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be there.”

Quinn dropped his phone in his pocket and headed into the hospital. Now that he was here, he was anxious to find out what he’d let himself in for.

He headed for the bank of elevators, refusing to make eye contact with the people in the lobby. When he got on the elevator, he quickly turned his back on the other occupants and stared at the door, waiting for it to open. It was as if the past three years had never happened and he was still on crutches, with healing burns and scars that screamed
Look at me!
He was startled not only by the anxiety that he felt but also the insecurity. This hospital was not a good place to be.

When he entered the physical therapy area, he was even more hesitant, eyeing the patients in various stages of rehabilitation. As he began scanning the room, looking for Conrad, he heard someone cursing.

Quinn smiled. He’d just found his comrade.

* * *

“Damn, damn, damn, that effing hurts!”

The physical therapist eyed the frown on his patient’s face. They had been working at this one exercise for nearly fifteen minutes and he knew Conrad was tired, but it took pain to get progress, and so he kept pushing, urging the wounded vet up and down a set of steps to stretch and strengthen the injured leg muscles.

“You know and I know that’s how you get better, so try again, okay?” the therapist said.

“Hell no, I’m not going to try. I’m going to
do
it!”

“Hey, Conrad, how’s it going?”

Mariah Conrad froze. That was a voice straight out of her past, a voice she’d never thought she would hear again. She looked over her shoulder, and then her heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, my God.”

Quinn grinned. “It
has
been a while, but I thought you would at least remember my name. It’s not God, it’s Quinn.”

Mariah blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you.”

The physical therapist smiled at Mariah and patted her on the back.

“Since you have a visitor, we’ll call this session over. Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll take you back to your room.”

Mariah nodded but couldn’t quit staring. A muscle in her leg was beginning to knot. She needed to sit down or move, but she couldn’t think past looking at Quinn’s face. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so bloody and burned she’d been scared he wouldn’t make it, and when she’d never heard from him again, she had finally allowed herself to accept that he was out of her life. Then she remembered what he’d just said.

“You came to get me? What are you talking about?”

Quinn saw panic in her eyes and realized he hadn’t considered the possibility she would refuse him.

“I heard they were going to release you and thought you might like to spend a little R & R in the mountains with me.”

Mariah grabbed on to the step rails with both hands and then sat down to keep from falling.

“In the mountains—with a hillbilly?”

Quinn grinned. “Yeah, with a hillbilly.”

A surge of emotions ran through her. Without family to turn to, she’d been in something of a panic, wondering what was going to happen to her when they kicked her out of Blanchfield. Quinn was a godsend, but she was a long way from the woman she’d been and felt obligated to warn him.

“Are you sure? I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. I’m a wreck. My honorable discharge just went through. I’m so screwed up the army doesn’t want me anymore.”

“That’s okay.
I
want you.”

She looked anxious, which was an emotion he never would have associated with her. The Conrad he’d fallen for had been a first-class grunt with a daredevil gene. Over the two years he’d known her, they’d made love in every isolated place they could find between Iran and Afghanistan. War had definitely kicked her butt, but he had to believe she was still in there. All she needed was peace and time to find her way back.

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for. I’ve already cleared it with your doctor. Now it’s up to you. Are you going to come?”

She blinked back tears. “Yes.”

“Aces.”

She looked up. “Here comes my doctor.”

“Hey, Mariah. How’s it going?” Dr. Franks asked, and then eyed Quinn. “Mr. Walker?”

“Quinn, and yes, sir.”

Franks put a hand on Mariah’s shoulder. “Are you in agreement with being released to this man’s care?”

Mariah frowned. “In his care? What does that mean? I’m ready to be released on my own. I’m just going with him, right?”

Franks smiled. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”

“Just so we understand each other,” Mariah muttered.

The doctor eyed Quinn. “Are you sure you’re ready for all that attitude?”

The red flags on Mariah’s cheeks were something Quinn had seen before. “All that and then some,” he said.

“Then I suppose we need to get some paperwork signed so you can get on the road. I believe you have a ways to go to get home, isn’t that right?” Franks asked.

Mariah looked up at Quinn. “How far?”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

She started to argue, then caught herself. She had nowhere else to go. Her shoulders slumped.

“No.”

Quinn held out his hand. “Trust me?”

She turned loose of the railing and grabbed his hand.

“Yes.”

The doctor waved at an orderly. “Let’s get Conrad back to her room so she can pack.”

* * *

Two hours and a ream of paperwork later, Quinn was in the parking lot, tucking a pillow beneath Mariah’s injured leg and then another under her foot to keep it elevated during the ride.

She was wearing sweatpants and a loose, army-issue T-shirt that had seen better days. In bright daylight the healing scar from the head wound she’d suffered was easier to see through the short dark curls of hair.

“You okay in there?” he asked, as he pulled the covers up to her waist so she could reach them.

Mariah nodded. The quilt on which she was lying was thick and soft, and the pillows and blanket smelled like lavender. She reached for his hand, briefly clasping his fingers.

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “It’s good to see you,” he said, and then shut the hatch and pretended he didn’t know she was crying.

* * *

Mariah couldn’t believe this was happening. She had awakened again this morning with the same feeling of dread that had been with her for the past two weeks. The closer she got to a release date, the more panicked she’d become. She’d never had a family, and had grown up in foster homes in and around Lexington.

By the time she’d aged out of the system she was a street-smart eighteen-year-old with a chip on her shoulder. She’d wanted something more out of life than what she’d been dealt, but with no way to attain it, she’d joined the army. Even though the country was already at war, it had seemed like a good idea. She’d been fighting just to exist all her life. Surely she could fight a few more years for something bigger, and learn a trade at the same time. The decision was a combination of ignorance, näiveté and the best-laid plans.

Within six weeks of leaving basic training she was on her way to Afghanistan, and it didn’t take long for her to realize that enlisting wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. Besides the ongoing war, she’d never been as hot in the summer or as cold in the winter as she was over there.

And then she’d met Quinn—a kindred soul with a daredevil heart—and fallen hard. The chemistry between them had been instantaneous, and they took advantage of every moment of downtime they could to be together, which usually meant having sex. She’d told herself it was just part of what was happening. No promises. No ties. She’d never meant to fall in love with him, but she had. After he’d been wounded, his absence left a huge hole in her life. She hadn’t expected to ever see him again, but his arrival today had been the answer to a prayer.

She was most worried about what he expected from her. At this point, it was all she could do to walk six feet without stumbling, and her head was a mess. Between the flashbacks and the memory loss, she wasn’t anywhere close to a functioning human, but dear God, she was grateful to him—as grateful as she’d ever been to anyone in her life. The only problem was that she was in no state of mind to resume their prior relationship, but she had been too big a coward to tell him that for fear he would change his mind.

Lying in the back of the SUV was far better than having to sit up for hours, and the pillows Quinn had shoved under her healing leg were lifesavers. The last thing she remembered was looking at the back of his head. Lulled by the motion of the car and the soft music from the radio playing in the front seat, she cried herself to sleep. Only when she felt the car slowing down did she begin to stir.

* * *

Mariah woke up and rolled over, but it wasn’t until she bumped against the back of the seat that she remembered where she was. She sat up gingerly, wincing when a muscle knotted in the back of her healing leg.

“You okay?” Quinn asked.

“I slept.”

He hid a grin. “I know. I’m stopping for gas. You’ll want to take a bathroom break here, because we have another two hours to go.”

“Okay.” She hesitated, then knew the sooner she got it said, the better. “You’ll have to help me into the store.”

“I know that, honey, and it’s no big deal to me, okay? If I hadn’t had my family to help me when I came home, I would have been in a world of hurt.”

The word
family
suddenly sank in. She began to wonder if she’d signed herself up to be staying in a house full of strangers.

“Do you still live with them?”

“Lord no,” Quinn said. “I have my own place up on Rebel Ridge.”

“What’s Rebel Ridge?”

“The name of the mountain where I grew up, remember?”

Her expression went blank. “No. I don’t. There’s a lot of things I don’t remember.”

Quinn glanced up in the rearview mirror. “But you remembered me, right?”

All she could see were his eyes looking back at her. “Yes, I remembered you.”

Their gazes briefly locked, and then his attention shifted as he turned off the highway into a large quick stop. He gassed up, then pulled up to the convenience mart and parked.

“Hang on and I’ll help you out,” he said.

Mariah ran her fingers through her hair and then rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It would feel good to stand up.

The hatch opened. Before she could think what to do, Quinn scooted her slippers onto her feet and then held out a hand.

“You move at your own speed. I’m just here to steady you, okay?”

“Yes.” She rolled over to the edge and then sat up.

Quinn grabbed on to her arm as she slid out, then locked the car.