One Man's War (24 page)

“You're my good-luck charm. You know that, don't you?” Pete threaded his fingers through her thick red hair and entertained the thought of unbraiding it and making slow, delicious love to her.

With a nod, Tess bit down hard on her lower lip to stop from sobbing. As if sensing her reeling emotions, Pete drew her against him and they stood in the dusk, holding each other. She could hear the slow, hard beat of his heart beneath her ear, a heart that would stop if he was killed in combat.

“When I was a kid growing up, I always envied these men and women walking hand and hand down the street,” Pete said in a low voice. “I always wondered why they looked so happy, why they held hands. I wondered why the people I lived with never did that or gave the special looks to each other that I saw other married couples exchange.” Pete gently stroked Tess's shoulders and back with his hand as she rested against him. “Now, I understand. The people I saw on the street from time to time were really in love. They weren't afraid to touch, to look into each other's eyes and smile or show their love. I didn't realize it then, but I was seeing a hundred different ways of saying, I love you.” He leaned down and met her lovely gaze. “The time we've shared here has been a miracle for me, Tess. We've said ‘I love you' in a hundred different ways. I understand what love means now. You were right—it's more than just the bedroom scene. It's about caring for another person more than yourself sometimes. It's about being sensitive to someone else's needs as well as your own.”

Pete brushed an errant strand of red hair from her damp cheek. “You can cry, honey. Tears don't bother me like they used to. I understand now how good it feels to cry.” Pete's smile deepened as he touched her flushed cheek. “I love you, Tess Ramsey, with every cell in my body. When I leave tomorrow morning, I'm going to be counting the days until I can see you again. I've never been a great letter writer, but you can count on one a week from me. You're my lifeline, my hope of getting out of there sane and in one piece. All I need to hear from you is that you're getting better in some small way every day. If I know you're getting well, I won't worry, and I'll keep my focus on my job.”

Leaning down, he slipped his fingers beneath her chin and guided her lips to his. Gently, as if Tess were some fragile flower that could be easily crushed, he monitored the amount of pressure he brought to bear upon her parting lips. A softened moan rose in Tess's throat as he deepened their mutual kiss, and he felt her returning fire, the quiet passion that burned like living coals just beneath her surface. He lost himself in the lush texture, sweet taste and scent of Tess as his woman—the woman he wanted for his wife, as the mother of his children, for the rest of his life. As he hungrily gave and took the fire of life with Tess, the only fear that hung in the back of his spinning mind was that someday—before he could ask Tess to marry him—he had to tell her the truth about what he'd done to her.

January, 1966

“P
ete! Pete!”

Exhaustion pulled at Pete as he stumbled to a halt just inside the air terminal at the Midland airport. He wore his summer marine uniform, a short-sleeved khaki shirt and matching slacks. His garrison cap sat at a rakish angle on his head. It was early evening, and he smiled tiredly as he spotted Tess among the small crowd, wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt and jeans. She ran toward him. The last three months had been utter hell without Tess's smile, her spontaneous warmth and laughter.

Dropping his leather satchel, Pete opened his arms and grinned as she came running up to him. The change from the last time he'd seen her was heart-stopping. Encouraging. Her red hair was loose and free, a crimson waterfall across her shoulders. The life in her eyes made his heart pound double time. But most of all he cherished the welcoming smile on her lovely mouth—for him alone.

“Tess...” Pete whispered, and he caught her full weight as she pressed herself against him. A groan started deep inside him as she threw her arms around him and kissed him repeatedly, like a wildly happy puppy. Pete couldn't get enough of Tess, meeting, molding his mouth repeatedly to hers, inhaling her wonderful feminine scent—the fresh, clean Texas air, the sunlight—everything.

Moments sheared to a halt as Pete lost himself in the startling, welcoming sensations of Tess against him. Never had he wanted to make love to a woman more. Never had he wanted to love as fully as now.

“Oh, Pete,” Tess whispered as she framed his face with her hands and looked deep into his weary blue eyes. “How I've missed you. I love you—I love you so much!” And she kissed him hotly, deeply.

The months melted away beneath her torrid welcome, and Pete wanted nothing more than to stand with Tess in his arms. Finally, both of them breathing raggedly, unwilling to let go of each other, they separated a bit. Tess rested her brow against his cheek and squeezed him.

“You're real,” she gasped. “You're really here. You're home.”

A lump formed in Pete's throat, and he could only nod silently. His hands wouldn't remain still, touching, smoothing and gliding across Tess's shoulders, back and waist. As she caressed his face and her hands came to rest on his shoulders, Pete managed a crooked smile.

“You're a sight for sore eyes, honey.”

Tess grinned and kissed his cheek, nose and, finally, his wonderfully shaped mouth. As she broke the kiss, she whispered against his lips, “I missed you so much, love you so much.”

Pete held her tightly against him. “I love you, too,” he rasped, the words finally working their way around the constriction in his throat. How could he tell Tess how beautiful, how natural she looked? Inhaling deeply, Pete could swear he smelled the sunlight on Tess. The coarse thickness of her red hair felt wonderful against his cheek. Pete ached to tunnel his hands through that living mass of fire. Dread filled him. Despite Tess's happiness, her love for him, Pete knew he had some things to clear up with her first.

Gently, he pulled her away enough to meet and smile into her happy emerald eyes. “Where's Gib and Dany?”

“At home.” Tess smiled back. “They said they'd meet you at the ranch.” And then she blushed even more. “I think they wanted us to have some privacy.”

Pete looked around, at all the prying eyes in the small airport watching them. He grinned. “We've definitely got an audience.”

“Oh, dear.”

Pete reveled in Tess's innocence as he leaned down to retrieve his satchel. The first thing he wanted to do was to get out of his uniform. Some of the people staring at them were scowling with obvious dislike for it. Not wanting Tess to be the target of anyone's opinion, he put his arm around her shoulders and she fell in step at his side.

“Let's get my duffel bag and get out of here,” he told her.

Tess wasn't unaware of Pete's reasons for wanting to leave the terminal. Vietnam had erupted into a full-fledged war without ever being officially declared, and the country was more divided, more vocal on both sides, than ever before. With a nod, she led him toward the small baggage-claim area.

“You look tired.”

“It was all that flight time,” Pete said. The duffel bag was there and he released her and picked up the long, bulky piece of military gear, slinging it across his left shoulder. Gripping Tess's hand, he led her out the glass doors into the hot, dry Texas sun. It must have been nearly a hundred degrees in the shade, but Pete didn't care. Anything was better than the humid heat of Vietnam. He could survive this kind of dry heat a hell of a lot easier.

Tess led him to the white Ford pickup, coated with a light film of yellow dust. Pete slung the duffel into the rear of the vehicle and climbed into the cab. He was glad that Tess was going to drive. Exhaustion lapped at his senses.

“Heaven,” he sighed, closing his eyes as Tess started the truck and drove out of the parking lot.

“You're heaven,” Tess said. She glanced at Pete from time to time as she drove out of Midland toward the ranch. The black strip of asphalt wavered in the rising heat. The surrounding yellow desert was sparsely dotted with hardy dark green sagebrush. The pickup windows were open, and hot wind moved through the cab. Pete's eyes were closed, his head tipped back against the seat.

“The guest bedroom is ready. Once we get home, you can take a bath and hit the bed. I think you need twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep,” Tess told him.

Pete rolled his head to the left and drank in Tess's profile. “Yeah, I could use some sleep.”
With you at my side.
But he didn't say it. He couldn't. Not yet. Maybe never. He reached and captured her hand, which was resting on her long, curved thigh. Her hand was darkly tanned and work-worn. It was obvious she had returned to the land; she radiated health. He squeezed her fingers tenderly. “More important, how are you doing?”

She smiled, dividing her attention between the nearly empty highway and Pete. “I'm doing okay. I think my letters reflected my state. I still have bad days, sometimes a bad week, but not so much any more. Thanks to Sandy's guidance and your letters.” Tess's voice dropped. “Your letters—all of them—were wonderful, Pete. I don't think I'd be half as well if you hadn't been there with your support, your love.”

It was Pete's turn to blush. “Honey, your letters meant the world to me over there.”

“I didn't make you worry too much, did I?”

He shook his head. Tess had written weekly—long, five-or-ten-page handwritten letters, painstakingly honest and unflinchingly realistic about her healing process. God, how he'd look forward to receiving them. Sometimes, because of the war buildup, mail was delayed a couple of weeks, and then Pete would become a miserable son of a bitch to be around. “You were a lifeline,” he said seriously. The joy reflected in her eyes at his admission made Pete feel as if he owned the world.

“You were no less mine,” Tess said, never wanting to let go of his hand.

His gaze moved to her slender throat, glistening with perspiration from the ovenlike heat that surrounded them. “I see you're still wearing my ring.”

“I only take it off when I bathe,” Tess confessed, and she touched the ring at the base of her throat with reverence. She frowned, but said nothing. Pete closed every one of his letters with “love,” but he'd never mentioned marriage, or even a possible engagement after his return. It bothered Tess, and she wondered privately where she really stood with him. What did he ultimately want from their relationship? Had he been supporting her all this time as a friend, perhaps, instead of wanting to get as serious as she felt about what they shared? Was it out of some kind of guilt? Tess didn't know, and the worry had gnawed repeatedly at her the past months.

“You didn't worry too much about me, did you?” Pete probed.

Tess shrugged. “A little.”

“I didn't pick it up in your letters.”

“I'm glad.” And then she leveled with Pete. “I got so I hated the national news on television, showing film clips of Vietnam every night. Whenever they showed the Da Nang area, I broke out into a heavy sweat. Of course, I hoped to see you on film, but never did. Then I'd be so upset that I couldn't sleep. I'd have recurring nightmares about officers coming to the ranch house to inform me that you were missing in action or dead.”

Pete lifted Tess's hand to his lips and gently kissed her palm. The change in her eyes was instantaneous, exciting. Pete stopped himself from going further. “I'm sorry you had to go through that hell,” he whispered, cradling her hand between his.

“It was a lot less than you went through.” Tess shrugged. “I've never been on such a nonstop roller coaster as the last two and a half years of my life.”

“Nam will do it to you,” Pete agreed tiredly, and he tipped his head back once more. It felt good to hold Tess's hand. “But I'm home now. For good.”

Tears jammed into Tess's eyes and she fought them back. Gripping Pete's hand, she whispered, “I can't believe you're here. It's like a dream.... You're here. You're really here.”

* * *

Pete jerked awake, a scream ready to tear from his lips. He sat up in bed, breathing heavily, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Shakily he tried to reorient himself. He looked around the shadowy room. Wait. He was in Texas, not Marble Mountain. He listened intently, his body trembling, adrenaline pumping wildly through his bloodstream. No. No, it wasn't a rocket attack. It was only a dream. He was safe. Safe.

Pushing the damp sheet aside, the covers soaked with his sweat, Pete swung his legs across the bed. The cool wood of the floor against his feet helped bring him back to the present. Rubbing his face with trembling hands, he sat for a long time. Slowly, the night sounds of crickets chirping to one another impinged upon his consciousness. Thin streamers of light from a quarter moon glimmered through the transparent white curtains at the open window, filling the room with a grayish glow.

Naked, Pete stood and walked over to the window. A slight breeze shifted the curtains as he looked out on the darkened world of the Ramsey ranch. Below was the lawn, surrounded by a white picket fence. To the right, several pens held Herefords standing around or lying down. Everything was quiet. Peaceful.

Pete's heart still slammed in his chest like a runaway freight train. Turning, he glanced at his watch's luminous dial. It was 3:00 a.m. Rubbing his chest, Pete headed to the shower next to his bedroom. He felt hot and sticky, and wanted to wash away the nightmare that still held him in its insidious grip.

Afterward, Pete dried off and wrapped the white towel around his hips. No one would be up at this hour, and he wanted to make a cup of coffee to calm his jittery nerves. In Nam, no one wore pajamas or a robe. He'd usually been either in his flight suit or naked as hell. Opening the door, Pete looked down the hall both ways before he stepped out. Everyone was asleep.