Out of the Shadows (11 page)

He grinned, looking sheepish. “I took a couple of shots at it, but missed by a foot—which was hard to do because it was so big. Anyway, it kept coming in our direction, moving a lot faster than we could run.”

Leslie leaned forward, wide-eyed and intent on the story. He paused to scrape the last of the chocolate onto his spoon and lick it.

“Well, what happened?” she inquired impatiently when he didn’t immediately continue.

“So there I was, jogging backward as fast as I could—I wasn’t about to turn my back on the thing. I kept praying that I wouldn’t fall on my butt. I shot again...missed again. All the while Simon and his brothers were laughing so hard they could’ve hurt themselves.” He stopped again, drawing out the story to enjoy the animation on Leslie’s face. Her blue eyes crinkled at the corners as she grinned at him.

“Don’t tell me. It caught you and tried to strangle you, right?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Thad—Simon’s youngest brother, who by the way is a foot taller than me, and I’m over six-three—trotted up beside me and calmly threw his spear.” He sighed dramatically. “He caught the snake right behind its head—practically severing it. It was a great shot, particularly since he was laughing so hard.”

“And then?” Leslie asked, realizing that she was having fun. This was a side of Ben she had only glimpsed before. He was self-deprecating and almost boyish, and he didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed to be the brunt of the joke.

“Well, of course we had to cut it open to look for the gold.”

“Gold?”
She looked skeptical.

“Yep. You see, a Kenyan legend says that gold stones can be found in the bellies of pythons.” Ben shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Unfortunately, there was no gold. But the guys ended up skinning the thing, and then taking the meat back for the family. It fed them for a week.”

“Let me guess,” Leslie broke in as she tried to keep from choking on a sip of tea. “It tastes just like chicken?”

“Nah. It tastes like snake.” He grinned, then glanced around the empty room as if to be certain no one would overhear. He leaned toward her and said in a stage whisper, “Actually, I didn’t eat any. Just the thought of it—ew! But don’t tell a soul, or I’ll have to hurt you.” He was rewarded with a laugh.

When their laughter died down, the awkwardness returned. Ben glanced outside and saw that it was completely dark. “Well, I guess I had better be going,” he announced, and stood to leave. He could tell that she was feeling better. Whether it was the ice cream or the company he didn’t know, but her fragile demeanor had practically disappeared. He was relieved to see a faint light in her eyes and a bit of color in her cheeks.

The last thing Leslie had wanted that evening was a visit from Ben Murphy. But suddenly, she didn’t want him to leave. She stood when he did and surprised them both when she placed a hand on his forearm and said quietly, “No, please. Don’t go.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

B
EN
PAUSED
AT
her request. Watching her closely, he detected a hint of desperation. She laughed nervously and removed her hand. Picking up both glasses, she said, “How about another glass of tea? I think there’s still some ice left.”

The fragility had returned. Ben recognized at least part of the problem. She did not want to be alone. The past hour had given her relief from whatever had been bothering her, and he knew that she was reluctant to lose contact with another person. He was spent both physically and emotionally, but he could not leave her when she so obviously needed someone. “Sure,” he responded. “That would be great.”

He returned to his chair as she scooped the last of the ice from the chest and poured brewed tea into the glasses. Unfortunately, the easy camaraderie had vanished, and the silence that followed was uncomfortable. Ben carefully watched his glass, searching for something to say.

Abruptly, Leslie asked, “Do you ever get homesick?”

Her expression was reflective, and her gorgeous eyes appeared cloudy. Suddenly and uncharacteristically, he was afraid—overwhelmed by a profound fear.
Dear God,
he thought—
where she’s concerned, my empathy is in overdrive.
He looked down at his glass again and silently contemplated. There was a line to be crossed, and whether she understood it or not, they were both standing at that line. He did not want to move. Ben knew there would be pain. Perhaps for both of them. He feared the pain for himself but, more compellingly, much more compellingly, he did not want it for her. From the core of his being, he wanted to prevent her suffering any more.

But as his eyes rose to frame her beautiful face, he realized that it didn’t matter. She was already in pain. And maybe, just maybe, her pain could be eased.

Resigned, he crossed the line.

“Yes.” The word was almost inaudible. “Yes,” he repeated with more intensity as he looked into her deep blue eyes and nodded. “Only every day.”

She watched him closely and sensed his sincerity. It was evident in the sadness of his smile and the depth of his emptiness. “What do you miss most?” It was her turn to gaze at her tea.

He looked out the window, staring into the darkness as if seeking inspiration. “What do I miss most?” he repeated quietly. He paused briefly then answered, “Seasons. I miss the spring. I miss autumn. I miss skiing.” He gave a short laugh and turned his eyes back to hers. “I miss driving my car on highways that aren’t littered with potholes, and not having to worry about driving at night. I miss going to the movies on a whim and watching Monday Night Football... And of course—” he grinned “—drinking water out of the tap without having to be concerned with what it’s going to do to my large intestine. That’s the first thing I’ll do when I get home again—get a big glass of water right out of the faucet!”

Leslie chuckled. “No, a shower. I want to take a hot shower where I don’t have to hurry and don’t need to be concerned if I swallow a little water.” He nodded and smiled.

They were silent for a spell, but this time the silence was easy. She appeared to consider his answers. “You didn’t mention your family. Is there anyone at home you miss?” She saw a flicker of response before his face became impassive again.

He shrugged and answered matter-of-factly, “Just my folks. They live in a retirement community in Florida. They’re in pretty good shape for being in their seventies. Shoot, Dad can probably outjog me, and Mom swims every day. But at their age, you never know when something could happen.”

“No friends? No girlfriends?” She immediately regretted the question when she saw a muscle quiver in his jaw. She blushed but reached out her hand to touch his. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m just being nosy. Never mind.”

Unable to resist the opportunity, he turned his hand over to clasp hers and looked directly into her eyes. They were the dark blue of the sky nearing dusk, and once again he felt lost in them. His voice was quiet when he answered. “I was married once, but it didn’t last long. She was from Denver, and we met while I was in flight training. We knew each other only a few months before we got engaged, but that wasn’t the problem.” He shrugged and frowned a little. “We each needed something the other couldn’t give.”

He looked down at his now-empty glass. When she did not comment, he continued, “Our first assignment was in Del Rio. You’re from Texas, so you probably know it’s a dusty little town near the Mexican border. She hated it. She wanted me home, and I had to be gone a lot. We fought pretty much nonstop. I was committed to the marriage, so I requested a change of assignment. I left flight training and took a position at the Pentagon, thinking she would be happier in Washington. But then, in addition to my primary assignment, the air force sent me to grad school, so I still wasn’t home much. We’d been in D.C. about a year when she left me for a partner in her law firm.” He looked down at the small hand clasped in his and gave a rueful laugh. “Even I knew he was a better match for her than I was.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Leslie questioned.

“No, Leslie. Not directly, at any rate.” He looked at her evenly but didn’t add anything. She didn’t press.

He squeezed her hand gently, then let go. Wanting to change the subject, he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “So, now it’s your turn. Other than long, hot showers, what do
you
miss?”

Leslie smiled sheepishly. “I hate to admit it because it sounds so
female,
but I miss shopping. I would love to go to a mall.” He smiled at her confession. Encouraged because the mood had lightened again, she continued, “I miss air-conditioning.” She laughed out loud and said, “I
really
miss going to the supermarket and buying a chicken that’s already cut up—minus its feet and head—and neatly wrapped in plastic... I miss peanut butter and pizza—thick, cheesy pizza.” She giggled. “Gosh, it sounds like what I miss most is food.”

He laughed as she wrinkled her nose at her own reflections. “But what about people? You haven’t mentioned anyone either. Who do
you
miss most?”

Her smile dissolved. She paled, and Ben saw a wave of desolation wash through her eyes. She stood and carried her empty glass and bowl to the sink.

Here it is,
he thought.
Here’s what’s troubling her.
Wanting to crawl under the table, Ben closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Leslie, I’m sorry,” he started, but she turned back to face him.

Leaning against the small cupboard, she shook her head. “No. It’s okay.” She shook her head a second time and bit her bottom lip. When she spoke, he had to listen very carefully because the words were so faint.

“They had blond hair....” She smiled slightly. Her eyes appeared to be focused inwardly as she remembered. She blinked rapidly, swallowed and started over. “They had blond hair and blue eyes. Brian’s was a dark, ash-blond, but my little girl was a towhead. She was full of energy, bouncing all through the house... She loved to play on the swing set in the backyard and to read books....”

She paused. Ben remained silently watchful and waited for her to go on. When she continued to stare into space, he asked quietly, “What was her name?”

Tears appeared in her eyes, and she whispered, “Emma. She was soft and sweet and trusting and stubborn....” The tears began to flow in twin streams down her cheeks; she didn’t acknowledge them. “I loved to sing to her at night and tell her stories. That’s one of the things I miss the most—bedtime.” She smiled sadly. “Every night I would give her a bath and then brush her teeth. Then we would tuck her into bed, and Brian or I would read a book. Then we would kiss her good-night.” Finally, she brushed at the tears with the back of her hand. “Brian was a wonderful father.”

Leslie reached for a clean towel to dry her eyes. Ben saw her hands tremble as she performed the simple task. He wanted her to talk. He wanted to listen. Indeed, he
needed
to listen. His voice was gentle. “Tell me about Brian.”

Still avoiding looking directly at the man seated at the table, Leslie sat back down and wiped her eyes again. Her voice was heavy with emotion as she answered, “We met while he was a fourth-year med student. I had just finished nursing school and was working on the cardiac floor at one of the big hospitals in Dallas. Brian was very good-looking, and all of the young nurses had a crush on him. At first I wasn’t really attracted to him because I thought he was too serious. But one evening he asked me to go out for coffee. We ended up talking until three in the morning.” A sad light appeared in her eyes as she remembered. “I learned that even though he was serious, he was also smart, compassionate and funny. We fell in love that night.”

The yearning in Leslie’s expression and the simplicity of her statement cut through Ben’s core like a sword. He recognized jealousy, which he knew was inappropriate, but that did not change the reality.
Dear Lord,
he thought,
I’m jealous of a dead man.
Ashamed, he turned his focus back to her.

She was saying, “We were married six months later. I started the nurse-practitioner program in the meantime, thinking that maybe one day we could work together. I got pregnant during the second year of his residency. It was an accident, but we were both happy about it, and just a little terrified. By that time, Brian had decided to become a pediatrician, and we figured he could get great experience at home.” She brushed away another tear. “I was offered a position teaching nursing at the university, and I was able to do that even when Emma was a baby. Brian helped a lot.”

She stopped again, apparently reluctant to continue. Unsure what to do, Ben reached out and gently wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “What happened?” His eyes held hers, willing her to believe that he cared and wasn’t just curious.

She swallowed. “I got pregnant again and had to be confined to bed for a few weeks. One morning Brian took Emma to school, and...a truck... He must not have seen the truck.” She started sobbing. “The truck hit them... Then...because of the shock, I miscarried.”

Tears stained her cheeks and her eyes rose to meet his. “It was two years ago today. Two years... Oh, God. I miss them so much.”

She leaned over the table and buried her head in her arms. Her shoulders shook convulsively, and hoarse sounds came from her throat. Ben’s heart broke for her, and tears formed in his own eyes. He could think of no comforting words. Finally, unable to simply watch, he stood and tenderly drew her up with him. She melted into his embrace. Her head rested on his shoulder; her arms circled his waist. He held her tightly and lightly stroked her hair. He closed his eyes and slowly rocked her back and forth.

When she had finally calmed, Ben pulled away. He placed one hand under her chin and angled her face up so he could see her.

Noticing his tears, her eyes widened with astonishment. Gently, she reached up and wiped the tears from his cheek, just as he had done for her earlier. Without taking his eyes from hers, he caught her hand and kissed her palm.

Shivers coursed through Leslie, and she placed her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. “Hold me,” she choked. “Hold me again. Please...I need... Please.”

At that moment, Ben would have done anything for her. There was no way he would turn down her plea. He held her gently, his hands lovingly touching her back and shoulders, roaming and caressing. His lips brushed her hair.

She raised her face and, in unspoken agreement, her lips found his. The kiss was soft, gentle and comforting. His hands rose to frame her face, and his lips moved to touch her cheeks and forehead before returning to her lips. Tension built, and the kiss deepened and intensified. Her cheeks had tasted of the salt from her tears, but her mouth carried the sweetness of the ice cream.

Emotion and energy coursed between them in waves, sparking something that strengthened with each rapid breath. Reflexively, his hands moved to caress her arms. Oddly, the contact with the softness of her skin startled him back to reality. That touch was like being burned to the core by something warm and precious, something elemental and essential.

Immediately, his hands stilled. He could not take advantage of her vulnerability.

He loved her too much.

Summoning what tiny shreds of self-control he could find, he wrested his lips away. She struggled to pull him back as urgently as he tried to push her away. He stilled her hands and held them, his own hands shaking with tension. “Leslie,” he said with a sternness that surprised him—a sternness he did not intend. “Leslie,” he repeated, trying to sound gentle and mostly succeeding. “Look at me.”

She let out a little humming moan and moved into him again, trying to lean against him even as he restrained her hands. “No. No. Hold me. I need to be held.” Her words were frenzied.

In desperation, he grabbed her wrists and held them firmly. This time he wasn’t gentle when he shook her. His voice was harsh. “No. Leslie. Stop!” He sighed, and his tone quieted. “Open your eyes, honey, and look at me.”

Slowly her eyes opened, and Ben watched as, in a breath, passion was replaced first by embarrassment and then by contrition. Her face turned red and then paled. She cringed and closed her eyes tightly. She tried to pull away from him, but he continued to hold her wrists.

“Please let me go.” She whispered, “Brian. Brian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...” Her voice trailed off, and she started sobbing and fiercely trying to pull away from Ben’s grip.

Fearing he would hurt her, he was forced to let go.

She fled from the kitchen.

* * *

P
USHING
HER
WAY
into her bedroom and leaning against the far wall, Leslie felt panicked. She had disgraced herself. But what tore through the core of her heart was that suddenly she could not picture her husband. She tried, but all she could see was Ben.

Brian and Emma had been a constant part of her subconsciousness, and she could always recall memories with ease. Now, without warning, she had lost Brian’s face. Anxious to regain the mental image of her cherished husband, she remembered that she had put his photograph between the pages of a book to make sure it would not get damaged. Wildly she tore through the books on the bedside table, dropping them to the floor as she quickly flipped through the pages until she found the photograph.