Soul Scars (Dog Haven Sanctuary Romance) (36 page)

She hadn’t been hand-fed since she was a baby and pushed aside a little moment of self-consciousness before opening her mouth. His free hand he cupped beneath her chin to catch any drops, and he placed the food in her mouth until it touched her tongue. She closed her teeth, biting through the crisp toasted bread, enjoying the slippery warmth of the oil, the earthiness of the olives, and the tang of lemon and herbs.

“I could fall in love with a man who knows how to prepare food like this.”

His forefinger caught the smudge of oil at the corner of her mouth, and he swiped it, pushing gently on her bottom lip until she opened a little, and he slipped his finger into her mouth.

“I love preparing food for people who appreciate it.”

The tension between them was palpable, as if the air had taken on some sort of energized quality. It made Lulah want to take hold of Vince to discharge the energy, and she compensated by reaching for her wine and taking a slug. She had to slow down. It was only Vince; she could cope. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
Tension out.

He responded by placing the rest of the bruschetta on a napkin and held it out to her. “I know,” he said quietly, as if understanding her turmoil, and he turned away to stir the sauce bubbling on the stove.

This tension and energy were as difficult for him. How easy it would be to forget Vegas, the hotel room, the hurtful words, to put all that behind them and muddle on until it happened again. And that would take the relationship to a similar sort of place as the one she had with her father. Was that her destiny? To have unreliable men who were going to give her the highs until they disappointed her and took her with them to the depths of despair?

“Ready in five minutes.”

I’ve been ready for months.
She sorted through the cupboards for small dishes to use as finger bowls, filling them with warm water and slices of lemon. Vince warmed two deep bowls for their mussels, and Lulah placed another one on the table for discarded shells.

The mussels were fabulous, small and tender. Vince showed Lulah how to take one half of the shell to dislodge the meat, slurping juices and using bread to mop up the excess.

Lulah pushed back her chair when she’d finished. “What a mess. I’m glad we didn’t go for the white linen table setting.”

“Look at your shirt.”

She didn’t have to; she knew the stained state it was in. “I feel as though I need another shower.”

Vince stopped chewing for a moment, the expression on his face difficult to read.

“Okay, that was a joke,” she added with a short laugh.

“More’s the pity.”

“Vince,” she warned, “we need to talk. I’m sorry. I know that’s one of those scary lines women trot out, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“Sure. Let’s clear these dishes away, and we can get down to business.”

Lulah claimed the sofa, full-stretch, and Vince settled in an armchair. It illustrated the shift in their relationship, because before Vegas, they’d have shared the sofa or a place on the floor. “I owe you money, Vince. Dad’s debt and my share for the hotel room, so tell me how much.”

“I’m not taking your money, Lulah—”

“Hell, it had to be more than thirty grand. You can’t pay that.”
I can’t pay that, but you took the choice away from me.

“I talked them down to six grand. I convinced the LoanStar boss that you were considering filing a civil lawsuit for them not protecting Ray’s personal details, resulting in him being severely beaten. Turns out the original loan was five grand, and we agreed on them taking the interest back to a grand.”

“I would probably have paid the whole debt they were claiming. Wow, thanks. But I still owe you.”

“You don’t. I want you to forget it.”

“I can’t; that’s wrong.”

“It was my decision. I wanted to do that for you.”

“Well, thank you. You saved Dad; I appreciate that.”

“No problem.” He paused for a moment before speaking. “I’m going away tomorrow…”

His diluted smile did nothing to stem the inexplicable wave of panic surging through her. What happened in Vegas now seemed unfinished yet final, if that made any sense. She glanced out the window towards his pickup over by the barn. Outside it was dark, so moonless that she couldn’t see if his possessions were loaded on the back.

“Hey, look at you. It’s okay.” He came to her, crouched down by the sofa and took her hand, cupping it inside his that way he did so she could make a loose ball or a tight fist, but either way, he protected her.

“Why? Where are you going?” Her voice was high and tight, making her sound needy. Damn, she hated that. She wanted to sit up and take control of herself, but for once, she decided to take whatever came lying down. It felt oddly indulgent, this giving in, and a little bit scary.

“I met yesterday with Adoette, one of the VA chaplains. I saw her at Doc’s funeral. She’s sat in on a couple of group sessions, so knows what I’m about. She suggested I go on a healing retreat, and found me a place at an organization she works with. To be honest, I wanted to back off all this stuff, this continual focus on me, but this place she’s sending me to is a bit different. Adoette wants me to build on the groundwork Doc and I have already put in place, but she believes I need to heal my soul and make peace with my war.”

Lulah saw how hard he worked at trying to stay positive about what he told her, but the weight of it, the almost last-chance feel of what he was about to do, showed through the mask he tried to keep in place. “Are you afraid?”

His fist closed tightly over hers, compressing the loose ball of her hand, pushing her nails into her palm. It was a small pain, but she never attempted to flex her fingers open or make a sound, because the pain in Vince’s eyes was as tangible as that of her hand.

“I’m frightened it won’t work, that I won’t be able to engage again with my soul. But what Adoette explained to me makes sense. You see, most cultures have cleansing rituals for their returning warriors. They recognize that despite performing our duty as protectors, we can be left with moral and spiritual injuries and that, before rejoining society, we need to go through a purification of our spirit to reconnect with our true selves. That gives us a chance to be able to function again out of combat.”

Lulah understood she was lucky not to have known the before-the-war Vince, because that removed any longing to have him as the person he once was. All she could hope was, for his sake, he could improve from the person he was now.

Chapter 30

V
INCE LEFT BEFORE dawn the following morning. Lulah made him breakfast, but he ate little. Although the retreat wasn’t starting for another few days, he said he had things to sort out before he arrived.

“There are a few stops I want to make. I need to see the guys. I saw them at Doc’s funeral.”

“The guys?” Tight lines of distress returned to his face, and he looked like the Vince of months before.

He nodded. “Nathan, Will, Caleb, and Zane…my old battle buddies. This probably sounds crazy, but their spirits were in the trees near the cemetery. I want to connect with them one more time. I’m scared. What if they tell me—you know, the people at the retreat—I’m scared they’ll tell me to stop trying to connect with them. To move on. I don’t know if I can do that.”

She reached for his arm that he rested on the table, dismayed when he started at her light touch. “I’m sure they’ll help you find a place of peace for them, so that they will always be with you, but in an easier way.” To be honest, she had no idea what they would do, but she couldn’t bear to let him drive away in this state.

“I’ll stop at Taryn’s house to drop off the trolley for Gable. I had this need to see Gable’s joy when I gave it to her. It was ego as much as anything, and that need has gone now. It disappeared when I left Vegas after I was so cruel to you. As I drove away, it hit me that the love I feel isn’t about me; it’s about doing the right thing for those I love. For you and Gable. If I insist on seeing Gable, it will cause tension and anger between Taryn and I, but the person who will actually suffer will be our daughter. So I’ll go early, leave the trolley with a letter I’ve written, and perhaps sometime, when she’s older, she will understand.”

“And…” Lulah started.

“And us? Is that what you wanted to say?”

His face said he was right with her, at the same place, and the fact that he’d offered her the same question eased her enough to allow him a temporary reprieve. “It is what I want to say, but I don’t expect an answer right now.”

She saw his relief, as visible as if the words were written across his face. “My head’s all messed up. I didn’t go back to the sleeping meds again when I returned from Vegas. For some reason, I wanted my body pure, free from drugs, experiencing every bit of pain, so that I could start the retreat in a state of honesty, I guess.” He stood, taking a final look around the cabin as if he would never return.

Lulah stood, too, a delicate fissure splitting her heart, and she followed him to the door. She took hold of his arm, more firmly this time, and Vince stopped, his back to her. “Go safely, Vince. I know you’ll be true to yourself, and I’m giving to you every bit of good energy I have to help reunite yourself and your soul.”

She shifted slightly so that she could see his face as he stared across the yard, seeing nothing that was there, but everything that troubled him. After a moment, he pulled her against him, his murmured thanks like a warm breeze across her. She stayed in place as Vince eased from her grip, as he and Calliope took what seemed a long walk to his pickup.

TWO WEEKS LATER Vince’s letter arrived.

Dear Lulah,

This retreat in the Catskills is beautiful. You would love it up here, well, apart from all the angst our group is going through. Yet having said that, it is a place of healing and peace, and I feel as though I’m finally beginning to like myself again.

They are teaching me to be a true warrior. I have to say that is the last thing I expected before I came here. However, understanding that I am a warrior and how to be faithful to that part of myself is helping me reconnect with my soul. I sleep now without the aid of drugs, and that sleep is long, good, and mostly free of the nightmares.

Calliope is making friends all over, and there are a couple of guys here who would really love their own service dog. More business for you, Lulah.

We have been through a number of healing rituals that last as long as they need to…usually hours, sometimes well into the night, or even the small hours of the morning. There is a theme of forgiveness, sharing our stories, and acknowledging the things that have harmed our souls.

I have a favor to ask, and it comes from deep within my heart. It is enormous in its weight of complexity and emotion, so I’d like you to think carefully before you decide. If you agree, I’d hope you would be doing it as much for yourself—and my presumptive side wants to say “us”—as for me.

You said once that you’d be honored to hear my story if I ever felt capable of telling it to you. Well, in another week, I’ll be finished here, and on our last weekend, the families of the guys here are coming down for a night. There will be a ceremony where we share our stories, and family and friends bear witness to what has troubled us. I imagine it will be harrowing for everyone involved, but it will also be healing. You are the only person I want here, to listen, to share, and to understand.

Adoette, the chaplain from the VA in Halo Peak who got me into the retreat, is joining us, and she says you can share a ride with her. Please think about this carefully. No need to reply to this letter, but contact Adoette if you wish to come. She has attended a number of these ceremonies, so she can tell you how they work. I have enclosed her business card with her contact details.

I will respect your decision and honor however you feel. Please don’t feel any pressure to attend.

The letter was signed with his initials and a small illustration of a man asleep in a meadow, watched over by a dog.