Two Days Of A Dream (20 page)

"You are here to show me that I can step outside my comfort zone and I can change. That’s not going to be easy for me, but that's not the hardest part of my epiphany."

"What is?" Cap lost his frown as he pulled the red-faced Pendle behind him.

Kelly turned to him. "
You
are the hardest thing about this dream." Her heart caught.

"Me? What do I represent?" His once hard eyes widened and his jaw slacked, his brows pulled together. Kelly wanted to reach out smooth the lines.

"You represent the perfect man, the kind of man I've been looking for all my life. The perfect number three and probably the perfect match for number four. The bad part is I'll never be able to find someone like you. I'll never be able to change that part of my life. You're just a dream and dreams don't come true." Kelly felt despair well in her throat and couldn't go on.

The others stared at her. No one spoke. Only Pendle made noise as she breathed in deep and huffed it out.

What am I going to do?
Kelly knew she was never going to have the perfect number three because she was never going to have Cap.

"Come on, Coleman should be up by now," Cap's softened voice urged in her ear, as he took her arm to led her out of the tent. Kelly was too depressed to disagree and didn’t fight him. What she wanted was for Cap to take her in his arms and hold her so she could cry. She felt there was no way Cap would do that, even as nice as he was being.

The captain cleared his throat, twice. “If you’ll excuse us Colonel, Ms. Goins looks dead on her feet. I’d better get her back to Private Coleman.” He put a strong arm gently around her shoulders and guided her out.

They stepped into the weak morning light, the time between sleep and waking. The area was still; not even the wind was fully awake.

Kelly stared at Cap, not caring where they were going or if she lost a shoe. She riveted her gaze on him as though by keeping him in her vision he wouldn’t disappear when she woke.

A glance ahead and she recognized where they were. They weren’t far from the off-limits female area guarded by the pit bull Pendle. But Pendle wasn't there; she was with the colonel. They say when the cat's away the mice will play. Kelly half expected to see a big party going on.

"I'm really not that tired." A traitor yawn captured her face and he laughed at her.

She was surprised when they reached Pendle's tent and Cap didn't stop. "I thought you weren't allowed here?"

He lifted his chin and yelled, "Man in the compound!" He glanced down at Kelly. "I'm personally delivering you to Coleman."

He stopped a few tents from their destination and faced her. He squeezed Kelly's shoulders with his massive hands. Chills stampeded down her spine. "You are not to run away from Coleman again."

"I haven't run away from her yet."

He dropped his head and moved it back and forth afew times. He did that a lot she noted. At least when he was around her.

Kelly's eyes ran over the bulging muscles in his arms. Unable to stop them, they scampered up his shoulders and across to his neck. He had to be the most well-built man she'd ever seen.

He lifted his gaze to hers and she jerked her eyes back into their sockets. "Just stay with Coleman. I. Need. My. Sleep."

"I promise not to run away." She crossed her heart. Kelly had been a Girl Scout Brownie for all of one week, so she felt it gave her the right to raise two fingers to seal the promise.

He sighed, unconvinced. Taking her arm, he marched her the rest of the way. "Private Coleman? Are you awake?"

There was some scrambling inside. "Yes sir, be right out, sir." Coleman whipped the flap back and stepped out, buttoning her pants. "Yes, sir?"

"And goodbye to you, too, Cap!" Kelly yelled after him, but he didn't acknowledge her parting jab. She turned to Coleman. "He didn't even say goodbye," she pouted.

"Let's get you inside. You look like you might fall asleep on your feet."

Coleman's tent mate was still in her sleeping bag and sat up to get a good look at the woman. Her short, sandy hair stuck up all over her head, and her tanned face looked cherubic while her eyes were impish. "So this is the mystery woman who has every man in camp breathing heavy."

"Yeah, Kelly, this is Mattie, Mattie, this is her, and if you take your eyes off her she'll disappear."

The other woman chortled. "According to you, even when you don't take your eyes off her she disappears."

Coleman gave Mattie a frown while she tugged Kelly to her cot. "Here, you can sleep in my place. I guess I'm up for the day. And don't get any sand in my bed," she ordered.

Kelly flopped down, feeling dejected. You'd think she'd be used to it by now but ... in her own dream? "Thanks." Kelly looked around. "Where's my gown?"

"Too bad. I want your shoes, too." Kelly tugged the flip-flops off with her toes and Coleman snatched them up. "Now go to sleep."

Kelly was too tired to argue, and her eyes closed before her head hit the pillow.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Duran heard Kelly call after him as he strode away. She was hurt that he hadn't said goodbye, and he hoped she would get over it. He was tired enough that he didn't trust his reactions.

He needed to sleep before he convinced himself that he wanted her. Not just that he physically wanted her. All the guys wanted her, physically. Duran couldn't allow himself to like her, or the next thing he knew, they'd be 'taking care of things.’ He knew that if he couldn't love her, she would be hurt. And if he found he liked her, when she left it would hurt him. No, it was best to just keep her safe until the colonel put her on the transport tomorrow. That was for the best.

Duran's cot, particularly hard, felt as though it had shrunk. Had it always been this narrow? It was too hot with the covers and no breeze meandered through the tent. If it was too hot for his thin sheet, that meant another day of sweltering.

He thought it odd how comfortable he'd been when Kelly lay in his arms. He had thought that two people couldn't lie on one of these cots.

He shoved that thought from his mind as he threw himself to another position. That didn't working either, so he maneuvered to his stomach. Ugh! It was too hot! He thought about taking a cold shower to cool off. He sighed. He was too tired to get up. Pushing to his side, he spent the next half hour wrestling sleep until it surrendered and took him.

"I already tried him." Larsen’s normally tactful voice was laced with disgust. "He's taking a shower and ordered me to get you."

Larsen had to help Duran to his feet and steady him a few times while he dressed. Exiting the tent Duran paused to let his eyes adjust, with his hand on Larsen's shoulder, his eyes mere slits.

"You would tell me if I wasn't buttoned or zipped all the way, right?"

"Of course, sir." Larsen’s confused tone reassured the captain.

"Good man, Larsen, good man." Duran patted the sergeant’s shoulder, then let his arm fall to his side. "Lead on."

He kept Larsen in his limited view and he arrived at the bunkers without a major mishap. Larsen made sure Duran was safely next to Stover before he scuttled off, disappearing before Duran remembered to thank him.

Stover laughed and motioned for one of the men to come over. He turned the man around, and placed a paper on the broad of the soldier's back. "Here." He placed a pen in Duran's right hand. "The form's right in front of you."

Stover had to guid Duran's hand to the man's back. Duran scribbled where he thought the signature box was -- hoping he stayed on the paper -- then held out the pen until someone took it.

Duran handed it back to Stover. "No, I need sleep." He tried to turn toward his tent, not sure where it was exactly, but Stover stopped him.

"Sorry, Cap, but you have to stay and verify we followed procedure. Then you can go back to sleep."

That’s right.
Duran thought through the haze in his brain.
I have to be an eyewitness to this whole thing.
Unfortunately, his eyes were mostly closed. He gulped the coffee, weaving on his unsteady legs.

Stover laughed at him. "Private, go get the captain more coffee, a whole pot if they'll let you take it or a whole pot if they turn their backs long enough."

Duran tried to laugh, but it came out like a snore.

"Wow, Cap, you look awful. Come over here." Stover pulled Duran up against the launcher. "Hang onto this." Stover placed Duran's hands on a rail. "There, you're out of the way, but if anyone sees us it'll look like you're supervising."

Duran finished the coffee and someone refilled the mug. "Drink up, sir." Duran chugged and it was immediately filled again. He hoped to wake up enough to really observe the operation but was afraid of being wired for the rest of the day, eliminating any possibility of sleep.

Halfway through the next cup, Duran's eyes opened and the fog lifted to his knees. He could feel the caffeine inching through his veins. His head was still fuzzy, but he could now focus on the men working around him.

His men, with Stover hovering above, were hunkered down replacing the cover, a battery-operated vacuum at the base fighting off the encroaching sand, their nemesis. Another cup of java and they had all the bolts back in place.

Somewhere in the depths of his sleeping consciousness, there was knowledge on whether they did it right but he couldn't access it. But floating above it all was the trust he had for his men. They wouldn't leave him hanging. Duran hoped.

"Okay, Cap, we're all done, you can go back to bed."

"Thanks, Stover. That's exactly what I'm going to do." Duran's eyes were open and more aware of what he observed, but he downed one last cup. That was so he could find the way to his tent, just in case all the other cups of caffeine wore off.

As he entered the main compound he heard a familiar voice. "Hey, Duran, what are you doing out of bed?" It was his major carrying his bathing bag, his hair still wet from his -- probably hot – shower.