The Marine's New Family. Roz Dunbar

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СКАЧАТЬ faded as she was pulled back into the same horrible dream that had haunted her for months. The dream that replayed those awful events in Afghanistan.

      The day had started so well. She and her team had been welcomed warmly when they’d arrived at the Afghan orphanage with their medical supplies. As a member of Hope Corps, Tess had spent the past several years of her life bringing medical relief to underprivileged countries. That day had seemed just like any other. But then it had all gone horribly wrong.

       She had just finished vaccinating the four-year-old girl in front of her and was handing her a wrapped piece of candy when she felt the first explosion. Forcefully, she was sucked out of her chair as she instinctively reached for the child, gathering her close. As the air pressure equalized she fell to the floor, tucking the child beneath her in an attempt to shield her from whatever was happening around them.

       Acrid smoke began to fill the room, making it difficult to breathe. Dimly, she heard the frightened cries of children and the urgent voices of several adults who were making an effort to comfort them. Tess slowly raised her head, scanning the room. It was difficult to see through the smoke, but she could make out glass everywhere. Glass and chaos. Both covered the room like fine glitter. Several women dressed in loose-fitting burkas were lying on the ground, crying and speaking rapidly in Farsi as they began to get up from where they had been thrown. Two of them started to gather children and usher them out of the room as quickly as possible. Where they were going, Tess had no idea, but she realized it was probably not a good idea to stay where she was. She felt a small wiggle beneath her and heard a faint whimper. The child was struggling feebly to get free. Tess looked down into wide brown eyes filled with fear.

       “Are you all right?” she asked the little girl in stilted Farsi, and was reassured by the slight nod she received in response.

      Mentally, she went over the layout of the orphanage, trying desperately to remember if there was an exit nearby. Where were her coworkers? Was anyone hurt? If so she needed to give medical aid quickly. Her thoughts were a jumbled mix. Taking a deep breath she murmured a brief prayer. Dear Lord, please help me to think clearly.

       Immediately a sense of calm came over her as her thoughts cleared. Pushing herself up to a sitting position, she caught the eye of one of the Afghan women, who rushed over to take the little girl from her. As Tess was handing the youngster over, the second explosion sounded and the world caved in on top of them. The startled look of the woman who had just taken the little girl into her arms was the last thing Tess saw before losing consciousness.

      To this day, she still didn’t know how long she’d spent lying there. In her dream, the transition was seamless. One moment, she was watching the world collapse around her. In the next moment, she heard a voice speaking over her head.

       “She’s alive.” Tess heard the words before opening her eyes. The voice was deeply male and unfamiliar.

      Who’s alive? Me? Am I? I don’t feel alive, she thought fuzzily, trying to make sense of what was being said above the incessant ringing in her ears. She struggled to open her eyes without success, opting gratefully for the blessed darkness that enveloped her again. She awoke to the sound of the same warm male voice, which seemed to wrap around her like a comforting blanket.

       “Ma’am, hold on. United States Marines, and we are going to get you out of here.” The rich voice rumbled close to her ear. “Morgan, get help and lift this beam off of her.”

       “Yes, Gunny. Baldwin, I need a hand over here.”

      Such a nice voice. Marines? Tess fought again to open her eyes. Who called the marines?

       “Ma’am, hang in there. Can you open your eyes?”

       Slowly, she opened them and focused on the ruggedly handsome face of the man bending over her. Feature by feature she took him in. His head was encased in a tan-and-brown digital-patterned helmet, so she couldn’t tell the color of his hair, but his eyes were an incredible azure blue, set in sun-kissed chiseled features that sported a day’s growth of beard. There was something in those eyes that made her feel safe, a relaxed self-assurance that whatever was happening, he had the situation under control.

       “Ma’am,” he said with a comforting smile. “I’m Gunnery Sergeant Luke Barrett. You’re an American?”

       Tess nodded, wincing with pain as she moved her head.

       “Try not to move too quickly. You have quite a bump on your head. We’ll get you help as soon as we get out of this building. It’s not safe to stay here.” Looking over his shoulder, he nodded to someone behind him before turning back to her and saying, “Okay, put your arms around my neck.”

       Her eyes never left his face as she lifted her arms slowly. She was afraid to look around, afraid of what she knew she’d see. It could not be good, not by any stretch of the imagination. Part of the ceiling was gone. The bright light was sunshine. That much she could tell. And she was cold, very cold. The smoke was gone and she could breathe, but each breath made her feel as if shards of broken glass were grating against each other inside her chest.

       The marine gently lifted her out of the wreckage as though she weighed no more than a child. She felt the rough material of his camouflaged uniform and hard body armor beneath her cheek as she clasped her arms around his neck. Pain. Remarkably intense pain jabbed at her legs like a thousand hot needles piercing her flesh. She stifled a groan as, with a Herculean effort, she tightened her grip. He was her lifeline and she was determined not to let go, even for an instant. She noted a fleeting look of concern shadow his face as he felt her stiffen in response to the hurt. With grim determination and quiet confidence he began to move through the rubble of what this morning had been a building filled with the excited shouts of children as Tess and her coworkers arrived to set up their mobile medical unit. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

      Clarity washed over her with all the force of a massive tsunami. The children! The little girl she had held close after the first explosion. Was she all right? Tess looked back at the place she had been lying, her pain forgotten. The child had been right in front of her, had just left her arms. Desperately, Tess scanned what was left of the room. It was now nothing more than a twisted heap of concrete, glass and wooden beams. Impossible for anyone to have survived the carnage. She had no idea how she had survived. Then she caught sight of something that caused her heart to splinter. A small arm poked through the wreckage, palm open, revealing a piece of brightly wrapped candy.

       Tears began to stream down Tess’s face. Shifting in the marine’s arms, she struggled to ask him to stop, to go back, but her voice refused to obey as deep physical and emotional pain combined, causing her to slip into unconsciousness once more.

      Usually, the dream ended there—or worse, started over at the beginning, to play through again. But today she heard a familiar voice say some entirely unexpected things.

      “I thought I heard someone come in. Groceries are all put away and the furniture is on the porch. Why did you use the front door?”

      Tess heard the marine talking again, just as she had heard him in her dreams for endless nights since he had pulled her out of the wreckage. His voice was always deep and soothing as he assured her he would make certain she was safe. She would never forget his voice. Only this time he was talking about groceries and furniture. Well, that’s a twist on the same old nightmare, she thought in her dream state. Why in the world is he talking about groceries? Funny. Nuzzling her cheek against СКАЧАТЬ