Night After Night.... Kathy Lyons

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СКАЧАТЬ flashed a rueful smile. “No one expects you to be a marine. But if you want to be more fit, then do it. An hour a day—”

      “Will keep the doctor away. Maybe for you, but I’m civilian all the way. I’ll never be able to keep up.”

      She moved around him to get back to her bike, and this time he let her. She walked stiffly while he just stood there and watched her, pieces slowly fitting into place. “Your father was military, right?”

      “Air force. Why?”

      “And did you have brothers?”

      “Two. Air force and navy, respectively.”

      “So you were the only girl?”

      “Yeah. The youngest of three.”

      Now he began to understand. “That must have sucked growing up. No way a younger girl can keep up with two older brothers. Physically it just can’t happen. So why bother?”

      She studied him, obviously thinking. He liked that she was listening to him, actively processing his words instead of merely reacting. In the end she released a heavy sigh. “You know why I teach kindergarten?”

      He shook his head. Truthfully, he hadn’t known what grade she taught in Ohio.

      “Because the kids don’t let me tank out. Any other grade, you can sit at a desk at least part of the time. You can rest a bit, take a load off, do something less physically demanding.”

      “Not in kindergarten, huh?”

      She scoffed. “The last time I took a five-minute break, Joey stuffed a Barbie shoe into his nose.”

      “Ouch.”

      “Yeah. You’d think he wouldn’t have pushed something that pointy up there, but he did.”

      “And you learned to never sit again.”

      “Oh, I do. After school. But for eight hours a day—I teach both shifts—I’m moving all the time. Because the kids demand it.”

      He frowned, working to sort through her message. “Are you trying to say that you work hard enough?”

      “No. I’m saying that without someone forcing me, I don’t work at all. A little cardio would be good for me. I can try an hour a day.”

      “I’m not forcing you,” he said. “You have to—”

      “I want to,” she interrupted. “You’re not forcing anything on me at all.” Then she eyed the path, looking both ahead and behind. “So you think you can find a way back that will take an hour? A light hour.”

      He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I can.”

      In truth, the journey took an hour and fifteen, and at the end of it, he could tell she was wiped. By the time they made it to her room door, he could tell they’d overdone it. Her gait was very stiff, but she was also smiling, clearly happy. And he had never felt so relaxed either. They’d managed to talk for almost the entire ride. He used it to gauge her exertion level, but honestly, it had been awesome to swap childhood stories.

      She’d grown up on base with older brothers who found ways to run wild. He’d grown up on the poor side of Indianapolis where running wild was the only way to survive. There was a lot in common between them, yet also enough of a difference to make the telling exciting. But now that the time was over, he found himself looking down into her eyes and wanting something so much more from her than shared stories.

      “This was great. I had a great time,” she said.

      “Yeah,” he said, looking at her lips. “Um, hey, make sure to pop some ibuprofen. Don’t want you sore tomorrow.”

      An expression flashed across her face that he couldn’t read. Humor? Regret? Annoyance? He really had no idea and the second it registered, it disappeared. Then it occurred to him that she might not have any pills. It probably wasn’t the lifesaving staple that it was for marines.

      “You know, I have a whole bottle—”

      “I got some. Don’t worry. I’ll medicate.”

      And then they both just stood there, her with her back to her door, him leaning over her about half a breath away from kissing her.

      “You were right,” he said abruptly.

      She blinked. “About what?”

      “Earlier. When you said I was mad about something. About how my body has betrayed me somehow.” He slumped against the wall, knowing he needed to confess this now or he’d never get it out. “I was in a jeep and we drove over an IED.”

      She gasped. “An IED like a bomb IED?”

      He nodded. “Yeah. We were lucky that it was really badly made. Five of us, and we all got out alive.”

      He saw the shudder run through her whole body, and remembered why he didn’t talk about these things with civilians. It was horrible, but it was also something marines learned to deal with from day one. They could get blown up any minute. If you were lucky, you survived. Nobody liked it, but you either dealt with it or went nuts.

      “I’m fine, obviously. Weak, out of shape, but coming back.”

      “You’re not weak, Jason. You’re a moron if you think you’re weak.”

      He dipped his chin. “Okay, I’m weaker than I used to be. But like I said, my strength’s coming back. But there’s a different problem.”

      She watched him closely, clearly waiting for him to continue without pushing him to speak before he was ready. It took him a breath, but he got there.

      “I’ve got amnesia. I can’t remember stuff before or after getting blown up.”

      “I’d think that was normal. And that you probably won’t get everything back.”

      He nodded. “That’s what the docs say.”

      He’d gone over it a thousand times in his head. The mission had been to find a biological weapons factory. They knew it was somewhere in the Philippines. That’s it. Somewhere in a whole freaking country. But using logic—and a lot of footwork—they’d found it. Or rather, Jason had found it. He’d figured out where the thing was right before getting blown up by the IED. And now he couldn’t remember where it was.

      His unit continued on, doing what they’d been doing. Logic, intel, on-foot searching, the whole nine yards, but they weren’t getting anywhere. Jason could fix it all. He had the answer. It was just locked up tight in his brain, hanging there behind a big wall of nothing. He couldn’t even begin to express how frustrated and angry that made him.

      Meanwhile Christy touched his chest. She put her fingers right on his sternum, and it was like getting touched by a branding iron. He felt every one of her fingertips. Not painfully hot, but just there. Like he would remember her fingers on his chest until the day he died.

      “So what’s the problem?” she asked gently.

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