Clearwater Romance (4 page)

Screaming woke her. She looked at the bedside clock,
one o’clock in the morning
, before dashing up the stairs to check on her guest. Goldie rushed ahead of her.

“Come on James, stay with me. Don’t you dare die on me!” Pain laced through his shouts.

Tears welled in her eyes. Climbing the stairs two at a time, she didn’t bother knocking and pushed open the door.  Jordan lay in a tangle of sheets. He reminded her of a lost little boy, curled in a ball, but ready to spring to action.

She went to him warily, Goldie following close on her heels.

“Jordan.” She raised her voice as she neared, but he didn’t wake. His screams drowned out her voice. “Jordan, come on, wake up.”

Uncertainty warred with the desire to help. She touched his arm. That woke him. His hand shot up and wrapped around her throat. Her throat constricted and she fought to breath. Goldie barked like mad, and growled at him.

“Who are you?” His grip loosened, but his hand stayed firmly in place.

“Jordan, it’s Chloe.” She wheezed the words. “Winterbloom’s owner.”

His hand dropped to his side and his head fell in despair. “Chloe…what are you doing here?”

She retreated, putting distance and Goldie between them. Heart hammering, she coughed and tried to catch her breath. “I heard you scream. You were having a nightmare.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare. It happened.” He ran his hand over this face. “Get out.”

* * *

It was late, but her body was on edge. Sleep wouldn’t be coming. She curled up on the couch in her quarters, a hot cup of tea in hand and Goldie stretched out beside her. Uninterested in reading, she set aside her earlier book. The television was out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

What happened to cause him so much pain? Who was James and what happened to him?
The questions nagged at her. She set the tea aside, and scooted down on the couch. Resting her head on one of the throw pillow, she tried to think of a way to help him.

A gentle knock woke her. Rubbing her eyes the bedside clock came into view.
Three. It’s going to be a long night.

She slipped the afghan around her shoulders to ward off the chill creeping up her back and padded towards the door. Exhaustion burned in her eyes, stealing herself, she hoped he wasn’t back to his surly attitude again.  He was hardly her first unpleasant guest, but she always did her best. For some reason, Jordan got under her skin.

He stood in the hallway with his hands tucked into the pockets of the lounge pants. A black t-shirt pulled tight over his muscles. Shadows darkened his eyes. He was hurt and the need to help him tugged her past her impatience.

Goldie barked a warning.

“Shh, girl. It’s okay.” The dog quieted, but didn’t leave her guarding position.

“I came down for a drink and saw your light still on. I wanted to apologize for what happened. I didn’t mean to attack you.”

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have gotten close to you to wake you, but I didn’t know what else to do. You were crying out for James.”

“I shouldn’t have stayed here.” He ran his hand over the stubble on his face.

“You didn’t have much choice. Your car broke down. There isn’t another hotel in miles. What were you going to do, stay out in the blizzard?”

The weight of his gaze gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s better than risking someone’s life—your life. I’m unsafe for people to be around.”

“I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem like enough, but there was nothing else she could say. “Have you sought help?”

“Yes, I went to a shrink, but it didn’t help. They discharged me because of it. They train you for years to fight, to kill. But when it’s your best friend, a guy who’s like a brother to you, the guy who went through boot camp and all the training with you, they tell you to forget about it. You can’t forget it, and go on like nothing happened. I was there, I should have done something more.” His anger turned into pity and remorse.

“Jordan, if there was something you could have done, I am sure you did it. I know this isn’t going to help, but maybe it was his time.”

“His time?” Anger surged through his voice. “His time? How can you say that? He had a wife and a baby on the way. One he never saw born. It wasn’t his time.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“Oh yes, I can. It should have been me.” He whispered. “I was supposed to be on that watch, but he switched with me because I was sick. He took my shift…he died in my place.”

There were no words that could make this better for him. He had to find the forgiveness in himself. She could tell him over and over it wasn’t his fault, but until he came to accept the facts, nothing she said would ease his guilt.

She wrapped an arm around him. “Come on, I think you could use a drink.”

* * *

She handed him a beer. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything stronger.”

“It’s fine.” He said, keeping his gaze on the fireplace.

“Why did you come to Clearwater?”

“I didn’t intend to stop here. I was passing through to Idaho. That’s where James’ wife lives. I promised him I would stop in and see her and the baby once I made it back to the States. I don’t know if I’m making the right choice. I’m sure she blames me. But a promise is a promise, and I plan to keep it.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t blame you, and you need to stop blaming yourself.”

“There’s no one else to blame.” He sat his bottle on the coffee table.

“What about the people who killed him? Shouldn’t they be blamed?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes.

“I know I don’t know you, but I know guilt eats a person alive. Your friend wouldn’t want you to live like this.”

“You, the counselors, the military, everyone thinks I should just get over it. But I can’t. I don’t know how.” He sighed. “They want me to talk it out, be rational—embrace the fact that people die in a war.  Marines die—soldiers die—I get that. But this was different…James wasn’t just a Marine or just people…he was my friend.”

“I’m not a counselor. I don’t know all the right things to say, but when my grandmother died. Everyone said—‘you know things happen for a reason’. It doesn’t matter if it happens for a reason, it just matters that it hurts. It’s okay to hurt and to miss him. It’s not okay to beat yourself up. You have to talk to someone, do something. I’ll help you in any way I can.” Maybe she pushed it, but she laid a hand on his leg. Comfort came in different forms.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Why would you help me? Like you said, you don’t even know me.”

Why would she want to help him?
He stared at the ceiling. The sun would be up soon, but sleep eluded him.
I could have killed her.

Questions ran around in his head. What did he have to do to make the dreams stop? The shrink did nothing, but make them worse. Did he have other options besides another counselor? Would he ever be able to sleep without the visions of that night being played out repeatedly? It wasn’t like he could do anything to change it, so why did his mind keep replaying it, forcing him to relive those horrible moments over and over again.

Sick of feeling sorry for himself, he levered himself off the bed. She mentioned wanting to redo the other two rooms. Maybe he could give her some suggestions. He needed something to do, something to keep his mind on other than his pilgrimage to see James’ family.

He dressed in his blue jeans and threw on a black long sleeve sweater. He needed a shave but that could wait until later. Running water might wake Chloe. She was up late with him, and he didn’t want to disturb her…again.

Across the hall was one of the rooms she wanted remodeled. She mentioned it was one of the larger rooms in the bed and breakfast. There was a king size four-poster bed in the center of the room, a small office to the left, and a three-piece bathroom. This was one of two guest rooms with its own bathroom. The other three had to share the hall bath. He saw potential. It would depend on what Chloe wanted to do, but he could easily draw some designs.

The second room was smaller. It would be better suited for a short stay or someone spending only a little time in the room. A queen bed sat by the windows, and a small sitting area arrayed around the door. He explored the other three remolded bedrooms and the hall bathroom and retreated to his room to draw up a few ideas for Chloe to look over. For the first time since leaving the Marines, he felt useful. Instead of destruction, he saw potential…

That’s something…

* * *

Chloe tugged the turtleneck sweater up, making sure to cover the fingermark bruises on each side of her throat. She believed him when he said he hadn’t meant to hurt her, but she didn’t want to show him the evidence.

He hadn’t shown up for breakfast. She didn’t dare go inside—not after last night—but she wanted him to eat, too.

“Come in.” He called.

She opened the door to find him sitting at the small desk. “I made breakfast and thought you might be hungry.”

“Oh…I didn’t realize it was so late.” He looked up and blinked as though noticing the sun shining in the window. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

“Oh.” He dragged his hand over his face. “Give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

* * *

Jordan joined her downstairs a few minutes later. She set a platter of pancakes on the table.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sit down and start. I’ll grab the coffee.” Joining him at the table, she nodded to the papers beside him. “What are you working on?”

His lips curled into a smile and he shoved another bite of pancake into his mouth. “I couldn’t sleep and you mentioned drawing up plans for the other two guest bedrooms. I hope you don’t mind, but I drew up some ideas for you to look at.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, don’t look so surprised. I had nothing else to do and didn’t want to wake you. I used to work at my father’s construction business before I enlisted. I worked with him all through high school, and when I was on leave. If you don’t like them, you don’t have to use it. It was just my way of trying to pay you back—make up for what I did last night. Plus it got my mind off…things. I forgot how much I loved doing that.”

“I’d love to see.”

He wiped his hands on his napkin and handed her the papers.

She looked over the documents, the designs were more than she imagined. The ideas looked so warm and welcoming.
Beautiful…

“Wow, they’re perfect. I love this one.” She tapped the larger bedroom design. “The ideas for all of it is wonderful, but I especially like the idea of adding a large window to that room and taking advantage of the views.”  She nudged her plate aside, spreading the design out in front of her. “I didn’t mention a design for the bathroom, but thank you. I planned to do that later. Why did you take out the tub?”

“Winterbloom is a bed and breakfast, and three of the rooms share that bathroom. I don’t think the guests would appreciate it if another guest took a long bath while they waited to shower. The guest room you finished already has a bathroom, and if they really have to have a bath when they come, they should book that room. If you don’t like it, I can change the design to allow for a tub.”

“No, you’re right—we’ve had that problem before. I love it and the large walk in the glass shower. It makes me want to redo my quarters.” She smiled at him.

“If you want, I can look at it and give you some pointers on the best use for your space.”

A forbidden thrill raced through her at the idea of him in her bedroom. “Thank you. But that isn’t in the budget at this time. I would love for you to look over the cabin if we can get to them before you leave. With all this snow, I don’t know if it will be something we can do. If not, I can get a local to come in and look at it. But I have to say, you seem to have eye for detail. These designs are wonderful. Have you thought about getting back into that?”

“Yeah, this morning while I drew these up. I loved doing it and it was always my plan after the Marines but then the service became my life and I forgot about it. Dad sold his business a few years ago because Mom wanted to travel, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t start my own business.” A glimmer of hope peeked from beneath his fatigue.