Battlefield of the Heart (3 page)
Read Battlefield of the Heart Online
Authors: E. A. West
After a brief discussion on the sidewalk, Danny volunteered to walk Cindy to her dorm. A flutter of nerves attacked her as they headed away from the group, but something about Danny made her trust him.
He gave her a questioning glance. “Which dorm do you live in?”
“Wyatt Hall.”
“That's where I live. I'm on the second floor.”
“I'm on the fourth,” Cindy said, feeling just as surprised as he looked. “How come I've never seen you there?”
Danny shrugged. “I don't spend a lot of time there, unless I'm in my room. And I never eat in the dining room. Mitchell Complex has much better food.”
“I usually go to Wilson or the student union.”
They walked quietly for a moment, and then he spoke again. “So, what's your major?”
“Sociology. I'm fascinated by the way society is shaped by events and the media.”
“That explains why you're so interested in veterans going to college.” A hint of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “You know, you don't have to treat us like we're going to break if you say the wrong thing. If we don't want to talk about something, we'll tell you. And if you hit on a sensitive topic, we'll let you know that, too.”
He'd noticed her hesitancy? Her cheeks burned, but she decided to be honest. “I just don't want to do anything to bring up bad memories or cause a flashback like you had earlier.”
He shifted his gaze to the dark horizon. “I already told you I'm a bit of a freak. Most of the guys don't have flashbacks. Yeah, we all have things we wish we could forget, but remembering helps us deal with them. I had a psychiatrist tell me that thinking and talking about the things I witnessed will help the flashbacks lessen and maybe go away completely.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“You can ask, but I don't guarantee I'll answer,” he said, then shot her a smile. “I probably will, though. You've been cool about everything so far.”
“Well, I'm wondering about something Lacey mentioned. Why do you guys compare injuries when someone new comes into the group? That seems odd to me.”
“I guess you could say it's our way of dealing with what happened to us and to people we knew.” He sucked in a breath and scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “By turning the injuries into a competition with the worst ones being a kind of badge of honor, it helps us get over the trauma. The downside is that the discussions can get pretty gruesome, but talking about that stuff helps, too.”
Movement across the street caught her attention. Two girls had their arms draped around each other as they stumbled along, and Cindy heard a snippet of slurred singing. Drunks on a Tuesday?
Danny glanced at the girls and chuckled. “They sound happy.”
“Yeah, like maybe they have liquid happiness flowing through them.”
“I'd hate to be them in the morning, though.” Danny pretended to shudder. “Think of the hangover.”
“Is it any wonder I don't drink?”
“Nope. I figure your reasons are just as valid as mine.”
Cindy smiled and resisted the urge to touch his arm. He drew her like a magnet, but she didn't know him that well yet. Her thoughts returned to the conversation the drunk girls had interrupted. “Has everyone in the veterans' group been injured?”
“To some extent, yeah.” Danny looked away and didn't elaborate.
Had she hit on a sore subject? Before she could think of a way to change the subject, he spoke again, keeping his gaze on the dark street ahead.
“We all had sprains, strains, bruises, minor things like that. Corbin nearly got his foot blown off by a mortar round, Josh got shot while tending a guy in his unit, and Alex ended up with a nasty concussion from a bomb. Lacey had the worst injury.”
“What happened?” Did she really want to know?
“Her truck hit an IED.” Danny briefly looked into her eyes then did a quick scan of the surrounding buildings. “She's the only one who survived, and she barely made it. She received a ton of burns, mostly over the lower half of her body, and she lost her left leg. There were some internal injuries, too, that required multiple surgeries.”
Cindy blinked back tears of sympathy. “No wonder she said she's lucky.”
“Yeah.” Danny fell silent for several minutes, and she left him to his thoughts. They were about a block from the dorm when he spoke again. “You didn't ask if I got injured.” He sounded almost disappointed.
“Did you?”
“I've had a mild concussion from a roadside bomb; been hit with shrapnel from mortars; got shot once, but my body armor stopped the bullet; and had multiple cuts and bruises from the day some anti-American protestors threw rocks, bottles, and whatever else they could find at us.” He stopped at the end of the walk leading up to the doors. “The worst is the psychological injury that's still healing.”
She hesitated, but then she remembered what he'd said about not treating him like he'd break. “What caused that?”
“A lot of things, but I don't want to talk about it right now.” He met her gaze with a wry expression. “I'd like to sleep with as few nightmares as possible tonight since I have a class in the morning.”
They started up the walk, and she couldn't resist asking one more question. “Do you have nightmares often?”
“Every night.” He held the door for her and followed her inside. “Do you want me to walk you to your room?”
“No, I'll be okay. I forgot to say it earlier, but thanks for dinner.”
“You're welcome.” He glanced at her bandaged wrist. “It's my turn to ask a question. Why aren't you afraid of me? Most people would avoid me after I took them down for no reason, especially if I injured them.”
Although still unsure herself, she told him what she'd been thinking for the last couple of hours. “I know you couldn't help it. Besides, after spending all evening with you, I've figured out that you're actually a pretty gentle person.”
He chuckled, a rich sound that lifted her heart. “Gentle is not a word people generally associate with a solider suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Maybe not, but it's what I see in you.”
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Cindy talked to Dr. Brixton about her idea for her paper, and he encouraged her to spend time with the veterans and learn what made them different from the other students, as well as what made them similar. She left his office thinking about how to integrate his suggestions into her paper. Midday sun streamed through the window at the end of the hallway. Few students roamed the hall, since classes hadn't let out yet, but she spotted Josh coming from the direction of the stairwell.
He joined her with a smile. “Hey, Cindy. How did it go last night?”
“Just fine. Alex said you usually go with them after the meetings.”
“I do, but I had something else to do last night,” Josh said with a shrug. “And I'm guessing you have Dr. Brixton for sociology. I was in his nephew's company, so I figured using me for your paper might be a conflict of interest.”
“Alex thought that might be the case. But I finally figured out why you looked so familiar.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Dr. Brixton showed us a picture of his nephew and a couple of his buddies. You were one of them.”
Josh chuckled. “Chris will be happy when I tell him his uncle is bragging on him in class.”
Dr. Brixton stepped into the hall and gave Josh a wide smile. “Ah, I thought I heard a familiar voice.”
“Yeah, I was on my way to see you.” Josh held up a couple of pieces of paper. “I wanted to share Chris's latest email with you.”
“I appreciate it.” Dr. Brixton turned to Cindy. “Josh, here, is one of my favorite veterans. He saved my nephew's life once.”
Josh shifted his weight. “All I did was hook up an IV when he was dehydrated.”
“So severely dehydrated he required treatment at a mobile hospital. Chris told me all about the incident, including how the doctors informed him that without the IV, he might not have made it to the hospital without suffering permanent damage.”
Josh lowered his gaze, discomfort permeating his body language. “I just did my job.”
Dr. Brixton laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know, son, and I'm proud of the job you did. Which is why I want to tell people about the way you helped my nephew.”
Cindy didn't understand the sudden downswing in Josh's mood. He handed the printout to Dr. Brixton and excused himself, claiming a class in a little while. Cindy watched him leave and then turned to find her professor watching her.
“I hope you were taking notes on that exchange,” Dr. Brixton said. “One of the difficulties I've seen some veterans face is not feeling like the heroes we see them as. Josh has a hard time accepting gratitude for doing his job because there were times he did everything he could, but it didn't save the soldier's life. He knows there wasn't anything else he could do, but he sometimes feels like he failed somehow.”
A wave of sympathy for Josh washed through her, but it couldn't drown her confusion. “How does someone's gratitude make him feel like a failure?”
“He once told me that when someone thanks him for saving a life or treating a wound, he's reminded of the people he tried to help who died anyway. He's slowly getting over that, but it's going to take him a long time to get to the point where he can say, âYou're welcome,' when someone thanks him for doing his duty.”
As she considered the professor's words, as well as everything she'd learned through talking with the veterans' group, it hit her just how big her topic was. “There's a lot more to my topic than I thought, isn't there? I figured I'd write a short paper on it and be done with it. But I'm not sure I can keep the paper short.”
Dr. Brixton tapped a finger against his chin. “Well, you'll need a research paper that's at least twenty-five pages long at the end of the semester. Why don't you use this topic for that and pick something less complex for the five pages due Monday?”
“I think I'm going to have to.” Her thoughts were already drifting to what her new topic could be. “I have to go do some research. I'll see you in class.”
****
After a few hours at the library, Cindy was starving. Her watch revealed it was a little after six. Definitely time for dinner. She made a few more copies then headed for Mitchell Complex, since it was close. The possibility of seeing Danny there was a bonus, one she wouldn't admit to anyone else. So what if he was gorgeous? By his own admission, he was a psychological mess. Not exactly prime boyfriend material. All the same, she wouldn't mind getting to know him a little better.
Once she bought a sandwich and a cup of soup, she sat down at one of the tables in the crowded dining room to look through the articles she'd copied. She spooned a bite of the creamy potato soup with just enough pepper to add a hint of spice to the velvety warmth. A contented sigh escaped her lips. No wonder Danny preferred the food here to any of the other dining rooms on campus. Mitchell Complex was Whitcomb University's answer to fine dining. Everything else was akin to cheap fast food.
As she ate and tried to make a final decision on a new topic for her paper, she became aware of someone standing beside her. She looked up to find Danny watching her with a grin.
“I think I understand how you forget meals. I was beginning to wonder if you'd notice I was standing here.”
“Yeah, I can get pretty absorbed in my work.” Cindy laid aside the article in her hand. Her heart thumped with anticipation under the warmth of his smile. “You want to join me?”
“Sure.” He set his tray down and slid into the chair across from her. “So, what are you studying?”
“I'm trying to pick a new topic for my paper. My original topic was too complex, and Dr. Brixton suggested I use it for my term paper instead.”
“Is that the paper you were talking to us about last night?”
“Right.” Cindy paused as a group nearby howled with laughter. Once they quieted enough that she could hear herself think, she continued. “You guys just became my term paper, but I can't decide between health care, education, and poverty for the paper due next week.”
“You and Dr. Brixton think veterans coming home is more complex than any of that?” Danny said, picking up his sandwich.
“I didn't think so until I started doing the research. But there are a lot of things involved with reintegrating into civilian life.”
He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you have a point. From a combat veteran's perspective, I can tell you it's not easy to come back to what used to be normal life. Nothing about it feels normal right now. Being on alert all the time and living with the knowledge I could die at any moment is much more normal.”
How would it feel to be that aware of her own mortality? Surrounded as they were by the cheerful chatter of dining college students, she found it impossible to imagine constantly wondering if her next breath would be her last. Before she could think of a reply, Danny spoke.
“Did I get a little deep for dinner conversation?”
“No, I just don't know what to say,” she said with a sheepish smile.
He laughed, drawing a couple of curious glances from the next table. “I've discovered I have that effect on a lot of people. Lacey has the same problem, although she's gotten a lot better about it.”
Cindy studied him, trying to understand his relationship with her. “You and Lacey are good friends, aren't you?”
“Yeah, we've both had a hard time dealing with life and kind of gravitated toward each other. We're both at the extreme end of the veteran spectrum. I have a lot more psychological stuff going on than most veterans, and Lacey has more physical stuff. The rest of the guys in the group are much more average. Take Halbert, for example. He didn't have any injuries that counted; he didn't end up in any traumatizing situations. He just did his job, completed his enlistment, and came home.”
“And he was in Iraq, right?” She was pretty sure the red-haired guy had said something about it the night before.
“Right. He's much more normal than me or even Josh. Yeah, he's got stuff he'd rather forget, but he's still basically the same as he was before his deployment.”
They continued to talk while they ate, and the conversation shifted to their lives outside of school. Danny's favorite hobby of photography added to her interest in him. She hadn't imagined him doing something so artistic, but it fit with his gentle personality. When he offered to teach her a little about photography, she accepted without hesitation. She'd always wanted to learn how to take better pictures, but she wasn't brave enough to go buy a good camera and teach herself.
After dinner, Cindy put her papers in her backpack and slung the strap over her shoulder as she walked outside with Danny. He took a deep breath of the late summer air and glanced at her with a smile.
“I can't wait for fall, with all the trees changing colors. It's always been my favorite time of year, and I missed it terribly while I was deployed.”
“I've always been partial to spring. I love the way the world comes to life after a long winter.”
“That's great, too. But nothing can compare to the brilliant colors of autumn leaves.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “What about the vibrant colors of spring flowers?”
He stopped and turned to her with a chuckle. “Okay, you win. Spring is awesome, too.” He glanced toward the quad. “Come on. I want to get your opinion of something.”
Curiosity prompted her to follow him as he headed for the park-like quadrangle across the street. He led her to the fountain with a blue glass wave sculpture in the middle. She'd seen it many times, even sat on the cement ledge around the fountain to study. She turned to Danny. “What do you want my opinion on?”
“The best angle for a photograph of the fountain. You said you want to learn about photography. Most of it is just knowing how to frame a photo. So, what angle would make the best picture?”
She turned toward the fountain again and slowly walked around it, looking at it from various angles. Finally, she stopped and glanced at Danny. “I think this looks good.”
He nodded, then took her hand and led her a little farther to the left. “Your angle is good, but take a look at this.”
She studied what he had selected and saw what he meant. While she had centered the fountain in her imaginary shot, he'd placed it off center. It was still the focal point, but more of the quad showed, giving it a spontaneous feel rather than one of staging.
“Do you see what makes it work?”
“I think so.” Cindy glanced over and met his gaze. A tingle raced through her veins, warming her more than the lowering sun. Those soft gray eyes held more joy when he talked about photography. What else could make him come alive like that and make the haunted expression virtually disappear?
“Let's try it again.” His scanned the quad and nodded. “Why don't you find an angle for that lamppost?”
She headed for the place he indicated and studied it carefully. She moved until she stood a few feet to the right of the lamppost. Turning just a little, she found an area of trees dappled with waning sunlight that added to the scene. A few students scattered along the path made it picturesque.
Danny stepped up behind her. “Is this your shot?”
“This is it.” She looked over her shoulder at him.
“Nice.” He nodded and smiled. “I think this is the one I would have chosen.”
His praise warmed her. “It's nice to know I'm catching on.”
“You're a natural.” He moved to her side. “Now you just need to try it with a camera.”
Cindy laughed, wishing she knew if he felt the same budding attraction she did. “Well, that'll be easier once I have a camera with manual focus.”
“Yeah, automatic focus is great for a lot of things, but not for the stuff I like to do.”
“And that would be?” She hoped it wasn't anything weird. Maybe she should have asked before accepting his offer of lessons.
“Play with the focus. Hold the shutter open a little longer for some things, like to give running water a softer look. Change out lenses for different types of photos.” He met her questioning look with a shrug. “Basically, I like the freedom a manual focus camera gives me rather than being restrained by the limitations of where the camera thinks it should focus.”
A shadow crossed his features, and he looked away, leaving Cindy wondering if he liked photography as much as he claimed. He'd seemed so much more animated talking about it, right up until his last comment. Before her confusion had time to fully develop, his expression cleared and he glanced around, almost as though he'd forgotten where he was. Then he smiled and lifted his hand toward the western sky just starting to turn gold and pink with evening.
“You want to see my favorite spot to watch the sunset?”
Her instincts said she could trust him, but common sense dictated she get a little more information. “Where is it?”
“Third floor of the library. The windows on the west side overlook the quad, so no buildings are in the way, and they're high enough that the trees don't block the view either.”
Watching the sunset in a public place with a gorgeous guy who could appreciate the beauty of the changing colors sounded like the perfect way to end the evening.