Off Limits (19 page)

“Your mother was right,” Alex said. In the low lights, Jim looked handsome in a harsh way. Like the patients she cared for, he had a wariness deep in his blue eyes, and he kept glancing around, tense and outwardly jumpy. When a waiter had dropped a glass at the station, Jim had winced and broken into a light sweat. He'd eaten well, and they turned down dessert in favor of a cup of rich Brazilian coffee. The waiter had cleared away the dishes and they were able to sit and hold hands.

Jim met Alex's gaze. “I guess it's time for some serious talk,” he began. “There's so much I've been wanting to say to you, but couldn't in my letters.”

“You know, Lieutenant Breckenridge warned me that you wouldn't be able to say much, that I'd have to read between the lines.”

Sadly, Jim nodded. “That's true, gal.” He gently stroked her fingers, wondering in his heart what it would be like to have Alex touch him. Jim gently put those yearnings away. “You know the food you sent? The cookies? The corn bread?”

“Yes.”

“The brig guards confiscated all of it, Alex. I never got any of it.” He saw her features cloud first with sadness and then anger. “Worst of all,” he admitted, “was that purty color photo you sent early on. I didn't get that, either.” He didn't tell her the full truth of the situation, not wanting to unduly upset Alex. She didn't deserve to go through the array of emotions he'd had when the brig chaser, Wood, had destroyed the photo out of pure meanness.

“That's inhumane!”

“It's all right, gal,” he soothed. “They couldn't take you away from me. You were here in my head, and here in my heart.” With a shrug, Jim added, “I'm just glad it's over, that's all.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it. Her skin was fragrant with a spicy perfume.

His words, his actions, melted away her anger and left her breathless. Alex saw the haunted quality in his eyes. “I like being held in your heart,” she whispered. And then, very gently, she asked, “What was it really like for you in there, Jim?”

Jim wanted to shield her from the worst of his imprisonment. He wouldn't lie to Alex ever, but he just wouldn't tell her the worst of it. “I did a lot of hard, physical labor—anywhere from eight to twelve hours a day. We got three square meals—”

“Sure you did. Look at you—you're skin and bones!”

He grinned slightly. “You know how purty you look when you're madder than a wet hen?”

Alex felt some of her anger dissolve beneath his husky teasing. “You always had the ability to settle me down. I do have a bad temper, sometimes.”

“Naw, you're just a gal who feels deeply about things. That's one of the many things I like about you, Alex. Don't ever change that.”

Flooded with joy at his compliments, Alex wanted to get back to his time spent in the jail. “Your letters kept me going,” she admitted.

“I kept all the ones I received from you, Alex.” He stared at her long, work-worn fingers. “You have no idea how much your words kept
me
going. There were times...well, Long Binh was a nightmare. Sometimes, when I'd get lower than a snake's belly in a wheel rut, I'd reread your letters, and I could hang on. For a while I started to believe what the brig guards were hammering into me—that I was no good. And then, about halfway through my prison term, with your letters and your faith that I could be something better than I'd ever dreamed, I began to find a new kind of strength.”

Jim's mouth lifted in a slight smile that was more a grimace. “I'd gotten beaten down, Alex, in an emotional sense. You were like a bright, clear light in my darkness. The correspondence course in sociology was a lifesaver. I began to see and understand people and their reactions differently than before. You helped me get my head above water and survive in that place.”

Alex nodded and laid her hand over his. “Your letters began to sound stronger, more sure.”

“Thanks to you.”

“No,” Alex countered with feeling, “you pulled yourself up by your own bootstraps, Jim. I could be there to suggest things, but you were the one who decided to put them into action.”

“Well, I don't think I'd have made it through this last four months without you being there, Alex. I thought being a recon was hell at times, but I was wrong. Long Binh is truly hell on earth.”

Alex could only sit there, feeling deeply for his painful admission. “What now, Jim? What are your plans?”

He held her luminous gray gaze. There was such depth of feeling in her eyes. All Jim wanted to do was bury himself in Alex's arms, wrap himself in her love. But that wouldn't be fair to her. They had to have time to get to know one another. “Most of what I do hinges on you, Alex.”

“Me?” Her heart began to pound slowly.

“Yeah.” Jim's grip on her hand tightened. “Since I have a bad conduct discharge, my GI benefits are cut off. If I go to college, it means getting a couple of jobs on the side to pay for books and tuition, plus finding a place to live. I can do all that. Any place I go to get a job will automatically ask me about my military enlistment. Once they find out I had a BCD, they won't hire me, so I'll have to go for labor kinds of jobs, instead.

“My dream at this point is to get a degree in psychology. I can see sociology's benefit, but like you, I'm interested in the mind and how it runs a person. I figure if I make outstanding grades, work hard, that four years will help erase my BCD up to a point.” Jim shook his head. “That BCD will haunt me the rest of my life, Alex. It's liable to stop me from getting a really good job at some point in my future. I'll probably never make really good money, but that's not all that important to me. I have to be happy doing something that will help others.”

“I understand,” Alex whispered, fighting back her tears. “I like your plan. I think it will work.”

“You do?”

“I know it will, Jim.” She heard the hope in his voice, the need for someone to validate him. Jim was fragile in ways that Alex was only beginning to realize. Her love for him was overwhelming. Looking into his eyes, she sensed his tension, a taut nervousness that kept him tightly wound, and that haunted look that lingered. Alex tried to put herself in his shoes, coming out of a harrowing prison term and landing squarely back in civilization, with all its comforts and opportunities.

Alex took a deep breath and her hand tightened around his. “Jim, I know what I'm going to say isn't proper, and that society would frown on it. My parents won't like it either, but that's too bad.” Alex gathered all her courage and held Jim's gaze. “What would you think of moving to Portland and continuing your education at one of the colleges around here? That way, we could be close. We could pursue our relationship.”

Jim struggled to hold back the words
I love you,
which begged to be torn from him. “I've thought about that,” he whispered. “But I worry for you, what your father might think.” He flushed. “I'd get my own place.” Jim didn't want to ruin Alex's reputation—especially with her family.

“Of course. My father thinks my whole life is a mistake at this point, so it won't surprise him if you move to Portland, Jim.”

He hurt for Alex. “I'm sorry, gal. You don't deserve that. I don't understand why your father doesn't see your kindness, your goodness.”

“Someday he might,” Alex said, all at once emotionally gutted by their conversation. “Right now, I live my own life on my own terms. He doesn't like it, but I'm not going to change. My mother understands and supports me completely.”

“Women are often the stronger ones,” Jim said. “And they have more insight. I hope someday to meet your mother.”

“I want you to, Jim.”

Squeezing her hand, he said, “Let's go home.”

Alex agreed. The need to hold Jim, to touch him, kiss him, was nearly impossible to deal with in a public place. More than anything, Alex realized they simply needed each other, to explore what they did or didn't have. Her entire life felt as if it were on shifting, breakable eggshells.

* * *

At her house, Alex realized with a pang how exhausted Jim had become. There was so much he hadn't shared with her about Long Binh, but she was beginning to realize the toll it had taken on him in every way.

“I think we both need to go to bed and get a good night's sleep,” she told him in the darkened living room.

Regret flowed through Jim, but he knew Alex was right. “As much as I want to keep talking, keep sharing, I'm plumb tuckered out, gal. I'm sorry.”

She reached out and slid her hand along his arm. “Don't be. Remember? I'm the gal who's been taking care of returning Vietnam vets at the hospital. I'm trained to know when they've reached their personal limit.” Risking everything, Alex stood on tiptoe and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek where the scar lay. “We have a whole week, Jim. Good night....”

Afterward, Alex lay in her bed for a long time, sleep evading her. Normally, a hot shower, the fuzzy warmth of her long, flannel granny gown and her comfortable bed made her sleepy without fail. Not tonight. She lay on her back, her hands behind her head, and stared up at the ceiling. Street lamps took away the blackness, lighting her room in a gloomy gray. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, Alex moved restlessly. It was two in the morning. Her covers were in tangles from her tossing and turning.

Finally, disgusted with the raw emotions that refused to be laid to rest, Alex got up. Her feet brushed the cool wooden floor, and she sat, feeling the mass of emotions within her. The need to love Jim, to reach out and heal him with her love, would no longer remain silent or under her control. Rubbing her face, Alex didn't know what to do. It was wrong to sleep with a man, any man, before marriage. Virginity was something valued, and up until now she had wanted to save herself for her husband.

Miserably, Alex looked around her room, at the frilly, pale pink curtains, the wallpaper with its tiny rosebud pattern. She had never felt more unhappy, or more torn. The door to her bedroom was open a crack so that Thomasina, who usually slept at the end of her bed, could come and go as she pleased. With a slight, pained smile, Alex realized that Thomasina had gone out to be with Jim, to sleep on his bed. The cat was lucky, Alex thought, that she didn't have social pressures to concern her.

Clenching her small fists, Alex remained in a quandary. Just as she got to her feet to retrieve her blue flannel robe from the bottom of her bed, she heard Jim scream.

Freezing, Alex heard him scream again. The sound, a horrible cry from the depths of a person trapped in hell, shattered the night's silence. Instantly, Alex ran out the door, down the hall and to the living room.

“Jim!” She found him sitting up, his hands pressed against his face, sobbing. “Oh, no...” Alex moved to his side. His upper body was naked and bathed in a sheen of sweat. This was something she encountered almost daily at the hospital, with patients who had been wounded in a psychic sense—the emotional breakdowns. As she placed her arm around his shaking shoulders, tears stung Alex's eyes.

“It's okay, okay,” she soothed, and wrapped her arms around him. The ability to hold Jim when he needed someone flowed through Alex. She held him with her woman's strength, whispering soft, broken words near his ear as he collapsed against her. His arms went around her, and she felt him holding onto her as if he were a man drowning in an ocean of terror that she couldn't see, but could sense.

Alex's strained voice began to break through Jim's nightmare. One moment he was watching Kim running toward him with the grenade in her hand, smiling. The next, Jim felt the softness of Alex, her arms holding him, until the realization that he was safe impinged upon his splintered senses. Each stroke of her trembling hand against his head and shoulders took a little more of the nightmare away. Each movement made him aware that he was here, with Alex. Jim's arms tightened around her small form, and he took a deep, ragged breath into his lungs.

“That's it, breathe deeply. Just let the nightmare go, Jim. You're safe...safe....”

The flannel of her gown was damp with his tears. He pressed his face into her luxuriant hair, the scent alluring. Alex was here with him. He was alive, not dead. And he was safe. Oh, God, he was safe. And then he tensed. He felt Alex's lips on his sweaty brow, her small, trembling hands framing his face. Her softened moan, her lips touching him and miraculously easing his agony, flooded through him like a river of intense heat and light.

Blindly, Jim straightened and captured Alex in his arms. Kim's death was all he could remember, all he could feel and hear. As he wildly sought and found Alex's mouth, he plundered her, wanting to drown himself in the splendor of her as a woman, as someone so alive and intrinsic to him that he couldn't conceive of living without her. Her mouth was ripe, responsive and eager beneath his exploration. Groaning, lost in the beauty of her, of her need matching and meeting his own, Jim absorbed all of Alex, as if they could magically blend into each other and become one if he kissed her long enough, deeply enough.

His hands trembling as he helped Alex out of the flannel nightgown, Jim ran his fingers across her in awe. Her skin was a velvet field to investigate, to become mesmerized and entangled within. As he ran his fingers down her small shoulder and cupped her breast, he felt her press against him. Her fingers dug frantically into his shoulders, broadcasting her need of him, of his continued quest of her. All the love, all the yearning and longing that he'd stored up for so many months burst free. Leaning down, he captured the rosy peak of her nipple and drew it into his mouth.

A cry jagged through Alex and she tensed along his hard, naked body. The demand increased as he suckled her, and sobs of pleasure tore from her lips. There was such beauty, such reverence in each of his caresses. Alex didn't know how to make love, but she surrendered to her own sense as a woman who needed her man in all ways. As his hand lingered across her rounded belly, the thought of carrying his child had never seemed stronger or more right to her. Any guilt over social demands dissolved within Alex. She understood now, on a primal level, that Jim needed her in this moment. As his hand slid downward to the apex of her thighs, she moaned. Moving his fingers toward the curve of her flesh, he stroked her until the burning fire threatened to consume her, and Alex began to realize just how healing loving could be—not for just Jim, but for herself.