The Debt

  “Now,” she says, glancing at all of us. “He has quite the story. He’s a victim of PTSD like all of us, but he’s been living with his for many years without seeking any treatment for it. Without even acknowledging it. He’s a veteran, just like you Reggie, having fought in the war on Afghanistan.”

  My stomach lurches and Anne gives me a curious look.

  Pam goes on, “I don’t want to explain too much, it’s better that it comes from his own words. Hopefully we can make him feel welcome enough to keep coming back. I’ve seen so many of you face your demons through this group and come out the other side stronger and I truly believe everyone deserves that chance.”

  And now Pam briefly looks to me, her eyes trying to tell me something, before they rest on something behind me.

  “Everyone,” she says, gesturing to the staircase at my back, “this is Keir.”

  No.

  No.

  I can’t even turn my head to look.

  Keir walks past the chairs, heading right to Pam.

  It’s him. It’s really him.

  He stands at the front of the room and he’s looking right at me.

  I can’t even breathe.

  He looks as gorgeous as I remember. You know when you think you’re so far gone in love that your memories twist someone to be better than they were?

  That’s not the case here.

  His eyes are that beautiful soft green, staring into me in such a way that I know he’s feeling my heart and all my bruises. A light beard on his strong jaw. The sight of his lips trigger heat in my core, my body remembering so well what they felt like on every single inch of me.

  He’s still as tall and commanding and now that I know him, what he’s been through, who he was, I can recognize the power in his stature. He does and always has looked like someone who is used to ordering others around. Someone who is trained to fight. Someone who is trained to protect. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out, the intensity in his gaze, his controlled mannerisms, the way he walks through a crowd.

  Then of course there is the other side of it all. The one that leaves him cowering in fear in the middle of the night. The reason he must be here.

  “Hello everyone,” he says in his thick brogue and I shiver in response, remembering the sound of my name on his lips. “My name is Keir McGregor. I was in the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards for the last eight years, the last bit as Lance Corporal. As you know, I was deployed out to Afghanistan. I uh…,” he pauses and looks away, scratching behind his ear, “I don’t really know where to start to be honest. I’ve been avoiding something like this for so long. Avoiding talking about it. Avoiding everything. I’ve seen a lot, I’ve done a lot. I’ve kept it all inside. It wants to come out, I just don’t know how.”

  “Is that really him?” Anne whispers in my ear. “Your Keir?”

  I can barely nod, my eyes are glued to him, so afraid that if I look away, he’ll disappear forever.

  “Just say what’s on your mind right now at this moment,” Pam says, taking the seat beside him as he stands. “There’s no rush. No one can delve into their history in one go, it takes a lot of time to scratch beneath the surface, even when there’s a lot already at the surface. We have to work at it piece by piece so tell us your first piece.”

  He swallows hard, his eyes finding mine again. “Okay. Well, I guess there’s no beating around the bush. Out of all the things I’ve seen and done, there’s something that haunts me more than most. We were sent recently back to Afghanistan to help train the Afghan police to better protect the country from the Taliban. It was supposed to be easy and in some ways it was. But with that easiness came room for error.”

  I’m listening to him with my breath in my throat, hearing the story, the real story for the first time.

  “I was out with my men when we were struck by a suicide bomber. It just came out of nowhere. The boredom, the ease of the operation, the fact that the war for us was over, it lead to us all thinking that the threat was gone. That we had no more enemies. That this was the Afghan’s war to fight now and not ours. It led me to think that and that’s where I first went wrong. Seconds before the world exploded, I knew something was wrong too. I had that feeling. The one that builds in your gut, the one that goes beyond intuition and just becomes fact. I should have said something. But I didn’t. Then it hit and everything changed.” He briefly closes his eyes, rubs his lips together. I can see how incredibly hard this must be for him, to stand in front of all these strangers and bare himself whole.

  But I also know, with that same intuition that he just described, that he’s not doing it for them. He’s doing it for me. This is his way of letting me in.

  He swallows hard. “We lost two of our men that day. My men. The men I was supposed to protect. I failed them as a leader, I failed myself. And I know that you’re supposed to say I can’t blame myself, but I do. I do. All the time, every day. Because if I had been a better soldier, a better man, they’d still be alive.”

  He looks down at the floor, staring absently for such a long time that Pam opens her mouth to speak. But he goes on. “Two men died that day. Another died later. He was my closest friend in the army. We talked about everything, feelings even,” he says this with a sad smile, “God fucking forbid you talk about your feelings when you’re out there fighting terrorists but that’s what we did. It felt good. It felt right. But the more we confided in each other, the more dangerous and fucked up this all became. Because my friend had started to lose his mind. He told me his fears, that he thought he was going to hurt himself or hurt someone, kill people so they would know what it’s like to live under fear. I tried to tell the regiment but it didn’t go far. Mental problems aren’t taken seriously at all. Finally, he was dishonorably discharged for leaving his post, deserting.”

  I can feel it coming. His horrible truth. His brow is furrowed, pained, he’s taking in deep breaths through his nose, trying to stay strong.

  My own self is cracking along with him.

  “His name was Lewis Smith,” he says. A few gasps fill the room, all heads turn my way. These people are my people and they know the story of Lewis Smith like the back of their hand.

  I sit there, wide-eyed, staring at him. Because it’s just about us. We’re the only people in here right now, the only ones that matter.

  “And I’m sure you know what happened with him,” Keir says, choked. “What he did to Jessica. I knew it too. I saw her face on the news and I…” he trails off, eyes growing wet. “I know I had to help her. I didn’t know how how, but I felt I owed her everything I had. But how can someone as fucked up and damaged as me help someone like her? I didn’t know, but I was going to try. And I did try. And I found her, by luck, even though I had been looking for her since the accident. I found her just across from this church, at the pub, and I…fell in love.”

  “Jesus,” Anne whispers from beside me, clutching my hand.

  There are a few other murmurs in the room but I only hear his words.

  Love.

  He clears his throat. “And I got to know her and in time it stopped being about owing her and became about having her, knowing her, loving her. I knew I was living a lie – she had no idea who I really was, how I was responsible for what happened to her. But I couldn’t help it. I was weak and scared and I loved her and I would do anything to keep her, even if it meant keeping this from her.” He stares right at me. “This is the truth. This is everything. And I think out of all that I’ve had to deal, not even just in the army, but growing up, my family, the damage I lived back then, that losing her is the most traumatizing thing of all.”

  A hush falls over the room. No one moves. No one talks. Keir stands up there, his gaze on mine, his eyes begging for forgiveness.

  And even though it still hurts that he lied, it still hurts that he kept so much of himself shuttered away from me, I forgive him completely. I think I always have, which is why it’s hurt me so much to have to let go.

  “
Jessica, little red,” he says, raising his chin. “I’m sorry I lied. It was wrong and none of my excuses can matter much because you asked me to be honest with you and I wasn’t. You deserve better than that, better than what I gave you. Maybe even better than what I can give you. But I love you. That’s always been true. I love every broken part of you and how well it fits with every broken part of me.” He looks away briefly, wipes at the corner of his eye. He lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how you people do it, it’s hard to stand up here and talk. But I’m glad I did. And no matter what happens, I’m going to come back. Perhaps not here, I don’t want to intrude on Jessica’s space. You’re her family and she talked highly of you all the time. But I will keep talking. I refuse to be the man who hides from the truth anymore.”

  I can barely swallow. My throat is thick, my nose hot and stinging from the impending tears. Fire has hold of my heart, holding me in place, beautiful flames that burn only for him.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  “Thank you Keir,” Pam finally says. She gives us all a sheepish look, her eyes watering too. “Wow, that was quite the story.”

  Keir just nods. “Thank you for letting me speak,” he says brusquely.

  He starts to walk off.

  “Keir!” she calls after him, getting out of her chair. “You can stay you know. I’m sure Jessica doesn’t mind.”

  Everyone looks at me again, including Keir.

  He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be right to expect that. This is her safe place. I am not her safety. Thank you again.”

  He starts walking past the chairs and stops when he passes me, my heart leaping up into my throat, my entire body tense.

  Keir leans over, his fingers brushing my shoulder in such a way that I swear he’s starting a fire. “If you ever need someone, you’ll know where I’ll be,” he whispers in my ear. His words are a straight shot to the heart.

  Then he walks up the stairs and disappears.

  I nearly topple over from the weight in my chest.

  He was here.

  And now he’s gone.

  ***

  I stand on the steps of the church.

  Rain streams down from above, a wind picking up and stripping more leaves from the branches.

  Across the way is the St. Vincent pub, the lights warm against the night, looking like a safe refuge.

  I’ve been standing here, just under the arch, for the last twenty-minutes.

  Everyone else has gone home, even Anne. It’s just me. I texted Christina and told her I was cabbing it home and I wasn’t sure how late I’d be.

  Because this can’t be over.

  I can’t let him out of my hands, out of my heart, when he’s just across the street. He’s a big man with a big past and a big heart and I belong only with him.

  I carefully make my way down the steps, eschewing the cane for most of it since I trust my feet on slick ground now more than the cane, and cross the street. I’m pretty much soaked when I reach the other side since I didn’t bring my umbrella but it doesn’t matter. I don’t feel it.

  Soft conversation flows out from the pub, the outdoor area empty except for water-filled ashtrays. Water pours steadily from the gutters. I open the door and am met with a few curious glances, the smell of the deep-fryer and ale, cozy lighting.

  This place is a safe refuge but I’m looking for the man who is my safe refuge.

  I find him at our usual table.

  Drinking a beer.

  Reading a book.

  I’m barely half-way to him when he looks up and spots me.

  His eyes widen. The beer in his hand shakes slightly and he sets it down.

  I’ve stopped moving. I can’t help it. His gaze pins me in my spot and tells me everything.

  I’m sorry, it says.

  And I hope my gaze says the same.

  Me too.

  Then a man gets off his bar stool, lightly brushing against me as he goes and I snap out of it. I make my way over to Keir and gesture to the seat.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  “I was saving it for someone.”

  I raise my brow. “Oh yeah? Who?”

  “The love of my life,” he says, a tremor in his voice.

  Oh hell. Here I thought we could have a fun, light moment and then he ropes me into reality.

  A beautiful reality.

  I exhale slowly, gripping the back of the chair to keep me upright.

  “Keir,” I start to say.

  He shakes his head. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything and I’m sorry I came to your meeting like that. It wasn’t an attempt to win you back…”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “No.” He cocks his head, considering. “Okay, it was. But I meant everything I said. I need help. I want help. I think talking about it is the first step.”

  “I agree.”

  “I just…” he places his elbows on the table, folding his hands together, his eyes going to the wall. “I can’t sleep without you. I can’t feel without you. The world doesn’t look the same, taste the same. For so long I was barely living Jessica, then you came along and you made me care about something more than myself, more than my guilt and the things that held me down. You made me face the darkness and find the light in it…I can’t…”

  He sighs heavily, rests his forehead against his hands. He doesn’t say anything, just breathes.

  I reach over and place my hand over his. “Keir,” I say softly. “I still love you. That hasn’t gone away. I don’t think it ever will.” He slowly raises his head to look at me. His eyes are cautious, so wanting to believe. “You broke my trust. It’s going to take time to get over that.”

  He nods, grimacing. “I know. I’m so sorry, I know –”

  “But it won’t take that much time,” I quickly add before he gets carried away. “I’ve already had a few weeks to stew over it and the fact is Keir, you hurt me, you hurt me a lot. But not being with you hurts most of all. I don’t want it to be like this between us. I want to be with you, all of you, all the time.”

  His nostrils flare as he tries to breathe, taking it all in. A swallow moves down his throat, his gaze searching my face, my lips, my nose, my eyes. “Do you mean that?” he whispers.

  My mouth twists in a soft smile. “Yeah, I do. Can I sit down now?”

  It takes him a moment to realize everything. His eyes brighten, sitting straight up. “Only if you sit down here,” he says, patting the bench beside him.

  I move over there and before I can even sit, he’s standing up, holding my face in his hands. “Thank you for forgiving me,” he says, peering down at me, the tip of his nose brushing against mine.

  “Thank you for letting me in.”

  “I’m yours, little red. All of me. All the good, all the bad, all the truth. All yours.”

  He kisses me, a kiss I feel all the way to my toes. My mouth melts against his and I am lost to the undertow, sinking deeper and deeper into his arms, into everything he is.

  My man.

  My protector.

  My refuge.

  My love.

  EPILOGUE

  Keir

  Seven months later

  “Hey little red,” I call out from underneath the carriage of the Aston Martin sitting above me. Not just any Aston Martin, but Moneypenny, the one belonging to my cousin Brigs.

  “She’s gone with Natasha to fetch us some beer,” Brigs says mildly.

  I roll out from underneath the car and stare up at my cousin who is leaning all nonchalant against a post in the garage. “When did you get here?” I ask him.

  He sighs. “If you didn’t play this hillbilly music so loud, you would have figured that out about, oh, five minutes ago.”

  I get to my feet and grab the rag from the hood, wiping my hands. “It’s not hillbilly music,” I tell Brigs. “It’s Foreigner. Living in London has really changed you.”

  He ro
lls his eyes. “Living in Edinburgh has changed you. I thought this mechanic grease monkey stuff was more of a Glasgow thing.”

  I walk over to the mini fridge and groan when I notice it’s empty of beer. I pull out a bottle of cola and use the edge of the fridge to pop the top. “It’s a thing where I can decide to charge you an arm and a leg to fix your precious car or I can give you the family discount. Professor,” I add, taking a swig of the drink. “Coke?”

  Brigs shakes his head. “Fair enough,” he says. “Lord knows you probably make more than me running this place.”

  I grin at him and shrug. “Maybe.”

  It’s been over seven months since Jessica and I started building a life together. A lot has changed. We’ve both started going to therapy, alone and in couple’s therapy. We both attend the same PTSD meetings every Tuesday. It’s a constant struggle to try and stay on top of things, to keep being brave, to keep facing our past. It takes a lot out of us and sometimes we fight because we’re both wound so tightly, both harboring so much pain. The deeper you go into therapy, the more the pain comes out, too. It’s not a quick fix and it doesn’t get easier. Each week brings a new challenge to face.

  But we are getting stronger. Both within ourselves and within our relationship. And we’ve been one hundred percent honest with each other every step of the way, which means we have each other’s backs through this and the rest of our lives.

  Did I mention we’re engaged? I’ll get to that.

  Jessica is currently doing part-time teaching at a community center helping people with disabilities through yoga. At first she started out just teaching those who had injuries like herself. It was a way for her to test her body while helping others at the same time. But the more she did it, the more she realized she’d been on the wrong path for a long time.

  Yoga, she’d always believed, was about bettering the soul. And while she always found it rewarding to help the average practicing person, usually a thin, pretty person with a comfortable bank account, at least in the city, she found it far more rewarding to reach those who really needed it and were often overlooked. The seniors, the disabled, those with learning disabilities. Her heart fell in love with using the practice of yoga to reach those people, to lift them up and give them the peace they so deserved.