Joe smiled at her, his eyes holding emotions she didn’t know how to decipher. “Cry, Kelly. As long as you need to. I’ll be right here.”
It was such an incongruent visual, this man who led soldiers into battle sitting at her bedside wiping away her tears. She could only smile with her eyes.
“Of course, any time you would like to stop—” His words were the first spot of humor in the midst of the pain.
Thank you, Joe.
She stopped crying eventually, and the people around faded into the background as she kept her focus on Joe. He sat beside her and held her hand. Finally the shivers eased enough that the exhaustion took over and swallowed her into a quiet darkness.
* * *
What had she meant by I love you? Joe’s steepled fingers were under his chin as he watched Kelly sleep. It was three in the morning and sleep would not come. He sat in the chair beside Kelly’s bed in the private hospital room and watched her and wondered. Having grown accustomed to the dim light, he could see her clearly. She had turned onto her left side and snuggled her hands up under her chin.
The breathing tube, so critical in those first few hours when warming her up had put her at high risk of a shock-induced heart attack, had been removed before she was brought upstairs. It was comforting simply to listen to her breathe. He never wanted to see her in that kind of pain ever again. The memories of her tears haunted him.
He couldn’t shake the expression in her eyes as he had been forced to hold her down, that moment of clarity and brightness just before she had given up. It shook him to know she had reached that point inside. She couldn’t breathe and she had been willing to accept it and give up, let go. The monitoring equipment alarms going off around her blared that she was at that point. Had the doctors not been able to intervene at that moment, she would have started to slip away from him.
How had she meant her words? I love you as a friend—someone I can count on—or I’m afraid I’m dying and I wish we had become more than friends? He didn’t know. And if he reached the wrong conclusion he risked not only hurting her, but also putting their friendship in jeopardy.
He thrust his hands into his hair, weary, struggling to sort out the emotions. He could move on from the events, do the practical things like call her friends, stop by her house and pack for her, make sure she had anything she needed. He could do all those things and still not cope with the emotion her words evoked.
If she really meant them . . .
There had never been any indication she thought or hoped for something more. He had sometimes fleetingly considered it—at the end of a long day, when he faced an empty house, when they walked the beach together enjoying a sunset, when she would spontaneously give him a hug as she said thanks—but then reality would intrude and he would force the idea away. She had been his best friend’s wife, and he never planned to marry until he was out of the SEALs. He had seen what Nick’s death had done to her. He was thirty-eight; Kelly was thirty-one. Both of them were cautious about change.
He tried to pay attention to the details of how she was moving on so as not to say or do the wrong thing. Kelly would laugh at Liz’s attempts to get her to go on a date, always turning them down. Joe had seen her wistfulness when she held Liz’s infant son, Christopher, but that was the only time he ever wondered if Kelly thought about getting married again. She seemed content to let her life drift by as it was. He didn’t think that was good for her long term, but he had been reluctant to add his voice to Elizabeth’s. He sensed a fragility that had yet to fade, and he didn’t want Kelly making major changes until she recovered some of the self-confidence that had been there in the past.
It wasn’t going to be easy to ask her what she had meant. He wasn’t even sure which answer he hoped for. He knew the danger that his emotions toward Kelly could be survivor’s guilt—Nick had died saving his life—but when his emotions had grown over the years instead of fading, he recognized they were based on something much deeper.
Kelly was a wonderful lady, a great friend, and his emotions were already at the fine line of wanting more. He knew what kind of wife she made, and his life would only be better for having her in it. But he had to think about what was best for Kelly; he owed her that. And for her to get involved with a SEAL, for it to be the man her husband had died to save— She didn’t even know the truth of what had happened. He didn’t know how to make this work out.
Regardless of the complication her words had created, he wanted to give her a solid hug for having said them. Down in the depths of his heart it had felt so good to hear those words. Those three words had the power to cut right through to his heart.
She had likely known that too. The words made her vulnerable, yet she still went ahead and said them. A gift. She had given him so many over the years: birthday parties she never let him ignore, Christmas gifts, and more than once he had come home from a mission to find a note on the kitchen counter and a home-cooked meal waiting in the refrigerator.
It wasn’t just him; she made the lives of the entire SEAL team easier. In a platoon of sixteen men, she knew the wives, the girlfriends, and what had been happening when his men were away. And when something needed to make its way to his or Boomer’s attention, it did so quietly through Kelly. It was her nature to look out for the best interests of the people around her. Joe smiled. She also looked out for him.
Lord, don’t let me make a mistake with how I handle this situation. She’s one of my best friends, and if I hurt her, I’ll never forgive myself. But if I let myself dream, I wish there were a way to make this work.
Joe sighed as he stretched out his legs. The cold water had sapped his strength and he was tired, but overriding that was his worry. For three years there had been slow, steady progress as he fought to keep his word to Nick and watch out for Kelly. Tonight everything had changed, and he didn’t know how it was going to turn out.
Five
* * *
“You’re awake.” Joe sounded pleased. Kelly wanted to pull the covers over her head and hide.
She looked over at the doorway of her hospital room and saw him standing there—needing a shave, his fatigues wrinkled, holding a military mug of coffee. There was something uniquely fascinating about looking at a military man when he was relaxed and at ease. He looked wonderful and she knew she looked her worst. “Hi, Joe.”
“Hey, why the frown?” He moved to the bedside chair and grasped her hand in a reassuring grip. His other hand brushed her hair back from her face. “Feeling rocky? You had a rough night.”
She felt like her skin was burnt. Her voice rasped. Her hair felt matted. She hadn’t been awake long enough to figure out what else was wrong. “I gather I look pretty ugly,” she said, feeling out the truth.
He rejected that idea with a small shake of his head and a warmth in his eyes that melted into tenderness. “You’re beautiful.”
When he didn’t qualify it, she squeezed his hand. “Thanks. That was kind.”
“You’ll need it when you see a mirror.”
His reply drew a grin. “Warning taken. I’ll avoid one for a while.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“How’s Ryan?”
“Eating breakfast. He’s fine. I missed seeing his dad; the nurse said he was talking to the doctor.”
It felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. “And the other boy?”
“A couple stitches above his eyebrow. He was treated and released.” Joe sat back in the chair, picking up his coffee mug. “I like Ryan. He’s a good kid, despite the bad judgment of when to go surfing. He was disappointed about not being awake for his first helicopter ride.”
She tried to laugh and it came out as a croak; her throat felt raw. “That I can believe. Most teens are pretty resilient.” Kelly looked around at the newspaper discarded by the chair and the breakfast dishes on the tray. “You were here all night?”
“Most of it. I left briefly to feed and water Misha, then stopped by your place and got you
a few things.” Joe leaned down to reach for a sack by his chair. “I brought one of your bears.”
“Bo-Bo.” Kelly smiled as she reached for it, finding her swollen hands stiff and painfully awkward. “What a great choice.”
Joe watched as she fluffed up the fur crushed in transit. “I got it right and I didn’t even realize it.”
“Bo-Bo found me in the recovery room when I broke my wrist surfing.”
“Found you?”
“I woke up from the anesthetic and he was sitting on my chest watching me.”
Joe’s amusement only made his eyes laugh; his voice stayed serious. “Got it.”
Kelly appreciated the fact he had it in him to be indulgent about her bears. They were important to her if only because they gave her something familiar to have around, and there was comfort in that connection to the past. They brought with them good memories.
She reached up with her left hand to straighten the bear’s ears and noticed what was missing. “Joe—”
He barely reached for the bear in time to stop it from tumbling off the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“My ring. I lost my wedding ring.” She frantically searched through the bedcovers. It was the most precious thing Nick had ever given her. She never took it off and it was gone. The realization was a knife through her heart. Her wedding ring . . .
“No.” His hand caught her arm in a gentle grip to still her movements. “They had to take off your ring because your hand was swelling. Your ring is in the hospital safe.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive, Kelly. It’s safe.”
Her eyes closed in relief. “The medallion I was wearing? Nick’s eagle?”
“Also in the safe.”
He reached over her to straighten the blankets she had massacred when she sat up. “Lie back and be quiet for a while. You’re going to lose your voice.”
Kelly complied, grateful for the help getting the blankets straightened. Joe was right; her voice was already becoming strained. The order was more like the Joe she knew and had come to love. Memories of what she had said in the water flooded back and she froze. It had to be a dream. She couldn’t have said that. Lord, please just let me drop through the floor and disappear. “You’re staying?”
He met her gaze, his expression puzzled. “I planned to.”
She didn’t want to talk about what she had said until she had more time to think about it, and if Joe brought it up . . . She bit her lower lip and yelped with pain as her cracked lip split open again.
“Careful.” Joe reached for a tissue and wiped away the blood. “You’re going to be off coffee a miserably long time if you don’t let that heal.”
The idea was appalling. She could already feel the edge of a caffeine headache setting in.
He brushed her chin with the back of his knuckles, his smile sympathetic. “I bought you a Coke from the machine. You should be able to manage it with a straw.” He found it and cracked open the tab for her, rummaging for the straw.
Grateful, Kelly let him hold the can while her hand rested against his; she lifted her head slightly to drink. The cold soda felt good against her sore throat. “Thanks.” She studied his face, so close to her own, searching to find any sign of his thoughts and reaction to her words at sea and found only the clear gaze of a friend. That was very much like him. He had an ability to bury what he thought until he decided it was the right time to discuss it. But he would want to discuss it. How could she have ever made the mistake of saying those words?
“Sure.”
She couldn’t let the conversation drift the wrong way. She watched him set down the soda on the nightstand and curled her hand around the bear to give herself courage. “The cold water was brutal.” The sea had tried to kill her last night, had come pretty close to succeeding.
He looked back at her, studied her face for a moment. This time when he moved, he rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “I know.”
“Is it like that on your missions? The sea so cold it takes your breath away?”
“Occasionally.”
She dropped her gaze, plucking at the threads of the blanket. “I nearly gave up.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I wanted to.”
“You didn’t.”
She studied his face. He, at least, seemed confident she wouldn’t have. “I’m glad you got there when you did.”
He stilled her hand, turned it over, and laced his fingers with hers. She wasn’t ready for the contact and felt a sharp tug that what was a casual gesture on his part suddenly had a different meaning for her.
“Do you want to go sailing with me Sunday?” Joe asked.
She jolted at the topic, taken off guard by the request. “Sailing?” The idea was not a welcome one. She had fought the disorienting up-and-down and side-to-side motion for hours last night. Just the thought of being on the pitching deck of a boat made her fight a sense of queasiness.
“The weather is going to be nice, and you need to get back out on the water.”
He was going straight for the jugular. “Joe, this didn’t make me afraid. I’ve done rescues before.”
“Then you’ll have no problem saying yes.”
Her eyes narrowed. He was putting her in a box and doing it deliberately. There were times when his kind of leadership made her cringe. She didn’t want to get back on the horse that had just thrown her. “Are you sure your new boat—and I’m being generous with that word—won’t sink and dump me back in the sea?” Joe liked to restore sailboats from decrepit wrecks back to things of beauty. His latest find, which was partially restored, had only recently been out on the calm waters of San Diego Bay.
“You’ll just have to risk it with me.”
She understood why Joe was doing this, but it only intensified her nervousness. She didn’t know how she was going to react to the water, and she wasn’t sure she wanted Joe to see that reaction. On the other hand, if she was going to be scared being back on the open waters, at least she would have the comfort of being with him. He would above all keep her safe. She squeezed his hand, accepting what he was offering. “I’ll come sailing.”
“Good.”
She desperately wanted to change the subject. Sunday. That was soon. “Have they said when they’re going to release me?”
“Maybe tomorrow. It depends on if your temperature stays steady.”
“Tomorrow?”
Joe chuckled. “The hospital food isn’t that bad.”
“I don’t want to stay.”
“Tough.”
She was exhausted, but that was no reason to keep her here another day. She wanted her own bed. It was appalling to realize she wanted to pout. “When you stopped by my house and got Bo-Bo, did you think to get my toothbrush?”
Joe reached for a small suitcase against the wall. “Toothbrush, hairbrush, and anything else I thought you might need in the next few days.” He set the case on the bed beside her, opened it, and turned it for her to look through.
He picked up a pair of socks and got up. “Let’s have those cold feet.”
“What?”
“You’ve been trying to tug the covers tighter around them for the last several minutes, and that’s not going to get them warm. Thick socks might.” He tapped a blanket-covered foot.
“I can do it.”
“Kelly.”
Her bare feet were ticklish. She tried not to laugh as Joe slipped on the first sock, but when his hand brushed over her instep, it was simply beyond her control. Her toes curled and she giggled.
He looked up at her sharply, then paused, still holding her now covered foot. He grinned. “I’ll have to remember this.” He squeezed her foot before tucking it back under the covers.
“Joe—”
He slipped on the other sock and wiggled her toes. “Where else are you ticklish?”
She felt her face flame. “None of your business.”
“I have to use my imagination?” he asked when he sat ba
ck down, his speculative gaze frank and unrepentant. Kelly wanted to hit him for making her blush.
She turned her attention back to the suitcase. He had done a neat job of packing for her. She remembered the state of her bedroom, her house, and winced. He had not seen her in her best light.
She had become an insomniac in the last few years, and she had a pretty good idea what he had found in her bedroom. There was an empty half-gallon carton of ice cream with a long spoon in it sitting on the floor by the unmade bed. Two magazines were open on the spare pillow; books were in a haphazard pile on the floor where they had been tossed rather than put back on the shelves. She had been working on a Sunday school craft project in bed, and not all the colorful construction paper punch holes and trimmed edges had hit the wastebasket. Neat the room was not. At least the laundry had been done, if not yet put away.
She pulled out the long sweater he had packed. “I’m cold down to my bones.”
Her shoulders and upper arms ached with her careful movements. Joe reached over and freed her hair from the sweater collar. Kelly was grateful she didn’t have to try to reach back to do it. She felt like an old lady.
Joe had thought to pack the novel that had been on her bedside table and also her Bible. She closed her hand around the cool leather cover of her Bible and wondered with some guilt where in the house he had found it. She didn’t remember seeing it since she came home from church Sunday. Daily devotions, such a regular part of her life before Nick’s death, had become sporadic over the last few years.
He knew. She could see it in his eyes. He didn’t say anything as she placed her Bible on the nightstand. She couldn’t change the last three years, but she could still change today and tomorrow.
“Liz said she would be here about nine.”
“I thought she and Tom were in San Jose until Monday.”