Shadows And Light

“I had Dr. David call down to San Diego about your man, Larry Shelton,” she said in a quiet tone, knowing he didn’t want to waste time on social pleasantries. “He’s out of unstable critical and they’re listing him in fair condition.” She managed a small smile. “Shelton will live.”

Relief flooded through Craig, and he released a long, ragged breath of air. “Thank God,” he rasped. For nearly a minute, he wrestled with his relief—and with his joy at seeing Susan again. Tonight, she looked pale, he noticed, and her eyes had darkness in them. He could see smudges beneath her eyes—telltale signs that she hadn’t slept well. Looking away, he muttered tightly, “Thanks for finding out about Shelton.”

Forcing herself to move, to start her rounds, Susan set the clipboard aside and came around the bed to check his IV drip. “Actually, you can thank Dr. David. She’s the one who made the call.”

Craig lifted his head and watched Susan’s every movement. Her hands were trembling. He tried to steel himself against the touch that would come as she checked the point where the IV entered his left arm. As she leaned down, he could smell the perfume she wore. The fragrance was in direct contrast to the antiseptic smells of the ward, and, almost unwillingly, Craig inhaled deeply. Her touch was butterfly light.

“You asked her to make the call,” he growled, willing his body to not respond to her touch.

Craig was so close, so powerful. Susan tried to hurry her IV check, but to her disappointment, she saw that it needed to be reinserted and bandaged. “You’ve been moving around too much,” she said, trying to protect herself from his aura of fury. If only he wouldn’t lash out at her again….

Craig looked down at the dark bruises on his left arm. He scowled, barely able to will himself not to touch Susan in return. Her fingers were cool against his heated flesh. “So what?”

His gray eyes seemed to bore into hers. Her mouth flattening, Susan said in a clipped voice, “I’m going to have to shift the IV to your other arm.” She drew in a shaky breath. The IV apparatus was on wheels. As gently as she could, she removed the needle and pressed a bandage onto his arm so it wouldn’t bleed. Craig lay stock-still, and she could feel his gaze following her every move.

He turned over his right arm so she could look for a vein. Each of her feathery touches only magnified his agony for her. He tried not to look at her soft lips, tried not to think of that sole kiss they’d shared. Forcing himself to think coherently, Craig said, “You look like hell. Don’t they give you time off between shifts around here?”

Susan froze momentarily, pressing her lips together to hold back the anger threatening to bubble out at Craig. She sat down to insert the IV needle. “This is only my second day at Camp Reed,” she said tightly. “And there are lots of new sounds to get used to at my apartment….”

Craig saw the unmistakable mixture of hurt and anger in her blue eyes when she inadvertently looked up at him. His breathing became suspended as he met and held her luminous gaze, which was shadowed with exhaustion.

“Why did you come here to Reed?” he snarled, pushing his emotions back down deep inside, where they belonged.

Susan blinked, taken aback by the harshness of his voice, the iciness in his eyes. Her hands stilled over his arm. “Why?” she repeated numbly.

“Coming here was stupid, Susan. You haven’t changed at all since I knew you at Annapolis. For once in your life, why don’t you stop helping others so much and learn to help yourself? You look like hell warmed over. You obviously haven’t gotten any sleep. If you think you can keep this up, you’re mistaken. Get a transfer back to wherever you came from,” he snapped. “You aren’t cut out for this kind of stress.”

Anger bled through Susan’s shock at his attack. Grimly, she focused on getting the IV back into his arm and taping it up properly. The silence grew between them as she finished the job and stood up. She took the clipboard from the end of his cot and studied it. His eyes never left hers.

“Well?” Craig goaded as she came back to his bedside. “Why did you come here?”

Susan saw the tears glittering in her patient’s eyes. Intuitively, she realized he was grieving over Hayes’s death. Sitting down, keeping her voice low, she said, “You’re raw over your man’s death, Craig. That’s what’s really bothering you. It isn’t me!” She stabbed at his chest with her finger. “Don’t forget, I know how guilty you’ve felt over David’s death. Ever since he drowned, you’ve been scrambling to atone for some crazy guilt. Well, it wasn’t your fault!” Her voice cracked. “I know you, remember? I saw for a year how much you cared for the men under your command at Annapolis. I saw how you cared for me. Why don’t you just keep crying until you get your grief out for Hayes? There’s nothing wrong with that!”

Craig watched her start to rise again. His hand shot out. “Hold it,” he ordered, his fingers closing tightly over her wrist. “Just where do you get off accusing me of guilt? There’s no such thing as an officer caring too much for the men of his command. And who do you think you are, bringing up David’s death? How the hell do you know how I feel?” He saw her eyes go wide, but he was unable to stop the hurt from spilling out. “You talk about martyrs—well, you’re one of the best, Susan! You bleed yourself dry helping others, but when it comes to helping yourself, you can’t do it.”

“Let me go,” she rattled.

Craig held her shaken gaze. “Not until I’m done,” he snarled. “What’s the matter? Wasn’t marriage to Steve exciting enough for you? Didn’t it fulfill you, Susan? Is that why you came here? The martyr in you just had to keep giving herself away to those in need. I guess Steve’s needs weren’t enough. What did you do, volunteer to come here? More than likely.” He released her wrist.

Susan jerked her hand back against her. Stunned, her emotions reeling under his attack, she whispered angrily, “I may enjoy helping others, but at least I know who I am, what I’m doing here, which is more than what I can say for you! Who do you think you are, accusing me like this?” Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let Craig see her cry. She held up her left hand. “Just for your information, Craig Taggart, Steve is dead! I didn’t come to Reed because I’m a martyr, damn you! I’m here because I know I can make a difference.”

Shocked, Craig opened his mouth. Steve was dead? When? How? Oh, God…

With a small cry, Susan spun around and headed up the aisle and out of the ward, fighting back the tears, the hurt. She found Randy and asked him to finish the rounds. “If there’s a problem, come and get me,” she said, trying to control her shaking voice. “I just need some fresh air.”

Randy looked at her strangely but nodded his agreement and said nothing.

Outside, beneath the stars, Susan walked away from the hospital. She was gasping for breath, her hands pressed to her heart. All her emotions overwhelmed her, and tears squeezed out from beneath her lashes. In that moment, she realized so much. Worst of all, she realized Craig’s attack had ripped away the last of the pretense about her marriage. Steve had been so open and happy-go-lucky—a generous extrovert. He’d fallen in love with her the moment he’d seen her that evening at the dispensary. He’d been her opposite—filled with life, with dreams of greatness. And he’d wanted her at his side to watch him fulfill all of them.

Moving into the shadows, feeling more alone, more filled with guilt than she ever had in her whole life, Susan cried.

Chapter Four

Craig sat tensely, his hands knotted in his lap, trying to assimilate his shock over Steve’s death. The horrified look on Susan’s face struck savagely at him, making him feel small and guilty as never before. Steve had been his best friend for three years, even after they’d met Susan—up until that fateful day when Susan had tearfully told Craig she’d decided to break up with Steve.

Burying his face in his hands, Craig couldn’t seem to think clearly. He could only feel the raging emotions battering him, tearing away at his anger toward Susan and leaving a surge of guilt and grief in its wake. Even though Steve had allowed their friendship to lapse as Susan became an integral part of his life, Craig had never hated his old friend. No, never. But he was dead. What had happened?

Bitterly, he raised his face and allowed his hands to fall back into his lap. From the moment Susan had stood him up at the restaurant, his life had taken a powerful turn away from his past, which had included Steve and Susan. He’d left abruptly, hurt and angry at Susan’s treatment of him. Every day after that had been a reminder that he hadn’t been aggressive enough in going after Susan—that he’d believed in some romantic notion about friendship and trust winning out in the end. Well, he’d ended up with nothing but a broken heart to show for it.

And each day since, Craig had hardened his heart, thrown himself into recon training and buried the past, buried the terrible pain of losing Susan—a pain she knew nothing about. She’d seen him as a friend, plain and simple. Pressing his lips into a thin line to stop from crying out, Craig knew his heartless aggression over the years since then had done nothing but take him from one unfulfilling relationship to another. Every woman he met he compared to Susan, whether he wanted to or not. And none of them stacked up. None of them could begin to compare. The intimacy that had naturally sprung between him and Susan in those long-ago, innocent days was something he’d searched for but never found with another woman.

So much had happened in those four long, tortured years. Since he’d walked away from Susan and Steve. But what had happened to Steve? After Craig had left Annapolis, he’d never heard anything more about his best friend beyond the fact that he’d married Susan. Ordinarily, “ring knockers” stayed in touch—or at least word about them got around. The “brotherhood”—graduates of Annapolis—were a small, tight group, and they followed one another’s movements on the chess board of military life. He realized now that it was odd he hadn’t heard more, but he’d been so filled with loss that for a time, much of the military world had floated by unnoticed.

Steve had been at the top of his class, destined for the greatness he’d always wanted. So why had he dropped out of sight? Scowling, Craig traced patterns on the bedspread with his finger. Suddenly, he thought again of the incalculable damage he had just done to Susan by behaving the way he did. He’d seen her anguish, so deep and telling that it made him feel worse than any other point in his life. But at the same time, he felt a tiny, rebellious thread of hope spring to life.

Guiltily, Craig tried to push the hope away. Steve was dead. It was wrong to feel this way. Anyway, he’d had great hope before, when Susan had been on the verge of breaking up with Steve, and where had that gotten him? He’d had great plans to court her himself—that’s why he’d waited so long at the restaurant that night. But something had gone wrong. Evidently, Steve and Susan had made up. Still, that didn’t give Susan the right to stand him up without any explanation—without any word at all. Why did life have to be so damned complicated?

If only he could get out of bed and follow Susan. But Craig knew the idea was folly, because he’d tear the wound open again and be laid up twice as long. He looked around and saw Peters, one of the navy corpsmen, approaching. Agitated, Craig waved him over.

“Yes, sir?” Peters asked, coming to his bed.

“Lieutenant Evans,” Craig said irritably. “Where did she go? I’ve got to talk to her.”

Uncomfortably, Peters looked toward the swinging doors at the end of the ward. “She was awful upset, sir.”

Craig avoided the corpsman’s gaze. “I know!” He gripped the covers in his fists. “I’ve got to see her. Call her back in. I must talk to her.”

“Yes, sir. But first, I gotta make the rounds. There’s IVs that need changing and—”

* * *

“Do it,” Craig muttered, understanding. He wouldn’t deny the men in the ward medical help just because he’d screwed things up with Susan. He lay back, breathing hard, the pain in his chest growing with every breath he took. Steve was dead. Susan was a widow. Oh, God, he’d just torn her apart with his own, selfish anger. Craig squeezed his eyes shut. He’d seen the hurt, the agony in her eyes and face when he’d accused her. What was wrong with him?

For the next hour, he watched the corpsman complete the ward rounds. It was nearly 0100, but he was anything but sleepy. Wasn’t Susan right? Hadn’t he attacked her partly because of his grief over losing Hayes? And was part of it to stop his hardened heart from feeling again? Craig’s mouth worked into a grim line. He’d made such an ass of himself. He cared for Susan regardless of how she’d treated him in the past. And she was no longer married, which gave him a second chance. Or did it? The way he’d treated her since meeting her at Reed no doubt had burned every possible bridge. He couldn’t blame Susan if she’d never have anything to do with him again. As he lay, drenched in his own sweat and pain, Craig stared up at the darkened ceiling of the ward.

The minutes kept dragging by, and he couldn’t remain still. He had to talk to Susan! To his relief, he saw Peters finish his round and leave. Was he going out to talk to her? Craig shut his eyes and wiped the sweat off his face. She had to come see him. And he had to apologize—for so very much.

“Sir?”

Craig’s eyes snapped open. He had been so caught up in sorrow and guilt that he’d failed to hear Peters’s approach. The lapse of attention to his surroundings was completely unlike him, and he quickly rose up on both elbows.

“Susan?” he rasped.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Peters said apologetically, “but Lieutenant Evans said she doesn’t want to see you.”

“But I’ve got to see her!”

Peters shrugged. He opened his palms. “Sir, she’s upset. She says no.”