Unwrapping Chris
UNWRAPPING CHRIS
A Contemporary
Military Romance
By Nancy Lee Badger
Smashwords Edition
Edited Text Copyright
© October 2013 Nancy Lee Badger
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existence outside the imagination of the author and have no
relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Originally released © 2010
By Whispers Publishing
***Caution: contains explicit sexual situations***
Current Cover illustration
copyright © 2013 http://nancyleebadger.com
Dedication
To all the men and women of
The United States Armed forces.
Chapter 1
Jayne sipped her coffee and grimaced while her sister, Marti, laughed. Jayne ought to apologize, but the burnt coffee smell—accompanied by the charred scent of over-baked gingerbread cookies—was horrid enough to make anyone’s taste buds forget that Christmas was right around the corner. Marti couldn’t boil water, let alone brew a decent cup of coffee.
I should talk.
Since Johnny’s death, Jayne barely cooked. Her kids ate well, but she rarely found the strength to visit the supermarket or cook a wholesome dinner. A deep weariness had replaced the bouts of depression that tainted her bereavement.
Not much of an improvement, she thought. “Sorry. I appreciate the effort.”
“Just wanted to impress you with my newfound culinary skills.” Marti smiled at her joke. She ran long fingers through her short, dark red hair. Her digital camouflage ACU did little to enhance her skin tone, or her figure. The bulging pockets of her trousers and the washed-out green-gray of the weather resistant fabric detracted from Marti’s pale skin. Only the tiny freckles that peppered her petite nose heralded their Scottish ancestry.
“Don’t worry, sis,” she went on. “Our local commissary has everything we need for a great holiday dinner.”
They both laughed.
Marti pulled open a cupboard door and grabbed a large jar filled with a candle. After she lit it, she placed it between them on the table. The scent of pumpkins and cinnamon wafted up, obliterating the evidence of her attempt to cook.
“Jayne, I’m glad you came for the holiday. We’ll have fun at my good friend’s wedding on Christmas Eve.”
“God. Christmas will be here before we know it.”
“Your nephew and I feel more alone during this holiday than any other time of year. Can’t I talk you into moving in? Permanently?”
“I do miss living on an army base, but Johnny’s gone and—”
“Sorry. I forgot. However, things change, sis. You finally graduated nursing school. No more nights and weekends filled with homework and studying. Maybe you’ll meet another great guy. Think about it?”
Jayne sighed. She’d love to get back into army life. When her less-than-stellar marriage faltered after the birth of their second daughter, she and Johnny received a needed break when he deployed overseas. The kids missed their dad, but thrived under her care. The stress-free home life was like a breath of fresh air. With no one breathing down her neck to get dinner on the table, ordering her to run errands, or treating her like a thorn in his side, things had started to look up.
Then her world imploded the morning two officers knocked on her door. Since losing Johnny, she and the girls had lived through two years of hell; leaving the base, finding a new home, hiring sitters, and completing her degree in nursing. Worse, the man she truly loved remained a distant memory. A memory she had never found a way to shake.
***
Staff Sergeant Christopher Hawkins marched alongside his platoon. Along with two other drill sergeants, their AIT soldiers finished lunch in record time. This group had survived basic combat training and now neared the end of their advanced individual training. Chris looked forward to filling their heads with intense survival instruction before sending them off into the world with their new skills.
Glancing up, clear blue sky filled his vision. Diesel exhaust mixed with pine scent from the North Carolina forest surrounding the army base. He swore he smelled the tang of the sea, though it was over one hundred miles to the east.
Several of the men chuckled as they marched. The frigid weather under clear skies had put everyone in a good mood. Too good. Perhaps a ten-mile hike would give them all a good night’s sleep.
Nowadays, sleep came hard to Chris. Nightmares filled with gunfire and blood had gotten to be a habit. He’d awaken covered in sweat with a curse on his lips. This proved tiresome. With Afghanistan a recent memory, he woke today determined to enjoy a march on paved roads under an American sky. No guns, no blood, no bodies laying dead and dismembered in the sand.
“Wake up, fool. You’re safe,” he mumbled.
“What’s that, Sarge?” his second-in-command asked.
“Nothing. Just thinking out loud. Quiet today. No traffic.”
“Why drive when you can march? The sun is real bright.” Chris’s sergeant closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and smiled. “I could get used to this.”
“Open those eyes. You’re on traffic detail. Can’t have my boys run down.”
“Yes, Sarge.” Tipping his cap, he swung his M-16A2 rifle off his shoulder, and trotted into the next road. The platoon marched in place until waved by. Several clapped their hands together for warmth as their hazy breaths danced in the chilly breeze. Noses, on several of the men, had grown rosy from the cold.
Chris sighed. Training soldiers on a secure army base was easy and safe.
And boring.
If I had bothered to get me a wife and a couple of kids, I’d have something to look forward to each day, he thought as he caught up, and then trotted to the front of the platoon. An image sprang up, clear as day.
Jayne.
He inhaled a deep breath and savored the crisp chill.
God, it’s so different than the rocky hills half a world away.
He shook the memory away, far away. Not the steamy days and brutally cold nights he’d spent in Afghanistan.
No, it’s the memory of her.
Eight years had passed since he’d tasted her lips and caressed her soft skin. Daily, he kicked himself for dumping her the night he had left for basic. Too much time had passed. Too late for regrets. Too late to realize he’d swept aside the only woman he had ever loved.
Chapter 2
“I do miss living on base, Marti,” Jayne said. She shivered at the thought of surrounding herself with men exactly like Johnny.
All those rugged guys in uniform.
“I have my degree, though I haven’t found a job. My apartment lease is almost up. It would make sense to move close to you, especially with you heading overseas.” She bit her lower lip as she poured herself a cup of ginger tea.
“I look forward to deployment. My son is less than thrilled.”
“You’ve dealt with single-parenthood since his birth. I never knew how hard—”
“It doesn’t have to be. Move in here or find a guy. Do what makes you happy.”
“Find a guy? They don’t grow on trees, you know.”
“We are on an army base with men as far as the eye can see.”
“Right. You want me to walk up to a soldier and say ‘Hi. I’m Jayne, a widow with two kids. Want to party?’ No way.”
“Our hospital is hiring.”
Jayne cocked her head and stared at her sister. Thoughts spread through her mind in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. “Could I start over? Maybe find a guy like Christopher?”
Dead silence.
“You mean Johnny.”
What had she said? On no! She hadn’t meant to speak aloud, especially when she had no idea what made her think of Christopher Hawkins.
“Slip of the tongue. I heard his name bantered about somewhere. An article in The Stars and Stripes, I think.”
“Right.” Marti gave her a steely-eyed glare, then turned toward the newspaper lying on the kitchen table. “Here’s the ad.”
Jayne accepted the offered paper and trained her gaze down, anything to keep from allowing her sister any clue to how much she regretted losing Chris.
“Anything there? I can’t believe you had the guts to finish your degree.”
“Yes. I nearly went broke with babysitters. Johnny’s insurance money is earmarked for the girls’ college expenses. Mom helped a little, but—”
“Yeah. I know. She’s a busy woman. Can’t picture her with a sloppy little kid on her knee.”
Jayne forced a smile. “How about I check out the hospital? Can you watch the girls?”
Marti nodded.
Jayne chugged the rest of her cooled ginger tea and slipped the mug inside her sister’s dishwasher. She donned her new pink parka and slid the zipper up to her neck. After growing up in Louisiana, then living on an army base in southern Georgia, she was not acclimated to the cooler temperatures of North Carolina in late December.
She trotted to her old sedan and settled on the cool vinyl driver’s seat. As the engine sputtered to life, she coaxed the heater on. While she headed toward the base hospital, she daydreamed of a lanky boy with red hair, green eyes, and sure hands. He’d made love to her—her very first time—then tossed their love in the dirt.
I loved him, even if he didn’t reciprocate.
The memory of that one night of pain, mixed with exquisite pleasure, rose whenever Johnny found the time to join her in bed. Christopher’s was the face that filled her thoughts. It was Christopher’s fingers that stroked her nearly to completion before guiding his erection inside her. But, with Johnny, she remained unsatisfied many a night.
Her fault, most likely. He’d given her the girls, of course. They kept her on her toes and too tired to give Johnny the attention he deserved. The girls were the biggest joy she’d found in her marriage. Might they have gotten closer if Johnny had lived?
Here she was brooding, while she should be thrilled to be visiting her sister in order to accompany her to her friend’s wedding. A Christmas wedding.
Why torture myself, and surround myself with happy people?
“Because, Marti asked me,” she said to no one.
“How romantic,” she’d told Marti when they talked the day Marti called to tell her the invitation had arrived.
“Why anyone would want to marry in the middle of winter is beyond me. But, you can stay with me, and I have a friend who can watch the kids.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Listen. My deployment is imminent. I want to spend the most time I can with my only sister before—”
“Don’t say it. We’ll deal with it when the day comes.”
“Right.”
The memory faded as Jayne idled at a stop sign and fiddled with the defroster. The windows had clouded from her hot breath. She rubbed one gloved hand over the inside of the windshield, the leather squeaking across the glass. The steamy windows reminded her of a long ago Christmas Eve when Chris kissed her, then drove to a dark spot along the bayou. His kisses had deepened until their clothes had ended up scattered around the pickup’s interior.
Jayne shivered from the image, not the coolness of her car’s interior. Chris had tasted of beer and something sweeter.
“Hot chocolate,” she mumbled. She’d followed him from her mother’s party, where dozens of people celebrated the holiday with Christmas treats and hot beverages. The boy loved his sweets. He wasn’t a boy at the time. Not really.
He’d been eighteen to her sixteen and Jayne had thought the sun rose and set in his eyes. His hands worked their magic and, too soon, they’d been locked in an embrace. His fingers dove inside and made her squirm. First from the shock of unknown sensations, and then with a hot desire for something.
Something more.
“Please,” she’d said. And Chris had answered by changing her life forever.
A honk pulled Jayne from her reverie. She swung the car to the left. Several trees blocked the sun, and she shivered again. She knew the way to the tall building that housed the military hospital near the base’s entrance gate. A wide picnic area drew her attention. Bundled up kids ran and played in the chilly sunshine.
Her girls deserved better than a tiny apartment. Her sister’s house on base looked homey and safe.
Eyes back on the road, she squinted. The intense light from a low hanging sun in the west suddenly blinded her as she thought about how the army always provides. If only…
***
Chris’s sergeant with the gun, lingering behind him, yelled, “Sarge!”
Momentarily unable to process the warning, Chris heard the squeal of a fan belt close by. He snapped his head around. A small sedan approached. When the driver didn’t slow down as the car neared his men, who were about to cross the road, he spun around. Pushing a row of soldiers to safety, Chris’s hip slammed into something that absorbed his weight as it crunched. Propelled back, he rolled end-over-end and landed in the grass several yards from his shocked platoon.
“Sargent Hawkins!”
A dozen voices were yelling his name. His foggy mind searched for a way to connect his brain to his tongue and respond. With all the air having suddenly escaped the moment his back slammed onto the hard ground, his starved lungs concentrated on sucking in air as his ears picked up a high-pitched voice.
An agitated female voice.
“No!” The sound filtered in, comforting him for some ungodly reason. Grumbles and raised male voices filled the air again until the familiar voice shouted back.
“Let me through, I’m a nurse.” Wispy blonde hair fluttered over the high collar of her bright pink parka. Her cheeks gleamed red from the cold. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could smell her womanly fragrance. Or, was that ginger?
I can’t seem to focus. Damn.
Her gloves flew across his chest to land somewhere near his uninjured hip. Long, white fingers pressed his scalp, then danced along his brow.
Double damn. I’ve died and gone to heaven.
***
The thump shocked her from her daydream, and she slammed her foot on the brake pedal. Her mind whirled when a crowd ran toward a lump that lay in the dead grass beside the road.
“No!” Jayne threw the car into park, and burst out the door. She raced toward the shape. Several raised voices surrounded the groaning man, impeding her way.
“Let me through, I’m a nurse.”
The uniform-clad forest of bodies parted. She caught the silent protest in a few of them, their eyes raking her with a combination of di
sbelief, scorn, and downright rage. The disbelief might be an acceptable response. She wasn’t exactly dressed like a nurse, but she knew what to do.
“You.” Jayne pointed to a burly sergeant holding a very scary-looking gun. She swallowed and then realized it wasn’t aimed her way. “Call 9-1-1.”
To the only other soldier wearing three stripes, Jayne said, “You, watch for the emergency vehicles.”
Without waiting for either gruff-looking man to respond, she kneeled. She brushed a strand of her windblown hair behind her ear and whispered to her patient, “Can you hear me?”
He didn’t answer, but he was moving all his extremities. His camouflage pants, ripped along his left hip, showed a slice of army green underwear, but no blood.
I must have caught him with the plastic bumper.
She forced her gaze south, to his boots. Dust dimmed their shine. His patrol cap lay beneath his right wrist. His fingers grabbed blindly, as if searching for the missing piece of his uniform. How typical of a military man. Johnny never ventured out of their home without everything in its proper place.
Why am I thinking of Johnny now?
All of a sudden, she realized she was surrounded by a horde of strapping young men, all bent on taking revenge on the person deemed the cause for their comrade’s injury.
“Holy Christmas,” she said. It dawned on her that they were targeting her. The driver of the car. The car that slammed into…him.
She sucked in chilled air as her patient’s green eyes snapped open.
***
At the sound of a voice from his past, Chris forced his eyes open, then winced when a knee nudged his bruised left hip. His suddenly dry, scratchy throat protested, but he had to ask.
“I don’t care if it’s nearly Christmas. How is it you are here? Now. Jayne?” He must be dead.
“Chris? Is it really you?”
“Unfortunately.” He groaned out the word between clenched teeth. He gripped his patrol cap with one hand and his hip with his other. He wanted to shut her out and toss away her words of concern. He needed to flush her delicious scent and silky touch back into the past.