Jon wondered once again what he was doing back here. He had been thinking the same thing every day for the past week. But something kept him here.
From that first visit, her cryptic remark as he left had played on his mind. Her words exactly as they had been that night. Had she somehow recognized him? But that was impossible. That IED and the fire that had rampaged through their SUV, killing his men, and turning him into the monster he saw in the mirror when he dared to look, had destroyed everything of the man he had been that night. Besides, she had said something similar to the homeless man, hadn't she?
But she had no way of knowing for certain that he had been a Marine. He had said nothing of his purpose in being in this town. So, why had she said that? Perhaps, though, she merely assumed. The extent of his injuries, this town that was home to little other than cacti, desert snakes, and the Marine base around which it had grown up, she could have, must have, put two and two together to come up with four. That was the only explanation.
Still, he could not put that doubt from his mind. Could not bring himself to walk away again as he had that night. Snuck out in the dark, left her sleeping, he had dared not look into the depths of those warm brown eyes one more time. He knew women lied; his wife had proved that. But something in those eyes had made him want to toss aside that lesson, to believe in love again. It was silly, ridiculous.
He had succumbed in the end, though. Her face, those eyes were what he saw as the heat and flames licked the skin from his flesh. Were his last thoughts as he lost consciousness. And the first when he awoke. Over the months and years of pain, they kept coming back to him at his lowest moments, when he would have given up, curled into a ball, and begged for the blessing of death that had been his mens'. He had known then that she had wormed her way into his heart that night, woven some magical spell of love and hope.
Hope, that was the other thing which kept him here. Over the past week, he had put a couple of pieces of the puzzle together. He had made friends with Steve, his homeless Marine comrade, and with the other waitress, Alison, too. He had tried to be subtle with his comments and questions, how lucky Alicia's husband was to have her, and such a beautiful little girl. What he discovered raised more questions than they answered.
For the woman, he would have sworn was white picket fences, mini-vans, a half dozen kids, and pets, there was no husband. There had never been. She was a single mother. And try as hard as he dared, neither Steve nor Alison would betray the identity of the child's father. If they even knew.
He had lain awake nights in his cheap hotel room, pondering that. The math worked. He had pumped the little girl herself for her age. Six, she had beamed — a big girl, in first grade now.
But they had been so careful that night. Hell, he remembered thinking that he would have woken Alicia to make love to her one last time before he left. Except the three-pack of condoms was empty. Sure, technically, he knew condoms were not one-hundred-percent. Was it possible?
He had tried to convince himself that he was not the only Marine Alicia 'comforted.' Her words, 'no strings attached,' would have attested to that. Except for the tightness that wrapped about his hard cock that night, and the look of innocent wonder in those eyes at the magical wonder of the heights to which they soared. He would bet what was left of his sorry life that the woman was not loose with her favors, as his mother would call it.
So, where did that leave him? A week in this hell hole that held too many memories, many of them bad, and Jon was no closer to having his answers than he had been the day he walked back into this place. His hand hovered on the metal handle. He should just leave.
Go back to his hotel room, pack what few things he had brought with him for what was supposed to be a quick check-up at the VA, arrange the online car service, cross the desert, and get up that mountain he called home. The place he had made for himself. His refuge. The one place where he need not worry about hoodies to cover his scars, the stares of others, the whispers, the looks of pity, or fright.
He turned. And that whirling dervish of energy and yes, Hope, ran straight into him. "Jon, Jon," she chorused as if she had known him all her life, as if he were once more the man he had once been, as if he were her...
Her little arms wrapped about his waist, "I have a new story today. Can I read it to you? Please?"
He looked up to the frightened and shocked face that had filled his dreams for seven long years. Though that was not the look, it wore in his fantasies. Alicia was quick to hide it though, just not fast enough for the man that had once relied upon his senses and powers of observation to keep him and his men safe.
The look that replaced it was not much better, certainly not the one of blissful contentment that he had left on it that morning. It was polite, even a warm smile. But it was tight, and if you looked closely, that smile did not reach the depths of those warm brown eyes.
