My warmest thanks go again to my two friends whose technical advice is always helpful, thank you so much. As always my deepest thanks have to go to SouthPacific for his editing skills and for keeping me honest, many thanks my friend.
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For the next two days my life did indeed split once again into two. During the day my family would be the centre of my life, but occasionally I would see Brooke sunbathing by the pool or taking tea in the hotel. When I put my girls to bed and my parents-in-law came back from a few hours to themselves, either taking in a show or a late candle-lit dinner, my attention would return to Brooke. Amongst the many hours of conversation in what had become OUR room, she admitted that the nightmares were few now.
I also made sure I woke before she did for our morning run, but in retaliation she would still ask the gym staff if the sauna was closed. They smiled, held out towels and nodded as I was dragged back into it. She would quickly strip and wait for me to catch up. Brooke always took the top benches; she said it was the one time she got to look down at me.
Her mother rang me mid-day of the third day and told me that what I needed was waiting for me with the hotel manager, and that he would make all the other arrangements. It took twenty minutes with him to get everything else sorted, and I quickly figured out why he managed this hotel. He was definitely one of those types that, if HE couldn't get something done, he sure knew someone who could.
Brooke knew the moment I walked into our room. Her face gave her away, and she was afraid.
"We are going to dinner."
"I know. The manager just called to say all your guests have arrived."
It took her thirty minutes to get ready. I held her arm all the way down to the ground floor. Part of me felt I was physically supporting her the closer we got to the private room we had for the evening. When we entered, all sixteen people stood, and I walked Brooke around the table introducing our guests and their wives.
"Lieutenant Carmichael: two tours of Vietnam."
"Master Sergeant Martinez: again, two tours of Vietnam."
"Sergeant Young: Desert Storm."
"Corporal Nelson: a tour of Afghanistan."
The list and introduction of each man and wife went on around the table. Brooke, for her part, would shake hands with each man but always hugged the wife and thanked each of them for coming. They saw through Brooke straight away; they each knew she was military. We ate and talked; most recounted times that they dealt with their bouts of survivor's guilt. Coffee was served after dinner; not one person in that room asked for alcohol that evening.
Boxes of tissues appeared from nowhere and were used in abundance. By the third hour, Brooke had recounted that day to everyone that was sitting around her. Those that were further away soon gravitated closer to hear her story. The wives held her up through the hardest parts of her conversation. Each of the retired servicemen there sympathized with her. Just before midnight the hotel manager appeared and started handing out room keys to each of the wives and telling them that they and their husbands were guests of the owner of the hotel tonight.
Brooke pulled her phone out and the wives soon followed. I took a step back and smiled when they all swapped numbers. Brooke hugged, kissed and thanked everyone there as she wished them goodnight. We made it to the elevator before I realized she had her hand in mine. When I looked down she did as well, then curled her arm around mine and held on tighter.
I got the door open before she said anything. Her shoes went somewhere under the couch before she spoke.
"Thank you for tonight. I didn't see what you were doing back at the ranch house, and I will forever be ashamed of myself for that, but I realized I needed tonight and I've made so many friends as a result of it."
A part of me needed to find out if this exercise needed repeating.
"What else did you learn?"
Brooke went all thoughtful. It was clear she was recalling many moments from this evening.
"That I'm not alone. There are too many of us out there with the same feelings, and it's stupid to keep it all locked up because it will eventually eat its own way out."
I nodded my head, thinking that at least she had the basics now. I still reminded her that she needed therapy to see her through, but the mainstay would be the people around her and her friends in her unit. Most had been there and done that, so could relate to what Brooke was saying. The more she talked about it the less stress she would put herself under.
Her dress hit the floor, and her bra followed before she spoke again.
"Can I ask you a question now?"
I was folding my trousers when she said that and I instantly looked at her. I tried reading her face, but all I could see was resignation. She wanted me to answer before whatever emotion she was hiding from me could escape, so I shrugged my shoulders and told her to ask away. Her panties got pulled down and joined her dress in the puddle of clothing on the floor and, when she stood to look at me, all she had on were a set of earrings.
"You've had a naked, healthy woman in front of you for four days now, and not once have you had a hard-on. So what's wrong with this picture? If you even try to tell me you're a closet gay I may have to stab you in your sleep."
The worrying thing about her statement was that her face hardened towards the end, meaning she actually meant every word of it. It was while I was thinking how best to answer her that I suddenly noticed her eyes well up. When I went to reach out for her she turned towards the bathroom.
"I need a shower."
My hand went out again and grabbed the top part of her arm, my military instincts telling my other hand to grab her wrist as she spun round to slap me. She was just as quick and, with a twist, had released her arm from my grip. Her hand bunched into a fist so I quickly took a step inside and, not being inclined to act like a gentleman, placed my hand between her legs and lifted.
