Morning came slowly and with a lot of inner pain for Jim. Off and on through the night he’d tended Alex because she’d grown feverish. Afraid the VC might still be near, he hadn’t dared to sleep. Instead, he’d lain on the ground next to her, his nearness seeming to quiet her. Sometimes he’d nodded off for half an hour or so before her restless sleep had jerked him awake again. Now, as the bare hint of light from dawn crawled into the darkened tunnel, Jim grew even more worried.
Alex was delirious, and when he lifted the compress to examine her wound, he saw how red and inflamed the flesh had become. Grimly, he bathed her face, neck and arms, trying to lower her temperature. She needed antibiotics, or she would die. And that couldn’t happen. His mind worked over his limited options. Each time he looked down at her vulnerable features, a little more of his resolve to remain a deserter was chipped away. Yes, he’d made a decision to live in peace, to stop contributing to the war effort. But that decision hadn’t included Alex. As he took in her glistening features, he could no longer deny his conscience: he had to get her help.
Alex’s lashes fluttered and opened. Jim smiled uncertainly down into her dulled gray eyes. “’Morning, gal. How you feelin’?”
“...Rotten...I’m so thirsty, Jim....”
“Figured as much. Hold on.” He slipped his arm beneath her shoulders and gently brought her into a sitting position. He saw her lips set into a line as she struggled not to cry out. The movement of sitting upright, he was sure, hurt her shoulder, creating massive pain for her to manage. She lifted her hand to hold the wooden cup, but he continued to guide it to her lips, realizing how weak she’d become in the twelve hours since he’d removed the shrapnel. Thirstily, Alex drank three cups of the water.
As Jim laid her back down and pulled the blanket back over her, he said, “I’ve gotta get you some antibiotics. That wound of yours is infected.”
Alex nodded slightly. “I feel light-headed, and I’m seeing crazy things.”
“You’re going in and out of delirium,” Jim agreed as he pressed his hand to her forehead. She was burning up. He feared her fever was around a hundred and three, but he didn’t tell her. No sense in alarming her. Her being a nurse put her in touch with those possibilities anyway.
Jim’s hand steadied Alex’s whirling, tilted world, and she forced a slight smile. “Last night...last night I dreamed crazy dreams.”
“Like what, gal?” He took a cloth, wrung it out and placed it across her forehead.
“You were the Lone Ranger and I was Tonto. We were running from the VC together.” Alex closed her eyes. “Isn’t that stupid? I hate war, I hate guns, and there I was, right in the middle of it with you.”
“Better to dream it than do it for real,” Jim said in a low voice. When she opened her eyes, he smiled. “Did we outrun them?”
“Yes...but it was awful.”
“Dreams, my ma once told me, are a good place to work out your feelings and fears.” He gently touched her tangled hair. “I think that’s what you were doing.”
“Your mother sounds wonderful.”
“A real practical lady,” Jim agreed. “I miss her wisdom—I miss her cooking.” He grinned. “I remember waking up mornings as a kid growin’ up and smelling corn bread bakin’, eggs fryin’ and coffee brewin’. Hunger drove me out of my attic bunk, and I’d sit at the table with blue john, corn bread and eggs, eating as if there was no tomorrow.”
“Blue john?”
He laughed softly. “Missouri slang, gal. Blue john is skim milk to you city folk.”
When Jim smiled, the terrible tension in his features eased. Alex stared up wonderingly at his lean face. “Your whole face changes when you smile.”
Jim looked away. Her compliment took him by surprise. “I’m just a lanky hill boy from Missouri, not a very good-looking sort.”
“I think you have a wonderful face,” Alex parried softly. “Your eyes tell me how you feel. And I like it when you smile....”
Jim refused to look at Alex. “If I were worth anything at all, I’d have gotten you back to the marine firebase by now.”
“If you weren’t worth anything, you’d have left me in that jungle to die or be captured.”
Rubbing his face, Jim glanced down at Alex. “You carry the faith of the world in your large heart. You know that?”
“I’m an idealist,” Alex agreed. “But then, so are you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. My father’s a congressman, and he’s a realist. He’s always accused me—”
“A congressman?” Jim turned toward her, astounded.
Blankly, Alex studied his suddenly tense face. “Didn’t I tell you Father’s a congressman?”
His mouth went dry. “No.” His mind whirling, Jim knew without a doubt that all kinds of rescue missions would be sent to find Alex. It had been three days since the crash. Maybe that’s why the VC activity around their tunnel had increased. The marines no doubt had sent in a recon team to try to locate Alex, or at least to investigate the crash sight.
“What’s wrong, Jim?”
He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong.” Every firebase in the vicinity would be on the lookout for Alex. Getting her safely through the net of VC to the marines might be possible after all!
First things first, Jim reminded himself grimly. “I need to get some antibiotics, Alex.”
She watched as he moved to the other wall of the tunnel and retrieved his webbed belt with its numerous pouches and sheathed Ka-bar knife. “How?” Her voice sounded scratchy to her own ears, and she felt as if she were burning up.
“There’s a VC camp about two miles away.” He hooked the belt around his waist and settled his dark green utility cap on his head. “I’ve stolen from them before. I know where they keep drugs for their in jured.”
Her eyes widening, Alex whispered, “No! You could get killed, Jim!”
Surprised at her cry, he moved to her side. “Now, listen, gal, don’t worry your purty head about me. I don’t intend to get caught.”
“But,” Alex cried softly, tears forming and falling down her cheeks, “what if you are?”
He stroked her wet cheek, wiping away the tears. “Now, now,” he soothed, “I’m not gonna get caught. Hush now, you just lie here and rest.”
Reaching out, Alex gripped his hand and felt his strength, his gentleness, as his long fingers wrapped around her much-smaller hand. “I don’t know what you did, but it doesn’t matter,” Alex whispered, her voice cracking. “You’re worth saving, Jim McKenzie. You’re not a bad person, do you understand that? Whatever you’re running from doesn’t matter to me.”
Jim smiled sadly down at Alex. “Gal, you’re the kind of woman a man would be proud to keep company with. If you knew what I’d done...well, you’d tell me to leave.” He gave her fingers a last squeeze and placed her hand on her blanketed stomach. “Don’t get all het up over this, Alex. I need you to rest and gather your strength. Worrying about the likes of me is a worthless cause.”
“No, it’s not!” Alex felt vulnerable as never before. Perhaps it was the fever making her feel helpless. Jim’s quiet and steadying presence had given her a fragile if illusory sense of safety. With him leaving, Alex felt a surge of panic.
The urge to lean over and explore her soft, trembling lower lip struck Jim full force. How clean, innocent and trusting she was. He felt dirty and guilty inside. He didn’t deserve her. He patted her hand. “You’ll be okay, gal.” He slowly got to his feet, favoring his left leg. He motioned to his M-14 rifle lying on the ground, its wooden stock broken. “The rifle doesn’t work. If VC come around, you’re gonna have to be real quiet. Understand?”
Alex nodded.
“Good.” In the semidarkness, Alex choked back a sob. As Jim limped to the tunnel entrance, she realized just how tall and lean he really was. There was a confidence that emanated from him, like a beacon of steady light in a heavy fog.
At the concealed hole, Jim halted. He turned and glanced at Alex’s frightened features. The shadowy gray of her eyes tore heavily at him. “If I’m not back in four hours, gal, you wait until nightfall, then head due north. That’s where the firebase sits.” He pointed to indicate the direction. “Travel only at night, and travel quiet.”
Fear ripped through Alex. The horror of Jim possibly being killed or captured overwhelmed her. “Please, don’t do this, Jim. Not for me—”
“Hush,” he whispered, and one corner of his mouth lifted in the semblance of a smile. “You’re worth dying for, but I don’t intend to let that happen. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll throw a pebble or two into this hole so you know it’s me coming back and not a VC snooping around.”
Before she could protest further, he lithely lifted himself up and out of the hole. He covered the hole with leaves and branches and was gone. Real fear ate at Alex’s disintegrating control. She wanted to scream but didn’t dare. Instead she lay quietly, trembling, as fever alternated with chills in her pain-racked body.
Haunted, Alex closed her eyes and spiraled into a nightmare world of the helicopter crash and the resulting fire. In the midst of the traumatic dreams, Jim McKenzie was there, protecting her, taking care of her when she felt helpless as never before. Her father appeared, yelling at her because she’d crashed and kept him waiting. Interspersed were Jim’s lean features, his dark blue eyes twinkling with a smile, his face relaxed. Alex clung to that image of his face, to the innate gentleness she saw in the curve of his mouth and the way he’d touched her as he’d tried to bathe away her fever. How could someone like him be a killer? It didn’t make sense...and then she capitulated to another round of nightmares involving the war that surrounded her.
* * *
Jim tossed several pebbles into the tunnel opening before moving forward on his belly. The sun was midway across the triple canopy, the light diffused. At the entrance, he froze and listened. No sound came from within the tunnel. For an instant, terror deluged Jim. He looked around to see if any of his camouflage cover had been disturbed. Dread had eaten at him all the way to and from the VC encampment. He kept picturing Alex being discovered by the enemy and dragged out of the tunnel. But the foliage appeared undisturbed. Good.
Easing himself into the entrance, his bare feet touching the hard-packed earth below, Jim quickly glanced around the tunnel’s darkened recesses. Relief shattered through him. Alex lay asleep. Thank God. Quickly, he replaced the cover over the hole and sank to his hands and knees. First things first: he had to wash his hands before he touched her wound.
Alex awakened when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her lashes flew open to see Jim crouched above her, a silent welcome dancing in his eyes.
“Jim!”
He managed a thin smile. “How you doin’, gal?” He took the compress off her wound. The flesh was red and swollen.
“Did you run into any trouble?”
“Piece of cake.” It was a lie, but Jim didn’t want to worry Alex. He laid the compress aside and brought out an amber bottle. “Take a look—sulfa,” he announced proudly, and unscrewed the cap. “Direct from Hanoi.”
Closing her eyes, Alex whispered, “I’m just glad you made it back okay.”
“I had the best reason in the world,” he teased her. “I had you to come back to. Now, don’t make a sound. I’m gonna pour some of this directly on the wound. I don’t know how much it might hurt.”
Alex steeled herself and refused to watch Jim. Surprisingly, there was little pain associated with the yellow powder he generously poured onto the festering flesh. He replaced the compress. There was something healing about Jim’s touch, the way he cared for her.
“I had awful nightmares,” Alex admitted. Jim sat next to her after retrieving a bowl of rice. He hungrily dipped into the contents.
“About the crash?”
“No, about losing you.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
She watched him for a long moment and saw ruddiness steal into his cheeks. Warmth flooded Alex, and she sensed his terrible aloneness as never before. Over what? Too tired to pursue the topic, she asked, “Did any VC spot you?”
“No.” Jim wiped his fingers on his pant leg. He pointed to the far wall. “I managed to steal us some more rice, too. I’ll make it for us late this afternoon before dark. I don’t want the light from the magnesium tab to give this place away to some sharp-eyed VC. Hungry?”
Alex shook her head. “Not really. Just worried to death.”
Jim laughed softly, feeling suddenly lighter, better than he could recall in a long time. Getting to his knees, he brought the bowl to Alex. “I want you to try to eat. I know the fever’s got you in its grip, but you’ve got to keep up your strength, gal.”
The way he cajoled her made Alex respond despite how bad she felt. “You should have been a doctor,” she muttered as he helped her sit up, then used his body as a support for her to lean against.
“You know, Ma said the same thing.” He watched Alex pick up a small bit of rice with her fingers. “She said I was good with animals. I always had some critter around the cabin that I was getting well.”
“I believe it. I’m feeling better just because you’re back,” Alex admitted. The rice was tasteless, but she ate for Jim.
Having Alex tucked beneath his arm, resting against him, sent a feeling of serenity through Jim. He sighed and closed his eyes. Her feminine scent, that special womanly fragrance, reminded him of a far less harsh world and sent dizziness tracing through him.
“You keeping company with anyone?” Jim barely realized he’d asked the question. He was afraid of the answer—and disgusted at the foolishness of his asking in the first place. How could anyone as pretty as Alex, and a congressman’s daughter, not be attached to some lucky man?
“Keeping company?”
He blushed and cleared his throat. “Sorry, it’s my Missouri slang getting in the way. Keeping company means going steady or being engaged to some fella.”
With a muffled laugh, Alex shook her head. “Are you kidding me?” When she saw his suddenly intense gaze turn in her direction, Alex felt heat nettle her cheeks. Becoming serious, she said, “No. I used to have a boyfriend, but we parted ways a couple of months ago. What about you? The way you talk about Molly Pritchard, I thought you might be engaged or married to her.”
It was his turn to laugh softly. “No, Molly went on to marry the captain of the football team—a city fella whose pa owns a furniture store. Molly did well by herself.”
“You liked her, though.”
“Yeah,” he said wistfully, “I always had a crush on that little gal.” And then Jim glanced down at Alex. “But I was this ganglin’ boy who tried to go through high school barefoot, until the principal whacked me across the rear with a ruler for not followin’ the rules. Molly didn’t want to be embarrassed by the likes of me.”
Her heart twinged with pain, Jim’s pain. “I’d like you, shoes or no shoes.”
With a chuckle, he glanced down at his dirt-stained bare feet. “You don’t have much choice, gal.”
Their laughter was soft, mingled. Alex glanced up and nearly drowned in the smoky blueness of Jim’s eyes. The change in him was startling, wonderful. The urge to reach up, touch his unshaven cheek and kiss him, was overwhelming. Alex saw his eyes change and grow narrowed. Her breath snagged as she read that intent: he wanted to kiss her, too. The moment crystalized—then dissolved as the haunted expression returned to his face, conquering his need of her.
Returning her attention to the rice, Alex ate in silence. What terrible shadow loomed over Jim?
“What I don’t understand,” Jim said, trying to ease the sudden awkwardness between them, “is why you don’t have a man.”
“Mostly because of my schooling, Jim. I have a straight-A average—my father wouldn’t settle for anything less.” She gave him a wry look. “A congressman’s daughter has to be the best at everything, didn’t you know?”
He heard the sarcasm in her voice. “Has it always been like that for you? Those kinds of expectations and pressures?”
“Sure. Case and Buck got straight A’s without ever cracking a book. Me? I have to study my head off night and day to make those grades. Mother says I have her genes. She struggled through school, too.”
“This nursing, is it what you want to do?”
Alex nodded. “More than anything in the world. I’m a lot like my mother, I guess. She had dreams of being a nurse, too, but she married my father when she was eighteen, so she never got the chance. In some ways, I’m following her dream.”
“I bet you’ll make a fine nurse.”
“If I can get past my reaction to blood,” Alex said wryly. She finished the last of the rice and handed the bowl back to him. Jim helped her lie back down and tucked the blanket around her.
Busying himself with the heating tab and making more rice for them, Jim said, “A nurse who can’t stand the sight of blood? What will you do about it?”
“There are lots of different kinds of nursing, Jim. One area that really intrigues me is psychology. I’ve chosen to go into psychiatric nursing.”
“Oh, the shrinks,” he teased.
“I know our society thinks psychology is for crazy people, but they’re wrong. There are a lot of reasons why humans react the way they do to certain stresses, certain situations.”
“No argument from me,” he said as he held the canteen cup over the lighted magnesium tab to heat the water. The odor from the tab stung his nostrils, and he moved as far away as he could. It was a stringent, stinging odor. The smell of the magnesium could bring VC to the tunnel; it was a risk to do this.
“My ma said my pa was never the same after the big war.”
“Battle fatigue,” Alex guessed grimly. “Even now, I’m getting horrible nightmares that are a part of the symptom pattern. I’m sure I’ll have them for a long time afterward. I learned those things in my psychology classes. I like understanding how our feelings run our mind and vice versa.”
“Well,” Jim whispered, “this war is going to do a lot of damage to every man and woman who gets trapped in it.” Looking over at Alex, he added, “We’re going to need people like you to help us heal afterward.”
The question was on her lips to ask about Jim’s trauma that continued to haunt his eyes and his voice. Alex felt miraculously better. Was it because of the sulfa powder fighting her infection or because Jim had come back safely to her? Sleep snagged Alex, and she told him she was going to rest. This time her dreams were about Jim kissing her, and her kissing him back. The coming days would reveal her future. Would the sulfa drugs halt the infection enough so that she could make it to a marine firebase? Would Jim help her get close to one? Or would she have to try to brave it on her own? The questions were unanswerable, and Alex’s torrid dreams turned dark and threatening.
* * *
“How many days has it been?” Alex asked as she leaned against the tunnel wall. Jim sat opposite her as they ate their daily ration of rice.
“Six.” He pursed his lips. “Your wound’s doing much better. I don’t understand why the infection won’t leave.”
Alex felt much improved, with some of her old strength returning after the sulfa drugs had cut back the fever. “Probably debris still in the wound,” she guessed. She continued to run a fever that would spike over a hundred every twelve hours or so. It was at those times, when she grew chilled and began to shiver, that Jim would hold her in his arms. For Alex it was when she felt safest—even happy.
A chill racked her, and she groaned.
Jim looked up and frowned. “The fever back again?”
Upset, Alex nodded and set the wooden bowl aside. She had counted on the sulfa drugs getting her stabilized enough to make it to the marine firebase.
Jim put her bowl away. Shadows showed beneath Alex’s glorious gray eyes, and her cheekbones seemed to jut out from her increasingly gaunt face. Jim’s conscience gnawed at him more with every passing hour. He had to get Alex to U.S. lines for medical assistance.
“Here,” he offered, “I’ll hold you till they stop.”
Alex nodded and gripped the blanket, wishing mightily for a hot bath and a bed to rest upon instead of a dirt floor. But she kept her wishes to herself. Jim was doing the best he could under the circumstances. As he slid over and settled his back against the wall, Alex moved into the circle of his awaiting embrace. He drew the blanket up over her shoulders and gently placed his lanky arms around her.
“There,” Jim sighed, “that’s better.” How he looked forward to these rare times with Alex in his arms. The last six days had worked a miracle of sorts upon him. Alex was a fighter, there was no doubt. She never whimpered or complained about the pain he knew she tolerated. When the VC were nearby, she huddled in his arms, face pressed against his damp shirt, trembling, but never uttering a word that might give them away. There weren’t many with her kind of courage.
With a sigh, Alex relaxed completely in Jim’s embrace. She pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes, the beat of his heart reassuring beneath her ear. “I always feel safe with you,” she uttered tiredly.
Jim whispered, “I feel whole with you in my arms, gal. Ma always said that when I found a woman who made me feel complete, I’d know how she felt about Pa.”
“I like what we have.” Alex laughed slightly. “Despite the circumstances.”
“Yeah, I sure never met anyone like you in the real world.”
Alex nodded. “I’m sorry this happened, but I’m not sorry I met you,” she admitted softly.
“No?” Jim smoothed down strands of her sable hair. Alex’s face was waxen and glistening with sweat. He could feel her trembling, but she didn’t complain.
“No.”
It was his turn to laugh, only it was a strangled sound that came up his throat. “Gal, I’m a sorry lot in comparison to the men at your college.”
Despite the racking chills, Alex drew away just enough to look up into his shadowed features. The day was waning, the dusk casting a grayish light through the tunnel. Raising her hand, she pressed it against his chest where his heart lay. Risking all the trust they’d built in the last week, Alex said, “Tell me what happened to you, Jim. What was so awful that you think you’re the worst human being on earth?”
He looked down at her small hand resting against his chest. Her touch was wonderful, healing. “I—I can’t, Alex...you’ll think—”
“Hasn’t the last week shown you something about me?” Alex demanded softly. “Please, trust me enough to tell me what happened to you.”
The pleading quality of her voice sheared through him. Jim felt his heart mushroom with agony and guilt—and the overwhelming need to tell someone. Slowly he lifted his chin to meet her beautiful dove-gray gaze. “I’m telling you,” he rasped unsteadily, “you’ll hate me when I’m done.”
Adamantly, Alex shook her head. She gripped his shirtfront with her fingers. “Trust me, Jim.”
Tipping his head back, he shut his eyes tightly and gripped the hand resting against his chest. “Sweet God in heaven,” he said rawly. Jim cared what Alex thought of him. She was the woman of his dreams. And when he held her in his arms like this, he knew he was as close to heaven as he was ever going to get. Because he was surely destined for hell. His time with Alex was severely limited, he realized, hopelessness dashing his dreams. The stupid dreams of a boy, not a man, he decided sadly. He was falling deeply in love with Alex, but it could never be reciprocated. She was a congressman’s daughter, a woman of letters already far more educated than he ever could be.
His mouth growing dry, he released a long, shuddering breath. “Okay, I’ll tell you,” he said heavily. And after he did, Alex would hate him as much as he hated himself.