Page 73 of A Hero Comes Home

“I will be. Go take your shower, or a bubble bath. I should be fine by then.”

“Don’t feel like you have to prove anything to me, Jacob. Lie down. Sleep if you need to.”

“Is that what you think I’ve been doing? Trying to prove something? Am I that pathetic?”

“Don’t be so sensitive.”

“Sensitive am I now, too?”

“Really, Jacob, sometimes you can be such an ass. Don’t spoil what has been a good day.”

He mumbled something about good being in the eye of the beholder and he had only one eye.

“Too bad you weren’t around last Christmas, Mister Grumpy, you for sure would have been voted Grinch of the Year.” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head at him. “Are we having a fight?”

He grinned, realizing that he had been acting like an ass, all because she hadn’t mirrored back his “I love you.” And because he hurt like hell, physically. He’d overdone it today. “Only if we have makeup sex afterward,” he responded.

“Deal!” she said.

“Keep in mind, the kids should be back by noon. That leaves us time to do the deed only another, oh, five or six times.”

“Dreamer!” She smiled. “I’m going to take a bubble bath, and, no, you are not invited to join me. Relax. When I get back, I have a surprise for you.”

“I’m not sure I like surprises. Give me a clue.”

She stuck out her tongue and showed him the ball of gum she’d been chewing. Then, before he could say something else snarky, she turned on her heel and sashayed away, giving a little extra wiggle to her hips.

Jake stood and shrugged out of his clothes, then slipped nude between the sheets. The pill was already beginning to take effect. That on top of the wine he’d drunk with dinner, and the overall exhaustion of a full day of driving and rehab, caused him to sink into almost instant slumber.

Unfortunately, for only the second time since he’d been home, he felt himself on the brink of one of his nightmare attacks, this one of the red-tide rage variety. In other words, a monster. He tried to fight it off, but couldn’t.

In his dream, he saw the ice pick in Nazim’s hand. The point was getting closer and closer to his eyeball, which was being exposed by the grimy fingers of Nazim’s assistant.

“Tell me the names of your contacts in Balakistan. Just one. And then we’ll let you go home.”

“My name is Jacob Lloyd Dawson. Rank: captain. Identification number . . . what? No, I don’t know any traitors. I’ve told you that a million fucking times. Put the pick away, you sonofabitch!”

And then he screamed.

“Rock-a-bye, Baby” . . .

Sally had finished her bath and was applying scented lotion to her legs and arms. The OBX sun was brutal at drying out skin, even when sunscreen was used religiously. That’s when she heard Jake’s scream. A piercing, agonizing, drawn-out cry that tore at Sally’s heart.

Without bothering to grab a nightshirt or any other clothing, she rushed into the bedroom. Unlike the other time when Jake had been flailing about on the floor, seeming to be fighting off some attacker, now he was drawn up into a fetal position on the bed, moaning continuously. He was totally naked. Even the eye patch was off and lying on the floor.

She got onto the mattress behind him, and tried to spoon her body into his. He was so stiff, it was as if his limbs were frozen, like an obscene statue, into this pose. Even so, she pressed her breasts against his back and tucked her knees behind his knees. She managed to get one arm under his neck and wrap her other arm around his waist. She crooned against his ear, “Jacob, it’s all right. You’re home. It’s all right. You’re safe now. Please, honey, wake up.”

Sally felt totally ill-equipped for this situation. She had no idea what a person should do for someone suffering from PTSD, and there was no doubt in her mind that this was what was happening to her husband. She would have to Google this tomorrow, along with all her other sleuthing, or seek expert help.

But could she do that behind Jake’s back? Would he resent her for what he would consider interfering?

Did it matter? He needed help, that was for certain.

So, she did the one thing she knew how to do. Sing. And the only song she could think of at the moment was the silly one she used to sing to the boys when they were overtired and grumpy and unable to fall asleep. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .” The whole time she sang, she rocked back and forth, back and forth against him until he rocked with her.

Eventually, she felt Jake’s body relax, and then finally shake a little. At first, she worried that he was shaking with shock. But then she realized that he was shaking with suppressed laughter. “Are you trying to torture me, too?” he said, turning onto his back. An inadvertent acknowledgement that his nightmare had indeed been about torture.

She was on her side, leaning over him. “Are you okay now?”