Soldier Page 8

  Groping for the bedside lamp, she fumbled with it until it was on. Her eyes locked onto his chest where the rise and fall she expected did not appear. She shook his shoulder in a futile effort to rouse him.

  Oh God.

  A cold sweat broke out on her skin and she turned him too easily to find his carotid pulse. Finding none, she brought her head down to his lips, looking down his chest again for the rise and fall.

  Nothing.

  Anna scrambled out of bed and fought the panic that was rising. Grabbing his arm, she rolled him until he was on the edge of the bed. Cradling his head, she pulled again until his lifeless body was on the floor. Lowering his head to the floor, she scrambled to his side. Locking her elbows, she began to perform chest compressions, counting with each downward thrust.

  One and two and three....

  After a minute of compressions, she checked for a pulse again. Finding none, she got off of her knees and ran for the phone on the bedside table. Quickly dialing 911, she didn't bother to speak with the operator, but placed the receiver on its side. Tears blurring her vision, she ran into the kitchen, almost slipping at a frenzied stop in front of the junk drawer. Anna found the injector and ran back to Nicholas. There, she plunged the EpiPen into his thigh and began the chest compressions again. Hearing the muted sounds of a voice in the phone piece, she screamed at the phone for ambulance assistance.

  One and two and three....

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  Chapter Eleven

  Six months later

  Anna sat at the kitchen table, looking out into the expanse of the back yard. Vines were beginning to find their way along the lower posts of the fence and, by the end of a year, would probably take it over. She mused for a moment on whether she should allow the change and decided to let nature take its course. Despite the heat of the sun, the grass covered the yard fully. This past summer was full of cursing, almost every weekend a chore in taming the foliage back into submission. Azalea bushes, hibiscus and impatiens flowers were part of the features that had been added to the landscape. The occasional butterfly also dropped by to enjoy the colorful additions and Anna appreciated their company.

  Sighing, she stood to retrieve her notebook. The changes to the yard were among the last she had planned for. The bathroom was up and the laminate floor laid. Although cool weather would probably not arrive for another three months, she looked forward to having the cool floor to walk upon. There was now only one more project to finish.

  When her foot landed upon the squeak toy, she accidentally sent it skidding across the room with a high-pitched squeal. Morgan, the four month old retriever-mix puppy came bounding out from whatever mischief Anna was certain to discover later and rescued it. The eternally happy dog slobbered onto the toy, trying out its recently discovered bark at Anna. Smiling, she reached down to tug at the toy and the dog backed away, his body language playful, despite the mock growls. When Anna stood, a wave of vertigo threatened and she vowed to herself to move up her next doctor's appointment, just in case.

  "Honey, are you ok?"

  Lucy waddled around the corner, her extremely large belly leading the way. She was thirty-nine weeks into her pregnancy, but insisted on caring after Anna as if nothing had changed, despite everyone's protests. Watching her clumsy movements always made Anna smile, especially when she thought of the dedication her friend continued to show.

  Weighing Lucy down were two coffee-based drinks, a fruit smoothie and sundry breakfast sandwiches in a fast-food bag. Anna reached for the bag of food to place it on the table, but then gagged as the scent of the food wafted into her atmosphere. Dropping the bag to the floor, she slapped her hand over her mouth and ran to the bathroom. For the next several minutes, she retched over the toilet, emptying the remains of yesterday's dinner of baked chicken and roasted vegetables. Her stomach lurched one last time and she stood with shaky legs. Groaning, she went to the sink to rinse her mouth. Lucy appeared in the open doorway and murmured sympathetically.

  "I didn't think,” she said. “Was it just the food?"

  Anna nodded and rinsed again. She started to tell her that it was ok, but wasn't feeling that generous. Besides, recognizing the queasiness as still being present, she decided to not risk aggravating it by even speaking.

  "I hate to do this to you, sweetie,” Lucy continued without a trace of apology in her tone. “But I'm famished. Why don't you go lie down while I eat, so you don't have to smell it?"

  Anna's glance shot daggers in her direction but she complied with the request. It was in everyone's best interest. Since becoming pregnant, Lucy was a human vacuum cleaner, eating anything and everything in sight.

  On the bed, Anna lay on her back, listening to Morgan whine on the floor at not being able to climb up onto the furniture. She had quickly come to love the little dog and its antics. Dropping her arms over the edge of the bed, she let the puppy nibble at her fingers and scruffed it behind the ears. Interest in the woman waning after a few minutes, the puppy padded out of the room for another diversion. Disappointed, Anna closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she smiled. Looking down at her was one green and one brown eye.

  "Lucy told me you had another bout of morning sickness. Do you need these?"

  In his hands were a package of saltine crackers and a cold can of Sprite. From the moment she had told him that she was pregnant, Nicholas had been her faithful attendant, his first order of business to take her down to the courthouse where they were married in a no-frills ceremony with Lucy and Harry in attendance. On that day, she had reflected on how very grateful she was that he had survived the harrowing week in the ICU. She determined that nothing more besides her new state of pregnancy could have made her happier.

  He had tried to marry her upon his immediate release from the hospital, but she had turned him down. The sight of the man she had come to love in a short time with what looked like hundreds of tubes coming out of his body had made her scared that she could lose him again. Despite her years of nursing, she had not been prepared for the draining toll that week had placed on her. Only months later, after the home pregnancy kit had been confirmed by her gynecologist, did she agree to marry him.

  Since his release from the hospital, Nicholas had adjusted well. When a neighbor a few houses down came to inquire about who had built Anna's new fence, a handyman and landscaping business was born. Harry had secured identification documents for him and chose to live by the military policy when anyone, including his wife, had asked how they had come to exist. Don't ask, don't tell.

  Anna and Nicholas still spoke on occasion on their guesses about how he had come to be here. As she became less timid about his critical condition, Nicholas would feed her more information, including details of his last travels to his home.

  "But I don't understand something,” she said one night. “That last time, what had happened so that you traveled here? I mean, those other times you were dying. The last time, you didn't die. So how did you get here?"

  He paused for a while before speaking, not certain how much she needed to know or he needed to tell her. On that last trip, Nicholas had concluded with certainty that his life was not worth living without her. Instead of responding though, he leaned in to kiss her, shrugged his shoulders and then smiled noncommittally.

  Now, when she replied that she didn't want any food, Nicholas put the package and can on the nightstand and lay down on the bed beside her. He glanced at his still shiny, new wedding band and began reciting potential names for the baby. Anna interrupted with a question that had been weighing on her mind.

  "So how many children do you want?"

  "Easy. Ten,” he said.

  "Try again, mister."

  "Eight?"

  "Two,” she countered.

  "Pshaw. Seven is reasonable."

  "Three,” Anna growled.

  "Six is a good even number,” he calmly replied.

  "Four is pushing it."

  "Five it is then,” he said wi
th some satisfaction.

  She paused for a moment to think about it and nodded. “Five,” she agreed.

  When he rolled over onto his side and began to trace an outline of her body with his fingers, she lowered her eyelids at him. Recognizing the sultry look, he dipped his head and began methodical nibbling of her neck. Unable to contain herself, she giggled at the sensation and tried to shimmy away.

  "We've already got one on the way!” she gasped.

  "Oh, this is just practice for the next one,” he grinned.

  She cocked an eyebrow at him, but found herself sliding back in his direction anyway.

  The End

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  Author Bio

  Dee Carney began writing short stories in middle school, but did not attempt completion of a novel until almost ten years later—which despite good intentions was never finished. Almost ten additional years later, she challenged herself to begin writing again and the love for storytelling was rekindled.

  Dee lives at home in Kingsland, Georgia with her husband, two dogs and a cat. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology degree, a Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree and a Master of Science in Public Health degree. When not writing, Dee is usually curled up on the couch with a good book!

  Dee welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her at dee@deecarney.com. To learn more about her upcoming releases, visit her on the Web at www.deecarney.com.

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