Off Limits (17 page)

Jim would be released from Long Binh in late November, according to a recent letter from Lieutenant Breckenridge. He hadn't known the exact date, but said Jim would more than likely write and let her know. Would Jim come and see her? Would he say goodbye to her in one of his letters before he left Vietnam? Everything was so tenuous, and disappointment thrummed through Alex. She couldn't pose such questions to Jim via letters, because of the censors. Alex would just have to wait, the hardest thing in the world for her to do. November couldn't come too soon.

“H
ey!” Gary called from his bed, “Tomorrow's Thanksgiving, Miss Vance. Are you gonna be here?”

Alex stood at the locked doors to the psychiatric ward of the VA hospital where she worked. She smiled at Gary, a twenty-year-old marine who had “gone crazy” over in Vietnam, had summarily been given a medical discharge and had found his way here for help. He sat in his light blue pajamas, painfully thin, his dark eyes burning with the horror he still carried within him.

“You bet, Gary.”

He clapped his hands like a delighted child. “Groovy!” Then he turned and looked down the long rectangular room filled with patients and beds. “Hey, guys! Miss Vance is too gonna be here!”

Sporadic clapping, hooting, hollering and whistles started, and Alex lifted her hand in farewell to her patients, these men that she had come to love with a fierce loyalty. John Sheldrick, one of the hospital orderlies, let her out, promptly locking the door behind her again.

“You're getting out of here late, Alex,” he noted, looking at his watch.

“I know.”

“Is it because of that newby? Grant?”

She picked up her dark brown wool coat and shrugged it over her white uniform. “Yes. How did you know?”

John smiled and shrugged. “I know your interest in that combat-symptom project of yours. Did he answer all the questions you asked him?”

“All of them,” Alex said, pleased. John was a big man in his mid-forties, an ex-army sergeant who had put in twenty years but couldn't leave the realm of military life. “Even you said the questionnaire had merit. Just for your information, Chuck Grant fits the definition for the fatigue syndrome. Satisfied?”

John sank into the squeaky chair, the lights low because it was nearly 10:00 p.m. “Yup,” he said thoughtfully. “You bring an umbrella? It's raining out there.”

“Again?” Alex muttered. She slung her black leather purse over her arm and hunted in a large can behind the desk for her red umbrella. “I never realized Portland had so much rain.”

“It's late fall. What do you expect? Can't snow here, so it's gotta do something depressing.”

She smiled. “I suppose you're right.”

“Hey, what about McKenzie? Ain't he supposed to be coming home from Nam soon?”

Alex straightened and unsnapped the loop around the umbrella. Her heart raced. Since she'd come to the VA hospital on the outskirts of Portland, John had become her friend and confidant. He knew about Jim and his prison term.

“I—I don't know, John.”

“He was getting out this month?”

“Yes.” Alex frowned. “The last I heard from Jim was September. I've continued sending letters, but he hasn't answered them.” Alex's throat ached with the tension of unshed tears. She had tried to find out Jim's release date, but had repeatedly been stymied by military bureaucracy. She had no idea if Jim was coming home, or if he would visit her once he was released.

Scratching his thinning black hair, John muttered, “If I know those brig goons, they probably confiscated your letters before Jim got them.” Then he grinned, his green eyes lighting up. “Hey, now don't you lose that pretty smile of yours. These guys wait each afternoon until you come on shift just to see your smile. You're their sunshine, you know. And their favorite nurse.”

Sunshine.
Jim's word for her. Alex rallied and nodded. “I hope he knows I love him, John. With or without the letters reaching him.”

“If he don't by now, he don't deserve you.”

Alex went over to give John a hug. “You're good for
my
morale, John.”

“Hey,” he chided her, “now don't you give up on this McKenzie.” He thumped his chest. “I got a feeling in here about him. From what you've told me, he's a good man in a bad situation. You deserve each other. Just don't give up hope.”

“I wrote his parents a letter last week,” Alex said. “I told them to tell Jim I wanted to see him, that I loved him.” Did he love her? Alex gnawed on her lower lip, close to tears.

“So you gonna spend your hard-earned day off celebrating Thanksgiving with the guys in here? It's all they've talked about for a week. Are you really gonna eat dinner with them?”

“Yes. I promised I'd bake them some homemade corn bread and pumpkin pies.” Alex glanced at her watch. “Gosh, I've got to get going! I've got four pies to make tonight before I go to bed.”

“I hope those bastards know how lucky they are to have you as their nurse. Maybe I'll get a piece of one of those pies, too? I have to work tomorrow, Alex.”

“Of course you will, John! Bye,” she called, quickly walking down the empty hall. The walls were painted light green, shadowy now that most of the lights were turned out.

In the huge, silent asphalt parking lot, rain fell at a light, steady rate. The streetlights helped her locate her blue station wagon, her first purchase since having a job of her own. The depressing weather settled in on Alex as she unlocked the car door and slid onto the seat. She tried not to think about Jim.

As Alex drove to her rented house not far from the hospital, her heart began to ache in earnest. Was Jim home yet? Her cold fingers gripped the steering wheel even more firmly as she drove slowly through the suburban streets of Portland. Lights reflected off the wet pavement, and darkness hovered.

Pulling into the concrete driveway of her small, one-story home, Alex stopped and climbed out of the car. She hurried up the sidewalk and steps. Inside, her cat, Thomasina, greeted her.

“Hi, Tommy,” Alex said as she shut the door. The cat meowed a welcome from where she sat. Alex couldn't stand living completely alone and had been delighted when Thomasina had found her way to the front porch one stormy night in October. The black-and-gray striped cat with huge yellow eyes had been a permanent fixture since that night.

Hurrying to her bedroom, Alex got out of her white nursing uniform and pulled on a long-sleeved white blouse, a pair of jeans and a red cardigan. It was cool in the house, and Alex turned up the thermostat before she went to the kitchen. Pies had to be made. Four of them! Alex knew that her fifteen patients were starving for a touch of home life. They had no family who would come to visit over the special holiday.

Thomasina leaped up onto one of the four kitchen chairs surrounding a round table covered with a pink linen tablecloth. Alex had planned for the pies and had made the crusts for them last week. All she had to do now was make the pumpkin filling. She turned on the radio that sat atop the refrigerator and hummed along with the soft FM music as she worked at the kitchen counter.

By eleven, Alex sat relaxing at the table, her pies in the oven, baking. Thomasina slept on the chair next to her, and Alex had rewarded herself with a well-deserved cup of tea. With any luck, she'd be in bed by midnight.

The doorbell rang.

Frowning, Alex sat up. So did Thomasina.

“I wonder who that is,” she said to the cat.

Thomasina stared at her, unblinking.

Walking through the darkened living room, Alex switched on a lamp near the flowery print couch. There was no window in the door, so she couldn't tell who it might be. Keeping the guard chain on, Alex cautiously opened the door.

“Alex?”

A gasp escaped her. “Jim!”

He stood uncertainly, dressed in civilian clothes and a dark blue raincoat. “Hi. I know it's late, but—”

“Just a minute...” Shakily, Alex took the chain off the door. Her heart pounding triple time, she pulled the door open. Her eyes went wide as she looked up into Jim's shadowed features, glistening with rain. Anguish seared Alex and her breath caught in her throat. Jim looked gaunt, and she could see the unsureness in his eyes. A slight smile barely tipped the corners of his mouth.

“Come in,” she whispered unsteadily, catching his hand and pulling him into the carpeted foyer. Shutting the door, Alex stood back, shocked. The light on Jim's face showed unbearable tension in his features. His dark hair was wet and small rivulets of water ran down his neck, soaking into his plaid shirt. What hurt the most was a new scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. Alex knew immediately that he'd been badly beaten in Long Binh. Tears came to her eyes, but she fought them back.

“I—I didn't know if you'd come,” she whispered lamely. “I hadn't heard from you for so long....”

“I'm sorry, Alex. I tried to call.” Jim stood uncertainly in the unfamiliar but cozy surroundings of Alex's home. He saw her soft, dove gray eyes grow large with pain. As if realizing Alex was staring at his recently healed injury, he reached up and self-consciously touched the scar on the side of his face.

“I'm so happy to see you,” she quavered.

“I got Stateside this morning—”

“Please, take off that coat. You're wet.” He was shivering, and when Alex touched the coat, she realized the material was soaked all the way through. “How long have you been out in this rain?”

Jim unbuttoned the coat. “An hour...maybe a little longer. I caught the bus from San Francisco to Portland, then walked over here from the station.”

“My God, that's six miles away. Why didn't you call from the bus terminal?”

“I did, but you weren't home.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I took two shifts today to give my friend Gail a chance to go home for the holidays.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he hadn't gotten a cab, but Alex remembered Jim had little money. All of his meager private's pay was going into his savings account in Missouri. She took the coat and quickly carried it to the laundry room.

Returning, Alex saw that Jim was hesitantly looking around. But the moment he heard her approach, his gaze settled on her. She slowed as she approached, wanting so badly to throw her arms around him and hold him...simply hold him. His eyes were shadowy with exhaustion, and there were rings under them. But the moment he gave her that easy, boyish smile, all of Alex's fears melted away.

“Oh, Jim!” She opened her arms and pressed herself to him.

Jim groaned at the unexpected gift of Alex in his arms. All he could do was hold her, feel her breathing against him, inhale her feminine scent and bury his face in her luxurious sable hair, now shoulder length.

“I thought—I thought maybe you didn't want to see me again,” he rasped, his eyes tightly shut, savoring Alex against him.

“No...no, I do.” Alex sobbed. “You never received my letters?”

Jim slowly eased his embrace and looked down at her suffering features. Gently, he caressed Alex's flaming cheek. The tears in her eyes reminded him of beautiful diamonds. “The last one I got was dated September.”

Alex shut her eyes tightly. “Those bastards! I hate them! I hate what they've done to you—to us!” She opened her eyes and drowned in his sad azure gaze. “Jim, I sent you a letter every week or so.”

Anger surged through Jim, and he steadied his grip around Alex. “I never got them.”

Alex dashed away her tears. “You look so tired.” She tried not to stare at the fresh, terrible-looking scar. It showed the marks of at least twenty stitches. Inwardly, Alex shuddered, afraid to know how Jim had gotten it and how much he must have suffered after receiving it.

He tested the air with his nose. “Right now, gal, I could stand a little food in this shrunken belly of mine, and a good cup of hot coffee. I haven't eaten since this mornin'. Whatever you're baking sure smells good.”

Alex rallied beneath his husky tone. “You came to the right place, then. Come on, Jim McKenzie. I intend to stuff you with home-cooked food until you burst.”

Jim's mouth stretched tiredly, and he held Alex's small hand as he followed her into the kitchen. He sat down at the table, a contentment flowing through him that he'd never dreamed of feeling. Alex was wearing a red-and-white checked apron, her lovely hair mussed and framing her flushed features. A cat came over and jumped onto his lap, purring madly. He gently stroked the affectionate feline.

“I wasn't even sure you'd be home. Since I hadn't gotten you on the phone, I thought you might have gone home to see your folks over Thanksgiving.”

Alex shook her head and placed a salad in front of him. “No, I wanted to be here with my patients.” She took Thomasina and placed her on the floor. “They don't have anyone nearby,” she explained as she brought salad dressing from the refrigerator.

“Just like you,” Jim said. He was starving, and said nothing more as he dug into the salad of Bibb lettuce, carrots, tomatoes and bits of purple cabbage. The pleasant clink of kitchen pots and pans were like music to him. In no time, Alex had cooked him pork chops, steamed some frozen corn and taken some previously baked potatoes and fried them up as well. It was a feast to Jim. Within half an hour, he was stuffed like the proverbial turkey.

Alex took the four pumpkin pies from the oven and set them on the counter to cool. She saw the color coming back to Jim's pale face, his eyes look more alert. Taking a seat across from him as he finished some chocolate cake, she sat quietly, just watching him.

“You're really here,” she said finally, awe in her voice.

Jim lifted his head. He wiped his mouth with the pink linen napkin and set it aside. “I feel like I'm in a dream, too.”

“A beautiful dream,” Alex whispered shyly.