Chapter Seven
Her residual leg was aching, and Dair removed her prosthesis, rubbing her flesh gently as she sat on the edge of her bed. The door was closed and she had removed the artificial limb after pulling off her boots and jeans. It was nearly nine p.m., and she felt tiredness lapping at her. A hot shower earlier had helped.
Today she’d dealt with a fractious two-year-old who needed to be broke to ride. Dair didn’t believe in scaring a horse while introducing it to a saddle. The young sorrel gelding had been mishandled by the owner out of ignorance, but it didn’t make her job any easier. The horse had knocked her sideways and she’d fallen backward, twisting her leg in the socket.
She massaged her left limb below her knee, and it felt better after a few minutes. Leaning over, she grabbed her light cotton nightgown, which fell to her knees. She didn’t feel comfortable moving around in the house without her prosthesis. Noah had tried very hard not to pamper her, but she decided being protective was just his nature. Most people who hadn’t been around an amputee wanted to smother them with help, when just the opposite was needed.
As she sat there adjusting her soft cotton gown over her shoulders, she couldn’t ignore her growing feelings for Noah. There was nothing to dislike about him. At least that she could see, so far. He was far from perfect, but his imperfections matched her own and they gave each other a lot of breathing room as a result. She was so damned lonely, and he filled that space in her with his quiet, strong, gentle presence. Brows dipping, she smoothed the gown over her knees. Why had she been testy with him at dinner a week ago, over his request about her father? It had pushed a button in Dair and she didn’t like the way she’d backed up on him.
To Noah’s credit, he didn’t take her reaction personally. Instead, he’d just given her a warm look, as if he understood. Dair knew he didn’t. And she knew that Kira and Shay, although they knew about her father, would not gossip about it around the ranch. It was something terribly private and something she was ashamed of.
Running her fingers down her residual leg, she continued to massage it gently. She wasn’t whole anymore. Noah made her question her confidence in herself as a woman. What man would want a woman with half of one of her legs missing? Although the surgeons had done a good job on what remained of her left calf, it still looked odd and, to her, ugly. Dair knew that wasn’t fair to the doctors who had done incredible work to save her limb. Still, she didn’t feel beautiful. Not even pretty. And she wasn’t like other women who had two legs.
Dair decided maybe it was time to push out of her comfort zone. She cared enough about Noah to open herself up to him. There was something in him that gave her the courage to try. What she didn’t want as she walked around on her crutches when she wasn’t wearing her prosthetic, was for him to feel sorry for her. She didn’t want him reacting to protect her like he had in the beginning. Her heart yearned for Noah, and she wanted an equal partner when that intimacy sprung so strongly and wonderfully between them.
Unsure, she unbraided her hair and reached for her brush and comb, which she’d set on her pillow. Just brushing her thick, long hair soothed some of her worry. What would Noah think if she came hobbling out on her crutches, wearing the knee-length gown? He’d see what was left of her lost leg. And it wasn’t pretty like a woman’s lower leg should be. Had he ever seen someone who had such an injury? Dair didn’t think so.
The loneliness ate at her like acid. Waffling, Dair placed her comb and brush aside and picked up the aluminum crutches lying next to her on the bed. She could hear the TV was on, the sound barely drifting down the hall to her bedroom. Noah would often watch some of his favorite shows at night. Sometimes she’d join him, but not always.
Well, it was now or never. Standing on her one leg, she placed the crutches beneath her arms. Taking a deep breath, Dair moved to the door, reached out and opened it.
* * *
Noah was half asleep, resting in the corner of the flowery couch, when he heard a noise in the hallway. Sitting up, he twisted around, looking in that direction. His heart dropped for a split second as he saw Dair on crutches, wearing a pink nightgown, part of her lower left leg visible beneath the hem. Swallowing hard, he anchored. He knew she didn’t want to be pampered. Or suffocated, as she wryly referred to it. Feeling helpless, he saw her lift her chin, their gazes meeting as she came into the living room. How badly he wanted to get up and go help her. But the expression on Dair’s face was set, her beautiful gold-brown eyes looking anxious. She was nervous about him seeing her injured leg for the first time.
“Hey,” he called, “I just made a bowl of popcorn. Want to come and join me while I watch Hawaii Five-O?” Instantly, he saw relief on her face as she slowly made her way across the gleaming cedar floor.
“Yes. The popcorn smells really good.”
There were so many emotions twisting inside him. Noah sat there, watching her progress. “Come on over,” he invited. Other than the lamps on either end of the couch, it was dark. The light caught her gown for a moment and he could see her naked body silhouetted within it. Noah wasn’t going to say anything. He could see Dair was nervous, because she licked her lower lip as she came around the couch. What to say? He shouldn’t stare at her odd, narrow-shaped residual leg, so he forced himself to stay still and wait for her to sit down. He’d never seen Dair in her nightgown before, nor had he seen her with her hair down. She looked incredibly beautiful, that shining black mass framing her face.
Picking up the large red plastic bowl filled with popcorn, he placed it in his lap as she sat down, smoothing her gown over her knees and placing her crutches to one side. Feeling her anxiety, he wanted to do something about soothing her but was flummoxed as to what. “Here,” he said, setting the bowl within her reach, “have at it.”
“Thanks,” she said, barely meeting his eyes.
Noah sat back, crossed one ankle over his other knee, trying to appear relaxed. “You okay with Five-O?” He slanted a glance in her direction, his voice teasing. He saw her smile nervously.
“Yes . . . sure . . . the popcorn is great.”
“I put lots of butter and salt on it. I’m glad you like it.”
Nodding, she said, “I do. It’s a good nighttime snack.”
He began to relax. She leaned into the other corner of the couch and began to settle against the cushions. Noah felt like they’d just passed a test with one another. “Your hair is beautiful,” he said, meaning it. He caught her reaction, her glance of surprise.
Dair touched the strands curled across her shoulder. “Oh . . . thanks . . .” She managed a faint, hesitant smile.
“I always see you in braids. It’s nice to see your hair down.” Noah saw pleasure come to her expression this time, a tinge of pink spreading across her high cheekbones. She was blushing. Wasn’t she used to men giving her compliments? That endeared Dair to him even more. He picked up the remote, un-muting it. “Okay, let’s see if our heroes can solve the next case.”
Dair nodded, smiling, her hands in her lap, watching the large wall-mounted TV.
Noah felt his gut relaxing as the time passed during the one-hour TV show. Dair kept nibbling delicately at the popcorn from the bowl. He’d take a huge handful and eat out of his hand. He saw the stump of her left leg that couldn’t be hidden by the gown. It was shaped and narrowed, and he supposed it was done purposely by the surgeons so it would fit snugly into the prosthetic socket. There were so many questions he had for her, but he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask them right now or not.
The shadowy light brought out Dair’s classic features, those full, soft lips of hers, how large and beautiful her intelligent eyes really were. There was nothing not to like about this woman. Noah couldn’t care less if she’d lost part of her leg. She was attractive to him in every possible way, and he sat there mulling it over, not really listening to the TV show at all.
When the episode ended, it was time for the news. He muted the TV and asked, “Do you want to watch the news?”
Wrinkling her nose, Dair said with distaste, “God, no. All they do is present the latest police report, who killed who, and the dregs of humanity are paraded before me. Neither the local or national news ever has good things to say about people. Only the darkest of the dark are considered newsworthy.” She flourished a hand toward the TV. “If you want to watch it, go ahead. I’ll leave.”
“No . . . stay, I don’t watch it either, for the same reasons.” He flipped the TV off and set the remote on the lamp stand beside the couch. Noah didn’t want her to go. He enjoyed her company even if they sat at opposite ends of the couch. When she lifted her fingers, pushing that thick, ebony mass across one of her shoulders, an ache centered in his lower body. It didn’t surprise him. How many torrid dreams had visited him, of making love to this woman? If Dair knew that, he was sure she’d blush bright red. Nudging the popcorn bowl between them, he said, “There’s a little left. Why don’t you finish it off?”
“No.” She met his gaze, “I don’t want to go to bed on a full stomach. I have enough trouble sleeping as it is.”
“Yeah.” He sighed, sitting back. “I know that one. But I never hear you up at night.”
Shrugging, she said, “I always have my iPad with over a hundred books on it. When I can’t sleep, I read.”
“Oh . . . good idea.”
“Why? What do you do?”
“I get up, come out to the kitchen, make myself some hot chocolate.” He flashed her a boyish grin. “My mom taught me that hot milk at bedtime puts you to sleep.”
“Does it work?”
“Yeah,” he said, scratching his head, “it seems to.”
“Maybe I’ll join you some night. Hot chocolate might put me back to sleep faster than reading one of my books.”
“I’d be more than happy to make up a second cup of hot chocolate for you, so come out, okay?” Because he would. Noah wanted to do things for Dair. Little things, but nice things. She deserved some sweetness in her life as far as he was concerned.
“Thanks . . . that’s really nice of you.” She cleared her throat, her fingers moving nervously in her lap. “Last week at dinner?”
“Yes?”
“You asked about my family?”
Noah saw the anxiety in her eyes again, the uncertainty. “I was out of line, Dair. That’s none of my business.”
“No . . . it’s okay . . . it’s just that”—she opened her hands—“I’m ashamed of my past . . . my father. It’s a sad story. Most people aren’t interested in sad stories or police reports, anyway.”
“Well, I am.” Noah turned, facing her. He saw her expression become confused. “Were you an only child?” he wondered.
“Yes. You?”
“Yep. The one and only.” He smiled a little.
“What kind of family do you have?”
Noah sensed she wanted to share about her father, but he felt her holding back, maybe wanting a comparison, for whatever reason. Why, he didn’t know. But if it made Dair feel better, he’d share some of his personal history with her. Intuitively, he felt that there was something in her past that made her skittish and distrusting of men. It was just a hunch, and he’d need a lot more than that to prove out his instinct.
“My dad, Blake Mabry, owns a small construction company over in Driggs, Idaho. It’s just across the border from Jackson Hole. My mother, Bess, is a rancher’s daughter and they married when they were twenty years old. I came along when she was twenty-one.”
“So? You grew up on a ranch?”
“Yes, my dad has about a hundred-acre ranch, nothing big, more hobby than anything else, because he’s into earth-moving equipment and construction. My mother is a real cowgirl, and together they raised a small herd of quarter horses. I grew up being taught by her how to handle foals, breeding, breaking, training, and such. She’s won national championships in Western riding. I’m not as good a rider as her, and I didn’t like showing horses because I was happier cleaning stalls, rubbing the horses down, and riding them out on trails.” He saw Dair relax, drawn into his narrative.
“Do you see your folks often?”
“I try to get over there about four times a year. I talk to them by phone a couple times a month. They’re pretty busy and so am I.”
“That’s nice,” she murmured, folding her hands, staring down at them. “A nice, happy family. You’re really lucky.”
Noah could feel her tiptoeing around telling him about her family. “Well, maybe sometime, if you wanted, you could drive over with me. I normally stay for a Sunday dinner with them and then I drive back here that night. You’d like my mother’s breeding stock of quarter horses. She’s got some good lines and some beautiful animals over there. I’m sure you two would get along famously.” He smiled a little.
“Yes . . . I’d like that. I like happy endings, I guess.” Dair shrugged, looking out into the grayness of the room for a moment.
“There aren’t many happy moments in life,” he agreed, feeling pain around her. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment and he could feel how badly she wanted to say something. “I always try to look for happy moments in every day. It makes up for the other stuff we all have to deal with,” he admitted.
Turning, Dair studied him, the easy silence strung between them. “That’s just another thing I like about you, Noah. You’re an optimistic person. I guess I’m not. Maybe it’s because of how we were raised . . . the stuff that happens in a family . . .”
“My mother, Bess, is always positive, always sees the silver lining in everything that happens,” Noah said. “My dad is a brutal realist. I guess I got my mother’s optimistic gene,” he admitted with a grin, watching her respond, some of the sadness he saw for a moment in her expression, dissolving. “Life is never easy, Dair, and we know that better than most because we were in the military.”
“Yeah, I guess it compounded my dark outlook on life after leaving for the military at eighteen.”
Noah held her tentative gaze. “What made you feel that way, Dair? I watch you working with the horses and you’re upbeat with them, you praise them, and pat them often with affection.”
Squirming, she looked down at her hands again. “My father. You asked earlier about him?”
“Yes.” Noah felt as if Dair had suddenly become fragile. That shocked him, because she always seemed so low key—confident and quiet, but not broken. An ugly feeling moved through him. Something very bad had happened to her. “What about him?” he coaxed her quietly.
“I’m not proud of it . . . or him. He was abusive to my mom, Ruby, before I was born. And then after I came along, he became much worse. He was always impatient, angry, blew up and did stuff like that.”
Noah tempered his reaction, remaining calm. “What was his problem?”
“He was bipolar. I found that out much later, after he was sent to prison. My mother knew of his issues and tried to support him, but he was out of control most of the time. He refused to take his meds and took recreational drugs, instead. He was fired from jobs constantly, and then he’d come home and blame it on her. Or on me.”
“Sounds rough.”
“I never knew what he’d be like when I arrived home from school. It got so I ran out the door of our house to the bus in the morning, glad to get out of there and away from him. And I hated coming home at night. I used to get stomachaches on the bus as it brought me closer and closer to my house to drop me off. Sometimes, I wanted to throw up . . . sometimes . . . I did . . .”
Noah said nothing, clearly seeing the pain in her eyes. He heard the terror in her husky, hesitant voice. The words were being pulled out of her and she was fighting to share them with him. More than anything else, that told him how deeply her father had wounded her. “Did he ever seek medical help?”
She snorted softly. “No. He said he was fine. And it was our fault he reacted the way he did. We were the ones who made him angry and impatient.”
“You lived in a war zone, twenty-four seven, three sixty-five.”
She snapped her head up, eyes widening as she held his somber gaze. Noah could feel the release within her as he recognized how she really felt but probably had never put it quite that way into words. “Yes . . . a good way to put it, Noah.”
“I’m sorry, Dair. You shouldn’t have had to live through that kind of ongoing battle.” He wanted to do more. So much more. The moment he’d fully connected with how she felt about those years, for a split second he saw the frightened little girl who lived inside her. She’d started out life wounded by her mentally ill, drug-addicted father. And probably no one ever explained his condition to Dair so that she could comprehend his actions. She only realized it after she’d left home and matured.
“Things came to a head when my father broke my right arm in a rage one day,” she told him quietly. “My mother came out of the house and saved me from further injury. She called the police on my father, got me to the hospital, where my arm was put into a cast.”
Noah drew in a ragged breath, rage flowing through him. He knew to show it would only impact her adversely. “You had to be in shock over all of that.”
“Just a little. The cops took my father away and threw him in jail because my mother pressed charges against him. Then she took out a restraining order when he made bail. A year later, he went to trial, my mother and I gave our testimony before the jury, and he was found guilty and given a number of years in prison.”
“What did he do when he got out?” Noah wondered, frowning.
“Left for California, never to be seen or heard from again.” She shrugged. “I was glad. I was so damned scared of him. I had horrible dreams of him coming back to the house and killing us with one of those guns he kept in his bedroom.”
“So from that age onward, until you left for the Army, it was quiet and peaceful? You and your mom lived alone?”
Nodding, she lifted her hands. “It was calm for the first time in my life. I loved it. My mom put herself through college, got a degree, and opened a center for preschoolers. I stopped having stomachaches and looked forward to coming home. Life got a lot better for both of us.”
“I’m glad.”
“My grandmother, Rainbow, is a full blood Comanche. She broke and trained mustangs that she bought from the BLM. She tried to rescue as many of them as she could. So many of them were bought up by dog food factories and they were killed and ground up. Awful,” she muttered, shaking her head and looking away.
“You stayed with her sometimes?”
Dair met his hooded gaze. “Yes. Usually I spent weekends with her. I loved being with my grandmother. She taught me everything I know about breaking and training horses with love and respect.”
“I was wondering who gave you that nice touch you have with the horses,” he said, smiling a little. Noah could see the darkness in the depths of her eyes, that shattered childhood of hers still haunting her to this day.
“She’s my rock,” Dair admitted. “When my father was still around, my mom would send me to my grandmother as often as she could, just to get me away from him and out of the house. She was trying to protect me.”
“Yeah, I understand. Your mother sounds like a good person.”
“She didn’t realize when she married Butch that he was a monster. He hid it from her. She admitted to me just last year that she’d wanted to divorce him a lot sooner, but he kept promising he’d change.” Her mouth compressed. “But he never did. He lied to her all the time.”
“Well,” Noah said gently, “if she loved him, she probably wanted to believe him and help him get better.”
Nodding, Dair said, “That was it, but he killed her love just as he killed mine for him. I feared and hated him in the end. I still do.”
Noah reached out, giving her hands in her lap a squeeze. “You were in a war zone, Dair. You have a right to how you feel about it.” Noah forced himself to lift his hand away from hers. He hadn’t expected the reaction he got from Dair. Her eyes had been sad and dark, but as soon as he’d grazed her folded hands, he saw such hope and a burst of something wonderful that he couldn’t interpret. All he sensed and saw was that she seemed to truly relax and somewhat melt at his contact. He needed time to replay it later when he wasn’t with her, because she stirred up his need. Was it lust? Yes. But it was much more than that. “You know? You’re a pretty courageous woman. Did you realize that, Dair?”
Shaking her head, she gave him a wry look. “Not even. I don’t see myself that way at all. If you’re saying that because of my family background, I’d use the word ‘sur vivor’ instead.”
“Okay,” he said, settling back against the couch, “there’s no question you’re all of that.”
“I always thought of myself as emotionally crippled,” she whispered, unable to look at him, speaking into the grayness. “And what was so ironic when that IED blew up on me and Zeus? Then I really was crippled.” She shook her head and turned, holding his stare.
Sitting up, Noah rasped, “You’ve never been a cripple, Dair. Not in my eyes or heart. People here at the ranch don’t see you like that, either.” Taking a huge risk, he reached out, taking one of her hands from her lap and holding it for a moment. “I see you as a whole, vibrant, beautiful woman. And so do they. I don’t see your prosthesis, either. I know it exists for you, but that metal leg doesn’t even begin to define who you are.” If he didn’t let go of her hand, he was going to move closer and draw her into the fold of his arms, because Noah could see how badly she needed to hear those words he’d just spoken.
“So,” he said lightly, releasing her hand, “don’t keep thinking that way. Okay? Everyone around here admires the hell out of you, Dair. They think you’re so damned strong and brave. So do I. If anything, your rough childhood, and then getting wounded in Afghanistan, has done nothing but bring out the best in you. You’re more than just a survivor, you’re a winner.”