one friend, the man I would trust with my very life, was Ibrahim, and I’d deserted him to an unknown fate that would likely include torture. He, along with Shatha and two small, innocent children, were as good as dead. Knowing this, I found it difficult to live with myself.
Not long after I settled in Cedar Cove I met Jo Marie, a war widow. Her husband had died a hero and I was anything but. I’ve never been in love before, never realized what loving a woman did to a man’s soul. It was as if she became a living, breathing part of me. She was constantly on my mind and, even more compellingly, in my heart. Walking away from her was the hardest thing I’d ever done. It would have been less painful to cut off an arm or a leg. Even now, with a bullet wound in my side, I’m convinced the only reason I’m still drawing breath is because of Jo Marie.
After I was shot and the fever raged, all I thought about was getting back to her. Shatha claimed that while delirious I carried on lengthy conversations with Jo Marie, little of which I remember other than her sweet voice begging me to stay alive. I swear I could hear Jo Marie talking to me, encouraging me not to give up, to make it home to her. She is my sole purpose for continuing this journey, despite the pain and weakness.
When I first met Jo Marie, Paul had been gone less than a year and she was neck-deep in grief. I appreciated the sacrifice Paul had made, and Jo Marie’s, too. For the first year or so I did what I could to help her with the inn. Gradually, I found myself spending more and more time with her. She was smart and funny and opinionated. You have no idea how opinionated. I loved riling her, getting a strong reaction out of her. I think it helped her feel alive again and dwell on something other than her loss.
I don’t suppose it should have come as a shock when I realized I’d fallen in love with her. Not having ever experienced this strong of an attraction, I was never sure how best to handle these emotions. Furthermore, the last thing Jo Marie needed was me playing a lovesick fool. I thought it best to keep how I felt under wraps, so I carefully bided my time. I kept a close watch on her, loving her from a distance and doing my best not to let her know how deep my feelings ran.
I waited nearly two years for her to work out her grief. She’d built a wall around herself and it took that long for her to start to dismantle it. Little by little, I eased myself into her everyday life. Whatever projects she needed done around the inn became my priority, for the simple reason I got to spend time with her. She thought I stopped by the inn at odd times of the day or early evening for her homemade cookies. Not that I’m discounting the appeal of her baking, but I wasn’t there for peanut-butter cookies.
It was Jo Marie. It was always Jo Marie.
I wasn’t exactly sure when I made the decision to rescue Ibrahim and his family. What I did know was that I wasn’t comfortable moving forward in a relationship with this woman I loved when I felt like I had let down a man I cared for as a brother. It didn’t help that Paul Rose was a friggin’ hero. Until I righted this wrong, I didn’t feel I was worthy of this woman.
“Sadeqy.” Ibrahim whispered friend in Arabic. “You’re awake?”
I looked up at him and blinked. It demanded effort to smile.
“Drink,” Ibrahim urged, and, tucking his arm beneath my neck, he elevated my head enough to press a bottle to my lips. Water dribbled down my chin. I drank what I could. More times than I could remember, I urged Ibrahim to leave me behind. I was responsible for holding them up. If not for me, we would have reached our rendezvous point weeks ago. The army had scheduled sites, dates, and times for evacuation. Because of my injuries, we’d already missed three.
Still, Ibrahim refused to leave me.
That cut. I’d abandoned him to an unknown fate, but he wouldn’t consider doing the same to me, despite the danger traveling with me placed him and his family under. He was