Torin (Hope City #9) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,34
was struggling with something. I finally admitted to Tara some of what transpired, and she helped to get me into counseling. Not only for the traumatic experience of that day but for the care I was having to give and the death I saw. But one of the men fatally injured was someone very special to me.” She inhaled deeply, then let it out slowly, her gaze staying locked on his. “We were actually engaged. We had plans of getting out together, he was going to move to Hope City, and we were going to get married. It wasn’t official… we’d kept things quiet.”
“You don’t need to justify what your heart knows, Erin.”
She offered up a sad smile and nodded. “Thank you for that. And you’re right. I didn’t need a ring to tell me what my heart knew. He died in my arms. His injuries were horrific. Thinking back on it, I’m surprised he lived long enough to be able to speak to me.”
His fingertips resting on the back of the sofa slipped to her shoulder and neck, applying small circles of pressure that he hoped were calming. “I can only imagine that as much as he loved you, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to leave this earth without having a chance to tell you one more time.”
Her breath sucked in quickly, and he was afraid he’d spoken out of turn, but as her chin quivered, she nodded. “Thank you for that, too. No one there understood. I was overwhelmed, but no one knew we were seeing each other, much less that involved. They thought I was just upset over the whole thing. A few friends started putting two and two together, but even they thought I should just move on, not understanding how truly involved we had been. So, I just internalized the whole thing.”
“And then you got out soon after?”
“Yeah. I hadn’t re-upped, so I was already slated to head home soon afterward. So, I got home about a month after Rory. By the time I was discharged he was home, excitedly working toward his future.” She sighed heavily again. “And me? I was stuck.”
“Hard to move forward when your heart is broken and left behind.”
Her gaze intensified as she settled deeper into his cushions. “You always know what to say, but then loss recognizes loss, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah… sometime I’ll tell you when I first noticed the loss in your eyes. But that’ll be for another day.” He ducked his head so that he could maintain eye contact as her chin dipped. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Her gaze flew to his, her eyes widening. “Yeah. But this… no one else knows except my counselor.”
He couldn’t say how he knew the depths of her grief had not been uncovered yet, but his heart clenched at the thought of more. With one hand still resting on her shoulder, his fingertips touching her neck, he reached across with his other hand and laid it on her clasped ones in her lap, surprised but pleased when she loosened her hands and linked fingers with him. It was a small joining, but he welcomed not only the feel of her palm against his but the connection of linked fingers with his heart. “Whatever you want to tell me, I want to know. Whatever you want to lay on me, I’ll help you carry the burden.”
Her teeth landed on her bottom lip, and she bit down, turmoil clouding her eyes. Finally, as though to rip off the band-aid, she rushed, “I didn’t know it at the time, but a month later I discovered I was pregnant.”
He blinked, her words catching him off-guard, his fingers automatically squeezing. He knew she’d left the Army soon after and had been in Hope City for the past year with no child. His heart felt heavy as he feared her next words.
“Shortly after finding out I was pregnant, I began bleeding and miscarried. Obviously, he never knew. No one did.”
“So, you’ve carried this loss all by yourself.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “But that was my choice. Sometimes, I could close my eyes and pretend that my life was different. That we were together, in our home, with a baby. But all that did was continue to tear me apart and make my family worry. And it did nothing to keep John—or the baby—with me. I finally shared part of my burden with Tara and am now confessing everything to my counselor. She’s helping me with the grief and loss. It’s taken