The Marine's New Family. Roz Dunbar
a quick glance at her cane.
“Tess Greenwood.” Extending her hand, she thanked him. “I hope the turtle finds a good home.” She couldn’t hide her smile as she remembered the frantic dance the large man had done a few minutes ago.
“He will. He’s going straight back to the marsh near the river where he belongs. Just need to get him and me there all in one piece.”
The officer moved to open the door for her and walked her to her car, keeping pace with her stiff movements.
“I mean it. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. We’re a small community and we take care of each other.”
The sincerity in his voice was obvious and Tess did not doubt for an instant that he meant what he said, but the offer of help grated on her nerves. Everyone wanted to help and she was grateful, yet so irritated by the offers. She was not helpless. Better not to say anything at all. Besides, all she wanted right now was to put her leg up and take a nap. Suddenly, she was very tired.
“Thanks again.” She gave a small wave as she put the car in Reverse and headed in the direction of the cottage.
Less than ten minutes later Tess was sitting in her car looking at one of the most invitingly charming bungalows she had ever seen. From the blue-green patina of the aged copper roof to the pastel yellow paint that seemed to lovingly caress the outside walls, the place was enchanting. Several steps led to a wide front porch, which hosted the obligatory hanging flower baskets and rocking chairs that were so common at the homes in the village.
But this cottage went a step further. The white porch swing attached to the veranda roof was moving lazily with the gentle breeze. A colorful flag sporting a dolphin flapped gently from its perch on one of the white pillars that supported the porch. The velvety green yard was surrounded by a neat white picket fence. At the end of the driveway, directly in front of her, was a low stone wall covered in ivy and attached to the end of the house. The wall had a higher circular opening in the center that appeared to lead to a superbly tended garden.
The moon gate. Livie had told her about it. Legend had it that people who walked through a moon gate together, especially young lovers and honeymooners, were blessed with good luck. The sloping roof of the gate represented the half moon of Chinese summers, and each tile on it stood for long life, serenity and peace. But it was the view beyond the garden that caused Tess to catch her breath. Like the frame on a fine work of art, the round gate perfectly outlined the water glistening serenely a short distance away.
Entering the house, Tess drank it all in like a parched traveler at the end of a long desert crossing. Tranquillity was not a strong enough word to describe the place her sister-in-law had sent her to. Calm, quiet, zen, harmony and serenity were all apt descriptions. But there was something more in this special spot. Love immediately came to mind. It was obvious that the cottage had always been well loved. That showed everywhere she looked. The place was a peaceful oasis that was just what the doctor ordered for helping to heal a desperately hurt soul. At least Tess hoped so.
She wasn’t really concerned with the physical pain she was in. The leg would heal, leaving her with perhaps a slight limp or a nagging ache on rainy days. It was her faith she was worried about. She couldn’t seem to find her faith in God since that awful day. He had always been so much a part of her and now He just wasn’t there. She had given each day to Him. She had always given Him credit for all that happened in her life, good and bad. Bad things happened for a reason, she knew. God had a plan, always. But it defied logic that He would abandon a group of innocent children on the day they needed Him most.
She had no doubt that He was still here, still in this world where good and bad things happened. She just could not summon the strength that would bring her back to Him. Not right now. She was too angry. Would this place help her to find her way back to spiritual peace? Time would tell.
With a grateful sigh, she sank into a large overstuffed blue-and-white-striped chair, propping her leg on the ottoman in front of it. Bringing in the luggage could wait. Exploring further could also wait. Grabbing her cell phone out of her bag, she sent a quick text to Livie, simply saying Thank you, and received an equally simple and quick We love you in return.
Closing her eyes, Tess leaned her head back against the comfy chair. No better place for a quick nap. Exhausted by the day’s events and encouraged by the relief in her leg, she gently slid into sleep and began to dream.
Though Tess fell asleep with a smile on her face, the smile soon faded as she was pulled back into the same horrible dream that had haunted her for months. The dream that replayed those awful events in Afghanistan.
The day had started so well. She and her team had been welcomed warmly when they’d arrived at the Afghan orphanage with their medical supplies. As a member of Hope Corps, Tess had spent the past several years of her life bringing medical relief to underprivileged countries. That day had seemed just like any other. But then it had all gone horribly wrong.
She had just finished vaccinating the four-year-old girl in front of her and was handing her a wrapped piece of candy when she felt the first explosion. Forcefully, she was sucked out of her chair as she instinctively reached for the child, gathering her close. As the air pressure equalized she fell to the floor, tucking the child beneath her in an attempt to shield her from whatever was happening around them.
Acrid smoke began to fill the room, making it difficult to breathe. Dimly, she heard the frightened cries of children and the urgent voices of several adults who were making an effort to comfort them. Tess slowly raised her head, scanning the room. It was difficult to see through the smoke, but she could make out glass everywhere. Glass and chaos. Both covered the room like fine glitter. Several women dressed in loose-fitting burkas were lying on the ground, crying and speaking rapidly in Farsi as they began to get up from where they had been thrown. Two of them started to gather children and usher them out of the room as quickly as possible. Where they were going, Tess had no idea, but she realized it was probably not a good idea to stay where she was. She felt a small wiggle beneath her and heard a faint whimper. The child was struggling feebly to get free. Tess looked down into wide brown eyes filled with fear.
“Are you all right?” she asked the little girl in stilted Farsi, and was reassured by the slight nod she received in response.
Mentally, she went over the layout of the orphanage, trying desperately to remember if there was an exit nearby. Where were her coworkers? Was anyone hurt? If so she needed to give medical aid quickly. Her thoughts were a jumbled mix. Taking a deep breath she murmured a brief prayer. Dear Lord, please help me to think clearly.
Immediately a sense of calm came over her as her thoughts cleared. Pushing herself up to a sitting position, she caught the eye of one of the Afghan women, who rushed over to take the little girl from her. As Tess was handing the youngster over, the second explosion sounded and the world caved in on top of them. The startled look of the woman who had just taken the little girl into her arms was the last thing Tess saw before losing consciousness.
To this day, she still didn’t know how long she’d spent lying there. In her dream, the transition was seamless. One moment, she was watching the world collapse around her. In the next moment, she heard a voice speaking over her head.
“She’s alive.” Tess heard the words before opening her eyes. The voice was deeply male and unfamiliar.
Who’s alive? Me? Am I? I don’t feel alive, she thought fuzzily, trying to make sense of what was being said above the incessant ringing in her ears. She struggled to open her eyes without success, opting gratefully for the blessed darkness that enveloped her again. She awoke to the sound of the same warm male voice, which seemed to wrap around her like a comforting blanket.
“Ma’am, hold on. United States Marines, and we are going to get you out of here.” The rich voice rumbled close to her ear. “Morgan,