It felt surreal to Jesse to be skiing through a winter landscape of happy, smiling people when his mind was stuck in the hot sand of Iraq. All day, the memory replayed itself in his mind. The sudden onslaught of AK fire and the explosion. Fighting to save Christine’s life. The headlong run toward Crash’s Black Hawk.
But Ellie’s words were there, too, and he held onto them with everything he had.
She was suffering, and you dulled her pain. She was scared, and you held her. She drifted into unconsciousness knowing she wasn’t alone.
He’d tried to warn Ellie last night, done his best to define their relationship so that she would understand he had nothing more to give. Even so, she had kept in touch with him all day, sending text messages.
HOW ARE YOU?
He’d replied with a photo of himself drinking coffee.
PROOF OF LIFE.
She’d texted again.
HOW’S YOUR DAY?
He’d replied with a photo of Indian Peaks from the ski lift.
SUNNY SKIES.
Around noon, she’d forwarded a photo her mother had taken of the twins eating French fries with ketchup on their little faces.
MESS MONSTERS. SEE YOU LATER.
That made him smile.
Ellie was worried about him, and this was her way of checking on him. He ought to find it cloying or irritating, but he didn’t. Knowing she was there when he got off work, knowing that she cared, made all the difference.
What had he done to deserve her?
You’d best hope she doesn’t ask herself that question.
He’d made an appointment with Esri after work. She kept some Saturday hours for her clients who worked during the week, and although her schedule was full, she’d agreed to set aside fifty minutes for him when he told her what had happened.
He headed straight to her office from the slopes and found her waiting for him. He got settled in the seat across from her and found himself fighting for words, mind and body revolting against the memories in his head. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“You’re right. It won’t be. But I think it will be worth it in the end.”
He told her what had happened at Ellie’s house, told her about Christine’s death, then shared with her what Ellie had said, how she’d linked his mother, the little Fisher girl, and Christine together.
“Ellie’s pretty smart. She’s got some psychology training as a nurse, I’m sure. And you know what? I think she’s right. This is why I wanted to talk about the impact that saving a life has on you. You seem to live for it, almost as if—”
“It makes up for the people I couldn’t save.” He understood now.
“Exactly.” Esri leaned toward him. “Jesse, you are no longer that little boy who couldn’t help his mom. You’re no longer that helpless child. You’re a grown man, and you’ve done more in your life to help people than most of us.”
Her words made his throat tight, but fuck if he was going to cry in front of her. “Am I crazy?”
“First, no, you’re not crazy. From where I’m sitting, you’re completely normal for someone dealing with post-traumatic stress. In fact, you’re in a better position than many. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“You’re motivated to deal with it, to face it. A lot of people spend their lives running away.”
“But how could I have forgotten her? How could I have forgotten Christine? I cared about her. She died in my arms.”
“The mind works overtime to shelter us from trauma. Think of it this way: Your mind locked that memory away until it felt you were safe, until it felt you could handle facing your feelings about what happened that day.”