Rescuing a Snow Angel Ep. 06

My eyes closed and I found myself standing in the middle of a battlefield, looking up, like Horvath and Shadak said, watching howitzer rounds landing all around me. But I never saw the one raining down upon my own head, until now.

In the post-coital cooldown, Carmen held me close, whispering, "Don't take too long to decide, Jimmy. She won't wait very long for you to make up your mind."

I lay in bed as Carmen dressed and let herself out. I felt empty, perhaps as Gabby felt when I tried to tell her how I felt about her -- but just could not find the right words or right four-letter word. It was a simple one, not difficult to pronounce, not one that caused shock to the faces around you; just one that mattered most. It escaped me when I needed it the most. Even now, as l lay here, I'm not sure I can say it and mean it.

Picking up the phone, I called and asked for Sally. 'No more state-of-denial shit' I decided as the call was transferred to her line. When she answered, I fought to get my words out.

"Sally, I didn't have a client meeting this afternoon," I said, as soon as she picked up, even before she said hello.

"I figured that, Mr. Rawlings, when I saw the two of you in the park holding hands," she replied in a business tone -- stated just as a matter of fact.

"Sally, Carmen came to find me after I ran out of the diner. I was having a panic attack and couldn't handle what was going on inside. Carmen and Gabby found me last winter in a similar situation and came to my aid. That's what she did again, today."

I spoke as calmly as I could trying to assure her what she saw ... was not what she thought she was seeing. At least at that time, it wasn't. The old Army intelligence lines of operations were blurring again as I tried to separate truth from the other military version of truth. At this point, it didn't matter if she accepted or rejected the truth. What did matter was my forthrightness and openness with her about my panic attack. The conversation, that had started off curtly, ended with what sounded almost like tears dripping onto the receiver as I asked her to transfer my call to her dad.

"Mr. Worthington," I began, "I need some time off -- a week, maybe. I need to check-in with the VA for -- some help."

"Something to do with the Texas Grifters, Jim?" he asked quietly.

"No, sir. I've been having panic attacks more frequently. I also think I broke someone's heart and I need to find out why I can't tell her what she wants to hear. The two may be related." I don't really know why I added the last statements for his consideration. I guess I just wanted a friendly ear to lean on for a moment.

The colonel's voice went on to ask in a quieter voice if it was someone he knew. My response was, just someone he did business with. After a short pause, he responded, "Take as much time as you need. Breaking a heart isn't something that gets fixed easily or in short order, Jimmy. Dealing with demons in the night isn't either. If you find a cure for that, be sure and let me know."

I found myself, parked in the VA lot, watching people come and go. It was reminiscent of my first day of my master's degree program, fearful of becoming part of the normal educational setting and leaving my military background behind. Today seemed to be repeating itself. Until finally, I opened my truck door and walked into the in-take center. Presenting myself to the young attendant at the counter I said, "I need help."

Five days had turned into six weeks before I checked myself out. I'd found a support group within the counseling program -- something I didn't know that existed before. With the guidance of a new 'major' and the support program I thought I was ready and better equipped to handle what I knew I had to face.

My return to work was quite different than when I departed.

When I walked in, intent on seeing Worthington, I saw movement in the OPS room. It was Gina Anderson shuffling papers around the big conference table, preoccupied with organizing a major report, I guessed. That meant her position was no longer vacant. Mine, on the other hand, might be. I moved past the door and into HR to speak with Sally. This would be my first contact in my self-created Three-step program following Rachel's lead; my rescued snow angel.

Her twelve-step program seemed to be working for her -- so I was willing to give it a try. My focus was on just three-steps: one, expelling my own demons; two, finding out what the falling out with Gabby was about; and three, stabilizing my job relationships. Maybe, not in that order. The second one had me on edge anytime I thought about tackling it. No one at the VA had answers on how to deal with women. The first, expelling demons, I did get some help there. I left with some renewed confidence in fighting them.

As I entered HR, I saw Sally's usual desk decorations were gone. The redhead that worked behind her, smiled at me as she looked up. "Hi, Mr. Rawlings! How was your vacation?" she asked.

"Fine. Just ... It was fine. I'm looking for Sally," I managed to get out. My guess is Worthington had laid down a cover story for my absence by the comments Red made.

"Sally! Well, wow! She's on her honeymoon! She and Chris Mortenson left yesterday! Gone to Hawaii. Sure would be nice to be there in all this cold weather, too, I bet."

Red's voice chattered away filling me in on how nice the wedding was and all. "No one even knew she was engaged! They kept it a big secret, right up to the end almost. Um, guess it was about three weeks after you went on vacation. Seems like it anyway!"

"Mr. Worthington?" I diverted the conversation asking if he were in, as her chatter seemed to die away.

"Oh, he's upstairs. I'll let him know you're here. He sure will be glad to see you, I bet!"

Red's banter, about the wedding, continued to drone on and simply became bees buzzing in the background as I mentally processed the sudden wedding plans. I was beginning to think that work might not be the easiest of the three steps to repair with the changes I had just encountered.

Standing in front of the elevator, I paused, just watching the buttons light up. "Welcome, back, GI Joe!" Gina's perky voice broke my thoughts as she slipped around me and pressed the up button. Her arms were loaded with papers and we stepped in together. I found myself tightly gripping the hand rail.

"First time in an elevator?" Gina seemed to sense what was going on.

"First time, in one without windows." I breathed deeply as the last sliver of light disappeared, closing the confining tiger's pit. I could feel the white knuckles syndrome flexing its muscles. 'Not today,' I said to it, as I closed my eyes while picturing Gabby's smile, until I heard the door open. Gina didn't get off when the elevator stopped at the second floor as she intended, but rode up to the fourth with me.

"Thank, you," I smiled, as I got off. She nodded. "Any time, blue eyes," she chuckled, as she pressed the down button. I caught sight of a spry grin spreading across her face, right before the elevator door closed for the journey down.

Worthington and I had a long talk. It seemed as if I had managed to piss off not one, but two women -- three if you count Carmen, now that I think about it. He didn't harbor a grudge over it, though. He knew from long conversations with Chris that he cared for Sally and was waiting for his business to stabilize before asking her to marry him. Worthington also knew, from Sally's conversations, she had her eye on me. Sally told him about how she found me with 'another woman' and, well, that led to getting married to Mortenson. Worthington also knew more about my background than he had told Sally. He wasn't the kind of man to let his daughter get hurt. So, knowing that I hadn't tried to take advantage of Sally, seemed to be a safety pin in my pants as far as my job was concerned.

With Gina back to work from maternity leave, I asked if he wanted me to begin looking for a new job. His answer didn't jump right out and say it, but I knew by the lack of speed with which he responded, it was a consideration I might want to undertake. Rather, his remarks foreshadowed other events to come.

"Not at the moment, Jim. We have a major case about to start. It involves Fish, again. Since you ran the OPS on the Texas Grifters' case, I think you should oversee this one as well. Besides, Gina can't put in the OT that's needed having the new baby and all. You and Fish seem to have a good relationship. Airborne Rangers meld together kind of like we Green Berets." Fish had made it through twenty years before retiring and also had ETS'd out of Ft. Bragg about the time I was headed to the jungles in Vietnam. He got lucky. His head was still clear and his ghosts let him sleep at night.

Returning to the ground floor via the stairs, I joined Gina. She led me, waist deep, into the muddy waters of the Muller's lumining accounting debacle. My mind wandered, but I redoubled my effort and stayed in step with Gina. We gathered documents and analyzed the stats. The intense focus time helped hone my thoughts and to help with mapping strategies for the case. As the numbers churned, I was also able to focus on Gabby during the process searching for a way to address my four-letter word vocabulary. I had been doggedly crunching numbers all afternoon and had paid no attention to Gina's desk radio playing softly in the background. Until I heard the second verse of the lyrics of a song by Tina Turner. 'What's Love Got to Do with It' slammed the brakes on my mental processing powers.

It may seem to you that I'm acting confused

When you're close to me

If I tend to look dazed, I've read it someplace

I've got cause to be

There's a name for it

There's a phrase that fits

But whatever the reason you do it for me

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

What's love but a second-hand emotion?

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?

The lyrics seemed to hit a nerve like being plugged into an electric socket, the words reverberated through my brain.

The 'word' isn't 'like;' it's 'love.' Idiot! No wonder, Gabby was so angry with me!

Tina Turner's words struck a discordant memory in my last conversation with Carmen.

Four days before, her words were, "Jimmy, if one day you find a substitute for 'I like her' then come to her. She has something to share with you. My mama used to tell us that most people never realize when it hits them. It just seems to take over their minds and all their thoughts start revolving around thinking about the other person. Is that where you are, Jimmy?"

I had tried to check off two items on my three-step list. I missed contact with the first, Sally, and had some success with her father on the second one. The most convoluted one, I would deal with this evening. It had taken more preparation time to sort out the details of how to handle it, but come hell or high water, I planned to act. After all, the worst that could happen is that I found myself sitting in the crater hole of the howitzer round, comfortable in knowing I died in a valiant effort.

'Yes, Carmen, that's exactly where I am. Right there with Tina Turner. Right under the howitzer round as that four-letter word that has finally landed -- 'I, love her,' is what she wanted to hear, Carmen.' That thought screamed like a drill from some distant Airborne Ranger cadence.

The chaotic jumble of thoughts roiled in my mind as I drove across town. Like a loon, I was holding an animated conversation with myself. People watching me drive by them must have been seeing a real nutjob on the highway. I found myself surprised at turning into the Martinez' lot so soon. I'd made it through all six traffic lights and couldn't remember if any of them were green or red. It's no wonder so many people get killed on the road when they don't focus on their surroundings!

'Idiot -- now can you, will you say it?' I heard my ass-kicking, self-chastising, Freud's id, raising Cain with itself, as I turned the ignition key. I listened to my Chevy engine die, replaced by the sound of Blacktongue's growl circling my truck. Carmen was right -- I am as dumb as a box of rocks, when it comes to women!

The growl lowered as I stepped out, the raised hair on Blacktongue's back laid down, and finally, as he sniffed me, the ninety-mph tail wag returned. "Yeah, buddy, I missed you, too!"

Carmen answered my knock on the backdoor. When she opened the door, it was with an exchange of pensive looks as our eyes met. Normally, it would be a wisecrack about not letting in an encyclopedia salesman that would start our crazy way of greeting one another. Today, there was no banter. Her facial expression was all seriousness. Mine, also.

"Gabby?"

"She's resting."

The remark was a little unsettling. It wasn't like Gabby to be down so early in the evening. I hazarded a query out of concern. "Is she okay?" If she wasn't my action plan would just have gotten rear-ended.

"Just tired, Jimmy. She needs ... well just tired. It's about time for her to wake up anyway."

"Have something to tell her, finally?"

"Yes. I do. Maybe you too, afterward. Depends on her, though," I replied. Carmen's response was just a nod as she said, "Yes, I suspect it does depend on what you tell her and what she has to tell you, too. In that case, maybe you should be the one to wake her. It'll give you two some alone time, without me in the way."

She wasn't asking me if I wanted to wake her; it was a statement of fact that I would be doing so. I clearly understood that, as she motioned for me to find that familiar room down the hallway. The one where three months ago I left her in tears. The room that I had to return to now and find out if there is a meaningful life for me; after learning that I was as dumb as a box of rocks.

Standing in the open doorway, I looked in, trying to decide to knock or just step right in. I stood watching her; head on a pillow, facing toward the wall, she was curled up and rolled into a bundle of bedding. Instead of a nineteen-year-old woman, she looked for all intents and purposes like one of those Christmas cards of a sleeping child tucked away in bed and waiting for Christmas Day to arrive. I eased myself down onto the corner of the bed, to sit, and watch for a while longer.

The movement of my sitting stirred her. She stretched, still half-asleep, half-awake expecting it to be Carmen, I'm sure. Her head poked out of the covers. Her sleepy face seemed more rounded than I remember. When her eyes blinked awake at the recognition that I was there, they burst wide open, alert, as her body gave a start.

"Jimmy!" came a soft gasp.

"Hello, Gabby." I whispered, and quickly added my practiced speech, before she could respond further.

"I do like you ... but ... every day that I get to know you, I really, really love you, more and more."

I managed to follow the plan. Reaching into my coat pocket, I retrieved a small box while saying, "Gabby I've tried opening this twenty times, but with my fingers the way they are I ... need your help in opening it."

Her trembling hands had nearly as much trouble as mine, as she opened the box.

Two tears formed, one in each eye, and slid down her round cheeks. I thought for a moment the torrent of tears was about to return, but it didn't -- just a sniffle holding back the flow.

"Gabriella Anna Maria Martinez, will you marry me?" I stammered, barely getting out the words.

There was a long, pregnant pause before she answered. "You're not saying that because of something else, are you? Something maybe Carmen told you? Because if you are, you don't have to!"

"Carmen told me that I was as dumb as a box of rocks and that my vocabulary needed improvement. Outside of that, she hasn't told me anything else. Gabby, what else should I know?"

Her eyes widened, ignoring my question; she posed another of her own. "Jimmy, what about children, do you want children?" she asked, as she bit her lower lip waiting for my response.

"I ..." the words just didn't come, as I found myself jolted at the prospect of a child. My mind flashed to growing up as an orphan; at peering in Gina's blue stroller to see the world's smallest helpless soul. At how I thought it might be impossible to pick up and hold such a small bundle ... even at making sure that I put a diaper over the top, if it was a boy.

Somewhere in those chaotic thoughts, my newly found optimism came shining through. It managed to push those moments of chaos out of mind, letting a smile spread across my face.

"If you promise to change the diapers, I'd say, 'yes' to as many as you want." Was what I finally managed to blurt out.

"Yes? You're saying yes to having babies, Jimmy?" Her voice seemed to rise several octaves.

"Yes, to babies, Gabby." I confirmed, "Just remember I don't have any experience with that, you know my history."

"Yes, Jimmy, I will marry you! And I promise to change the diapers and Carmie will promise, too!"

I was beginning to feel a sense of relief that she and I seemed to be on track. Baby ... okay, there would be time for that, it would take some time to figure out how to become a parent, care for an infant. To plan all those details about doctors and dozens of other things that I couldn't process in the moment; including Carmie.

Still processing all those thoughts, I felt a sudden lurch as Gabby sprang forward and wrapped her arms around my neck with a squeal of delight. The warmth and fullness of her breasts pressing against me felt wonderful. Even more wonderful as her hand slipped gently along the inner curve of my thigh and came to rest on a long-neglected member of the family. At a gentle tugging on my belt, I didn't have to spend any time at all on understanding what that meant.

Gabby's nightgown landed at the foot of the bed next to my clothing. Her motions were urgent, matching my needs as well. This was not the time to be long on foreplay! That could come in round two. Kissing my way downward, I found her very wet and her opening readily relaxed. The nudge of my thumb around the slick inside rim of her clitoral hood rang out a guttural moan as her thighs clinched around my head.

"Baby, I can't wait. I need to be inside of you, right now!" I whispered, as I tried to restrain myself from taking her, immediately.

"I know. I'm really horny, too, but no bitch-pounding moves, Jimmy; just gentle, sugar," she answered in reply.

"Your vocabulary sure sounds like your sister's! Did I ask the right twin to marry me?"

I huffed as my cock inched slowly into her slit and I tried to move as gently as possible. It was as gentle as I could make it, given it had been too long without sex with Gabby. Her body roiled with passion equal to mine. And as I came, I felt myself giving over to ecstasy, as I bucked into her soft, fleshy mons. The moves were enough to send her tits rocking back and forth several times; even the bed frame picked up the rhythm and squeaked with delight, as I groaned aloud with it. I kept up the drive for a few moments longer, and felt Gabby grabbing handfuls of sheets and coming prior to her own resolution. Catching my breath, I rolled to her side, cradling her softly in my arms. It seemed to take Gabby a long time to wind down. I found myself grinning, thinking, 'I'm glad she felt the ground quake, too!'

"Jimmy, I love you, too," Gabriella's breathy voice whispered next to my ear. "Jimmy, I meant what I said about not having to marry me," she added softly.

"Gabby, your sister says I'm as dumb as a box of rocks, so excuse me, but what the fuck? I love you! You love me, you said. And I really do want to marry you. It took me a while to figure that out, but I finally did. So, are you ... wanting to back out of it? Why?"