Page 75 of Coming Home

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“…I can’t help but see that you are very lonely, and that sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart.”~Louisa May Alcott,Little Women

Achill shivered along Nat’s spine, startling her awake. The energy in the room had shifted. Something foul crackled in the air. Noah’s arms were no longer folded around her. Beside her was only emptiness where he’d once been. Clicking the lamp, the inky darkness dissolved in the dim light.

Her eyes moved to Noah’s hunched figure perched at the end of the bed. The muscles of his back contracted and restricted with the rapid intake of breath.

Tension coiled in her body. “Noah?” she asked with tentative gentleness.

There was no response outside of his ragged breath.

Jumping up, she rounded the bed. Her footsteps halted in front of him. Rigidity gripped Noah. The muscles and tendons of his body appeared to be wound so tight that they’d burst. The handsome features of his face were contorted and twistedin a pained, fearful expression. A fog glazed his blue eyes. They looked at her, but there was no recognition in them.

“Noah,” she repeated his name with a soft but firm voice.

Eyes unfocused, he shook his head as if unsure of his own name. His hands gripped his bare knees. The tanned knuckles were almost white. Red spots formed on his thighs from where his fingernails dug into his legs.

Fear slithered through her. She’d never seen him like this. Confusion and terror wafted off him.

Stay calm.She slipped from girlfriend to doctor mode.Assess. Prescribe. Treat.

Nat searched her mental database about what to do when a patient experienced a panic attack, which this clearly was. When panic clutched at a person’s throat, all reality was ripped away. The seized were immersed in their fear. The world distorted into a nightmare.

She needed to pull him away from the nightmare that had snatched him from her. She needed to bring him back to the here and now, where he was safe and with her.

“Noah Wilson.” His name was a stern but tender command.

His gaze was foggy when he looked up at her. Confusion etched across his features.

“You are in a hotel room. Feel the soft sheets beneath you. See the white walls with the framed landscape pictures.”

Noah nodded.

“Noah, tell me what you see.”

He blinked.

“Do you see the bedstand?”

His slow blinks were a response to her question.

“What’s on the bedstand?” She kept her voice steady despite the chaotic cadence of her pulse.

“Lamp.” His voice was shaky.

Nat moved closer. “Do you feel the carpet beneath your feet?” Her eyes moved to the ground, watching his feet brush across the plush carpet. “What else do you see?”

The fog started to lift. Noah’s head turned, and he listed items in the room: TV, dresser, desk, picture, alarm clock, chair, phone, suitcase.

Then his eyes stopped at her. “Nat,” he said, hoarsely as if he’d just woken up.

As if approaching a scared animal, she crouched in front of him. “Yes. I’m here. I’m in front of you in our hotel room in Syracuse.”

She repeated the location to help anchor him. To pull him from wherever he’d been taken to. Not exactly accurate. She knew where he’d been; on that roadside in Iraq.

“Nat,” he rasped, reaching for her.

His hands trembled as he caressed her face. The tender and tentative movement seemed like he was confirming that she was real and not a mirage. His fingers trailed down to her necklace. The moment he touched the gardenia pendant, every muscle in his body loosened its gripping tension.

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