Page 46 of Digit's Deflection
“Treven, maybe you should call for a doctor? Or someone who can give her something for the shock? I’ll stay with her.” He looks up at me, indecisive, unsure what to do next. “Baby, we’ll be fine for a couple of minutes while you sort something out,but I definitely think your sister needs something to calm her system.”
“You’re probably right.” He nods, getting to his feet.
I watch as he paces away from us, to contact someone, I assume. Turning my attention back to Sheri, I sink down beside her, facing her, and wrap her tightly in my arms. For the briefest moment, she resists, before melting into my embrace and letting out the most heartbreaking wail of anguish I have ever heard.
I’m sure the sound will live in my head forever.
The amount of sheer, raw agony and despair that pours from her small frame is painful to witness. But I hold on, offering her all the comfort I can with my embrace, rocking her gently as I hold space for her to grieve in this moment.
Time has no meaning as we sit on the floor in Sheri’s living room as she gives vent to her emotions. I don’t even hear the doorbell, so I jerk in surprise as Treven squats beside me.
“One of the base doctors is here.”
I nod. “Will he be able to administer something without me having to let go?”
He looks up and past me, and I hear a voice reply, “Yes, ma’am. I should be able to do so as long as you can stop the rocking motion long enough for me to get the jab in.”
“I can do that.”
Not wanting a sudden stop to draw Sheri’s attention, I slow the rocking until eventually I stop. I replace the rocking with stroking her hair, continuing to murmur to her. Treven holds the sleeve of Sheri’s T-shirt out of the way, and the doctor administers a shot.
She’s so lost in her grief that she barely even registers the injection. But as soon as the needle is clear of her arm, I resume the gentle rocking, hoping to lull her into the welcoming arms of the sedative.
Thankfully, it appears the injection is a strong one as minutes later I feel her body become heavy and her tears slow. And then she’s out, her full weight leaning on me. It’s uncomfortable, but I can’t find it in my heart to let go. I continue to stroke a hand down her silky soft hair, where her head rests on my shoulder.
“Here, princess, let me have her. I’ll carry her to the bedroom.”
“Stupid question – I’ve never had to deal with this before – but do you think we should put her in their bed? Do you think it might upset her to wake in her marriage bed, knowing John will never join her there again?”
“Shit, that’s a good question. One I don’t have an answer to but, just in case, I’ll go lay her down on the bed in the guestroom.”
I don’t know what the future holds, for any of us. But I do know that I’ve already lost so many years with Treven. I don’t want to lose any more. I don’t want to find myself in a situation like this one and regret not having taken any and all chances I have to be with this amazing man.
If he’ll have me back, I’ll do everything humanly possible to show him he is as loved and cherished as John ever was.
23
DIGIT
Two weeks later
Maverick’s service is packed. Family, friends, teammates, colleagues, and a host of people I don’t know, from a life he built in suburbia with Sheri and their kids, are united on this one day as we lay him to rest.
Having been killed in the line of duty, “protecting the asset”, he is receiving a burial with full honors. The whole nine yards. A fitting send-off for a man who was dedicated to serving his country. But none of that makes one iota of difference to his shattered wife or kids.
The Last Post, the Twenty-One Gun Salute, the folding and handing over of the flag, none of it will bring back a man that meant the world to them. When all the pomp and ceremony is over, they’ll be left alone to deal with their grief. The world will move on, and they’ll be left to pick up the pieces of a life that is forever altered.
My sister, who’s always been a big personality, seems tiny and vulnerable as she sits front and center, the children beside her. They, too, seem so much smaller and more fragile as they struggle to understand what’s happening around them.
The only thing keeping me anchored today is the warm weight of Liora’s hand in mine. Theonlypositive to have come from this entire clusterfuck is that it’s fast tracked us getting back together.
While I can’t speak for Liora, I know for myself that Mav’s death was an eye opener. Yes, I’ve had colleagues die in action, but this one hits too close to home to be quietly swept under the rug. To be ignored. To pretend it can’t happen to me. And I refuse to waste another second.
Liora and I have lost years already. I have no intention of losing any more time with her.
So thoroughly lost in my thoughts and memories, I don’t realize the service is over until Liora squeezes my hand.
“Where’d you go, baby?”
