Part 13
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"No-o-o-o! No-o-o-o! They can't be dead! No-o-o!" The scream crescendoed into a shriek of terror. "No-o-o! Not again! No-o-o! Peter-r-r!" The last was a heartbroken wail.
Peter threw back the covers and scrambled out of his makeshift bed, stumbling toward Kacie's bedroom. He burst into the room and flipped on the light switch, not sure what he would find.
Kacie was sitting bolt upright in bed, the sheets a tangled mass about her. Sobbing hysterically, she shook so violently the headboard rattled against the wall. He crawled in beside her and gathered her into his arms. She struggled against him while he tried to reach into her terror and pull her back to reality.
"Kacie, Kacie, it's me. It's me. You're OK. You're OK. Sh-sh-sh." He rocked her and stroked her hair, holding on tightly.
She continued to cry in long, heartrending sobs, clinging to him like a child.
He held her head close to his heart and continued to murmur words of comfort. "Sh-sh-sh. It's OK, Honey. It's OK. It was just a bad dream."
"No, it was real. It happened. It happened," she wailed against his shoulder. "They're dead. They're dead. I saw it. I...saw...it!" Her voice trailed off hoarsely. "I saw them again. And-and then it was you."
He didn't know how long he held her before her violent trembling became an occasional shudder and the sobs turned to muffled hiccups.
She at last sagged in exhaustion, nestling deeper into his embrace.
"You OK now?" he asked softly.
"Yeah, I think."
"You wanna talk about it?" He gently rubbed her back, reluctant to loosen his hold.
"No. Not yet." She turned her head to rest the other cheek against his chest. "Just ho-hold me."
He stroked the sweat-dampened hair away from her temple for a few moments before she pulled out of his embrace, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest as she hid her face.
Reaching over to the bedside stand, he pulled out a handful of tissues and handed them to her. She wiped her eyes first, and then blew her nose.
Turning to look at him with tear-swollen eyes and flushed face she said, "Guess I owe you an explanation." As he started to disagree, she shook her head. "No, really. I-I want to. You probably thought Jack the Ripper had gotten into my room."
He looked at her somberly a moment and tenderly caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Why don't I make us some tea, while you get cleaned up?"
She laughed shakily, examining her sweat-soaked nightclothes. "Is that your tactful way of telling me I don't look so hot?"
"That's a suggestion from someone who has had more than his share of nightmares." He pulled her head toward him and kissed her forehead. "Take your time, Kace." He slid out of the bed and padded out the door.
Glancing down at himself, he abruptly realized that in his haste to get to Kacie, he'd climbed into bed with her wearing nothing more than his sports briefs. His body started to remember the feel of a woman's soft body in his arms, and he swiftly steered his thoughts into safer areas. "Stop that," he growled at the offending member. Stopping at the couch, he grabbed his jeans and stepped into them, fastening the snap and pulling up the zipper as he strode into the kitchen. "Tea. You're thinking about making tea."
Ten minutes later Kacie emerged from the bedroom dressed in a comfortable set of old sweats. Her dark hair dangled in damp strings, framing a face with eyes still red-rimmed and swollen.
Peter sat at the kitchen table with a pot of hot water, container of tea leaves, and two cups on saucers.
"How's your arm?" she asked.
He glanced up at her in surprise, then twisted his head to examine his arm, noting that he'd lost the bandage either during the night or when rushing to Kacie. The wound was exposed and revealed a neat row of stitches and the customary yellow stain of antiseptic wash. He shrugged and grinned crookedly. "I forgot all about it. Doesn't hardly hurt at all."
"We need to get a fresh bandage on that. The last thing you need is for infection to set in." She started after her first aid kit, but he grabbed her hand to stop her.
"Sit down. It'll wait. I'm not going anywhere." She hesitated a moment and he tugged on her arm insistently. "Come on; sit down."
Obediently, she sat across from him, picking up her teacup with both hands and swallowing a sip of the fragrant brew.
Peter watched her intently and drank from his own cup before gently prompting, "Ok, now. Out with it." His hazel eyes were dark with concern as he waited for her to start talking.
She stared at the cup in front of her a moment and then spoke slowly. "You heard me tell Annie and the girls about my father and brother being killed?"
He nodded as she paused.
Still staring down at the tea leaves, she quavered, "I was working in the ER that night...when they were brought in."
Peter inhaled sharply, instinctively knowing what was coming next.
Her hand started to tremble and the cup clattered against the saucer. She let go of the cup and laced the fingers of both hands together to try to still their shaking. "I, um, no one told us who was being brought in... just that there were two GSWs -- gunshot wounds. I'd been sent to the blood bank to bring back several units of blood and the rapid transfuser. When-when I came in...they were there...and...everyone just looked at me. And then-and then..."
He reached out to take her hands with both of his and he squeezed them tightly as she went on. "I saw who it was. And...they were dead...and-and there was so much blood everywhere." She turned her head away and fought for control. "I...don't remember much that happened after that. Not for a long time." She turned to look up at him with big, sad eyes. "Everything was such a blur. They had to..." Her voice rose an octave higher than normal. "They had to sedate me to get me through the funerals. When-when they fired the guns in the last salute, I fainted. And after that, I just didn't care. About anything. I couldn't eat; I couldn't sleep. I couldn't get out of bed."
Peter interrupted. "Kace, you don't have to..."
"Yes, I do; yes, I do. I meant what I said about wanting a completely honest relationship. I want you to know it all." She took in a deep breath and went on. "My dad's old partner, my godfather, stepped in to take care of me, and..." She swallowed another gulp of air. "I was institutionalized with clinical depression for nearly a year, and was in outpatient treatment for another year. Then I went to stay out at our ranch for a while to try and figure out what to do with my life."
She blinked and let slow tears slide down her cheeks. "Didn't know you'd made friends with a lunatic, did you?"
Peter looked at her, his heart breaking in compassion. His hazel eyes misted over and he chided, "Don't ever say that. When I thought my father was dead, I wanted to die, too. I didn't care what happened to me. I was ready to kill myself more than once. I told you about that."
She nodded and then sniffled, rubbing her sleeve across her nose. "Anyway, I couldn't stay in Colorado. Everywhere I looked I saw things that reminded me of them, so I started looking around to find work somewhere, anywhere, and I ended up here. Believe it or not, before-before it happened, I had a pretty good reputation as a nurse, and my references were good, so..." She shrugged.
"That's not hard to believe."
She rewarded his stout defense of her character with a brief smile. "Tonight...I think that tonight, after finding out what had happened to you, must have triggered all those memories. I dreamed I was there and reliving it all again. And then the two bodies kinda faded into one, and then the face was yours." She shivered. "That's when you woke me up."
She pulled her hands free and got up to grab a paper towel to blow her nose. She threw the sodden wad into the trash can and walked to the kitchen sink, splashing cold water on her face. Water dripped from her face for several seconds before she pulled a towel from a drawer and dried her face with it. Leaning tiredly against the kitchen counter, she revealed, "I haven't had a dream this bad in months."
"This is my fault," Peter apologized. "If I hadn't scared you the way I did..."
Kacie's smile was both indulgent and affectionate. "Peter, you can't take responsibility for all the bad things in the world." The smile faded. "I used to have nightmares worse than this. I would relive that night so often, the only way I could sleep was with pills."
Peter stared at her in surprise. "I've never seen you take so much as an aspirin."
"I don't -- not anymore. I didn't like what taking drugs did to my mind. And the side effects were always so bad, I quit taking anything that even smelled like a drug."
"I used to have nightmares about when the temple was destroyed almost every night at the orphanage. I was alone, and I had no one."
"I'm sorry you went through that, Peter, because I know how you felt. No one should have to experience horrors like that. No one."
They paused in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.
Kacie offered shyly, "Would you like to see a picture of my dad and brother?"
Peter nodded. {The first thing I noticed when looking around Kacie's apartment was that she had no pictures. Now I understand why.}
Kacie walked over to a closet and pulled a large, flat box from a shelf. Sitting down on Peter's rumpled bed, she beckoned him to join her. When he sat beside her, she handed the box to Peter.
He carefully removed the lid and peeled back several layers of tissue paper. Inside was a 10 x 12 framed photograph of Kacie in her nurse's whites and two handsome men in police dress uniform, one obviously older than the other. Kacie was sitting in front with the two men standing behind her, each with a protective hand resting on one of her shoulders. He saw the family resemblance immediately; three identical pairs of intense blue eyes smiled out at the camera lens.
"This is a great picture, Kace. You look like your dad and your brother."
"I think..." Kacie's voice wobbled only slightly. "I think that this place could use a few pictures. You in the mood to help me decorate, Peter?"
"In the middle of the night?"
She laughed sheepishly. "I forgot. Sorta interrupted your sleep, didn't I?"
He slid an arm around her shoulders. "First thing tomorrow morning. I promise."
"Deal. Now let me get your arm fixed up and put you back to bed."
For one fleeting moment, Peter thought about asking her to join him. He gave himself a mental shake. {Get a grip, Pete. She's your friend, not a convenient warm body.} "Turn your back."
She stood up with a grin. "I'll tidy up the kitchen." She turned and walked into the kitchen and rinsed out the teacups and stacked the dishes neatly in the sink. When she returned with her first aid kit, Peter was back in his bed with the covers pulled up to his chin.
"Arm please."
He obediently brought his arm out from under the blanket and watched while she applied the fresh gauze pad and taped it in place.
"Think you need ice on it any more tonight?"
"Nah, I think it's OK."
"Need another pain pill?"
He made a face. "No, thanks. I don't wanna wake up tomorrow morning feeling like a dopehead." He cocked his head to one side and regarded her solemnly. "Tell me something."
"What?"
"How does a cop happen to own a ranch?"
Kacie threw back her head and laughed. "My great-grandfather was not only a lawman, but one of the most notorious cardsharps in the west. He won our ranch in a poker game back in the 1800s, and my family has worked it ever since. Weekends, vacations, holidays, and by hiring the best foremen money could buy to keep things up."
"Cardsharp, huh? Does that run in the family, too?"
She winked at him archly and drawled, "You don't want to get in a card game with me, old son. Not no way; not no how."
"You're kidding, right?"
She shrugged and walked over to the light switch. "'Night, Peter. Pleasant dreams." She turned off the light and slipped into her bedroom, closing the door softly behind herself.
Peter laughed to himself. "Cardsharp. Yeah, right." He rolled onto his side. "What other little things don't I know about you, Katherine Christine McConnell?" He drifted off to sleep dreaming of brunette cowgirls playing poker on horseback.