“I still can’t wrap my mind around how one small, insignificant movement can mean the difference between life and death. He took off his helmet just long enough to wipe his brow . . .” Taylor paused to look off. “It wasn’t our truck that got hit. If it was, I wouldn’t be here now. No way.” He shrugged, looking down at his feet. “One minute I was looking at his face, the next minute there was this loud bang and I went flying. Got knocked out. When I came to, I couldn’t see anything. I mean, I was blind. Everything went white and my ears were ringing. Reaching up, I felt blood coming out of my ears. When my vision finally cleared, I saw I was lying in a ditch. I was in a kind of daze, not thinking clearly. I wasn’t sure what had happened. When I could drag myself to stand, I wished I couldn’t see. There was wreckage everywhere. Bodies . . . The head truck that caught the IED was shredded. My buddy Dave, he was dead. And three other brothers. Gone in an instant,” Taylor said in a husky voice.
Harper didn’t speak. She blinked back tears of sympathy trying to imagine that magnitude of loss and pain. And what it might do to a person.
“You know, I keep thinking how fate dealt the cards that day. If our truck was first in line, or if I was the one who’d removed my helmet, or if I was in Dave’s seat, it’d have been me that died instead of him.”
“But it wasn’t.”
He shook his head and said under his breath, “No.”
Harper thought to herself, Thank God, but remained silent.
“They got me to the medic,” he continued in a steady voice. “Compared to some of the other guys, I got off easy. I didn’t lose my life, or my sight, or a limb. I told the doc I was fine and I could go back. I didn’t have any wounds I could see. But I wasn’t fine. It was the beginning of my second tour of duty and the third or fourth time I’d gotten blasted by some IED. This time, it was my ticket home. I hated being there and wanted to go home. But not like that.”
“Did the doctor diagnose your PTSD?”
“Not right away. I’m a Marine and we like to think we can tough it out. But this time I couldn’t.”
Harper saw something in his expression that made her realize how he’d suffered during the time it took for him to reach the point to ask for help. Harper slid her hand across the table to put it over his. “How’s your therapy been working out for you?”
He looked at their hands, then intertwined their fingers. “It’s going good. I’ve been reaching out. Pushing myself. I had to once more muster up the courage and strength to make another plan. I decided it was time to come home again and get my life back on track. I have my college degree from the Citadel. I’ve applied at a few places for a job, and one here in Charleston called me for an interview. That’s what prompted me to come back home sooner than later. So far, everything is moving on a trajectory.”
“Any company would be lucky to have you.”
He turned her hand in his, then gently rubbed his thumb across her palm.
She felt every neuron in her hand tingle.
He looked up from their hands and met her gaze. “Best of all, I met you.”
They stared into each other’s eyes, each aware that they were moving into new waters. Words, movements, emotions, all had to be navigated anew.
Around them came a smattering of applause and people began rising from their chairs. The noise level of the restaurant rose as good-byes were exchanged and congratulations offered. Taylor and Harper let go of their hands when a few of his friends stopped by the table to say good-bye and comment on his poems.
“Last call,” the waitress said, coming up to their table. “We’ll be closing soon.”
Taylor turned to her. “Want to go?”
Harper nodded and Taylor settled the bill. He rose then without a word, reached over to take her hand, and linked arms, keeping his hand on hers. “Can’t have you fall.”
She wanted to say something like I’ve already fallen, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything so corny. So she only smiled, glad now for the silly shoes that kept her arm in his. Knowing with him she wouldn’t be hurt.
They drove home along East Bay and over the Ravenel Bridge, which soared like a great bird over Charleston Harbor. Sitting high in the truck, Harper looked ahead at the trail of red brake lights. Most of the restaurants on Coleman Boulevard were closed. She and Taylor spoke about the poetry they’d heard, their favorite poems, and other readings they’d attended. By the time they began crossing the wetlands in single file on the long two-way road across the vast acres of marsh, they’d lapsed into a comfortable silence. The tires hummed beneath them and the moon shone bright, lighting up the black, ragged tips of oysters in the mud at low tide.
In the darkness Taylor slid his hand across the seat to capture hers. She sighed at the touch and smiled, moved by the simple gesture that was, she knew, a statement. The radio played country music, and though Harper wasn’t a fan, she was attuned to the lyrics. Tonight had been a celebration of words, and these lyrical songs spoke of love and loss and life. While riding in a pickup truck with a lowcountry man, traveling over the moonlit marshes, Harper felt the music fill her.
Sea Breeze looked beautiful in the moonlight. Light dripped through the moss hanging on the heavy boughs of the old oak, bathing the gravel beneath in mystery. Taylor walked Harper to the front door. The fifteen steps felt like a mountain hike by the time they reached the porch. She stopped at the door and faced Taylor, her cheeks fevered. Desire pulsed between them. Mamaw had left the porch light on.
“I’d invite you in,” she said softly, “but Mamaw . . .”
“No. And I don’t have my own place.”
He lowered his forehead to hers. She felt the heat of his breath on her lips. His green eyes were catlike, intense and seductive. Her breath came quick.
“You’re driving me crazy, you know that . . . ,” he said in a husky voice.
She laughed shortly. “Yeah.”
Then he leaned back, creating a distance.
Harper’s breath puffed out.
Taylor’s lips slanted in a crooked grin. “I don’t know if it’s even proper for me to kiss you. I’m working for you and all.”
Harper leaned forward to wrap her arms around his neck and pull his face close. “You’re fired.”
A wry grin crossed his lips. “Good.” He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his head in a crushing kiss of passion and possession.