“These pictures show both the lack of space, and how unappealing it is, especially that god-awful love seat. Mice wouldn’t even want to make a home in that thing.”
Despite the truth of his statement, Carly winced. Every time she’d hoped to buy new furniture and redecorate the office, something more urgent needed the funds. The barn roof leaked, or fences needed replacing, or therapy equipment had to be updated.
While adding the images, she said, “Since today’s group is retired teachers and primarily women, I’ll ask them to imagine a son, daughter or former student with the physical or mental disabilities our clients deal with daily, walking into our offices. Then I’ll ask them to think about how this would affect them.”
“Take it further. Close your eyes.”
She waited for Owen to continue, but he didn’t. “You really want me to close them?”
He nodded, and she did as requested. “Imagine you’re in a foreign country. You’ve been there for months. Away from everything familiar and everyone you love. You work and sleep. Occasionally, you watch movies to keep the boredom at bay. But you’re there because you love your country and want to keep it safe from terrorism. You’re proud of the job you do.”
His voice low and even, he painted a picture of life during deployment, of how the boredom sets in, but how the soldiers fought to stay sharp and alert, never knowing when hell could open up. “Then one day you prepare for a simple intelligence sweep. After the SEALs clear out the bad guys, you’ll go in, grab whatever could contain useful information and get out. Routine, you think.
“You and your buddies head in. In some ways, you’re closer to these men than your family because you’ve been through so much together. You and your partner head in one direction. Your best friend and his partner go off the other way. That’s the last thing you remember before the bomb goes off. When you wake up in a field hospital, you learn your best friend threw himself on the suicide bomber to save the rest of you.” Owen’s voice cracked, and he paused.
Tears pooled in Carly’s eyes at the anguish and unimaginable pain woven through Owen’s voice.
“A few days later you’re home, only your body and brain don’t work like they used to. Worse, everyone you see mentions Landon. The images of what happened haunt you, and the intensity of the pain can’t be put into words. But what nearly levels you, is not knowing how to face his wife after you promised to bring her husband home safely. People say you’re lucky to have survived, but you don’t feel that way.”
The weight Owen carried slammed into her. Her heart cracked. How did he get up in the morning knowing what he had to bear?
Strength of character and refusing to let the terrorists defeat him. That was how he did it.
No wonder he refused to accept he might not return to active duty. Admiration for him washed over her.
“When I walked into these offices the first time, the skies opened up in a Texas gully washer. The wind made it sound like a freight train would barrel through the walls. The rain pelting against this damn ceiling sounded like—”
Her eyes sprang open. “Like BB-gun pellets.”
He shook his head, his face pale. “Machine gun fire.”
“I’ve been an idiot. How could I fail to see that?”
Tears stung her eyes and spilled down her face for veterans who’d endured such pain, sacrificed so much for their country’s freedom, and how this space affected them. And her actions had exacerbated those problems for Owen when he came to the office. Her lack of sensitivity hit her hard. “That first day, you were different because of the weather and the sounds here. I should’ve realized. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“It’s hard to see those things when it’s your office and you’re here every day.”
“Then I made matters worse by arguing with you and pushing you. Why didn’t you tell me how this place made you feel and what I was doing?”
“It took everything I had to keep from splintering apart and all I could do holding it together.”
“I wish could tell you how to cope with what you experienced and losing Landon, but the truth is you’ll never forget. Some days the pain over losing Mom is as fresh as it was the day she died. It’s always a part of me. I’ve just learned to live with it.”
“I knew coming home without Landon would be hard, but it’s worse than I imagined. It’s like part of me is missing. If I’d been with him—”
Pain radiated off Owen in waves, reaching out to her. He stiffened and paled as if the memories consumed him again, and the urge to wrap her arms around him and cradle this strong, determined man and ease the pain he tried so hard to conceal from the world overwhelmed her.
“Could be nothing would’ve changed or you both would be dead.”
“Or he might be alive.” Self-loathing and guilt dripped from Owen’s voice.
Unable to bear him like this, she slid her arm around his broad shoulders. He rested his chin on her head and his hand held onto her forearm. For a minute, she couldn’t breathe as his anguish radiated through her. She should say something, but words felt so inadequate. Her hand brushed the back of his neck.
He pulled away as if she’d slapped him. His gaze vacant now, he turned away. “Sorry about that.”
Not wanting to embarrass him further, she said, “People need to realize how important it is we get new space. When the weather’s good, the best you can say is this office is claustrophobic, but you’ve helped me see how this officeisabout our clients. This space has to be comfortable and not exasperate their issues.” She gazed at Owen. “But I’m not sure how to make people see that. While I can empathize, I can’t stand in veterans’ shoes to see this space the way they would. The way you do. Will you help me? I want to do this right.”
“Sure.”
