AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cal met Dr. Cooper out in the waiting room of the medical bay. The place was jumping with sailors needing medical help, all sitting around, waiting for their appointment. Cooper crooked her finger toward him. Cal followed her down a passageway and into another room. The doctor closed the door behind him.
“What’s up?” Cal demanded turning on the doctor.
“I had to give Sky an anti-anxiety shot to calm her down, and I didn’t want you walking in there not knowing what happened.”
Scowling, Cal growled, “What the hell happened, doctor?”
“I heard her screaming,” Melanie said. “I went in there. Apparently, she was having a nightmare. And she couldn’t stop screaming. I gave her the tranquilizer and finally got her to relax about ten minutes later. After that, Sky fell back asleep.”
“Will that medication harm the baby?” Cal growled, flexing his hands into fists and then relaxing them. It was a nervous habit he had when he felt he was out of control. In this case, Sky was out of control. And he had no idea how to fix her or the situation. SEALs didn’t like feeling helpless. In this case, there was no solution he could see, and it left him feeling anxious.
“No, I gave her a very, very mild sedative and it will not harm your baby,” she said.
“What do I need to do to help her, Doc, after we get home?” Cal felt guilty for leaving Sky to meet with his team just now. He should have been there for her.Dammit!
“First, find a woman gynecologist where you live. Get Sky checked out by her. She needs to be on pregnancy vitamins stat. I’ve given her some to last a week, but she needs to be on them until she gives birth to her baby. Second, she needs a good woman psychiatrist. Preferably someone with PTSD and military experience. And if you get really lucky, a woman vet who has practiced inside the military, working with PTSD.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed, his hands settling on his hips as he stared at the doctor. “Is that your diagnosis?”
Melanie gave him a bland look. “Mr. Sinclair, I’ve treated hundreds of cases of PTSD. I know it when I see it. And no, it’s not official, but you can have the psychiatrist you choose contact me and I’ll send Sky’s records and my observations along to her.”
“You emphasized a woman,” he said. “Why? What do you see?”
“She responds better to woman than men. I heard about her response to Dr. Vincent. She was terrified of him because he was a man.”
Cal nodded. “Yeah,” was all he managed to mutter, worried. “What’s causing it?”
“My best guess is she was recently traumatized by a man.”
Cal knew the doctor had no knowledge of Sky’s captivity by Alexandrov. That was a need-to-know basis only. “Okay, that’s a good piece of info. Thanks.”
“I don’t want to keep Sky on any more anti-anxiety meds than necessary. I believe she’s falling apart, for lack of a better word, right now. Get her home and she’ll have a place to follow the doctor’s suggestions, then she can start rebuilding herself afterward.”
Cal was getting the same advice from everyone. “Thanks, Doc. We intend to do that tomorrow morning when we fly off this floating city of yours,” and he smiled a little at her, grateful for her honesty and care toward Sky.
“One more thing, Mr. Sinclair?”
Cal hesitated at the open door. “Yes?”
“Keep things quiet. Keep her out of crowds. Keep her with low stress activities only. If she has hobbies, try to nudge her gently in that direction. If she wants to talk, sit and listen. DON’T interrupt her. Men tend to run over a woman who is talking or try to ‘fix it’, interrupting her with a plan that they’ve concocted. If you do that to Sky in the condition she’s in, she’ll clam up and maybe never speak about it again. And that could be toxic to her. Do you understand? Learn to be a good listener. You’re a SEAL, so you’ll understand when I tell you to put duct tape across your mouth in those situations.”
“Yes, ma’am, I hear you loud and clear.” Cal stepped out into the passageway, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hell, this was ten times worse than that firefight they had yesterday. The task of picking up the shattered pieces of Sky looked like a mountain he could never successfully climb. He wished he had far more psychology training to help her. Rubbing his chest because his heart ached for Sky, Cal felt like a fish out of water. He could handle the enemy jumping down his throat, but he had no experience with a traumatized, pregnant woman. As he slowly walked toward the door that would lead to Sky’s private room, Cal decided to do what he’d always done when his mind couldn’t figure it out: he would let his intuition guide him instead. He loved her. His heart would be part of that sensing and healing process for her as well.
CHAPTER 21
July 29
Cal stood atthe bay window in their bedroom at the cedar home. Sky was down in the meadow, near the winding stream that crossed it. The July afternoon sunlight made her hair glow like someone had placed an eighteen-carat gold crown around her head. He frowned and rubbed his brow. They’d been home two weeks now, and Sky wasn’t any better. He’d helped her pick out a very warm and nurturing woman gynecologist from Alexandria. Dr. Anne Simpson was in her late fifties, gray haired with dancing brown eyes, and she was exactly what Sky needed. The woman was a nurturing mother times ten, and Cal was grateful. They’d received good news that the tear in her uterus had healed and she and the baby were fine. Physically, anyway. Mentally and emotionally, Sky continued to be imprisoned by her trauma.
Cal looked around at her easel where she drew with her pastel chalks. Noticing a group of papers turned upside down on the floor, almost hidden, he picked them up. It was the stiff, thick art paper she always drew on. Turning them over, he anchored in shock. Staring down at the first one, it was nothing, but bloody red and black pastel chalk ripped across the paper. His stomach knotted. He slowly looked at the second one. Same thing. Harsh, abstract lines and zigzags, making no real picture. Just angry lines. Cal took them over to the settee and sat down. There were fifteen of them. All the same thing.Damn.
Cal was glad Lauren was visiting Sky shortly. He sighed, getting up and putting the paintings back where he’d found them. If only Sky would open up to him. She was like an overfilled helium balloon, ready to burst open and destroy herself with the all-consuming dark emotions from the trauma she had experienced. As he went slowly down the stairs, he tasted hatred for Alexandrov and for what he’d done to Sky. Even from the grave, the bastard was extracting his revenge upon her—and him.
He heard a car pull up, the security monitor beeping and showing activity in the garage area. Moving out through the door, Cal saw Lauren climb out of her Jeep. “Hey,” he called, “thanks for coming.”
Lauren nodded. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore her dark green tee and cargo pants along with her familiar black combat boots. Going over to Cal, she hugged him. “How are you doing?” she asked, searching his face.
“Not very good,” Cal admitted. “I wish I had better news.”
