Page 66 of Pages of My Heart
“Charlie, you’re sitting up!” Thomas walks across the room and extends his hand with an offering. “I brought you a Hershey bar.”
“Thanks. Been a long time since I had one of these.” He sets it on the small table next to his bed, trying to hide his wince when he twists too far. “Why don’t you move the partition again, like yesterday?”
“Good idea.” Thomas moves quickly, setting it in place to give them the most privacy, then takes a seat on the edge of his bed. “Before I forget . . . if anyone asks, I’m your brother Donnie.” Thomas takes his hand then, the warmth, the familiarity, overwhelming. “I still can’t believe you’re home. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I only wanted to be with you.”
Charlie cannot resist a moment longer, and he tugs on Thomas’s hand. “C’mere, sweetheart.”
The kiss makes his body come alive, heat rushing to the surface of his skin. He moans despite his best effort to suppressit. Thomas’s tongue licks at the seam of his lips, and with his self-control close to abandoning him, Charlie gently pushes him away before they cannot stop. Thomas looks as dazed as Charlie feels, both their chests heaving.
“Did you say you’re my brother Donnie?” he asks, suddenly uncertain if he heard correctly.
Thomas laughs, a kind of giggle that feels youthful but not childish, and it brings a proper smile to Charlie’s face for the first time in as long as he can remember.
“Only family can visit, so Evie told them I was Donnie.” Thomas explains. “They didn’t even question us. God, it’s so good to see you smile.” Thomas’s eyes wander all over Charlie’s face. He’s smiling too, but then slowly that smile starts to fade, his expression growing somber. Then the question he’d been most dreading. “Charlie, why did you send that letter? Did you mean it?”
Charlie looks down at his lap. How does he explain himself when he doesn’t want Thomas to know why? Now that some time has passed, he never wants anyone to know, least of all Thomas. How could Thomas continue to love him if he were to find out what a monster he’s become?
“Charlie? Look at me. I need to know. Did you mean it?”
Charlie takes a deep breath and lifts his chin, seeing the depth of Thomas’s hurt in his piercing green eyes and feeling its impact like another bullet wound to his body. “I was—I’m not the same man. I told you yesterday, my head ain’t right no more. You’d be better off without me, but . . . Tommy I—” Pressing his good hand to his eyes, he tries to ward off more tears. “Tom, it’s wrong of me to burden you. You could go on and find someone who ain’t useless. But—”
“But what, Charlie?” Thomas interrupts, his anger poorly veiled. “How could you ever think I would be better off withoutyou?” Thomas leans forward, lowering his voice, although it still comes out severe. “How could you ever think I could love someone else?”
“I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t. But I can’t help the way I feel . . . Christ, I missed you so much.”
Thomas softens immediately. “I need to hold you. Can I hold you?”
Charlie sits forward, allowing Thomas’s strong arms to gently envelop him. He clings to the back of Thomas’s shirt with his good hand and tucks his head into the crook of his neck. He’s acutely aware of how risky their behavior is, but his need for Thomas’s touch outweighs his fear.
Thomas whispers in his ear, “I missed you every day, and I don’t want us to ever be apart again. So, let’s not speak of this anymore. I know you didn’t mean it and were just trying to do right by me. I love you.”
Charlie can barely get his voice to work, but he manages to murmur, “I love you too.”
“Corporal Miller.”
At the sound of a man’s brusque voice, Thomas disengages at lightning speed. A doctor Charlie doesn’t recognize is standing next to the partition, his expression unreadable. Charlie isn’t sure how much he heard or how their embrace would have appeared.
“Uh, this is my brother. Donnie,” he says, putting on a smile.
Thomas pats Charlie on his uninjured shoulder, addressing the doctor. “An emotional reunion for us. We were very close as young boys.”
“Yes, well, I am Doctor Sawyer. Sorry to attend during visiting time, but I have a lot of patients to see today.”
Charlie glances briefly at Thomas, then back to Doctor Sawyer. “No problem, Doc. So when can I go home?”
Doctor Sawyer must be in his late fifties with greying hair and a stern bedside manner. He picks up Charlie’s chart at the foot of the bed, speaking while he reviews it. “How is your shoulder feeling, Corporal? Is the pain manageable?”
“It’s feeling better every day. The pain is manageable. The problem is moving it. But I want this damn sling off.”
The doctor puts the chart down and folds his arms across his chest. “As I’m sure you’ve been told, you may slowly regain the use of your hand and arm, but the bullets fractured your scapula, humerus, and the shoulder joint itself. The ligaments and nerves were also badly affected. The field medics did the best they could, considering you almost bled out. They saved your arm, and that is something to be grateful for.”
“Iamgrateful,” Charlie grits out, frustrated by how many times he’s been told what he should be grateful for. “I just want to return to work. Earn a living.”
“What is your vocation, Corporal?”
“I’m an automobile mechanic.”
The doctor nods, bouncing on his heels, mulling over this information. “It may be best to consider a career change. Now the nurse will be along later to remove your sling and replace your bandages, then you can commence rehabilitation. Doctor Radcliffe will work with you over the coming days and with any luck you can be discharged later in the week. Who will look after you at home? Your wife? Mother? A sister perhaps?”
