Vanished (The Saved Series, A Military Romance) (13 page)

Abby had been trying to get her milk to come back for the
past week. Every day, she rocked Charlie and offered him her breast, but he’d quickly give up in frustration. He wasn’t interested in waiting when he was hungry. She’d heard it was possible to bring your milk back and had been encouraged to try by Mary-Margaret after she pulled up article after article outlining how some moms had. Even though she felt the familiar drops of milk filling her breasts, Charlie still wasn’t getting anything significant. She glanced up at Mary-Margaret, who walked into her living room with a bottle for Charlie.

“Anything?”
she asked.

“He’s getting so frustrated
. How long do I keep trying before I have to admit it’s not going to work?” Abby reached for the bottle, and Charlie quickly opened his mouth and started sucking on the warm formula.

“You’ve only been trying a week. How does it feel?”

“It feels like it’s there. It wants to come in,” she said, shrugging as she pulled her top closed while she balanced the bottle with her chin.

“Well
, maybe try pumping, too, and get Eric to give you a hand.”

She looked up at Mary-Margaret and the sly grin on her face. “You
’re so bad,” she said. “Besides, he hasn’t touched me. I don’t think a man can get farther away in a queen-size bed. My God, if I accidentally touch his leg in bed, he pulls away and apologizes.” She blushed when she realized what she’d shared.

“
Oh, that’s not good.” Mary-Margaret rolled her eyes. “Would have hoped he’d have gotten past all the politeness.”

Abby couldn’t believe she
had noticed. Maybe the expression on her face said so, because Mary-Margaret immediately gasped and then waved wildly with her hands in front of her.

“No
, no, sorry, it’s just that Joe and I noticed. I mean, how could we not? He’s been treating you like a piece of porcelain―”

“
Like a child,” Abby added.

Mary-Margaret rolled her eyes. “Okay
, we did notice that, too, but maybe it’s time you show him you’re made of stronger stuff. That, well, come on, Abby, you know…”

Abby blinked
, because she couldn’t believe what her friend was suggesting, “I am not talking about S-E-X with you,” she whispered, spelling it out, as Rachel had raced into the living room with her dolly. Abby looked up when she heard the door open.

Eric
stood there in his tan uniform, a black coat over top, and stepped inside. His eyes went right to Abby, still rocking Charlie, and then over to Mary-Margaret as he raised his eyebrows. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Abby knew that was Eric’s way of making sure Abby hadn’t snapped while he was gone
, so she smiled and said, “I’m fine, Eric.”

He looked at the bottle she was feeding Charlie
with and then to her unbuttoned shirt, and he gestured toward her. “Nothing yet?”

She shook her head
. “I’m not ready to give up yet. I’m still trying.”

Eric slipped off his coat and set it on the coat rack.
He picked up Rachel when she raced to him, shouting, “Daddy, Daddy!”

He kissed her. “How’s my girl today? Were you good for
Mommy and Mary-Margaret?”

“We had party, and swing at park
,” she said, patting his face as he kissed her.

“
Oh, that sounds like fun.” He glanced over at Abby and then Mary-Margaret, who raised her hands.

“She was fine
, Eric,” she said. With a sigh, she got up and patted Abby’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Abby.” She started to the door, lifting her coat from the hook before facing Abby and winking. “Remember what I said,” she whispered. Then she raised her eyebrows, gesturing toward Eric as she pulled open the door and waved. “Bye!”

“What was that about?”
Eric asked as he held Rachel.

Abby
opened her mouth to say, “Nothing, never mind,” but she’d promised Eric she wouldn’t hide anything from him again, so she said as she glanced at Rachel, who was taking in everything they were talking about, “I’ll tell you later, when the kids are in bed.”

“
Something I should be worried about?”

“No
,” she offered as she gave him an easy smile. “So, I put a chicken casserole in the oven, and it should be almost ready. Are you hungry?”

“Starving
,” he said.

He tickled Rachel as she giggled and repeated, “Sta
rving!”

“Listen
, I want to talk to you about my next assignment,” he continued.

Charlie pushed the empty bottle away and then started patting Abby’
s breast, so she slid open her shirt and let him latch on again. When she glanced up, she didn’t miss the way Eric’s eyes had widened and his nostrils flared. Good, he was interested.

Eric cleared his throat and glanced away. “I want to talk to you about my posting
,” he said. She glanced up, and he set Rachel down. “Go get your dolly,” he suggested. She raced into the corner to her toy box.

“Okay. I know you’re deploying soon, and
you’re worried―”

“I’m not deploying
,” he said, cutting her off before she could finish. Abby watched him as he stepped toward her, pulling a stool in front of her and sitting down. His knees bumped hers, and he moved them. “Sorry,” he said.

S
he uncrossed her leg and touched him. “I’m not. So, tell me why you’re not deploying.”

He gave her a look.
“I’m taking over as captain of the shore station. I won’t be deploying, so I’ll be here on base.”

Abby watched him and could see something she was sure had
to be sadness. “I’m sorry, Eric. I know how much you love being at sea. I’m sorry I caused this,” she said, and she was. She was sorry for anything that would hurt him or her children, although, deep down, selfishly, she was very happy he wasn’t leaving.

He reached out and took her hand
, which was resting on Charlie’s bottom. “Don’t you dare apologize. I can’t leave. I blame myself for what happened, because if I hadn’t taken that posting on the aircraft carrier, none of this would have happened. My family is more important.”

“Don’t say that
, Eric. You don’t know that, and neither do I. If you hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have been forced to deal with this. I couldn’t have gone on pretending it didn’t happen. We need to move on, Eric. I want my husband back,” she said, watching him for his reaction.

“Abby
, I’m here.” He frowned at her as if he couldn’t understand what she was talking about.

“Eric
, in bed, when I move closer and touch you, you move away. You make a point of not touching me like you used to, intimately. I want you back,” she said. Charlie let go of her nipple and started patting her breast, and Abby leaned forward and touched Eric’s leg.

His eyes shot right to her
, and she could feel the way he tightened at her touch. “I don’t think you’re ready. The last thing I want to do is start pawing at you after what you’ve been through.”

“Eric
, it hurts me more when you don’t touch me. It makes me feel as if you’re disgusted with me. You’re the only man I want touching me.” She watched him, her husband, as he seemed to be waging some war with himself. The fact was that she knew he wanted her. Rachel raced back in.

“Let’s have dinner and then put the kids to bed
,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Abby smiled.
Oh, she planned on doing more than talking later.

****

Eric was terrified in a way he’d never been before. He’d been walking on eggshells around Abby, worried that she might be a ticking time bomb that could go off on a moment’s notice, but he’d been wrong so far. He’d watched her for a week. Every night, she had bathed and cuddled and played with the kids. She had taken care of the house, cooked, and looked after everything. He always asked her how her day was before bed every night, even though he’d made sure Mary-Margaret was there every day, watching her. He pried a detailed report of Abby from his friend’s wife, asking about anything unusual, which there wasn’t.

Eric was
sitting on the bed, resting against two pillows, barefoot in his blue jeans and T-shirt, holding a book open as if he were reading.

Abby strode in
, and he took in what she was wearing: blue jeans and a simple blue shirt, classy and low cut, which showed off her generous cleavage. She offered him an easy smile as she came in and stopped at the foot of the bed, touching his bare foot.

“You okay?”
she asked him.

“Yeah
, fine. I should be asking you that,” he said.

S
he strode around his side and stared at the spine of his book. “
Birds of the Northwest
, sounds interesting.”

He
didn’t have a clue what he had been reading, as he had just grabbed it, opened it, and watched and listened to Abby and her easy laugh, the joy she seemed to have with the kids.

“You really want to read this?”
she asked him as she perched beside him on the bed, touching him. For a minute, he thought he’d go blind with need. For the past week, every time she touched him, he had moved. In bed, it was hell, and he’d woken frustrated every morning, starting each day with a cold shower.

Abby gripped the book when he didn’t answer
, and she tugged until he let go. She closed it and set it on the nightstand. Okay, this wasn’t good. He could smell her sweetness, and she rested her arm on the other side of his hip and smiled at him. Her light blue eyes reminded him of the ocean he’d left behind.

He reached up and swept back a strand of hair from her forehead, and she smiled at him again.

“Are the kids asleep? Maybe I should check on them,” he said. He started to get up, and Abby set her hands on his chest and straddled him. “Oh, I know that’s not a good idea,” he said as he gripped her waist.

“The kids are fine, sound asleep.” She leaned forward
, teasing him as she brushed her breasts against his chest, moving closer to his lips with hers. “Are you sure you want to get up?” she said. Then she touched her lips to his so lightly and pulled away a fraction of an inch.

Her breath was so fresh and her lips so soft. “Abby
, this isn’t a good idea,” he said as he reached up and slid his palms over her cheeks.

“I want my husband back
, Eric,” she said. She pulled her shirt off and tossed it on the floor, flicking off her white bra, and she stayed on top of him and set her hands over his, pulling them up and setting them on her breasts.

“Abby, you’re killing me.”

She started moving on him, and he was having a hard time thinking as he ran his hands over her nipples and her breasts. He rolled her over until he was on top of her, her legs around him.

She set her hands on his face
, on both his cheeks, and rubbed her nose with his, touched her lips with his. He couldn’t hold back as he took the lips she offered in a kiss that was deep and possessive, saying she was his. He tasted and touched. In a rushed flurry, their clothes fell away.

She matched his need, her hands tracing his
, the skin of his back, kneading and pulling at him. “Eric, please, I need you,” she cried.

“Abby
,” he said. He pushed her legs up and entered her hard and fast. He couldn’t hold back, but he held himself still above her.

“I love you so much
,” she whispered to him. “Oh, Eric, please move, please.” She kissed him again as he ran his hands over her legs and bottom, moving with her, kissing and touching her. He moved so slowly and watched her as she said over and over, “I love you.” He couldn’t hold back.

****

Abby listened to Eric’s breathing even out. He was sound asleep as he rested his head on her breast and slept. It was dark, and she smiled, feeling as if she had climbed a mountain. She and Eric had a ways to go, but as he lay snoring softly, she wrapped her arms around him, absorbing how he’d made love to her not once but twice. She’d climbed on top and ridden him, watching as his eyes flared and, for the first time, he let her set the pace, to have some control and connect with her husband so intimately, so closely, as one.

She loved him so much, and to be this close to him again
, she felt some part of her, which had been without peace for so long, healing.

It had
been thirty-three days since Abby had come home, eighty-two days since she’d vanished out her front door, caught in the grip of a living nightmare that had torn her family apart. Eric had been wonderful, attentive, worried, and watchful ever since she’d come home. Every night, when she woke up drenched in sweat, choking and gasping for air, he held her. He told her over and over again that she was safe, she was okay, he wasn’t going anywhere, and she relaxed. The nightmare, too, eased, and it crept up on her now less frequently.

“Whos
e turn is it to speak next?” Dr. Rick Blaney said to everyone in the circle of the women’s support group. He wore the striped sweater and expensive gold watch he always wore. A prominent psychiatrist for the wealthy, he still volunteered his time at the women’s shelter and provided a weekly support group for women of domestic violence.

Abby
felt the supportive squeeze on her hand and glanced over to her husband, sitting in the plastic chair beside her with twenty others in a circle in the basement of a South Norfolk church. Abby stood and tucked her freshly cut shoulder-length hair behind her ears, smoothed her knee-length blue skirt, and took a deep breath. “My name is Abby,” she said, “and I was taken.”

###