Love's Tender Warriors Read online

  “Not bad—a little headache.”

  “You’re going to have a shiner,” Drew murmured apologetically. The heat from Sean’s hand seemed to be all she could feel.

  “Yes, I was afraid of that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know, but you didn’t do it,” Sean replied gently. The muscles under her hand were rigid, and she drew away, breaking their contact. “Let’s forget it, shall we? I’ll be fine.”

  Reassured by Sean’s certainty, Drew nodded silently. The night air was cool on the spot Sean’s hand had abandoned.

  “Where are you from, Drew?” Ellen asked suddenly, leaning forward on her chair.

  “Oh, uh...” Drew hesitated.

  It had been a long time since she had been in a new social situation, at least one in which the rules were not very clear and strictly adhered to. For years, she had been able to avoid anything other than the impersonal contact necessary for her work, and she neither sought nor desired personal relationships outside her professional associations. Glancing at Ellen, she saw only friendly interest. Taking a breath, she forced herself to relax.

  “I grew up in West Mount Airy, not far from the dojang. But I’ve been gone a long time,” she finished awkwardly. There’s no one left there now. No one left anywhere.

  “What do you do?” Ellen continued unperturbed, although she was too sensitive to the nuances of tone and expression not to appreciate some degree of discomfort on Drew’s face.

  “I teach martial arts. For most of the last ten years, I taught Marine Corps recruits hand-to-hand combat and, recently, more formal styles of martial arts as well—Tae Kwon Do and Aikido, some Ju Jitsu.”

  “Enlisted?”

  “Gunnery Sergeant.”

  “Fascinating,” Ellen remarked, meaning it. “What made you leave the service after all this time?”

  Drew paled, but it didn’t show in the faint illumination on the terrace. When she spoke, her voice was rough with unwanted memories. “I wanted a change.”

  “Aikido is so different from Tae Kwon Do,” Sean interjected, sensing Drew’s discomfort and wanting to redirect the conversation. “Do you still train?”

  “Yes, I do,” Drew replied, some of the tension easing in her chest. “In fact, the dojo is quite near here. I called this morning, and fortunately, my previous teacher is still active. I’ll be able to continue training with her and possibly teach there as well.”

  “I’ve always found Aikido beautiful,” Sean commented. “And amazingly powerful in such a subtle way.”

  “Master Cho says you danced. Aikido would come naturally to you, I imagine.”

  Sean stared wordlessly for a second, taken aback that she had been the topic of conversation between her teachers, and even more surprised that Drew Clark would have taken note of anything about her. “It does look very fluid. The movements are so dynamic—so different from our style.”

  “You should come watch a class sometime,” Drew suggested impulsively. “Contrary to what many people believe, the two styles are not mutually exclusive.”

  As soon as the words were spoken, Drew wished she could take them back. She had no idea why she had said them, and she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to appear too friendly with one of her students.

  “I’d really like that,” Sean said seriously. The unexpected invitation surprised her, but she was definitely intrigued by both the chance to observe an Aikido class and to see more of Drew. She told herself her curiosity was based solely on her interest in the martial arts and had nothing to do with this woman. “I would love to see other styles. Will you tell me when it would be a good time to come?”

  “I’ll check with my sensei and let you know,” Drew responded, hoping her reluctance wasn’t obvious. Jesus, what did I start here? And why?

  “Oh, that’s just terrific, Sean,” Susan interjected sharply. “Now you want to find some other way to get yourself hurt. Look what happened to you tonight.”

  “Hey, Suse—I’m okay. Really. And I’m not about to begin another art form, not for a long time. Maybe never. I’ve got too much still to learn.” Sean smiled at her sister, knowing that her concern was much less motivated by Sean’s potential for injury during training and much more by Susan’s deeply ingrained fear of abandonment. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to me, okay?”

  Drew had noticed the obvious affection between the two sisters and couldn’t help but think regretfully that it took more than a promise to keep someone safe. Despair, a distant echo that rumbled in the background of her mind, surged to the surface, taking her by surprise. For some reason, old torments had returned to plague her more vividly since her return to her home town—pain she thought she had successfully banished. Or at least buried.

  “I’ve really got to leave,” she said abruptly, rising as she spoke.

  Startled, Sean stood quickly. “I’ll walk you out.”

  At the door, Drew turned to scrutinize Sean’s face one last time. “You might try some more ice. That swelling looks a little worse.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Sean fingered her tender nose and winced. “Damn. I wouldn’t mind so much, but I’ll never be able to hide it from my clients in session tomorrow. Some of them are going to be upset.”

  “Are you a psychiatrist?”

  “Clinical psychologist. Ellen is my associate.”

  “I can imagine there are going to be some questions.”

  “Yes, and it’s always hard to know how much to explain.” She laughed softly. “It takes a lot of work sometimes keeping my personal life private. Clients are always curious about their therapists.”

  “I know what you mean. Students are often the same way with their teachers,” Drew mused.

  Sean looked uncomfortable. “Has this created a problem for you?”

  Drew smiled at that. The time she had spent with Sean felt more natural and effortless than anything she had done in a long time. “No. I’ll see you in class.”

  “Good night, Master Clark,” Sean said, extending her hand.

  Drew took her hand and said quietly, “Good night, Ms. Gray. Take care of that injury.”

  Sean watched her walk briskly down the walk, then slowly closed the door, thinking how that one unguarded smile seemed to lift years from Drew’s face. That Drew had shared it with her pleased her unaccountably.

  “She is fascinating,” Ellen commented as Sean returned to her place on the terrace. “How much do you know about her, Sean?”

  “I don’t know anything about her.” Sean knew she sounded defensive, but she wished she could divert Ellen’s attention from the subject of Drew Clark. If she were honest, she would have to admit that the woman intrigued her as well, and she found her own curiosity unusual and a little unsettling. It was hard to forget the panic she had seen in Drew’s pale face and haunted eyes a few hours earlier. Something had hurt her, and, clearly, the pain lingered still.

  Sean did not think the anguish she had glimpsed was something Drew would consciously share, and the fact that she had witnessed it made her feel protective of Drew’s privacy. As a therapist, she was used to sharing the pain of others, allowing it to touch her so that she might help another heal. But this had not been willingly shared, and, considering she knew so little of Drew, the intensity of her own response disturbed her. Irrationally, but very compellingly, she wanted to ease Drew’s suffering.

  Her confusion showed in her voice. “I’ve seen her in class—that’s all.”

  “Well, I guess I can let you off the hook for a while.” Ellen didn’t comment on the hollow tone in Sean’s voice or the distant look in her eyes. “But do try to be a little more curious, won’t you?”

  Sean didn’t want to admit just how curious she was. As she trudged tiredly off for more ice and then to bed, she couldn’t get Drew off her mind.

  Chapter Four

  The alley was dark and still, too still. The shadows moved, beckoning her deeper, the dank air cooling the sweat on her skin and r
aising the small hairs on the back of her neck. Her heart hammered in her ears, and she struggled to draw a slow, even breath. Panic beat at the edges of her mind, and fear roiled in her guts.

  Please. Not here. Not like this.

  She walked on, knowing she must, knowing what she would find.

  An arm reached for her, a hand grasped her shoulder, a guttural voice rasped in her ear. She thrust the person away with a swift kick. Pain raced up her arm. Other hands clutched her clothes, pounded at her body. Stumbling, she reeled forward in the near total blackness.

  I’m coming. Don’t give up. Please, please, don’t give up.

  Nearly blind in the moonless, airless alley, she felt her head swirl. Chest heavy and tight, she gasped and fought her way through the terror until finally she could go no further. Stretching out a hand, she encountered a crumbling brick wall. Dead end. The stench of garbage receded in the face of a new scent, ripe and rich and redolent.

  She stifled a moan, recognizing it. The coppery smell of fresh blood.

  She looked down…

  “Oh God, no!” Drew cried as she bolted upright in bed. Gasping, she looked wildly about the unfamiliar room, desperate to escape the terror of the dream. Drenched in sweat, unable to take a full breath, she tore at the twisted sheets that restrained her legs and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. The images were there, as sharp as they had been four years before, the blood and the agony still so fresh. Groaning, she dropped her head down on her knees and struggled to contain her sobs.

  A soft knock on the bedroom door finally penetrated her consciousness.

  “Drew, it is Janet. Can I help?”

  “No...please...” Drew rubbed her face and took a deep breath. “It was...just a nightmare. I’m okay.”

  “If you need me, you will tell me, yes?”

  “Yes,” Drew called, trying to keep her voice steady, knowing that she wouldn’t share the details of her torment. She had never talked about it to anyone. Those who knew anything, like Janet, knew the story but none of the truth. She had kept the secrets of her agony, silenced by the enormity of her guilt and her shame.

  When she could breathe again, Drew lay back on the damp sheets, watching moonlight break across the ceiling, knowing she would not sleep again that night. And when she closed her eyes, nightmare visions danced across the inner surface of her lids. Desperate for reprieve, she sought to banish them by imagining others. Unexpectedly, Sean’s sculpted face appeared, framed by tousled dark hair—calm, clear, centered. And those eyes—so serene, so soothing, so welcoming. Drew’s heart rate finally quieted, and the coil of grief in her abdomen lessened.

  Then just as suddenly, she envisioned Sean lying dazed and bleeding, trails of crimson pouring down her face. She had been so still, the blood so red on her pale skin. So still that for a moment, Drew had thought...

  Groaning in frustration, Drew sat up and reached for the light. She blinked at the sudden assault on her fatigue-laden eyes and closed them again. She had to stop the memories—and she especially had to stop thinking about Sean. Her reaction to the dark-haired student was almost more confusing than the resurgence of her nightmares. At least the nightmares were familiar, and they had never really been very far away.

  She had been drawn to Sean, almost from the first moment, in a way that made absolutely no sense. It wasn’t Sean’s attractiveness, although she certainly was beautiful. Physical appeal had almost no effect on Drew. She had spent nearly half her life surrounded by women—living with them, struggling with them, sometimes even dying with them—and no one in recent memory had captured her attention. Indeed, she had never expected anyone to again.

  But Sean had moved her. Drew had seen something in Sean’s face as Sean prepared to be tested—a calm certainty that formed the core of her strength. It was nearly palpable, a sense of serenity Drew had lost and that promised to elude her eternally. Then when she looked at Sean, some of that peace touched her.

  No. That’s crazy. She doesn’t know you. If she did…Drew squeezed her eyes shut and then opened again them to the harsh light, hoping to evict all thought. She reached for a book from the bedside table and forced herself to read. She would think no more tonight.

  *

  In the morning, Janet Cho greeted Drew warmly when she appeared in the small dining room adjoining the kitchen. “There is coffee. And muffins.”

  “Thanks.” Drew poured a cup and sat at the table with her old friend. She glanced out the sliding glass doors that had been opened onto a lush but diminutive garden. A slight breeze ruffled her hair, and for a moment she felt almost rested. “How’s Chris?”

  “Stiff. Sore. Stubborn.”

  Drew laughed. “Sounds like the prognosis is good.”

  “Yes.” Janet nodded, her expression softening with love. “She should be fine. We are lucky.”

  “Did the doctors say when they thought she could train again?”

  “A few weeks. I expect it will be a challenge holding her to that though.”

  “I expect so.”

  “I won’t bring up cosmic connections,” Janet said with a small smile, “but it is good that you arrived when you did. Now, more than ever, I need you to teach.”

  “We had an injury last night.” Drew sighed. “Sean’s nose is broken.”

  “Ah, is it serious?”

  “Not so bad—she’ll be bruised for a while, but no surgery will be needed.”

  “Good. Tell me how it happened.”

  Drew related the details of the accident and then voiced her uncertainty. “Perhaps I don’t know the students well enough yet to teach them. I misjudged the situation.”

  “You are an excellent teacher.” Janet touched her arm very lightly. “Don’t doubt yourself. Gail is a good student—a little lazy sometimes—but she is young. She has done that kick many times before—it is well within her capabilities. She misjudged, not you.”

  “I pushed her.”

  “She needs to be pushed. If we do not demand their best, we may not get it.” Thoughtfully, Janet considered the woman across from her, hearing the guilt and indecision in her voice. “Trust your judgment. I do.”

  Drew met Janet’s eyes. “I’ve been gone a long time. You don’t know me anymore. You don’t know what I’ve become.”

  “I know who you were. And that doesn’t change.”

  You’re wrong.

  Janet watched a cardinal settle on the edge of a blue ceramic birdbath. Delicately, it dipped its head to drink, exquisitely balanced on the thin rim, fragile and beautiful. The essence of a creature, any creature, was a thing of the heart, and once formed, was unalterable. She smiled at Drew.

  “I will spend some time with Gail on control, I think. I would like you to teach Sean her next form. She’s ready for the first black belt form.”

  Drew hid her reluctance. She would have preferred to stay away from Sean—the woman had already intruded into her dreams. “Yes, of course. As soon as she comes back.”

  “Oh, Sean will be there tonight,” Janet Cho said with certainty.

  *

  When Drew and Janet approached the dojang an hour and a half before class, they discovered the senior student waiting in the hall outside the classroom, just as Janet had predicted. While the chief instructor unlocked the door of the second floor studio, Drew approached Sean. She couldn’t hide a frown.

  “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  Sean grinned. “I’m fine.”

  “Is that what the doctor said?”

  “I’m a doctor. And I can certify that I’m sane.”

  “Not that kind of doctor.” Drew laughed, but her eyes were still dark with concern. She tilted her head and studied Sean’s face. The woman’s left cheek and lower eyelid were discolored a deep purple that promised to be black in another twenty-four hours. The bridge of her nose was crisscrossed with the flesh-colored steri-strips that the emergency room physician had applied the night before to help control the swelling. Drew had the urge to brus
h her thumb across the shadows on Sean’s pale cheeks, but she fisted her hands by her sides instead and merely shook her head slowly. “I’m not even sure I’d let you train if you were a recruit. And they get no mercy.”

  “I really do feel all right,” Sean replied, touched by the concern in the other woman’s face. She remembered the panic in her eyes the night before and had the sudden urge to comfort her. “I won’t do anything foolish.”

  “No headache?” Drew persisted, despite Sean’s assurances.

  “Just a little stuffy. I can train.”

  “Well,” Drew shrugged in defeat. “I can see there’s no changing your mind. Just be careful.”

  Sean let Drew enter the classroom first, then stepped up to the doorway. She waited until the two women acknowledged her, then bowed and said formally, “Good evening.”

  Janet and Drew returned her bow.

  “Sean, stretch now. If you feel all right after that, I want you to work on forms with Master Clark until you are healed. No sparring and no other drills for the next few weeks.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Master Clark, you and I will do some weapons work before class, yes? I want to see what you taught the Marines.”

  Drew bowed formally. “Yes, Master Cho. Knife or jo stick?”

  “The jo,” Janet replied, referring to the five-foot staff. It was a versatile weapon that could be thrust like a spear or swung like a baseball bat. It was excellent practice against the sort of bludgeon that could be picked up off the street.

  “I will attack,” Janet stated.

  Curious, Sean watched from the corner of the room where she was performing her pre-workout routine. Drew turned sideways into a defensive posture, one leg back, both hands up—the forward hand extended, the rear hand guarding her chest. Her stance, however, was less rigid than the classical karate stance; she looked relaxed and, at the same time, warily alert. Involuntarily, Sean flinched when Janet attacked with a flurry of swinging blows directed at Drew’s head and chest. Drew deflected them all with her forearms, circling Janet, obviously looking for a chance to launch her own attack.