Fisher’s Light
By
Tara Sivec
Other books by Tara Sivec
Romantic Comedy
The Chocolate Lovers Series:
Seduction and Snacks (Chocolate Lovers #1)
Futures and Frosting (Chocolate Lovers #2)
Troubles and Treats (Chocolate Lovers #3)
The Chocoholics Series:
Love and Lists (Chocoholics #1)
Passion and Ponies (Chocoholics #2)
Tattoos and TaTas (Chocoholics #2.5)
Romantic Suspense
The Playing With Fire Series:
A Beautiful Lie (Playing With Fire #1)
Because of You (Playing With Fire #2)
Worn Me Down (Playing With Fire #3)
Closer to the Edge (Playing With Fire #4)
Romantic Suspense/Erotica
The Ignite Trilogy:
Burned (Ignite Trilogy Volume 1)
Branded (Ignite Trilogy Volume 2)
Scorched (Ignite Trilogy Volume 3) – Coming Spring 2015
New Adult Drama
Watch Over Me
Romantic Comedy/Mystery
The Fool Me Once Series:
Shame on You (Fool Me Once #1)
Shame on Me (Fool Me Once #2)
Shame on Him (Fool Me Once #3)
Fisher’s Light
Copyright © 2015 Tara Sivec
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notice
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you wish to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Disclaimer
This is a work of adult fiction. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations. All trademarks and copyrighted items mentioned are the property of their respective owners.
Editing by Nikki Rushbrook
Cover Design by Michelle Preast
www.MichellePreast.com
Drawings by Danielle Torella of Pushy Girl Paintings
www.pushygirltorella.deviantart.com
Interior Design by Paul Salvette, BB eBooks
bbebooksthailand.com
A Note to Readers
My father is a Vietnam Veteran. For as long as I can remember, he has NEVER spoken about his time in the war and we’ve always just known not to ask him about it. One day, out of the clear blue, he started talking about PTSD and how even after forty plus years, his time overseas still has a deep impact on him. The following day, I had a dream about Fisher and Lucy. A dream about a couple dealing with deployments and the effects that it has on a relationship. This dream hit me so hard that I woke up and immediately started writing.
As with any type of fictional story, there are liberties that need to be taken in order to bring it to life and have it flow the way that an author needs it to. I have done extensive research on the military and military families and I’ve spoken to several of them while I wrote this book. Please keep in mind that any inconsistencies in regards to the timeline of deployments, where the soldier is stationed, etc. etc. are only there to make this story move in the direction that I needed it to.
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy Fisher’s Light!
For James – my light in the darkness.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other books by Tara Sivec
Copyright Page
A Note to Readers
Dedication
Prologue – Fisher’s Journal
Chapter 1 – Lucy
Chapter 2 – Lucy
Chapter 3 – Lucy
Chapter 4 – Fisher
Chapter 5 – Lucy
Chapter 6 – Lucy
Chapter 7 – Lucy
Chapter 8 – Fisher
Chapter 9 – Lucy
Chapter 10 – Lucy
Chapter 11 – Fisher’s Therapy Journal
Chapter 12 – Lucy
Chapter 13 – Fisher’s Therapy Journal
Chapter 14 – Fisher
Chapter 15 – Fisher’s Therapy Journal
Chapter 16 – Lucy
Chapter 17 – Fisher’s Therapy Journal
Chapter 18 – Fisher
Chapter 19 – From Fisher’s High School Journal
Chapter 20 – Lucy
Chapter 21 – From Fisher’s High School Journal
Chapter 22 – Lucy
Chapter 23 – From Fisher’s High School Journal
Chapter 24 – Fisher
Chapter 25 – From Fisher’s Journal
Chapter 26 – Lucy
Chapter 27 – From Fisher’s Journal
Chapter 28 – Fisher
Chapter 29 – Lucy
Chapter 30 – Fisher
Chapter 31 – Lucy
Chapter 32 – Fisher
Chapter 33 – Lucy
Chapter 34 – Fisher
Chapter 35 – Lucy
Chapter 36 – Fisher
Chapter 37 – Lucy
Chapter 38 – Lucy
Chapter 39 – Lucy
Chapter 40 – Lucy
Chapter 41 – Lucy
Chapter 42 – Fisher
Chapter 43 – Lucy
Epilogue – Fisher
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Fisher’s Journal
At the end of a long, dark hallway, there’s a door. It’s the same average, everyday wooden door that can be found in almost every house, condo or apartment anywhere in the world. Just looking at this door, there’s nothing special about it. Made of oak, it has a few nicks and scratches from years of wear and tear, it creaks when you open it and sticks when it’s humid outside and the wood expands. Locked away behind the door, though, is the shit no one wants to know about. The memories, the nightmares and all the reasons my life is a fucked up mess lie just inside that door in a pile of regret. I lost everything because of that damn door, because my mind splintered into a thousand pieces and I couldn’t tell the difference between dreams and reality. I became a different man.
A dangerous man.
A suicidal man.
Some days, I think of that door as a barrier between me and the dark corners of my subconscious, a place to stockpile the skeletons of my past so that I don’t have to look at them or think about them. Other days, that door busts wide open and I am forced to relive every mistake I’ve made. I can walk into the room, sweat running down my back, and run my hands over each item that carved me into the man I’ve become. I can dig through the shoebox on the end of the bed and run the tips of my fingers over each letter she sent me, I can pick up the Purple Heart from the top of the dresser and feel the cold weight of the bronze medal and the satin purple ribbon in the palm of my hand, and I can lift the backpack off the floor in the corner of the room and smell the heat from the desert and the metallic hint of dried blood splattered on the camouflage design.
It’s not long before the sounds of war fill my ears and only seconds until I’m clutching my head with shaking hands and a pounding heart, trying to determine the source of the most tormented,
heartbroken noises I’ve ever heard, the crying and the begging so loud that they can be heard even over the gunfire. It’s only when I realize that the horrified screams are coming from me, that I’m the one pleading for mercy, that I slam shut that door in my mind, begging anyone that’ll listen to take away the grief and the pain so that I never go back inside that room.
This is where my story begins.
Or ends.
I can never really decide.
The mind is a great and powerful thing, bisected with hallways of darkness and corners of light. Memories can alternately fill your life with joy and happiness and cloud every moment with nightmares and fear, making you second-guess all of the good things and wonder if they were ever real. Was I happy? Did I ever smile and laugh easily without a care in the world? How do I get that back when the darkness is hell bent on taking over, holding me in its clutches and making sure I never see the sunshine again?
I’m going to figure it out even if it kills me. I will piece together the fractures in my mind and take back what’s mine. I don’t blame her for walking away; I shoved her out the door and told her to go. I should have realized that she was my light. She was everything bright and beautiful about my life and it went to shit after she left.
I’m going to fix this. I have to fix this. I hate being in this place filled with people who think they know everything about me. I hate every moment that I’m away from her, but I will do whatever it takes to find the man she once loved and bring him back to her.
I’m going to kick down that fucking door at the end of the long, dark hallway and show everyone that I deserve the light.
Chapter 1
Lucy
March 24, 2006
Screams fill my ears and I jerk up in bed with my heart pounding. The moonlight shines through the bedroom window, illuminating Fisher’s body as he kicks at the covers and punches his fists into the mattress on either side of him. His screams are so loud and painful that I want to cover my ears and cry for him.
“Fisher! Fisher, wake up!” I shout over his yells and curses.
His eyes are squeezed shut and sweat drips down his chest, soaking the t-shirt he wore to bed. I quickly reach over and flip on the lamp on my nightstand, yank the covers away from us and move close to him, pressing my hands to either side of his face to turn his head towards me.
“Please, baby, wake up. It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream,” I chant softly, running my hands soothingly down his face.
He stops screaming, but the words that come out of his mouth next are almost worse than the screams.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him, he got in the way. Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”
I sob for him and the agony that rips through his voice as he continues to thrash against me and cry out, shoving my hands off his face and pushing me away from him. He’s lost in another world, another time, and I can’t stand seeing him like this. He’s hurting so much.
God, please make him stop hurting.
“Please, Fisher, wake up. Come on, baby, open your eyes,” I cry, throwing my leg over top of his and using all my strength to get him to calm down and wake him up from this nightmare.
His hand flies out and connects with my cheek and I let out a yelp of pain, but I keep going. This isn’t Fisher; he would never hit me if he was awake and in his right mind. I have to wake him up. I need him to wake up.
Oh, God, I don’t know what to do!
As quickly as I can, I climb on top of him, straddling his waist and taking hits to my arms and chest before I can grab his wrists and hold them down at his sides. I kiss every inch of his face, my tears dripping down off of my nose and onto his cheeks as I whisper his name over and over and beg him to come back to me.
He suddenly goes completely still and his eyes pop open. I hold myself above him and stare into his eyes until they finally focus on me.
“You’re okay, baby, you’re okay,” I tell him softly as I rest my forehead against his.
I let go of his arms and he quickly wraps them around me, pulling me down fully on top of him. His heart beats like a drum against my chest as he tries to slow his breathing. After a few seconds, I pull back and look into his eyes. They immediately go wide and he gasps in horror, bringing his hands up to my face.
“Oh, God, what did I do? Baby, what did I do?” he cries as he examines my cheek and the bruise I’m sure is forming there.
I cover his hand with mine and shake my head at him. “It’s okay, I’m fine. I promise, I’m fine, Fisher.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he softly sobs as he leans up and gently kisses my cheek. “Lucy, my Lucy. I’m so sorry.”
I move down to rest my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as I wrap my arms around his body and squeeze him as tightly as I can.
“You didn’t mean it. You were just having a bad dream. It’s okay, I’m fine,” I whisper again.
We’ve only been married for two of the six months he’s been home after his second deployment, but this isn’t the first nightmare he’s had. Each one is worse than the last and I don’t know what to do to help him anymore. I want to take away his pain, to stop the hurt that fills his heart and his mind, but I feel like I’m so far out of my depth that I’m drowning.
“Please, talk to me, Fisher. I want to help you, but I need to understand,” I speak softly against his chest.
“There’s nothing to understand, Lucy. It was just a bad dream. They’ll go away after a little while, just like they always do,” he promises me, running his fingers gently through the long strands of my hair.
“I need to know, Fisher. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
He slides out from under me and pushes himself up to lean his back against the headboard. I get up onto my knees and scoot closer to him, hating the distance he’s trying to put between us.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to,” he speaks softly, thumping his head against the headboard to stare up at the ceiling.
“That doesn’t make any sense. Of course I want answers. I want to know everything. That’s why I’m here. I’m your wife, Fisher, and I love you more than anything. We’re in this together, every step of the way,” I remind him.
He’s quiet for a while and I see every emotion from sadness to frustration skate across his features before finally settling on anger. I don’t want him to be angry with me for asking him to share his troubles, but I don’t know what else to do. How can I help him shoulder his burdens if he doesn’t share them with me?
“So, what do you want to know?” he finally asks, the sarcasm lacing his voice making the hair on my arms stand up. “Do you want to know what it’s like to find the mutilated body of the little girl you brought food to yesterday lying in the street? What it’s like fighting a war against people who will kill children to drive home a message? Or do you want to know what it’s like to be walking down a deserted street on foot patrol, making sure it’s clear for the convoy, talking to one of your friends about football and then mid-sentence his head explodes and his blood and brains are splattered all over your face?”
He speaks in a monotone voice that is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Tears flow down my cheeks and I have to hold my hand against my mouth to stop myself from sobbing. I shake my head back and forth, wanting him to stop, but knowing that I asked for it. I wanted to know everything and now he’s giving it to me.
“Maybe you want to know what it’s like to get orders to take out an enemy sniper and right when you pull the trigger, a nine-year-old boy runs in the line of your shot. I’m sure you’d like to know what it’s like to watch his mother hold his lifeless body in her arms while she screams and cries and tries to hold together the hole in his head with her hands. Do you know how hard it is to try and shove someone’s brain back into his head after you’ve blown a hole in it the size of a softball?”
He finally stops talking and I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to bl
ock out the visions of what he’s told me from my mind. I can’t breathe, I can’t make my heart stop hurting and I can’t stop crying. He warned me and I didn’t listen. I just wanted to live in his mind for one second, learn more about him so I could be a better wife and give him whatever he needed, but I can’t help him with this and it kills me. I can’t take away these memories because they are burned into his brain and his soul. I’ve always known he lives an entirely different life when he’s away from me, but this is almost too much to handle. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to get him through this. I don’t know if I’m enough to make him forget.
“Oh, Jesus. Fuck, Lucy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that. What the hell is wrong with me?”
When my sobs break through the hand clamped over my mouth, he suddenly comes back from whatever trance he was in. He moves towards me, sliding his legs around either side of my knees and wrapping his arms around my body. He cradles the back of my head and brings it down to his shoulder, smoothing my hair down my back as he rocks us back and forth.
“I shouldn’t have asked. I’m so sorry I made you tell me. I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through that,” I cry softly into his shoulder as he continues to slowly rock us from side to side.
I’m ashamed of myself for crying. I have nothing to cry about. When he’s gone, doing all of these awful things to protect our country, I’m safe and content in my own little bubble on this island, surrounded by the ocean and family and friends.
“Don’t, Lucy. Don’t ever apologize for something like that. I’m going to be fine, just give me time, okay? Just keep loving me and being here, that’s all I need.”
We fall asleep in each other’s arms and Fisher doesn’t wake up again that night or any night for the next few months. I try to tell myself that everything is fine and he’s getting better each day he’s home, putting distance between himself and the war. For a while, it’s an easy enough lie to believe. For an entire year, I have him all to myself, and we’re so happy and settled that I actually believe he’ll never leave me again.