Kate's Choice

By Laura O'Connell

Kate Mitchell believes life is complicated by too many choices. She marries Dusty for an adventurous life, but perhaps his quiet, nature-loving brother, Alex, may have been a better choice. Prior to his deployment to Afghanistan, Dusty asks Alex to look after Kate. Kate is afraid of the consequences of his request, especially when she is aware loneliness leads to temptation.

Within a couple of weeks after Dusty’s deployment, Kate’s long awaited pregnancy is confirmed. But who is the father of her much wanted child?

When Dusty returns home from Afghanistan, he struggles to adjust to life as a double amputee. Wanting to help Dusty, Kate and Alex encourage Dusty toward renovating his much-loved speed boat. He becomes obsessed with the project, but remains distanced from the ones who love him most.

During the Katy Girl’s test run, Dusty and Alex are thrown out of the boat into the choppy sea. The men are air-lifted to hospital.

Kate has to make one of the hardest decisions of her life. Can she trust herself to make the right choice for the sake of her family?

This is a story about the effects of war, broken spirits, choice, unrequited love, and how an accident can change everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura O'Connell
• Release date: Apr 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311211415

Laura O'Connell

Laura has lived throughout Australia and in the USA and has a passion for creating stories in places where she has lived and travelled. When she isn’t seeking her next adventure, she enjoys hanging out in her creative world with her characters encouraging them through their life challenges ensuring they get their second chance and happy-ever-after ending. Laura has had many second chance situations of her own and she expects there will be many more. With her son living overseas she looks forward to escaping for a new adventure whenever she can, but always returns home to the Gold Coast to write and be with friends.

Book preview

KATE’S CHOICE

By

Laura O’Connell

Smashwords Edition

Published by Laura O’Connell at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Laura O’Connell

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dedicated to

All the men and women who have fought in war since time began; and the men and women who will dedicate their life to military service in the future. I honour and admire your selflessness and I always pray you will return home safe when the job is done.

All the spouses at home living day to day, thinking and wondering about their serving partner who has put his or her life on the line, as they face an enemy every day. Your days are long and full of worry; and when your loved-one returns home broken, physically and/or mentally from the strains of war, sometimes it can be difficult to continue to encourage and support them. You are heroes, too. My admiration and respect for you and your partners knows no bounds.

Amongst the qualities a hero should have, I would include determination, loyalty, courage, perseverance, patience, focus, intrepidity and selflessness. – Ricky Martin

CHAPTER ONE

I woke up this morning aware I’m a pretender. I’ve been faking life for the past eleven years and I can’t delude myself any longer. Today, Dusty is leaving to fight the war in Afghanistan. Yesterday, his brother Alex had a send-off for him, so neither of us can live in Disneyland anymore regarding our marriage nor our lives. Maybe my unsettled feelings are due to the fact that we are back in my home town, Townsville, where there are too many memories.

Dusty is staring at the ceiling. His Adam’s apple is working overtime under his outdoorsy skin. The vibrations I feel in my hand on his hairy chest betray his fast-beating heart. My heart beats fast, too, because I’m scared Dusty might die on this deployment. Not everyone comes back, he told me last week.

I swallow to ease the squeezing in my throat. ‘Alex gave you, Griffo and Jack a great send-off yesterday,’ I say. My voice is shaky. ‘You and Alex seemed tense though. What is it between you two? Why do you end up fighting when you’re together?’

He breathes deeply. My hand rises as his chest accommodates the extra flow of air. He lets it out with a rush. ‘Perhaps he’s never gotten over the fact that you chose to marry me instead of him.’

His words come out tight like the air squeaking out of a balloon when you pull its neck, except the sound has a deep timbre to it. I wish I was pulling his neck. He’s using that old excuse again trying to divert my attention. ‘My dad says I didn’t come down in the last shower.’

‘Sometimes I wonder about that, Kate.’

I ignore his sarcasm. ‘Alex doesn’t seem to hold a grudge like you.’

He stares at the ceiling. ‘I might have good reason to hold a grudge.’

‘Why?’ I wave the palm of my hand across the hairs on his chest.

He sighs. ‘It’s between Alex and me, Kate. It goes back a long way.’

‘You two snap like terrier dogs every time you get together. I don’t like it. Alex organised that party for you. You should be grateful. Everyone wants you to come back safe.’

I touch his chin where the stubble is as prickly as his mood. He turns to look at me.

‘I’m thankful so many people care about me. I made a choice to serve my country. At last, I have the opportunity to put all I’ve learned into practice. Dad’s pretty proud to see me going on operations at last.’

I rub his chest. ‘Yeah, he seemed really proud when we skyped last night. Just don’t come back like him.’

‘What are you worried about, my sweet? This is Dusty Mitchell.’

‘Your Dad’s a mess. He drinks too much.’

‘That was Vietnam. This is Afghanistan.’ He rolls on his side toward me. ‘Two completely different wars, honey.’ He raises himself up on one elbow and touches the tip of my nose. Heat radiates from his finger. ‘Don’t you go worrying your pretty head about me. I have a job to do. Nothing’s going to happen to me. The army’s trained us well. We’ll do the job and come home.’

He kisses my nose. I place the palm of my hand against the side of his face. His sandpaper skin reminds me of the abrasive attitude he’d had toward Alex the night before. His deep, brown eyes appear fearless, and I wonder at what is really going on behind them. ‘Just come back to me. Okay?’

‘When you make love to me like you just did, how can I not come back?’

My heart beat quickens momentarily then it peters out. ‘It’s six months.’

Dusty crosses my lips with his index finger. ‘Hush now, woman. You know I don’t want you talking negative stuff.’

His mouth captures my lips like he always does when I’m afraid. I pull away. He doesn’t get what it’s like for me. His tongue slips over his lips, and his eyes hold conflicted emotions I’ll never understand.

With one single, easy movement he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up. Dust motes float in the weak rays of early morning sunlight. I am a lot like them; lost in the atmosphere waiting for a place to settle down.

Dusty stretches up toward the ceiling. His taut muscles ripple beneath his skin. Instinctively, I touch the warm place where he’s just lain. This could be the last time I lay with him, feel his warmth and the love we share. I rub the spot where he touched my nose. What if he doesn’t come back? An image of Alex materialises in my mind. Piblet quickly pushes it away.

This time it’s the real deal. Even though Piblet and I know he’s worked hard physically and mentally toward this moment, it’s not easy to accept. His best mate, Kaddy, died of shrapnel perforations from a bomb explosion and his wife, Jodie, now rears her two children alone. Piblet shivers.

As if he can read my mind, Dusty’s voice breaks through Piblet’s anxiety. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.’ He tugs at the wedding ring on his finger and he drops it carelessly on the night stand. It twirls and whirs until it comes to rest on the naked wood. Taking off the ring is a part of the preparing to leave home ritual. The army has taught its men a ring is a workplace hazard, that it could easily catch on some part of the equipment and slice off the wearer’s finger. Gruesome but true.

Dusty’s life is not easy. History has taught me the simple action of removing the ring puts his mind into another space. It helps him get into the box that’s labelled army. I’m not allowed in that box unless I’m invited. That won’t happen until he comes back from Afghanistan. The band of gold lies still. Piblet nibbles on the lower corner of my heart. I want her to stop.

I wish these negative thoughts rolling inside my head would tumble right out into the air. Piblet bites harder as I try to push the thoughts away, but the empty space fills with another layer of memories. I remember the time I saw my mother fall from the horse to her death. I was about five years old. That was the day Piblet moved in as my reliable helper to remind me that danger lurks in places where you least expect. She is my wise counsel that I sometimes choose to agree with and other times I ignore at my own peril.

With each separation from Dusty it somehow feels I’m being thrown aside like the ring and all his other possessions, including his prized speed boat. We’re his toys waiting in the wings for his return, to fit into his life when his mistress is done with him.

The shower hisses its comforting sound and it fills the empty space inside of me. It’ll be a long time before I’ll hear it like this again. The citrus scent of his bath soap floats on the gentle breeze and I file this familiar smell away so that I can bring it out another morning when I’m missing him.

Piblet becomes still as she feels the weight of emptiness that’s quickly seeping in with the disappointment of my life. What is the purpose of my life? All I ever wanted was children to warm the corners of our home. Perhaps it’s time for me to get out my paints and slash colour across the canvas. Time to push away this melancholy and send Piblet back out into the world to find another parasite to suck.

The shower stops and the silence draws my attention to the lifeless ring on the night-stand. Its aloneness tells me there’s going to be a lot of paint on a lot of canvases.

Dusty saunters out of the bathroom. His broad shoulders taper to his narrow waist where a blue towel drapes around his hips. A mass of curls covers his stomach that is a pure slab of muscle. He believes his body is the most important weapon he can use in a war which is why he keeps it in great shape. I like that.

He combs his fingers through his short black hair and for a moment he stares out the window then he turns back to me. His dark eyes reveal he is in his own world far away from this bedroom. The mouth that I kissed lovingly only minutes before is set in a thin line. His chin thrusts out defiantly. He’s in soldier mode. Heaven help any enemy who comes near him. Dusty is a man who thrives on challenge; for him it’s winning at all costs. Piblet is in awe of him and also a little scared.

He dresses in his camouflaged uniform. His movements are slow, almost calculated, but don’t be fooled, Kate. He’s ticking off the list of activities that are waiting for him at barracks.

I’m no stranger to the pain of separation, but it doesn’t get any easier no matter how hard I play the mind games. I’ve used every trick from closing down my emotions to all-out war to make the separation easier. It never works though, so I now take one day at a time and let Dusty be in charge. He’s told me often enough not to worry about anything. So I won’t. Instead, I look forward to my uninterrupted hours of painting. I have a dream that my work will be sold all over the world. As if that’s going to happen; I’m lacking in the talent department. There are millions of artists much better than I. Dusty says to do whatever makes me happy.

His voice breaks into my thoughts. ‘We’d better get mobile. I have to be in barracks by seven o’clock.’

I kneel on the bed in anticipation of a sweet, loving kiss. He presses his lips against mine. I breathe his breath for a second. Between us a fresh minty odour lingers in the air. He pulls back. ‘It’s time to get moving. I don’t want to be late.’

He strides purposefully out of the bedroom and I head into the shower. Twenty minutes later I enter the kitchen and I’m assaulted by the delicious smell of bacon and eggs, and the appetising sight of a bowl of freshly cut fruit in the centre of the table.

Dusty eats quickly often looking at the clock. My food doesn’t taste as delicious as it smells. It’s sticking to the roof and sides of my mouth. Cardboard – I may as well be eating cardboard.

He gulps his coffee then he wipes his forearm across his mouth. ‘I’ve asked Alex to keep an eye on you.’

‘I’m capable of taking care of myself.’

‘I don’t want you mowing the lawn. If anything goes wrong with the car, he’ll help so the mechanic won’t rip you off.’

‘I’m not a dumb blonde, Dusty.’

He scowls. ‘I know that.’ His gaze dips to my breasts. ‘But the mechanic might think you are, and take advantage of you.’

I gently place my knife against my plate while Piblet braces herself. ‘I’ve handled these sorts of things when we’ve lived down south, so I should be able to deal with them here. This is my home town. Besides, I’ve got Jodie to help me out.’

‘She’s a woman.’

‘Women are more than capable of looking after themselves.’

‘This is real live deployment. Alex is insurance.’

Piblet hops from one foot to the other. I trace my finger over the curved handle of my cup to control the turbulence rising inside of me. What does he mean ‘Alex is insurance’? Is he showing me his vulnerability? That he isn’t as invincible as he thinks he is? I swallow and meet his gaze. I need answers to my questions. ‘You’ve always said you’re better than any super-hero. What makes this different?’

‘This is war, where real men get killed. You have a short term memory problem, Kate. Remember Kaddy, he didn’t make it back. He got blasted with an IED.’ He swigs the last of his coffee and stares at me. ‘That can happen to me, too.’

Piblet shivers at the finality in his voice. ‘It’s not going to happen to you, Dusty. You keep telling me you’re well-trained. All of a sudden you’re getting anxious. You’re making me nervous.’

‘I know I’m contradicting what I said earlier, but I’ve been thinking I can’t go to war with blinkers on. I have to be realistic, too. Bad luck can happen to me. No one’s invincible, Kate, I just want to prepare you and let you know Alex is here for you no matter what happens to me.’ He swallows. ‘You and he had something once.’

Yes, a long time ago, we had something. Piblet runs the movie in my head of the time when I told Alex I’d chosen to marry Dusty. The sadness in Alex’s eyes bruised my heart forever. Ever since we’ve been posted back to Townsville, I ask the same question: why didn’t Alex fight for me? Why did he give in so easily? I turn off the movie.

Dusty stands up, collects his plate and cup, and takes them to the dishwasher. He looks out of the kitchen window. Radar, our dog, barks. ‘You could do worse than Alex.’

‘Dusty, why…?’

He quickly turns around. ‘Just do as I say, Kate. Will you just for once do what I ask with no questions? You have more questions than a quiz show. I don’t want any more questions now. He and I have been through everything. It’s now up to Alex to help you if you need anything. Okay?’

‘So that’s what you two were getting heated about last night?’

‘We had a few things to settle from a long time ago.’

He glares at me with his most piercing stare. ‘Okay! If I need help, I’ll ask Alex. I won’t write you and tell you my troubles, Dusty. I’ll give them all to Alex since that’s what you want me to do!’

His gaze softens as he continues to stare at me for several seconds. ‘That’s my girl. He and I have talked about it.’

He picks up Radar’s food bowl, turns the perfect about-face and marches out the back door. The fly screen door closes with a hiss and there are soothing sounds punctuated by delighted yelps as Dusty greets Radar.

A wave of words rushes from deep within, forming a lump in my throat that begins to hurt. The pain doesn’t feel like it’s going to dissolve real soon. I don’t know why I’m so angry. Dusty has put processes in place in case there are problems. It’s his way of loving me. I’m sure I’ll be able to deal with anything that crops up; I always have. He’s been adamant I seek Alex’s help. It’s not that I don’t like Alex. Alex will look after me, but whether that is a good idea, I’m not game to contemplate.

Even Piblet shies away from this idea. It all comes back to that fateful day when I chose Dusty. That choice has lurked in the background, a shadow darkening my ray of happiness. It’s a shadow I want the light to shine on.

Perhaps its time has come.

CHAPTER TWO

Dusty has only been gone a week but it feels like it’s been a year. All day, I’ve tried to distract myself by painting, but getting into my creative zone has been akin to pushing my way through a glass wall. Painting my life-sized portrait of him would surely have helped bring him closer to me today. Unfortunately, all it has brought is pain to the base of my spine. I’ve been bending here over this work for too long. Already the day has marched on and the outside world is coloured by pre-storm darkness.

By arching my back to ease the pain, and stepping back from my work for an objective view, one would think I would not be so harsh on myself, but my critical eye tells me my work is less than satisfactory.

Piblet is much kinder to me and suggests, despite not being in the zone, the portrait is kind of coming together. The top of Dusty’s head is about twenty centimetres taller than me and it seems about right. His broad shoulders, tapering to the pelvis are outlined; that’s my progress for today.

My clothes are damp and the roots of my hair feel like they are swimming all over my scalp alerting me that a storm is not far away. The fan whirs overhead, protesting with a rhythmic squeak reminding me it’s past its use-by date.

I put my pencil in the hook that hangs over the top of my canvas. Alex made that hook for me from two pieces of coral he found on the beach. When we were dating he used to love to watch me work. At the end of a creative session I would misplace the pencil which resulted in me starting my next session cranky because I couldn’t find the pencil, and that critical first flush of creativity would be lost. Such a thoughtful gesture on his part has made my creative work easier.

Radar sits on the floor near my easel gazing up at me with his mouth open as if he’s smiling. ‘I think I have his body finished, Radar. Let’s give it some colour to bring it alive.’

Radar whimpers and rolls onto his side. I bend down and rub his belly. ‘I know you’re missing Dusty, too. We have to keep busy. The time will go fast. You’ll see.’

I go to the kitchen and pour myself some iced water. The velvety texture of the water flows over my parched mouth and I swallow coolness, feeling it go all the way down inside of me. Radar wanders over to me and puts his head against my thigh. I fill his bowl with fresh cool water and he laps it thirstily.

The dark clouds are overhead and the first flash of lightning and roll of thunder remind me the wet season is here. I’m riding an emotional rollercoaster and I’m adjusting to life being just Radar and me. The topsy-turvy emotions will settle soon and I’ll fall into my own rhythm of life. Working with the animals and people at the pet shop ease the ache of loneliness that hovers at the edge of my consciousness during the day, but there are still those times when I’m home alone that are testing.

I stroll back to my painting, pick up my palette and study the selection of colours available to fill in the outline of my life-sized Dusty. I begin to mix brown and green daubs of paint when Radar suddenly stands up and trots to the door. He barks his friendly bark. Dusty named him Radar because he would always let us know when someone was coming.

‘Hey, Radar, you’re looking after Kate like a good guard dog.’

Alex. Piblet does a happy dance. I put down my palette and brush and pick up a rag and wipe my fingers. I go to the door to let him in. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Alex is dressed in a tank top that draws my eyes to his muscled shoulders that are covered with a light sheen. He grins and stands with his hands slotted into the back pockets of his shorts with the palms placed against his buttocks. He’s adorable.

Piblet begins to measure the waves of pleasure rippling through me.

I open the door for him to enter. Radar’s tail wags so fast I can hardly see it, and at the same time he sniffs Alex’s shoes then he barks.

‘It’s good to see you, too, old fella.’ Alex scratches his ears. ‘Since when have you been allowed inside the house?’ Alex raises his eyebrows at me. My face becomes hot. Radar pads back to the foot of the easel, lies down, stretches out and thumps his tail on the floor.

I put my forefinger across my lips. ‘Sh, it’s our secret. What Dusty doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’ I giggle and kiss Alex on the cheek. His late afternoon face rasps against my lips. ‘This is a nice surprise. Coffee?’

‘Ah, tea thanks.’

I go into the kitchen, fill the jug and flick the switch. ‘Are you obeying Dusty’s orders?’ I tease.

He frowns at me. ‘No. I wanted to see if you needed anything.’

‘That’s obeying Dusty’s orders.’

He flushes and looks away for a split second then his Adam’s Apple moves up and down as he swallows. ‘I’m concerned for you being here on your own. I know you grew up in Townsville, but the population is transient and many people have moved on since you left. I don’t want you being lonely. Besides a storm is about to break.’ He pauses and looks at me with his gorgeous blue eyes. ‘I know how much you don’t like storms.’

Lightning flashes, followed by a loud crack of thunder. A gust of wind billows the curtains into the lounge room. I close the