After the Silence

Does following her passion mean losing her way?

Marine Ben Corallis is an expert at facing death, but nothing comes close to the terror that grounds him when his wife is killed in a car accident the day he returns from duty. He’s left to raise an infant, a toddler and a ten-year-old girl who hasn’t uttered a word since her mother’s death.

It’s hard not to care for the widowed marine with three young children. Yet he’s still grieving, too burdened with guilt to fall in love again. And Hope Alwanga’s future as a doctor awaits her on the other side of the world, in Nairobi. If two such opposites can’t agree on a common country, how can they ever create a safe place to call home?

“I’m having a hard time picturing Christmas trees growing in Kenya.”

Hope stepped away from the corner where she’d been leaning against the wall, watching them.

“Other than hunting our plastic one out of storage, I have not had a real tree-hunting experience, but I think you and the kids should go by yourselves.”

What? She was still upset with him?

Maddie took Hope’s hand and tugged her even closer to Ben. She wanted her to come, too. For an entirely different reason, he was sure.

Ben started to reach out to take Hope’s hand himself. He wanted to pull her out the door. Make her come, because he needed her to be there. He was taking the kids to get a tree because a crazy voice in his head was telling him it was the right thing to do. Whether it was going to be a good thing, he didn’t know for sure. What if being in that tree lot proved too hard to take and he ruined the night for his kids? He wanted her there when he helped the kids hang all the ornaments Zoe had collected over the years. How could he get through that without Hope there to pick up the pieces if he broke down?

But maybe she didn’t want to pick up the pieces.

Dear Reader,

Silence is something that—as a mother of three boys and an outrageous number of pets—I’ve begged for at times. Anything for a little bit of soothing peace and quiet in which to work, think (and actually be able to hear my thoughts) and decompress. But, as a mother, I also know firsthand how frustrating and destructive silence can be, especially for a child.

Although my kids have come a long way, two of them struggled with being able to cope with and express overwhelming emotions when they were younger. As a result, they’d shut down. The teacher calls, school visits, hours of trying to get them to open up...I’ll never forget any of it.

It’s heartbreaking for a parent not to be able to get through to their child. For my kids, the silence would last from endless minutes to hours. But for Maddie, the young girl in this story, it has gone on for months...triggered by the tragic loss of a parent. I’m so grateful that my kids didn’t have the same diagnosis or trigger as Maddie, but nonetheless, it still comes down to internal suffering. An inability to cope. A cry for help. And whether it’s a child or adult withdrawing, silence can be a dark, stressful and lonely place...until love and trust finally break through.

I hope you enjoy this story of how two people suffering on opposite sides of the world discover each other, rediscover the power of love and family and, together, show a little girl that it’s okay to be happy again.

My door is always open at rulasinara.com, where you can find links to my blog, all the places I hang out and more, so feel free to drop by!

Rula Sinara

After the Silence

Rula Sinara

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RULA SINARA lives in Virginia’s countryside with her husband, three boys and zany but endearing pets. When she’s not writing or doing mom stuff, she loves organic gardening, attracting wildlife to her yard (cool bugs included) or watching romantic movies. She also enjoys interviewing fellow authors and is a special contributor for Happy Ever After on USATODAY.com. Her door is always open at rulasinara.com or awritersrush.blogspot.com.

To each of you who has helped a child to heal and rediscover joy.

Acknowledgments

Infinite thanks to my author sisters for their support and shared stories of surviving deadlines when life throws a few curveboulders...and to my reader friends for your generous and beautiful words about my first book in this series, The Promise of Rain. You all kept me going.

And, as always, thank you, Victoria Curran, for your patience, incredible insight and for encouraging me to be cruel to my characters. Plain and simple, you make me a better writer. I’m blessed to have such a gifted editor and teacher to guide me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Copyright

PROLOGUE

ZOE CORALLIS HELD her breath as the door to the baby’s room clicked shut. She counted five seconds before daring to tiptoe away, cleared a good five feet before exhaling, then scurried to the kitchen.

“Mommy, I finished copying down my spelling words and the oven just beeped,” Maddie said, jumping off the kitchen stool and stuffing her notebook into her brown-and-pink gingham backpack. “Did you want to check them?”

Zoe chuckled as she turned off the oven timer before it could ring and wake up Ryan. Maddie, knowing full well there wouldn’t be homework checks this afternoon, already had her backpack zipped up.

“I trust you, sweetie,” she said as she pulled two round pans of Ben’s favorite banana cake out of the oven and set them on the stovetop to cool. She dipped her head, teaming up with the effervescent light spilling through the window, and scanned the counter for rogue crumbs. Spotless.

“Is he almost here?” Maddie asked.

Zoe glanced at the oven clock for the hundredth time since morning. Three-fifty. Which meant the cream-cheese frosting and strawberries weren’t going to make it onto the cake until after Ben arrived, and she’d wanted everything perfect and ready. After ten months of hell, he deserved to come home to peace and quiet. And Zoe knew how much having the house calm and clean helped him recover from experiences he never discussed and she didn’t dare imagine.

Zoe held Maddie’s cheeks and kissed her pert little nose. “Almost.” She gave Maddie’s two dark braids a playful tug, then took her backpack from her hand. “I’ll put this away. Do me a huge favor and go help Chad pick up his toys so Daddy doesn’t trip on them.”

“Okay.” Maddie tucked her stool under the counter, then cupped her hands against her chest. “Can we tell him about the puppy yet?” she whispered. Chad was too young to be trusted with a secret, and Maddie was nearing bursting point, not being able to share their plans to raise a puppy. Zoe was so exhausted today that she had fleeting second thoughts about the yearlong commitment—raising a puppy for a service-and-guide-dog-training organization that was known for helping veterans—but seeing her daughter’s face beaming reaffirmed her decision. Maddie loved animals, and the experience would not only be great for the kids, it would be great for Ben, too. Her gift to him. A way to serve...from home.

“Let’s give Daddy a day to settle in before we tell him. Think you can keep it hush until tomorrow morning?” With the pup scheduled to arrive in five days, they’d definitely need to tell Ben as soon as possible. Breakfast time would be good. Maddie scrunched her face as if she’d sucked on a lemon and dropped her arms.

“Fine. I’ll survive,” she said with a dramatic sigh.

Zoe watched her daughter skip into the family room off the kitchen and half listened to her coaxing her four-year-old brother to clean up rather than play. He protested. Loudly. Peace and quiet were near impossible on a good day. She sure hoped the antibiotics for Ryan’s ear infection would kick in so he’d sleep through tonight. That, or Ben was going to need earplugs. Zoe rubbed her forehead. With no caffeine because of nursing and no more than three hours of sleep last night, she knew anticipation was the only thing keeping her from crashing. She felt guilty for not taking the kids to get Ben, but with a sick baby and the wait time involved, it just wasn’t possible. It wasn’t his first homecoming, but it felt like it. Every time he made it home safely, she couldn’t shake the niggling fear that they’d used up their good luck. Zoe’s eyes burned. She’d give her life to know that Ben would be safe and sound forever.

She swallowed hard and reached for the baby monitor perched on the counter by the fridge, and made sure Chad hadn’t fiddled with the volume setting. She would not break down. Not in front of the kids, and certainly not in front of Ben. He’d be dealing with jet lag and exhaustion. He didn’t need her falling apart at the sight of him, too. Not when she wanted so badly to convince him not to reenlist—again—and that this was the place to be.

Home.

And changing her shirt would be a good move. Even she, immune as she was, could smell the sour tang of baby burp on her shoulder.

“Maddie. Chad. I’ll be right back. Hide the toy box behind the sofa when you’re done.”

“Daddy!” The creak of the front door, thud of a duffel bag hitting the floor and Chad’s squeal sent an explosion of everything pure, wonderful and fated surging through Zoe and lodging in her throat. The sight of him standing in the doorway did her in.

“Ben.” She could barely hear her own voice over the wail from the baby monitor.

His lips curved into the crooked smile that had charmed her from day one. Zoe held back for the kids and thanked her stars when Ryan’s cry through the monitor mellowed to a gurgle, then silence. She watched as Ben knelt down to hug Chad, then held one free arm out to a suddenly shy Maddie. Chad was young enough to get excited over the idea of Daddy, but Maddie’s uncertainty broke Zoe’s heart. At nine, she was realizing just how much of a stranger her dad really was. Seeing her finally wrap her arms around him set Zoe’s tears in action. He stood up, and in seconds Zoe ambushed him, legs around his waist. Her lips met his in a long, warm kiss. She ran her hands along the stubble that shaded his face and kissed his neck, letting herself get enveloped in the strength, warmth and scent that was only his.

“I missed you. Oh, man, I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you, too,” he said, nuzzling her hair and holding her firmly against his chest. He didn’t let go. Zoe loved that he didn’t let go—in spite of the fact that the aroma of baby burp couldn’t have escaped his keen marine senses.

“Something smells good,” he said.

Zoe laughed and pulled back.

“I need to change my shirt.”

“Me, too. I’ll be right behind you. I need to set my bags in the bedroom.”

Zoe stroked his cheek again. “By the way, I’m making your favorite cake, and as soon as I change, I need to run to Bentley’s to pick up dinner.”

Ben flattened his hand against his heart.

“You’re the best. With extra cheese?”

“Made to order just for you,” Zoe said. Ben loved her home-cooked meals, but ordering his favorite burger from the same pub where they’d gone on their very first date had become a homecoming tradition. Thank goodness Maddie had reminded her this morning. Lack of sleep nurtured brain fog.

Zoe fingered his collar, then rested her hands on his shoulders. Whatever had been bugging him, they were finally face-to-face. They’d sort it out. She knew he worried about money. But once he met his son, nothing else would matter.

She hoped.

“Ryan is sleeping, barely, but you have to come see him. Mom says he looks like me, but I don’t know. I think he has your nose.”

“Poor kid,” Ben said, ruffling Chad’s hair before picking up his oversize duffel and following Zoe toward the bedroom hallway to the right of the kitchen.

“Poor kid has an ear infection. He might be cranky when he wakes up, but I won’t take long. Maddie can help you.”

“Yep, he likes me,” Maddie said, looking at Zoe for confirmation.

“How could he not? You’re the greatest big sis and helper ever,” Zoe said, letting Ben enter the master bedroom ahead of her. Maddie looked expectantly at her father for approval, but he just set his bag near the foot of the bed and looked around the room without a word, as if he’d entered a hotel room and needed to get his bearings. It happened whenever he came home. And by the time they’d find a new rhythm and his awkward, withdrawn silences would subside, he’d get ready to head out again.

But not this time. Zoe needed to convince him that he’d served enough and that she needed him here with her. The kids needed their dad.

Zoe rubbed Maddie’s shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile.

“Do me a favor. Go touch a finger to one of the cakes and see if it’s cool enough to frost. You can start on it while I pick up dinner.”

“Okay!” Maddie ran down the hall, the hurt of her dad not responding seemingly forgotten.

Chad scrambled up the side of the bed and started jumping.

“Get down, buddy, before you fall,” Ben said, scooping him by the waist and setting him on the floor.

Zoe slipped into their small walk-in closet and quickly changed. She couldn’t help feeling a little nervous and self-conscious around him. The last time he’d seen her she’d barely begun showing, but Ryan was only four weeks old and, as slim as she was, she was still battling the remains of belly flab and stretch marks. She stepped out just as Ben pulled an army-green cap from his bag and put it on Chad’s head.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” she said.

“No, wait,” he said. “I can go. You stay in case the baby wakes up.” The baby. Not Ryan.

“Ben, you’ll be fine. He was up all night, so I don’t think he’ll wake up for a while. Just go take a peek at him.”

Ben started to protest, and Zoe put her fingertips to his mouth, then ran her thumb along his bottom lip in promise. “Go meet your son. Spend a little time with the kids. They go to bed pretty early. You’ll survive.”

Ben covered her hand with his, then let her slip away.

* * *

SOME THINGS WERE not meant to be miniature.

Ben cocked his head and looked at his swaddled son. Poor thing really did have his nose. Don’t worry, bud, you’ll grow into it. He was actually a cute little thing, little being a scary word. With the same caution he’d use to handle a live grenade, he reached down and laid his hand against Ryan’s chest. The pulsing of that tiny infant heart against his callused palm blew him away. Innocence. It killed him that he had taken part in bringing another innocent child into a world ravaged with so many evils and dangers...but he had. And it was his duty to make sure his family was provided for and no harm came to them.

Wow. Kid number three. Ben swiped his palm down his face. Higher bills, expenses and college tuition...which meant no way could he give up his steady pay and benefits. Not yet. He was more valuable to them on duty anyway. Whenever he was home, his time was dedicated to fun and relaxation with Zoe and the kids. If he had to tackle child rearing on a daily basis, he’d probably just mess up what Zoe had going. She was the most amazing wife a marine—any man, for that matter—could have. The most incredible, patient woman and mother he knew. And they had a system. His career meant they’d be safe and provided for and she...she held down the fort and made it all worthwhile. It worked for them, and she seemed happy enough.

He hadn’t had any doubts about her happiness until she’d recently begun talking, via Skype, about how relieved she was that his duty was ending, and she wouldn’t have to live day to day worrying about the infamous knock on the door. He’d let it go. Arguing over his decision to reenlist wasn’t something he’d wanted to get into on a computer screen. Especially not with her pregnancy hormones out of whack. The way he figured things, he didn’t have an option. Not with a growing family.

The doorbell rang, and Ben froze, expecting the baby to wake up. He pulled his hand away, careful not to cause any air turbulence. Put a real grenade in his palm and he’d deal with it. A crying infant with a loaded diaper? Now, that was a weapon he had no intention of handling.

“Daddy, the door!”

His breath caught, both from fear that she’d wake the baby and from the sound of Daddy from his daughter’s lips. He rushed out of the room, intent on forestalling the next ring of the bell.

“Mommy says to leave the door answering to her,” Maddie explained from behind a disaster of frosting and what he hoped was cake. Chad, perched on a stool next to her, was licking white goop off his hands.

Oh, boy. Zoe’ll be back soon. Zoe’ll be back soon.

“Make sure your brother doesn’t fall,” Ben said, pointing at Chad for emphasis. Man. At least they knew not to open the door to strangers.

Ben reached the front door and swung it wide, not in the mood for visitors, but half expecting Zoe’s parents. Grandma could handle the goop.

The ground rippled beneath his feet when he saw the uniforms. His adrenaline jacked into high gear.

He was overreacting. Maybe this time PTSD had won out. They were probably just door-to-door fund-raising. They still did that, right? He scratched impatiently at his forehead, irritated with himself for going into battle mode.

“Yes, officers?”

“Sir, is this the home of Zoe Corallis?”

Is this the home of Zoe Corallis?

An icy cold bled across his chest. He shook his head, refusing to listen to what instinct told him they were going to say. This wasn’t right. This was supposed to be home.

Ben’s chest heaved, and his knuckles whitened against the door frame. The officer’s words blistered in his ears. Is this the home of Zoe Corallis? Car accident... We’re sorry.

“No. No.” He shook his head emphatically, his words sounding like military orders even to himself. He fisted his shirt, where Zoe’s touch still lingered.

“Maddie, take Chad to Ryan’s room and stay there until I say.” He turned to be sure they obeyed and was met with stunned looks. “Now! Go!”

Maddie helped her brother down and they disappeared like frightened prey. Ben braced his hands against the door frame, trying to process what was happening, then, like the friends he’d seen pelleted with shrapnel, he buckled and hit the floor.

Zoe.

CHAPTER ONE

Dear Diary,

They said writing to you would help. I’m not sure. I can’t tell anyone what I did. Not even you. If anyone finds out, I could go to jail...or hell.

HOPE ALWANGA STRIPPED off her bloody gloves and gown, then rushed from the room, but there was no escaping the merciless, coppery smell that had penetrated her sinuses. She pressed the crook of her elbow to her nose to shield against the added assault from the sweaty, desperate crowd still waiting to be seen and made her way to the back of the emergency room. A steady stream of patients was expected at any of Nairobi’s public hospitals—she saw it as added experience during her internship year—but this? This was pure chaos. And she’d been forced to do procedures she’d never done before.

She needed a minute to sit. Just one.

She collapsed onto a stool near a half-empty medical supply closet, leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

“Go home.”

“No,” she said, jerking her head up and pushing off the stool. The floor tilted, and her hands shot out reflexively for balance. “I’m fine. I just needed a second.”

Zamir, her supervising doctor, put a gentle hand on her shoulder and urged her back onto the stool.

“Take that second and then go home. That’s an order,” he said.

“I haven’t eaten anything. That’s all it is.” That and no sleep.

“Don’t argue with your superior.”

Hope rolled her eyes. Zamir could never nail a harsh tone when it came to her. He was closer in age to her much-older brother, and, given that he’d grown up as a family friend, he often teetered between his role as her supervising medical officer and a caring friend. A lot. Only, he knew full well that Hope wasn’t interested in anything but focusing on her education and career. Hope brushed his hand aside and stood, taking a deep, readying breath.

“You need me here. We’ve lost two patients already this morning, and there has been no news of the rest of the staff coming back. I’m not going anywhere.”

For two days now, they’d been running on bare threads. It was bad enough that, under normal circumstances, Nairobi’s public hospitals were grossly underequipped. Only months into her internship, she’d already witnessed patients either dying or being turned away due to lack of medical equipment and supplies alone. Even children. God, the children broke her heart. Now, to add insult to an already critical situation, delayed government paychecks had spurred a strike by the majority of their medical staff. As an intern, her pay was barely worth counting anyway, but she wasn’t here for money. She was here to help, but this...this was like asking a gnat to save a drowning shrew.

She turned to head back toward the main area. Failure wasn’t an option. Not for an Alwanga.

“Hope, don’t be stubborn,” Zamir said, stepping in front of her. “You need to get some sleep or you’ll be useless. You’ll start to make mistakes. I can’t have that happen. Stay and I’ll write you up.”

Hope stopped dead in her tracks, then looked right at him. Her pulse drummed at the base of her throat.

“That man did not die because of me,” she said, pointing down the hall toward the patient they’d just lost. “I did everything—”

“I didn’t mean him,” Zamir said, shaking his head and holding up his palms. “You were brilliant in there. Hope, that man had been thrown from a boda-boda. He didn’t have a chance. Not with what we have here. But I need you to get some rest before I end up having to resuscitate you. Or before you do make a human mistake.”

Hope pressed her lips together and cringed at the mental image of Zamir resuscitating her. He’d love that, wouldn’t he? Zamir to the rescue. Always looking out for her. That was exactly why her parents loved him so much.

But he was right. Anyone who dared hitch a ride on Kenya’s motorcycle-styled taxis, manned by an array of notoriously reckless drivers, was gambling with death. She’d done what she could, stepping in to assist Zamir in the absence of more experienced doctors and nurses. But her trained immunity to the stench of violent death had failed her today. The lack of sleep really was doing a number on her senses, and the last cup of lukewarm coffee she’d guzzled hadn’t done much to help. She ran both hands back over her chin-length waves. She still wasn’t used to the texture after her mom insisted she have it relaxed a few weeks ago. “Fine,” she said. “Just for a few hours.”