Chapter 24 - Eyes
The piece that Harm needed to fix the bedroom window fit nicely in the back of his SUV along with various tools and silicon tubes. That fix would instantly make the room warmer and even allow some daylight without being obstructed by plywood.
It hadn't been more than an hour and half since he left the cabin, definitely not enough time given they both wanted some space. He didn't want to be alone, Harm decided and that was a shocking thought for a man who had spent most of his life in solitude.
Women came and went in the past and while some breakups hurt, everything between him and Mac was different. It must have been the years apart, the grieving he could never fully experience because there was too much unknown. He just didn't want to be without her.
Harm only wished her past as Nazanin wasn't so terrible and likely to leave emotional scars. He knew she would have demons, they both would but, he didn't expect she'd remember Farid. Just the mention of the man made his blood boil. If there was ever a person who deserved a terrible death it was him.
To think that part of Mac cared and maybe even loved him a little made his stomach feel like someone was chewing through it. He could only sit and listen as memory after memory came to life and with it the manifestation of the terrible man she'd married. Mac was spared most of his atrocities but knowing he could have hurt her made Harm feel sick.
There was nothing he could do. Nothing. And even if he could, it was likely that Mac, or in this case, Nazanin wouldn't have listened.
And so he walked up the main street pretending to window shop while his thoughts were on Mac. He found this way into a jewellery store and stopped to stare at some of the necklaces on display one caught his eye. There was a delicate silver chain from which dangled a rose charm. The stem was made of silver, the leaves a green gemstone and the red of the petals were glossy and pretty.
It looked elegant and he could see it around Mac's neck. He imagined her in a simple black dress, the charm glistening as she walked up to him. He imagined her laying in the center of their bed, back against the pillows wearing nothing but that necklace. He grinned at that thought hoping one day she would indulge that fantasy.
After tucking his purchase in the safety of his jacket's breast pocket, Harm found himself wandering the main drag again. The local watering hole caught his eye and before he knew he'd dropped into the first bar stool he found.
The place was empty, just a few patrons scattered throughout. A pretty woman caught his eye and he recalled she was the one Mac had met in the salon, the same one which ran the bar. "Hi, bourbon, just one shot."
"Hey there. What are you doing here alone?" Tina looked out of the window noting that the gorgeous brunette hadn't followed.
"Needed to pick up some things. She wanted to rest." He took a sip and savored the amber liquid, the way it warmed his throat and ran through veins. It felt good, his welcomed old friend and so he took another sip and asked for a refill. "I think we needed a little break from one another."
"Trouble in paradise?"
Harm shook his head. "No. No. Nothing like that. She's been through something, we both have. This trip has been about...healing, I guess."
Tina nodded. "I came here about fifteen years ago. Needed some healing of my own. Sunk all of my savings into this place." She glanced around and smiled. "Dilapidated, a real shit hole but, I turned it around and here I am."
"And the salon?" He motioned across the street to where the tiny shop was.
"That was for fun. Ladies need a place to go."
Harm chuckled. "You mean a place to gossip?"
"That too." She grinned, refilled his drink once more and then sat a tall glass of water next to it. "Look, this isn't my place to say but...Sarah is in love with you. Says you're not interested in her that way."
Dear Lord, gossip was right. He snorted and rolled his eyes midly amused the woman seemed protective of his wife. It was actually a bit enderaring if not annoying and before she continued to lecture him, Harm spoke up. "We're married."
Tina furled her brow and stared at him. "To other people?"
"No. She's my wife. We got married here in your little church about four years ago."
"I don't understand. The way Sarah spoke I assumed...actually, I'm not sure what I assumed."
Off Tina's odd expression, Harm took a sip of water and leaned in. "Short story, She was in a bad accident a few months after we married. She forgot about her life and that included me. I guess I brought her back here to remember."
He didn't embellish on her accident or much else.
It was all 'need to know' and, to be fair, even Mac didn't know how she became a victim of amnesia in the first place. He frowned at that and looked up to find Tina studying him. "What?"
"She remembers?" Off his nod, she let out a breath, downed the rest of his drink and then another. "Wow. Wow...I tell ya, this town has a bit of,.oh I don't know...magic, I guess."
"Magic, huh?"
"Yeah. It's special. I was a big city girl, a nurse, actually. I had my heart broken and came here. Never been better." With a finger she pushed the glass of water towards Harm and raised a brow. "You may want to finish that and head home to your wife...I have a feeling and I don't think either of you really want to be alone."
Harm followed her order and downed the glass in just a few gulps. He swirled a finger around the rim of the glass. "You're right. I really don't want to be alone. But she may need a break from me. I hover." He admitted with a sly grin.
"By the way she talked about you, I don't think she minds that one bit. Go." With her head she motioned towards the door and waved Harm off when he fished out two twenties. "It's on the house. And head back tomorrow evening. I'll have a live band. You two will have fun."
Mac sat cross legged in front of the coffee table, her hand dancing across the blank page to create an image of a man's eyes. Not just any man, she had stared into these for so many years that Mac could count all of the colors and hues that they turned. They changed along with his emotions and she only wished it hadn't taken so long to notice that darkening when he desired her; a discovery that might have fixed a problem or two early on.
She sketched his eyes in different shades and expressions, using her fingers to blend the lines. Over and over she drew Harm's eyes and found a familiarity of sorts. "Nazanin."
Of course. Mac sat back and sighed.
She'd drawn so many things after Farid presented her with pencils and the sketch pad. But it was Harm's eyes that made Nazanin feel there was someone waiting for her.
Another sketch came to life, this one with darkening, bloodshot eyes - an image she couldn't get out of her head for so long. There was no light in them, no life because she'd seen his sad, dying eyes.
The image was haunting. The more Mac ran her fingers over the pencil markings to refine the edges, the more she felt a dull ache begin on her temples. She finished the drawing, stared at it and in a fit of anger Mac grabbed the edge of the paper and ripped it free.
It was then thrown into the dying embers of the fireplace. The edges of the paper furling as they crackled and burned becoming nothing but ash. Mac cried, heartbreaking sobs pouring from her as the tears filled her eyes making it impossible to see.
The room suddenly felt stuffy, stifling it began to spin round and round as if she rode a carnival ride. The dull ache was now so severe that even squeezing her head could not stop the debilitating pain that forced her to lay on the groun
"Harm." She gasped out his name knowing he wouldn't return to her anytime soon. "Harm." The pain forced her eyes to close and when she opened them again, Harm was dead.
Her husband was dead, killed before her very eyes, a shot through the chest which took his very life away. Mac saw his eyes dim, the last flicker of his soul before the men grabbed her by the arms and pulled her away.
She fought at first filled with the incessant need to hold him, at least for a while and maybe even die herself because her heart had been broken then and there. They laughed at her tears, mocked her weak attempts to flee.
Her body ached as it was tossed to and fro when the truck drove over uneven terrain. The trail was unkempt, muddy and they'd gotten stuck a time or two which only delayed the arrival to a small compound that consisted of several shacks made of wood and metal.
She couldn't tell how far they traveled nor in which direction and her internal clock had all but abandoned her. Before Mac could attempt get her bearings, rough hands yanked her out of the truck bed and pulled her to a tarp one of the men laid out under a tree.
Mac wouldn't accept the food they'd given her. She just wasn't hungry and part of her felt she'd never be. A half empty water bottle sat in front of her and she was reluctant to ingest that too. At first she greedily drank some down only to cough it back up as the taste made her gag.
Acrid, chemical tasting with a hint of some sort of smell she couldn't put her finger on. If they were trying to keep her alive the water would most certainly kill her. It was hot, so unbearably hot which was compounded by the heavy pregnancy belly still strapped to her. Mac wasn't sure who knew that it was fake and hoped a showing of her being pregnant would buy her some mercy from the captors.
During the day she crawled under a tarp which was weathered by the harsh Paraguayan climate. It helped keep the sun off of her but the heat kept her body in a permanent state of lethargy. Her kidney's ached and the few times she tried to urinate the pain was unbearable like tiny spikes were slicing through her body.
Dehydration was setting in until that bottle of foul tasting water finally looked like an untapped oasis. And so she took it and drank down every last drop knowing it would likely be the end of her but hopefully Harm was waiting on her on the other side.
Of course she would begin to retch hours later, throwing up bile and chunks of stomach lining until there was nothing left but dry heaves. It was the sickness from dehydration that induced the dreams of him or maybe it was her constant prayers that her life would be taken as well.
Her mind swam in the most wonderful sea of semi consciousness. A dream world where she was walking with Harm across a sandy beach, hand in hand. Ocean water lapped at their feet, a gentle current that supplied a lovely soundtrack.
He stopped and pulled her into his arms, lips dropping onto hers as he lay her in the surf. Harm kissed her deeply and the cool waters crashed over them easing her feverish skin. His hand casually skimmed the length of her torso only to move over her rounded belly, swollen from the life they created.
They were deliriously happy, more than they ever had a right to be. But just as she made to kiss her again, Mac's hands cupped his face and stopped him.
He was alive.
Not in this dream World but, in real life. Harm was alive, she could sense it as sure as she took a breath. Somehow she knew he was holding on by a thread and she would force him to live again. "My love, this isn't real.. You need to wake up. Wake up and find me...Live for me."
He fought her as she knew he would because the kind of pain he was in was too much to bare. God how she wanted to take that away, all of it and live in this beautiful world with him forever. But each ticking of time took a little more life out of him. "Fight, my love...fight your way back. Find me...You can find me…"
Mac woke in tears and her hand gravitated to her lips, another to the padded belly. The dream had been so blessedly vivid. She discovered she was no longer on the dirt ground, someone had taken her into a wooden shack and her body lay across a cot. A needle was stuck deep in her arm with a plastic line which ran up to a glass IV bottle.
She wasn't in a hospital but, at the very least someone had decided to care for her. "You're awake. Good." Mac looked up to see a man speaking to her in Farsi. "We weren't sure you'd make the voyage and Sadik needs that from you."
"Sadik?" Mac wouldn't speak in their language, she still feigned the guise of being unsure as to why she was there. A dumb, American woman led astray, at least some of the men believed that. Only Sadik knew some of the truth and he was less than forthcoming with his small militia. "I'm sorry. I don't understand...English?"
"Boat. You go by boat."
No. Oh no. Being in the jungles of Paraguay was bad enough, it had taken the CIA years to discover Sadik's compound but, if she were sent somewhere by ship the likelihood of being found diminished greatly. "Boat to where?"
"No more talk. You eat. You drink." He shoved a piece of stale bread her way and a bottle of water which was still sealed. The defiant part of her wanted to refuse the offerings but something inside told Mac to keep her strength. Harm was alive or at least fighting to live and she would do her damndest to live for him.
Maybe if she feigned weakness the men would drop their guards offering her a chance at escape? Where she would go Mac wasn't sure but there had to be someone willing to take her in and keep her safe until the Cavalry came.
She would meet Harm in dreams although Mac didn't understand how or why it worked. It was always when she slept that she found Harm in various realms where it was just the two of them happily in love. Their time together never felt brief or rushed, it was as if days would pass when in fact it was just a few hours maybe even minutes.
Each and every time she would remind him that he needed to wake up and that he needed to find her.
She was having the most pleasant of dreams - a recurring one where they were curled up together in the tub of the cabin - when the tip of a rifle was slammed into her spine.
Harsh words were screamed in Farsi and something that sounded like Arabic. She grasped one or two words and then was pulled roughly to her feet by a man that she had never seen before. This one took interest in her as a woman; that was clearly defined as he leered at her lasciviously.
While Sadik's men never regarded her as a plaything, this man had other ideas in mind. He took a knife and sliced up the middle of the blouse. She had been wearing it now for the better part of three weeks. It was tattered and filthy and easily let the blade slice through.
His eyes came down to the padding, furling as he tried to figure out what type of contraption was wrapped around her lithe figure. Angrily he palmed the padded belly and the knife still in his hand cut through each shoulder strap nicking her skin enough to cause a bead of blood to slid down her chest.
Mac stood topless before him, the only thing covering her breasts was a bra that was so soaked with sweat it was almost transparent. She let him look because she knew it might be one of her only chances of escape and didn't anticipate he would sweep her feet and send her tumbling to the ground.
The man used the knife to control her, pressing it against the base of her throat as his other hand worked on stripping the jeans off. She could smell his wretched breath, saw the yellow in his teeth clench down on some sort of leaf she knew must be a drug of sorts.
Her fight or flight instincts came to life when he tried to lower his own pants and Mac knew she was seconds away from being raped. The struggle was fast paced so much that he was unable to stop her knee from crunching into his groin with a force that blinded him.
In another move, Mac managed to grab hold of his wrist and spin the knife so that it embedded itself into his flesh. She didn't know what she hit, only prayed that it had severed a major organ but it was enough to get him off of her and send her scrambling out of the shack.
She stumbled, her body was far too weak to run and she found herself staring up at the barrel of a gun held by one of Sadik's men. He shouted for the rest of the crew to follow and as the edges of her vision blurred Mac heard the gunshots, two which came from the shack. Her attacker had been killed. "Sadik want you pure." Was the last words she heard in broken English before her body gave up.