fool of himself, scared Hannah, and had everyone staring at him. They all probably thought he was a freak … or mentally ill.
She yanked on his arm with more force than he'd have thought she had in her petite form. He tried to continue but he realized he was half-dragging her and from the corner of his eye he saw Matthew running over.
He stopped, but he wouldn't look at her.
“Chris, I know what you're going through—”
“No you don't.”
Matthew appeared at his side. “What's wrong?”
“I need to talk to Chris.”
“But—”
“Please, I just need a minute.”
“Okay,” Matthew said finally. “I'll give you a minute. But I'm staying right here.”
Jenny waited a moment and then she shook Chris's arm.“Look at me. Please?”
He raised his eyes and saw that she looked at him with compassion. “You had a flashback, didn't you?”
“How'd you know?”
“Because I've seen them. I've had them.”
Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair. “Haven't had one in months.” He glanced over his shoulder. Hannah stared at him and appeared confused. When he looked up at Matthew, he was surprised to see that he was wearing an expression much like his wife's.
“Post-traumatic stress syndrome?”
Surprised, Chris nodded. “You've heard of it? Here?”
Matthew nodded, touched Jenny's shoulder. “Jenny wasn't a soldier like you, but she's had some problems.”
“I scared Hannah.”
“Go talk to her. She'll understand.”
“I don't know how,” Chris said. “I don't understand it myself.” He took a deep breath.
“Go talk to her.”
“Later,” Chris mumbled. He pulled open the door. “Later.”
As he closed the door behind him, he heard Jenny exclaim, “Men!”
“Hey!” said Matthew.
The door shut out their exchange.
Hannah took a deep breath and then knocked at the door of the dawdi haus.
When no one answered, she knocked again, louder this time.
She heard a thud inside the house and then the door opened.
Chris glared at her, one hand on his hip. “What? Can't a man be left alone?”
“I wanted to make sure you're okay.”
“I'm a soldier—was a soldier,” he amended. “I can take care of myself.”
Taken aback at what he'd said, she searched for something to say. “I'm sure you can,” she said at last.
She knew about men who had to look strong, be strong.Matthew was one of them. He'd spent the year before his first wife died being strong for her and their kinner and then grieved so hard for three years after her death, before Jenny had come back into his life.
Since Chris had been a soldier, she supposed it was even more a part of him to be masculine, to be strong physically and emotionally, to not depend on anyone for anything.
“I'm fine.”
“Really?” She stared at him. “You don't look fine.”
“Well, I am.” He started to close the door, then hesitated.“Look, I'm sorry I scared you.”
“I'm okay. Does that happen often?”
“No, thank God.” He sighed. “I thought they were over. I hadn't had one for a long time.”
“Come outside and let's talk about it.”
“There's nothing to talk about.”
“I want to understand, but I shouldn't come inside.” She glanced around a little nervously.
He frowned, and then she saw his look of comprehension.“Oh, right.”
Then he saw her glance go to the backpack on the floor behind him.
“You're leaving?”
He shrugged. “I originally came for just a few days, visiting.”
“But Matthew needs your help.”
“I don't think I was giving him much help.”
He stepped outside and shut the door. She noticed that he looked everywhere but at her.
“There's no need to feel ashamed for what happened,” she told him quietly.
His eyes, full of emotion, flashed at her. “Easy for you to say. You didn't lose control. You don't know what it's like to have these things just come out of nowhere.”
“You're right.”
Shaking his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.
She yanked on his arm with more force than he'd have thought she had in her petite form. He tried to continue but he realized he was half-dragging her and from the corner of his eye he saw Matthew running over.
He stopped, but he wouldn't look at her.
“Chris, I know what you're going through—”
“No you don't.”
Matthew appeared at his side. “What's wrong?”
“I need to talk to Chris.”
“But—”
“Please, I just need a minute.”
“Okay,” Matthew said finally. “I'll give you a minute. But I'm staying right here.”
Jenny waited a moment and then she shook Chris's arm.“Look at me. Please?”
He raised his eyes and saw that she looked at him with compassion. “You had a flashback, didn't you?”
“How'd you know?”
“Because I've seen them. I've had them.”
Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair. “Haven't had one in months.” He glanced over his shoulder. Hannah stared at him and appeared confused. When he looked up at Matthew, he was surprised to see that he was wearing an expression much like his wife's.
“Post-traumatic stress syndrome?”
Surprised, Chris nodded. “You've heard of it? Here?”
Matthew nodded, touched Jenny's shoulder. “Jenny wasn't a soldier like you, but she's had some problems.”
“I scared Hannah.”
“Go talk to her. She'll understand.”
“I don't know how,” Chris said. “I don't understand it myself.” He took a deep breath.
“Go talk to her.”
“Later,” Chris mumbled. He pulled open the door. “Later.”
As he closed the door behind him, he heard Jenny exclaim, “Men!”
“Hey!” said Matthew.
The door shut out their exchange.
Hannah took a deep breath and then knocked at the door of the dawdi haus.
When no one answered, she knocked again, louder this time.
She heard a thud inside the house and then the door opened.
Chris glared at her, one hand on his hip. “What? Can't a man be left alone?”
“I wanted to make sure you're okay.”
“I'm a soldier—was a soldier,” he amended. “I can take care of myself.”
Taken aback at what he'd said, she searched for something to say. “I'm sure you can,” she said at last.
She knew about men who had to look strong, be strong.Matthew was one of them. He'd spent the year before his first wife died being strong for her and their kinner and then grieved so hard for three years after her death, before Jenny had come back into his life.
Since Chris had been a soldier, she supposed it was even more a part of him to be masculine, to be strong physically and emotionally, to not depend on anyone for anything.
“I'm fine.”
“Really?” She stared at him. “You don't look fine.”
“Well, I am.” He started to close the door, then hesitated.“Look, I'm sorry I scared you.”
“I'm okay. Does that happen often?”
“No, thank God.” He sighed. “I thought they were over. I hadn't had one for a long time.”
“Come outside and let's talk about it.”
“There's nothing to talk about.”
“I want to understand, but I shouldn't come inside.” She glanced around a little nervously.
He frowned, and then she saw his look of comprehension.“Oh, right.”
Then he saw her glance go to the backpack on the floor behind him.
“You're leaving?”
He shrugged. “I originally came for just a few days, visiting.”
“But Matthew needs your help.”
“I don't think I was giving him much help.”
He stepped outside and shut the door. She noticed that he looked everywhere but at her.
“There's no need to feel ashamed for what happened,” she told him quietly.
His eyes, full of emotion, flashed at her. “Easy for you to say. You didn't lose control. You don't know what it's like to have these things just come out of nowhere.”
“You're right.”
Shaking his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.
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