Unchained

by Roze, Robyn

  “It’s so good to see you, love.” Every worry in Shayna’s world faded away in her daughter’s snug embrace.

  “This is the best surprise ever.” Danielle’s voice trembled with emotion as she squeezed her mother closer.

  “Hey, can you two do the mush inside? Preferably after I have a drink in my hand,” Scotty said, playing at impatience as he herded them into the apartment, his smile spread wide.

  Danielle hung Scotty’s jacket and Shayna’s wrap on a metal coat rack, followed by a tour of her modest, one-bedroom apartment. It had beautifully maintained parquet flooring, new appliances, and what looked like a fresh coat of white paint throughout. Between the bright walls and the abundance of tall French doors lining the living and kitchen area, the space was cheery, even with the gloomy skies outside.

  Shayna circled in place, soaking in her daughter’s world. “I love it, Dani. It’s so perfect for you and Harper.” She stepped closer to a wall displaying an artful arrangement of photographs. “Did you take these?”

  Danielle moved beside her mother. “Yes. They’re some of my favorites.”

  “You have a real talent, sweetheart.” Shayna’s arm hooked around Danielle’s waist.

  “Harper thinks so too. The website was his idea, and it’s getting more traffic every day. I’ve even had people inquire about purchasing or licensing some of them.”

  “My niece the entrepreneur,” Scotty said with pride, standing behind them.

  She shrugged off his comment. “Maybe. Harper has a colleague in his company’s German office whose husband owns galleries there and here, and I may get to meet him.”

  “That’s wonderful. When?” Shayna asked.

  “Possibly in a few days.” She looked sheepish. “But I don’t know, now.”

  Scott and Shayna traded glances.

  “Because we’re here?” Shayna asked.

  “I was supposed to go to Berlin with Harper in a couple days. He has a management conference there, and that’s when I was going to meet with the gallery owner whose wife works with Harper. He’s interested in talking to me; he’s seen my website.” She fidgeted with indecision. “But it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, Mom. I can stay here and meet him another time. It’s really not a big deal.”

  “You’re going, Dani.”

  “Mom—”

  “We dropped in on you with very little notice. And you will not change your plans because of us. We’ll get along just fine while you’re away. There are a million things to do here. I should know.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Paris was one of your and dad’s favorite places.” Danielle’s expression changed, as if she remembered something important. “Where’s Sean, by the way?” she asked, glancing to the door like she expected him to walk in any moment.

  Scotty chimed in before Shayna could answer. “He’s wrapping up some business and told us to go ahead without him. He’ll try to meet up with us later.”

  “He’s working on your honeymoon?”

  “I think the guy needed a break if you ask me,” Scotty quipped, arms crossed, rocking on his heels.

  Shayna shot him a dirty look.

  “He has a business to run, Dani. And we have been traveling quite a while.”

  “He’s back at the hotel, then?”

  “No. He’s still in Singapore,” Shayna said. Scotty looked uncomfortable with her honest answer. No matter, she refused to lie about such details, lacking both the desire and the energy. Besides, she needed to save her energy for keeping the biggest secret of all locked away.

  Danielle looked confused and ready to dig deeper.

  “Hey, where’s my drink, kiddo?” Scotty clapped his hands and headed toward the kitchen, derailing Danielle’s line of questioning. She changed mental tracks, as if by imaginary railway switch, and followed him like a happy puppy.

  “Harper picked out some bourbon for you last night. It’s supposed to be really good.”

  “A wise man once said, ‘There is no bad whiskey. There are only some whiskeys that aren’t as good as others.’”

  “Are you the wise man, Uncle Scotty?” Danielle giggled, as she retrieved the bourbon bottle and a glass.

  “No, I can’t take credit. Although it sounds like something I’d say, doesn’t it?”

  “Raymond Chandler,” Shayna announced in a disenchanted tone, while staring through the misty veil at the Roman architecture across the street, the avenue bustling below her.

  “How do you know that?” Scotty asked.

  “Google.” She turned toward him, riled that he had already abandoned his promise to forgo alcohol while with her. “You’ve used that line so many times over the years, I looked it up.”

  They stared hard at one another. After a few moments, Scotty surrendered, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh of defeat. Then, placing his hand over Danielle’s as she was about to peel back the wax on the cap, he said, “Don’t break the seal, kiddo. Maybe another time. I’ll just take some water—on the rocks,” he looked at Shayna, “or seltzer, if you have it.”

  “Oh, sure,” she looked down at the unopened bottle, “maybe Harper will try it when he gets home from work later.” She hesitated, looking to her mother for an explanation for her uncle’s unexpected request, then cleared her throat and traded the bourbon for seltzer. “Were you on business in Singapore too? Is that how you met up with Mom and Sean?”

  Shayna remained quiet, offering no help. Her brother didn’t need it anyway, because as she had learned over the years, he, like Sean, was a master of illusion. She couldn’t help wondering, worrying, about what lay behind Scotty’s smoke and mirrors. If she were to find out one day, there was one thing of which she was certain: she would still love him.

  Shayna tuned out their chatter and drifted across the room to the marbled fireplace, admiring the photographs of her daughter and son-in-law arranged on the mantel. Their bright faces displayed clear and convincing evidence of a blissful couple relishing their newlywed phase. Wedding day poses. Honeymoon adventures. First home in San Diego. Paris. Each snapshot added to their story, building blocks in the lifelong foundation that would sustain them in the difficult times to which no one was immune.

  In the mix of captured moments stood a colorful photo of Shayna and Sean under the gazebo in Italy, purple wisteria framing their nuptials under the golden glow of a Tuscan sun. The upturn in her lips thinned when she set sight on the neighboring picture. She reached out slowly, heartache thumping in her chest as she brought the old photo closer. Danielle was seven, riding piggyback on Frank on the beach. Their sun-kissed faces, smiles wide, eyes bright with mischief, were aimed front and center at her, then and now.

  Her mind traveled back, pulled through the slippery tunnel of time. She could smell the salty Caribbean breeze, hear the crash of waves on the private St. Bart’s beach. Most of all, she could hear Frank’s deep roars of laughter mixed with Danielle’s squeals of excitement. Their little pigtailed girl, bouncing up and down on his back as they chased after her down the beach.

  She had been jogging backward with the camera in hand when she snapped this picture. The three of them had ended up heaped on the white sand, a tangle of arms and legs, giggles and pleas, Frank growling and tickling them both. He let Danielle save her mother from the tickle monster, only to send her scampering to the sea, hands over her eyes, when the kissing monster landed a direct hit on her mother’s lips. Soon after, she and Frank had sat draped in a lazy embrace on the beach, bare feet dug into warm sand, watching their little girl, ankle deep in turquoise water, searching for a starfish.

  She’s the best thing we’ve ever done, Shay. The best thing I’ll ever be a part of.

  The brush of his hand cupping her face, drawing their lips close, the salt air mingled with his spicy scent, his breath on her skin, all swirled with visceral clarity in the labyrinth of her memories.

  Thank you for her.

  Shayna’s fingers pressed
against her lips, sealing their kiss as her lids dropped on the poignant scene, heart heavy with the grief that still blindsided her in unexpected moments.

  She shook her head in regret. What happened to us?

  Clutching the metal frame to her chest, she evoked the infidelity and lies that had destroyed their marriage. And the far more personal betrayal by him that had left her body bruised, her psyche nearly shattered, and confidence in her own judgment shaken.

  Refocusing on the hard truths, she dismissed the fond recollections. “What happened to you?” She startled at the sound of her own voice.

  “Mom?” The one word carried a wave of worry in it.

  Shayna willed the tears back before opening her eyes. Her gaze remained on the picture as she returned it with care to its proper space, releasing it to face her daughter.

  “Is everything all right, Mom?”

  “Of course, it is.” The words sounded untrue to her own ears.

  Doubt and surprise colored Danielle’s face. “You miss him, don’t you?” She measured her next words. “Even after everything that happened.” A knowing look flickered in Danielle’s watchful eyes, making Shayna glance away.

  Truth served with disillusionment was a hard pill to swallow.

  “A part of me will always miss the man who gave me you. How could I not? I see him every time I look at you.” Shayna threaded a lock of Danielle’s long, dark hair between her fingers and then swept it behind her shoulder. “The bad things that happened can never erase all the good, all the wonderful memories we had with you.” She gripped Danielle’s shoulders. “Nothing that happened between me and your father can ever change that. Ever.”

  Danielle’s focus shifted to the mantel, a glossy sheen in her eyes. “I know that’s an old picture, but it’s always been one of my favorites. Dad looks so handsome and happy in it.”

  Shayna presumed her daughter no longer felt comfortable with a picture of the three of them together, now that her mother had married another man. She couldn’t fault her. The juxtaposition of her and Sean next to her and Frank seemed unsavory, even now; perhaps, especially now.

  It would never be right.

  “Mom, I want you to know something.” Her worried eyes flicked to her uncle, now sitting at the café table in the small but efficient kitchen. He appeared engrossed with something he was reading on his phone, the light from the display reflected in his readers. “I know Sean saved my life.”

  Shayna could barely breathe, let alone tip her head in the slightest of nods, the whole truth too heavy and precariously balanced on her shoulders.

  “Uncle Scotty told me.”

  Shayna’s head whipped in his direction.

  Scotty took a long moment, focusing on the phone display in his hands, before peering, unapologetically, above the rim of his glasses to meet his sister’s searing judgment. “Relax, sis. She’s the only one who knows.”

  She scoffed at his unfounded confidence with an exasperated shake of her head. “Want to bet?”

  With arms crossed, foot tapping, Shayna focused on Danielle. “Did you tell Harper?”

  Danielle turned timid.

  Shayna patted her daughter’s flushed cheek. “It’s okay, love. He’s your husband. I understand. I’d expect nothing less.” Then she directed her anger at the guilty party. “But your Uncle Scotty is clueless about relationships that last beyond a week. Not to mention he says things he shouldn’t—when he’s had too much to drink!”

  There had been no need to cut her brother down in that scathing tone in front of Dani. She regretted it, immediately. It had slipped out, rather burst out, from the uncommon stress and strain of the past few weeks, leaving her with an unstable fuse that needed only a tiny spark to set off an explosion.

  Scotty ground his teeth, mouth twisted in irritation. He slammed the phone down onto the tabletop, tossed his glasses next to it, and marched over to Shayna. Their eyes locked in a battle from which neither was backing down.

  Danielle’s anxious eyes volleyed between her mother and uncle. “I’m sorry, Uncle Scotty. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “It’s okay, kiddo.” He pulled her into a hug. “Your mom’s just being a…,” he rolled his neck and released a hot breath, “she’s just being bitchy.” Scotty let go of Danielle. Then, in quick steps, he swiped his phone and readers off the table, and stalked to the coat rack. Yanking his leather jacket off its hook, the slender pole wobbled like a top. “I’m going for a walk.” Dishes rattled in the cabinets when he slammed the door behind him, his boots stomping an angry beat down the hall.

  Mother and daughter stood motionless as they scrutinized each other, apprehension trapped and growing heavier in the space between them, neither knowing where to start, until Danielle broke the awkward silence. “Why wouldn’t you want me to know, Mom? I don’t get it.”

  Danielle’s loaded question ratcheted the turmoil pinching and pulling at Shayna. She moved past Danielle and dropped down onto the upholstered loveseat, dazed. Danielle followed and sat next to her, waiting for an answer.

  After a few moments of organizing her thoughts and regaining her bearings, she finally responded. “Sean was a SEAL officer a long time ago. He was able to put together the team who tracked you down and rescued you.” Her words had been cast without emotion, measured in their calculation.

  “That’s what Uncle Scotty told me.”

  Of course, he had.

  Shayna continued. “Even after he officially left, he accepted missions from time to time. They’re always secret, Danielle, for the safety of everyone involved. That’s why you shouldn’t know. Why you can’t tell anyone else, Harper either. It has to stop with the two of you.”

  “If it’s so secret, why does Uncle Scotty know?”

  Indeed.

  “I don’t have an answer for that.”

  But she intended to get one.

  Danielle’s expression contorted with the rush of words racing to spill out. “I need to thank him. I need to—”

  “No! Absolutely not.” Shayna locked eyes with her. “He does not want you to know, Danielle. You cannot let him know you do.”

  Danielle’s face hardened, affronted. “He gave me my life back. I know I can never say or do anything to repay him for what he did, but at the very least I can thank him. It will never go beyond me and Harper. You have my word.” She squeezed her mother’s hand in supplication.

  The gratitude thick in Danielle’s voice, the pledge of loyalty written on her sweet face, broke Shayna’s heart, and almost her tenuous resolve. Sharp guilt pecked at her conscience, torturing her with the intolerable prospect of Danielle thanking Sean for having saved her life, while being blessedly unaware of him having taken her father’s.

  Bile spiked at the back of Shayna’s throat, steeling her posture. “You cannot thank him. Promise me, Danielle.” Frank’s little girl stared back in confusion, dragging Shayna back in time. Her eyes skimmed over her daughter’s dark hair, the color a perfect match to Frank’s when she met him a lifetime ago. Shayna wrapped a silky lock around her finger, unable to maintain eye contact with the same blue eyes that haunted her dreams and commanded her nightmares.

  “Sometimes, sweetheart, when someone gives you something with one hand,” her voice faltered, as she pulled Danielle into a fierce hug, “they take something else away with the other.”

  Those tricky words, lacking the explosive context, were as close as she would ever come to a confession.

  Danielle twisted in her mother’s arms, pulling back, worry lining her youthful complexion. “I don’t understand, Mom.” Disappointment tinged her words.

  The back of Shayna’s fingers grazed Danielle’s cheek. “I hope you never do, love.”

  Chapter 17

  “She’ll take it,” Shayna announced to the salesclerk standing poised and watchful nearby. “And, Gabrielle, bring more items for her to try. A mix of evening and leisure wear, please.”

 
The clerk’s chin angled down in response, as she exited the private dressing lounge.

  Danielle stopped posing on the circular platform in front of the ornate gilded tri-mirror and looked back at her mother. “Mom, no. I have plenty of clothes.”

  “Then it’s time to clean out your closet and make room for the new things I’m going to buy you.” She held up her hand to stop her daughter’s protest. “My mind is made up.”

  Her smile wide and appreciative, Danielle stepped off the circular stand and sat next to her mother on the velvety chaise. The private changing suite at the Galeries Lafayette sheltered them from the din of the shopping hordes.

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  “You know it’s my pleasure. I’ve always loved taking you shopping. And besides, you should have some new things to take with you to Berlin.”

  Relief and excitement lit Danielle’s face. “I’m glad we’re staying after his conference to make a vacation out of it.”

  “Me too. Harper looked tired last night at dinner. Some time away together will do you both good.”

  “I agree. He’s been working more hours than either of us like, but it won’t last forever. And we make the most of our time together when he is home.”

  Danielle’s focus shifted, her expression turning somber. “The nightmares don’t happen as often now.” Shayna grasped Danielle’s hand. “I’m doing good, Mom; I don’t want you to worry. My therapist back in San Diego helped a lot. And I have someone here I can talk to if I need to.”

  The images from that terrifying time constricted Shayna’s throat, muting her.

  “It’s not always easy, but I’ve learned to search for the good in what happened, for what it taught me. To find a way to make a positive difference going forward in my life. Does that sound crazy?”

  Flicking through the worn flip-book of her own life, Shayna answered, softly, “No.” For she recognized in Danielle her own rocky search for the promise of silver linings and meaningful life lessons. Fanciful scavenger hunts that had so often left her empty-handed.