by Sandra Hill
“We still do.”
“That’s nice,” Nicole said, and she meant it. “Remember the time in fourth grade when you socked him in the belly for sharing his baloney sandwich with Meg Kelly?”
“It wasn’t baloney,” Cyndee said with a laugh, “it was salami, and I’ve been reminding him of that ever since. Whenever he does something wrong, I bring it up again. He just doesn’t understand how we women hold on to things.”
And wasn’t that the truth. Bad deeds had an eternal shelf life. Women might forgive the sins of their lovers, but they never forgot. “Oh, Cyndee, it’s so good talking to you again. I’ve missed you.”
She could hear the catch in Cyndee’s voice when she said, “I would have invited you . . . heck, you were supposed to be my maid of honor, but I couldn’t find a current address. Even your mother doesn’t know.”
If she’d told her mother, her mother would have told her father, and he in turn probably would have informed Billy. While seven years had gone by, Nicole couldn’t be absolutely sure Billy wouldn’t still seek retaliation. His fury at her leaving him—desertion, he’d considered it in his warped mind—had been monumental. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him now. It was just that she’d put that part of her life behind her.
She wouldn’t have gone back to Chicago for Cyndee’s wedding, but she would have cherished the invitation. Cyndee had been maid of honor at Nicole’s wedding to Billy. She should have been able to return the favor.
“As it is, I practically had to sign my life away with some commander named MacLean to get a message to you.” Cyndee was still talking while Nicole’s mind had wandered. “Where are you, Nic? I mean, I know you’re in California, and you’re in some kind of hotshot female SEAL program. There was that feature story in USA Today about all those women warriors.”
Ah! That blasted newspaper article. When given permission to do the article, the reporter had promised not to use names or clear pictures of any of the women. Unfortunately, she and two other women had been front and center.
“Billy made fun of that story down at the station, by the way. Said it must be a troop of dykes.”
“He would. The jerk!” It wouldn’t have mattered what Nicole had done after she’d left him. He honestly believed she couldn’t succeed at anything without him.
“You got that right. He considers himself the Irish stallion, but he’s more like a horse’s ass. You have no idea . . . well, I guess you do.”
The fine hairs stood out on the back of Nicole’s neck, as she wondered, despite herself, what else he’d done.
“Did you ever marry again?” Cyndee asked.
“Nope.”
“Is there someone special in your life?”
For some reason, Trond’s face popped into her head. He was special to her, all right. Special trouble. “Nope. No one.”
“I bet there are lots of opportunities, though. I’ve seen some of those SEALs on TV, and they are pure hunks.”
“Some are,” she agreed. “Cyndee, you told Commander MacLean that it was important that you reach me.”
She could actually hear Cyndee inhale deeply, as if for courage. “It’s Billy.”
Silence followed.
Maybe if she said nothing, she wouldn’t have to know what the brute had done now.
Maybe it had nothing to do with her.
Maybe she was behaving in a cowardly fashion.
“What is it, Cyn? What about the bastard?”
“He’s dating your sister.”
At first, Nicole’s brain couldn’t comprehend what Cyndee had said. She’d even had to think, What sister? Then, “No! Teresa? No way! She’s just a kid.”
“She’s eighteen, Nic, and she thinks he walks on water.”
“Are you kidding me?” She was stunned, unable to grasp how this could have happened. Oh, she knew Billy could charm the skin off a snake if he wanted to. When she’d left him at age twenty-one, Teresa had been only eleven, but she had bawled endlessly and berated Nicole for being a bad girl for running around with other men. That was the story Billy had put forth for the breakup of their marriage.
If she had any regrets over her new life, or guilt, it was over Teresa. The other people she’d cut out of her life had been adults and mostly deserving of the cut, except for Cyndee. But Teresa had been a kid. She’d done nothing. And she was Nicole’s sister. She tried to understand why she’d failed to contact Teresa the last few years, once she was firmly on her feet, and the only explanation she’d been able to come up with was that when she’d decided to have a new life, she’d somehow interpreted that to mean a totally new life. Now, she wondered if she’d been wrong.
“Does he love her?” Nicole asked suddenly.
“I don’t know.”
“Not that it matters. He claimed to be in love with me, and look what happened.” Cyndee had been with Nicole the one time when she’d gone to a private clinic to set a broken arm and three cracked ribs.
“He acts more like a big brother around her, at least in public.”
“He’s ten years older than Teresa,” Nicole said with a snort of disgust.
“That’s not so much difference today,” Cyndee said.
“Are you defending him?”
“Of course not. I called you, didn’t I? Besides, Brad said that I had to at least make an attempt to let you know.”
“Brad?” That was surprising news.
“He never disbelieved you, Nic, but he felt as if he was caught in the middle, being on the force with Billy and all.”
Yeah, well, where had Brad been when she’d tried to file charges? She didn’t say that, though. “What’s different now?”
“He’s seen things.”
Nicole waited for Cyndee to elaborate but she didn’t. Loyalty to her husband, no doubt. She couldn’t blame her for that.
“I wiped my hands of the brute when I left him. He has nothing to do with me now.” But what about Teresa? She has something to do with me. Doesn’t she? Damn, damn, damn, here comes the guilt train. “Teresa is young. Maybe she’ll get bored with an older guy, and—”
“They’re getting married.”
Nicole groaned. This was bad. Really bad. “Mom should be the one to put a stop to this. She knows what he did to me, and even if she did nothing to protect me, she would surely prevent it from happening to a second child.”
“Your mother has stage three breast cancer. With the chemo and radiation, she doesn’t have much energy for anything other than staying alive.”
“Oh, Cyndee! No one told me.”
“Can’t you come home and talk to your sister?”
“Number one, Chicago has not been my home for a long time. Number two, I doubt Teresa would listen to me if she’s under Billy’s spell.”
On the other hand, how can I not try? Oh jeez, I don’t know. “What if he’s doing this as revenge against me? It would be just like him to lay that kind of guilt trip on me.”
“Or maybe he’s trying to lure you back to Chicago to hurt you in some way,” Cyndee mused. “That’s one reason I hesitated. Call me crazy, but women have been murdered by their ex-husbands for less.”
Actually, that wasn’t crazy at all. Oh, Nicole had absolute confidence in her ability to defend herself today. But bullies didn’t play fair. They close-fisted defenseless women when they weren’t looking. “When is the wedding?”
“Not till Christmas, but I heard she’s already ordered her gown, and they reserved the Veterans’ Hall for the reception.”
The same Veterans’ Hall where my reception was held? Taaaacky! Or sick?
Well, at least that gave her a few months to decide what to do, if anything. She could go into this mission with a clear head, no personal baggage hanging over her head. When she returned from Afghanistan, she would request a liberty of at least a week. Maybe. And go to Chicago to talk some sense into Teresa. Maybe.
“I’ll see what I can do, Cyndee. And thanks so much for calling me. Let’s keep in touch f
rom now on.”
“Absolutely. If you decide not to come, and I can understand why you wouldn’t, maybe Brad and I could come to California sometime for a vacation. Of course we’d have to bring the baby with us.”
“Cyndee! You have a baby?”
“Yep. Wanna know her name?”
“Of course. And give me your address so I can send a gift.”
“It’s Anna Nicole Dillon. We call her Nicky.”
Nicole made a small whimpering sound. How many emotional surprises could she stand today? “Oh, Cyndee! I’m honored.”
After they said their final good-byes, Nicole turned off her cell phone. No surprise that tears were welling in her eyes. That seemed to be the norm for her lately. For some reason, the image of the strange man in the chapel yesterday came to mind, and she was reminded that not everything in her past had been bad. There had been her good friend Cyndee, and now a baby . . . Nicole’s namesake.
Before she had a chance to change her mind, she turned her cell phone on again and tapped in a number that hadn’t changed for more than two decades.
After five rings, a weak female voice came on the line. “Hello.”
At first, Nicole couldn’t speak over the lump in her throat. “Mom?”
The only response was weeping and then loud sobs before her mother got herself under control. “Nicole?”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me.”
“I prayed for this, my darling. I didn’t want to die before hearing from you.”
“I should have called, but I wasn’t sure you wanted . . . well, you know what Dad said when I left.”
“You’re still our daughter. You’re still my baby.”
“I heard that you’ve been ill.”
“I’m getting better. The chemo makes me weak, though.”
“I wish I could be there for you.”
“Your call is enough. I don’t think your father is ready for . . . well, you know how he is.”
So, nothing was different. Dad ruled. Mom submitted. Nicole was still not welcome. She’d shamed the family.
“I’m calling because I heard about Teresa and Billy. Oh, Mom, you can’t really—”
“Who’s that you’re talking to? Why are you crying?” she heard a male voice demand in the background.
“It’s a wrong number,” her mother said and hung up.
Nicole listened to the dial tone for a moment. She was stunned to be cut off so abruptly, despite a family history that should have forewarned her. In the scheme of things, she was not a top priority. Not to her mother, who wanted peace at any cost. Not to her father, who demanded obedience, even at the cost to his daughter. And Teresa . . . who knew how her sister would feel after all these years?
What should she do? Just wipe her hands of the lot of them? Or go back to the town she’d vowed never to step foot in again to save her sister?
Well, she couldn’t decide anything today. After she was back from this op, God willing, by mid-September at the latest, she would examine all the alternatives, perhaps make a few more phone calls, decide what to do, if anything. For now, she had to somehow shove it all to the back of her mind and focus on the mission at hand. Her job.
“Nicole, what’s wrong?”
She glanced up to see the last person she wanted to talk to at the moment. Trond Sigurdsson.
“Nothing.” She turned her head away from him.
“Nothing?” He sat down beside her, eyebrows raised in skepticism, and handed her a clean handkerchief that he pulled from the pocket of his cargo shorts. Like her, he would be going to the command center for the first meeting of the day in fifteen minutes.
She blew her nose loudly and swiped at her eyes. “I was just talking to my mother.”
“And she made you cry?”
“I wasn’t crying. I never cry.” Hardly. Not till recently.
“Weep then?”
She glared at him.
“Get blurry eyeballed?”
She almost laughed.
“Tell me what happened, Nicole. I know that I annoy you on occasion.” Seeing the expression on her face, he added, “All the time, then, but I can be a good listener. I’ve been told that talking about a problem helps, not that I know that personally.” As an afterthought, he added, “Or so my gay lovers say.” He took one of her hands in his and linked their fingers together.
She should have pulled away, but oddly, she did not, and just that clasp of skin on skin felt right somehow. That’s probably why she spoke of something she never told anybody.
“I was married for three years. I left my abusive bastard of an ex-husband seven years ago. Now, he’s about to marry my younger sister, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Abusive?” he said slowly, his brow furrowed with confusion. “Are you saying that you were physically harmed by this man?”
“Yep.”
“You?” He was clearly shocked. “A strong woman such as yourself letting a man push you around?”
“I was different then.”
“And your mother . . . you mentioned speaking with your mother. Where was she when this was happening? And how about your father? Did he not intervene?”
“No help from either quarter.”
“And that’s why you were so sad when talking with your mother? Nothing has changed?”
She nodded.
“Ah.” He comprehended immediately why she was distressed. She never would have thought he had so much sensitivity in him. “In what way were you abused?”
“Beaten. Raped a few times. Lots of bruises and black eyes. Broken bones.”
She felt him stiffen beside her. “In my time . . . I mean, back in Viking times, men were wont to wield a hard hand with women on occasion, but good men did not. There are bad seeds in every barrel.”
“Bad apples,” she corrected him.
“Apples, seeds, same thing. Shall I kill the nithing for you? Nithing is a Viking insult for a man who has no value, less than nothing.”
She laughed, or tried to. “Would you?”
“Well, no, not unless he attacked me or some innocent, or he engaged in some demonic act, or if he was a terrorist, of course.”
“He’s demonic, all right.”
His eyes lit up strangely with interest. “Really?”
“Believe me, that time when I sat in an emergency room with him holding my hand, hard, telling the physician that I’d lost my baby due to a fall down the stairs, I could swear he was a beast straight from hell.”
“Nicole!” he said and pulled her into his arms, despite their being out in public where anyone could see.
She struggled to get free, but he just held on tighter. In fact, he lifted her onto his lap, pressed her face into the crook of his neck, and wrapped his arms around her. At the same time, he crooned softly what sounded like a hymn, something about the comfort of an angel’s wings, while his big hands caressed her back from shoulder to waist, over and over. Oddly, she felt the same sense of peace as when that strange man had practically hypnotized her in the chapel yesterday.
Luckily, no one she knew passed by, and soon she had herself under control. Shifting herself off his lap, she stood and said, “I left my husband after that.”
“And none too soon, I warrant.” He stood, too.
“Now I have to decide, after this mission is over, whether to go back to Chicago and try to convince my sister not to make the same mistake I did.”
He nodded. “But you fear a confrontation with your ex-husband?”
“That’s about it.”
“Not to fear. I will go with you.”
Stunned speechless, she stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure him out. A lost cause, she’d already learned.
They both at the same time glanced at their watches and began to walk toward the command center. For a couple of seconds, they just walked in silence.
“Why would you make such an offer? You don’t even like me,” she asked finally.
“I plan on being you
r guardian angel.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Yeah, right. More like a fallen angel.”
“Some of the best guardian angels fell at one time,” he said. “Besides, I’m disliking you less since the near-sex episode.”
“I want to apologize for practically attacking you.” This was the least she could do in light of the commander’s admonition.
Trond arched his brows at her. “So, you are now convinced that I am gay?”
“Not in a Coronado minute! But it’s none of my business.”
“Got smacked down by the commander, did you?” he guessed.
She felt her cheeks flush, but her shrug was the only reply she gave him.
He grinned at her, and, she couldn’t fail to notice that he had a really nice, kind of lopsided grin. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that . . . um, near-sex event,” he said.
Event? Nice way of describing a bone-melting orgasm. On my part, anyway. On his part, too, except he was fantasizing about someone else, if she believed him. “I’d rather forget about it, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, let’s not.” He continued to grin. “I was thinking about giving you another chance to try again.”
“Try again?” she gurgled.
“To turn me.” He reached a long hand over and patted her bottom.
She slapped his hand away, but still she laughed. He was teasing her, of course. For now, the man had managed to turn her tears to smiles, which had probably been his intent. For that she could only be thankful.
That was before she glanced toward the command center and saw three men coming out, walking directly toward them. Rather, toward Trond, whose jaw had dropped and whose face had turned a decided shade of green.
The three men approaching them were tall, well-built, about thirty years old, give or take. In full military dress uniforms. She wasn’t sure what country they were from, but they sported enough ribbons and medals to sink a ship.
“What the fuck!” Trond muttered under his breath, coming to a quick stop.
She stopped, too. “Who are they?”
“My lackwit brothers!”
“You have three brothers?”
“I have six brothers.” He didn’t sound too happy about that fact. Some people didn’t like being members of large families. But six? Holy cow! She wasn’t sure why that surprised her so much. Maybe because he’d never mentioned them. “Do you have sisters, too?”