by Raine Miller
“I bet Oakley’s camp loves the press.” I said sarcastically.
“No accusation, though. Senator Oakley is not mentioned, so the connection hasn’t been made between Montrose and Fielding to Lance Oakley.”
“So let’s extrapolate this. Congressman Woodson’s plane goes down the beginning of April. Oakley’s name starts popping up as a replacement almost immediately. Montrose gets in a bar fight and takes multiple stab wounds to the neck and chest on April twenty-fourth. The motherfucker dies two days later in hospital. Suspect unknown. Tom Bennett contacts me and I take over here on the third of May with Brynne at the Andersen Gallery. Fielding’s last sighting was the end of May. Everything’s quiet for a month. Text from ArmyOps17 to Brynne’s mobile last night, the twenty-ninth of June.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s your gut telling you about Fielding? You’ve seen the reports.”
“I think he’s dead in a shallow grave somewhere or maybe in the Pacific feeding the fish.”
“Connected to Oakley, you think?”
“Hard to know. Justin Fielding had a drug problem. Cocaine, apparently.”
One of the reasons Neil and I worked so well together was our thought processes were so in tune. Neil wasn’t a babbler. He said what was needed and didn’t pad the conversation with useless crap. Just the facts. And his instincts were dead-on, so when he said he didn’t know, that meant things were still falling into place.
“Okay then. We have two of our video perps out of the picture, one dead and one confirmed missing. The third is on active duty in Iraq and a very improbable suspect. The text came from inside the UK and from someone who saw the video at some point in time because they knew the song that was on the original.”
“That’s about right.”
“How do you feel about a little trip out to California?”
“I could do that. Can work on my tan and kill two birds with one stone.”
“All right then. Have Frances set you up for early next week. I can’t have you gone until I’m back in town.”
“How is Brynne feeling? Better, I hope.” Neil asked in a soft voice.
I groaned into the phone and grasped at what to answer. I’m saying fucking nothing!
“Um . . . she’s still feeling ill. Fred’s helping her though.” I rushed out a quick good-bye and ended our call fast. I could talk about work all day long, but personal stuff was not something I had any experience with, nor did I have a desire to start discussing.
I checked my watch and headed for the door. Twenty minutes had passed since she’d closed the door on me. Seemed like ages ago now. I rapped my knuckles a couple of times. “Brynne? May I come in?”
Nothing.
I rattled the handle and called her name again, louder this time.
Silence.
I pressed my ear to the door and listened. I couldn’t hear a thing going on inside the bathroom and started imagining the room’s layout. It is, after all, part of my training to understand the structure of buildings and the fastest way to exit them. Sometimes when things come to you in sudden clarity it is truly frightening. This was one of those times. The solarium abutted the bathroom on the other side of the house.
I knew then. I knew it before the text came through a moment later on my mobile from her: I hav to . . . so sry. WATERLOO
8
♥ Please give me the strength to do this, I prayed. All I could see was the way Ethan’s face looked before I shut the door. What was he thinking right now? He probably wished he’d never heard of me. I felt so ashamed and foolish. It didn’t change how I felt about him, though. I loved him the same as before. I just didn’t know how we would get through something like this and survive as a couple. How could we?
I turned on the faucet and drank about a gallon of water right from the tap, rinsed my mouth and washed my face. I looked like Frankenstein’s bride from the old black-and-white film. My eyes looked frightening, as wide as Elsa Lanchester’s were in that movie. I wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening, but I knew I couldn’t. Those are the thoughts of a child, and I’m not a child! I’m turning twenty-five in two months. How could a person make so many mistakes in twenty-five years?
I reached for a test package and opened it. My hands were shaking as I held the test stick with the key on the side in plain English. Minus sign for not pregnant and a plus sign for “You’re so pregnant, you irresponsible slut.” I felt that sensation again where my body seemed to want to float away. I closed my eyes and breathed, bringing myself to a place where I could go forward, and then I heard Ethan’s methodical voice softly through the door. He was on a call, talking through some of his work business, most likely. I stupidly wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I was in here taking a pregnancy test and he was on the other side calmly going about his life. How in the hell could he even manage it?
I looked around my prison at the beautiful walls, and that’s when I saw it. A door. I don’t think they ever used it, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be used. I didn’t think, I just did what I’d wanted to do when Zara had first made her comments to me.
I ran.
It felt like hardly any time had passed, but I found myself approaching the rocky shore we’d run along this morning and knew I’d been at it for a good while. The farther I ran, the guiltier I felt for leaving without a word. Ethan would be so hurt. Hurt? He’s going to be fucking angry! There would be hell to pay. I wondered if he even knew I’d taken off yet. I closed my eyes at the thought of him finding me gone and knew I needed to make contact. I remembered something he’d said to me a long time ago. It was when he asked me to pick my safe word. Ethan had told me it was for when I needed some space and that he would respect it. He had kept his promise the other time I used it on him.
Ethan was honest with me. I believed that he would keep his word so I sent him the text, silenced my phone, and kept on running. I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish, but the physical exertion helped me. Adrenaline needed to get burned off somehow, and this was something I could at least control.
I ended up at the end of the pier and right at the Sea Bird Café, where we’d eaten just hours before. How fast things can change in a day.
Ethan had told me, “Remember what I said to you, Brynne.” He’d repeated it several times. He wanted me to know he loved me. That was Ethan, always reassuring me when I got irrational. But this . . . It was just too much to consider, and I didn’t want to face it. I didn’t want to face the truth . . . but I knew I had to. Running around like a fool in a seaside village wasn’t going to help anything.
Pull yourself together, Bennett.
Well, that got me the strength to push inside the café doors. I walked up to the first employee I found and told her I’d eaten breakfast there that morning and thought I might have left my sunglasses in the loo. She waved me through and in I went.
I slipped the test stick out of my pocket and did my thing, very angry at myself for being in a public restroom instead of in the house with Ethan there waiting for me. Supporting me. His final words to me a very firm “Don’t forget.” Assuring in his way that he was there for me. I am so stupid.
I tried to hold in the sobbing I wanted to let out so badly, and didn’t even look at the indicator. I capped it and just shoved it back in my jeans pocket, washed my hands and bailed. I’d never felt so utterly weak and pathetic and lost. Well, yes you have. Seven years ago was much worse.
The warmth of the sun was starting to wane in the late afternoon and the wind had picked up, but I wasn’t cold. Nope. I was sweating as I followed the return path back the way Ethan had led me this morning. I knew where I wanted to go. I could sit there and think for a while . . . and then . . . What then? What would I do then?
The forest path was not as bright as it had been that morning and had definitely lost some of its fairy-tale quality, but
I pushed on to my destination and hardly noticed. The metal gate latch opened just as it had before and clanged loudly behind me once I stepped through. I ran up the long gravel drive, kicking up small stones behind me as I plowed on. I hurried, somehow needing to see it again. I breathed a sigh of relief when the mermaid angel statue came into view. Yes. It was still there. I chastised myself for thinking it would be otherwise. It was real and not a figment of my mind. You are so losing it.
I sat right down at the foot of the statue and felt my heart pounding. It beat so hard I’m sure it moved the skin above it. I wasn’t dressed for running, but at least I had on shoes that worked.
I sat there for a long, long time.
The sea looked darker and more blue than it had that morning. The wind was sharper and a hint of rain could be found on the breeze. The smell was a good smell to me; earth and water and air all blended. The smell of life.
Life.
Did I have a little life starting inside me? Everyone seemed to think so. The idea of the three of them discussing me like some kind of lab rat still made me see red. Secrets again. Ethan knew I did not do secrets. I just cannot handle them and I doubt I would ever be able to. When I am the last to know things, even if they are small, it takes me right back to that moment when I first saw the video of me on that pool table being . . . fucked like I was nothing but trash. Worthless. Ugly. So very ugly.
It’s my hang-up. My cross to bear. I hope there comes a day when I can close the lid on that Pandora’s box and keep it closed, but it’s not happened yet. Since meeting Ethan the lid has been knocked off several times.
It’s not his fault, though. I do know that much. It’s mine. I made choices like everyone does. I have to live with them. The old cliché “reap what you sow” makes a lot of sense, actually.
I wasn’t ready to look at the test yet. I just wasn’t. I guess it made me weak, but I don’t claim to be all together in the head. That’s Dr. Roswell’s job, and I’ve given the poor woman plenty to work with over the last years. She would have a field day with this news. I’d need a third job just to pay for the extra therapy.
So back to what could be. Pregnant. A baby. A child. Ethan’s baby. The two of us parents . . . I’m quite sure that when Ethan suggested we should get married, he didn’t have becoming a father in mind. He’d make a wonderful father, though. I’d seen him with Zara and the boys. He was so good with them. Playful but with some common sense. He would be the kind of father I had. The best. If that was something he even wanted. And I was terrified, because I just did not know the answer to that question.
Picturing Ethan in the role of daddy is what broke me. The tears came then, and I couldn’t hold them back for even one more second.
I cried there on the grass lawn of a beautiful stone manor perched along the Somerset coast, at the foot of a mermaid angel that looked out to sea. I cried until there were no more tears in me and it was time to move on to the next stage of this process. I’d already done denial and anger. What was next? Bargaining? Ethan would have something to say there. I felt guilty again for leaving him at the house. He was going to hate me . . .
Strangely, the crying jag helped, because I did feel marginally better. I was terribly thirsty, though.
I needed water and figured dehydration was the culprit. All that puking and running will do it to you. I looked around for a faucet and spotted one. I walked over and turned the handle to let it flow for a bit before cupping my hand and bringing the water to my mouth. It tasted so nice, I drank handful after handful until I was satisfied. I did my best with my face too, trying to wash away all the tears and snot and absolute disgusting mess I was by now.
I came back over to my place beneath the mermaid angel and again watched the sea for a time. My wet face felt cool in the breeze until it dried in the wind.
It’s time to look now.
Time to look and see what the cards had in store for me. I was as ready as I would ever be, I decided. As I reached into my pocket for the stick, I felt another wave of nausea take hold of me and wondered how I could possibly vomit up anything else.
Apparently even water wasn’t welcome in my stomach, because I was reduced to kneeling over the rocks and heaving again as all that lovely, refreshing water came right back up.
♠ I stayed back the whole time. I gave her the space she asked me for and respected her wishes.
Until she got sick again.
I couldn’t let her suffer through that alone. Not my girl. Not when she needed some help and compassion from someone who loved her. Seeing her sitting beneath the mermaid statue and then weeping her heart out had been hard to watch. I didn’t have any other choice, though. I wasn’t letting her go it alone outside in public where she was at risk. It just wasn’t going to happen like that. I’d made sure the GPS was activated on her mobile after that morning she went out for coffee and met up with Langley on the street. The cocksucker. And since she had her mobile with her and turned on, I had been able to track her movements for nearly the whole way. The stop into the Sea Bird Café surprised me, though. I wondered why she’d done that. The statue made much more sense to me. It was very peaceful here. I could immediately see why she’d come back to this place to be alone.
“I’ve got you,” I said as I touched her back and gathered up her hair—again—for more times than I cared to count.
“Oh, Ethan . . .” she choked out in between the heaving, “I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry—”
“Shhhh, it’s okay. Don’t fight it, baby.” I rubbed over her back with one hand and held her hair with the other. “It’s just the water you had coming up now.”
When she was finally done she drooped like a wilted flower, hunched over the ground looking so very ill. I knew I needed to get her back to the house as soon as possible. She was in desperate need of Fred’s doctoring and some rest.
I pulled her up to me on unsteady legs, her tragic state shredding me from the inside out. I couldn’t help but feel horribly guilty for doing it to her too.
“Th-thank you for coming to f-f-find me,” she chattered, her lips looking more blue than anything. She was chilled and shivering, so I took off my shirt and put it on over hers, hoping the extra layer would warm her a little.
She was compliant, allowing me to take charge, and that was a massive relief. Taking care of her was something I could do. I didn’t need much, just the assurance she wanted my help. Wanted me.
“I’ll always find you.” I picked her up and started walking down the long drive of Stonewell Court to where I’d parked outside of the gate. She closed her eyes and put her palm on my chest.
Right over my heart.
It always amazed me at how easy it was to carry her. I knew why. It was because she carried my heart with her wherever she went. My heart was in her hands, and carrying her was some form of self-preservation, maybe. Holding her, holding me up.
I couldn’t explain it, but I understood it. Made perfect sense to me.
I said it again. “I’ll always find you, Brynne.”
As soon as I got her back to Hallborough, Fred told me to take her upstairs to our room and put her into bed. She was asleep when I laid her down. She didn’t even wake up when I took off her shoes and tucked the blanket around her.
My baby looked awful. I’d never say that out loud, but she did. It didn’t mean she wasn’t still the most beautiful woman in the world, though. To me she was. My beautiful American girl.
Fred came around to the other side of the bed and pinched the skin on her arm a few times. He took her pulse from her neck and then her temperature at her ear. “She’s severely dehydrated with an elevated pulse. I’d like to stick her with an IV. She needs the fluids right away or she could be in trouble. Her body mass is low and she can’t afford to—”
“Can you do that here so she doesn’t have to go into hospital?”
“I can but I
have to run ’round to the clinic to get what I need, and someone will have to monitor her the entire time.”
“I’ll do it.” I looked back at her sleeping, hoping she was having a good dream at least. She deserved that. “I’m not leaving her.”
“And what’s the verdict? Am I going to be an uncle or not?”
“I don’t know, Fred. She never said. We still don’t know . . .” I wanted to know so very badly, though.
As soon as Fred took off, I pulled back the covers to get her out of her jeans. I wanted her comfortable in this bed since she was going to be in it for a good while. Hell, yes she would! She’d get some rest if I had to tie her down to the fucking bed.
I’d found some soft leggings to exchange for the jeans, and a pair of fuzzy purple socks she liked to wear around at night. Brynne had beautiful feet and loved to have them rubbed. I’d seen her slather her feet with lotion in the evenings and then put on socks like this. She said it was why they were so soft.
I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off her long, sexy legs in one smooth swoop. Her blue knickers came with. I could see her body as I had seen it many, many times, so perfectly made and utterly captivating, but I didn’t think about sex right now. I stared at her belly, so flat and hollowed, and thought about what might be growing inside there instead.
Are we having a baby?
Brynne might be scared to death about the possibility, but if it was true, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind she would be a wonderful mother. My girl was brilliant at everything she did.
She moved her head restlessly on the pillow, but didn’t wake. The soft words I spoke at her ear were whispered and I hoped she could hear me somehow. Slipping on the leggings, I quickly followed with the socks, grateful just to have my hands on her skin in some kind of useful service.
Having her back safe was the most important thing; even so, a “Waterloo” directed at me for the second time in our relationship hadn’t been nice. But in the end I was glad she’d used it when she needed to. She’d even given me a little “I’m sorry” before typing the word in her text. I sighed. I knew Brynne was doing the best she could, and at least she was honest about telling me when she needed some space and a little time. I felt like I was being the only way I knew how to be. I didn’t know what I could do any differently.