by S. E. Lund
We lay on his bed, arms around each other, and recovered.
“I don’t know what I would have done to stop him if you didn’t come along,” I said, when remembered how I got there. “I was afraid I’d actually have to use some of that MCMAP training I received from Devil Dog and you.”
Beckett rose up on his hands and leaned over me as I lay beneath him. He grinned, and I knew he was remembering back to our encounter in the gym during the fitness class. His eyes twinkled and he smiled back.
“Glad to be of service, sha,” he said and bent down to kiss me. “Anytime.” He pulled back and looked into my eyes, and then his voice became serious. “I couldn’t stand to think that he hurt you.”
“You were there like my own personal superhero,” I said and smiled, trying to lighten his mood.
He grinned. “I told you I had superpowers.” He kissed me again and before I knew it, he was leaning down, arousing me once more with his mouth and fingers. “I meant it.”
Then he showed me what he meant.
Early that morning while Beckett still slept, I crept into the ensuite bathroom with my bag and called Leah.
“You’ll never guess what just happened,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“What?” she said, her voice excited. “Did Beckett come by and sweep you off your feet?”
I laughed. “Yes. Twice. After he almost punched Steve out, that is…”
“What?”
I told her what happened and she was practically speechless while I spoke, except for a no way now and then.
“I am so sorry,” she said, and she sounded really sad. “I had no idea Steve would be like that. He seemed so harmless to me. I thought he was just being protective.”
“He saw me as rightfully his and pulled me into a side alley, trying to kiss me and who knows what else he might have done.”
“Oh, God,” she said and gasped. “He wouldn’t have hurt you, would he?”
I sighed. “Who can say? I can’t believe he would, but he was drunk and could have if Beckett hadn’t come by.”
“Thank God he did.”
“Yeah,” I said, remembering the relief I felt when I saw Beckett. “Thank God.”
Leah spoke again, her voice soft. “So you two are back together? Tell me you’re back together.”
“We’re back together,” I said and smiled, barely able to believe it. “I forgave him for lying to me.”
“He didn’t lie,” she said. “He just didn’t tell you everything.”
“That’s what he said.” I laughed softly. “You know that he actually went to the bar and spoke to Gramps about me?”
“He told us that last night,” Leah said. “He is so in love with you, Mira. Poor bastard.”
I smiled to myself but didn’t say anything but inside, I said I love him in my mind.
I felt so guilty even thinking it, but it was true. I realized that I loved him.
“I’m glad you’re giving him another chance.”
“I am, too,” I said finally and rubbed my eyes. “I have to have a shower and leave. We’ll talk later.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call, sweets. I’m so glad, hun. I know he’ll make you happy.”
I ended the call and sat there in the bathroom, the biggest grin on my face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Beckett
Miranda had already showered and dressed by the time I woke. She bent down over me as I lay in bed and kissed me, smiling when she met my eyes.
“You’re a sleepyhead,” she said and snuggled against me.
“I haven’t been sleeping well and I guess I was exhausted. Plus, you wore me out,” I said with a laugh. “How come you’re dressed? Are you going to deny me an early morning delight?”
“I am,” she said and tried to sneak away when I grabbed her. “I have to go back to my place and get my stuff. I have an early class.”
“Damn,” I said and let her go with extreme reluctance. “What about lunch?”
“It’s still on,” she said and stood by the side of the bed. “There’s still a lot I want to ask you.”
I nodded. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Now, let me get dressed and I’ll drive you to your class.”
She shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “I’ll take the train. I’ll meet you at your uncle’s place for lunch. We can talk then.”
“Please,” I said, getting out of bed. She held up her hand to stop me.
“Really,” she said, her voice insistent. “I have a morning routine and have to keep to it. You stay in bed. I’ll see you at lunch.”
I sighed and gave in, kissing her again before she left. I stood at the door, my sheet wrapped around my waist, and watched her leave the apartment.
Once she was gone, I dressed in my sweats and went for a run just to bleed off some of the energy I felt after my night with Miranda. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself but I felt elated that she had come home with me, made love with me.
After my run, I could barely eat my breakfast, my hunger dampened, but I knew I had to get something in me if I was going to last the morning. I had several meetings, and was glad that my mind would be occupied so I wouldn’t dwell too much on the time and my meeting with Miranda.
Finally, the clock read 12:30 and after I finished up my meeting with one of my staff, I took my car to Colm’s restaurant. As I stepped into the cool interior of the building, I wondered what questions she’d ask and how she’d respond.
Miranda sat alone at a round booth at the side of the restaurant. I went over and bent down to kiss her cheek. I sat beside her, close, and wrapped my arms around her, kissing her deeply. She kissed me back and at that moment, I felt so incredibly relieved.
“Ask me anything. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Tell me why.”
I inhaled and folded my hands on the table. “We lost our GPS and strayed into enemy territory,” I said, staring at the salt shaker, remembering back to the day. “We’d been out testing the comms tech Brimstone developed with a DARPA contract and—”
“No,” she said and held her hand up. “Tell me why you didn’t tell me who you were right away.”
I closed my eyes. That why was harder to explain. It was easy to explain why Dan came to rescue us. It was far harder – practically impossible – to explain why I didn’t tell her who I was right away.
“I was afraid that if I had told you the truth, you would’ve hated me. I didn’t want you to hate me.”
“Why would I hate you?
“He died because of me,” I said, my throat constricted. “His team was dispatched to rescue us. He came with me in the chopper. I was his patient,” I said.
She took my hand and entwined her fingers with mine and that gave me strength.
“When we crashed, he wasn’t strapped in yet, and when we hit, he was caught beneath the airframe…”
I heard Miranda’s intake of breath. “Did he die quickly at least?”
I said nothing. I’d lied to her too many times. “I’m so sorry,” I said, not wanting to tell her how he screamed in pain while the other members of the team tried to rescue him, and how they finally freed him after he’d suffered horrific burns, ripping off his clothes to apply bandages and tourniquets to stop the bleeding because of amputations caused when the rotor blades cut him.
She covered her eyes with a hand and I heard her sob. My eyes blurred, remembering the ghastly scene. I pulled her into my arms and remembered the scene that replayed over and over in my mind every day since then.
It was the only thing I remembered from the week before the accident to three weeks afterward. It was the one thing I couldn’t forget, even if I tried.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice breaking.
After a moment, she seemed to get ahold of herself. Finally, she glanced up, her eyes wet. She reached out and touched my cheek, her gesture so tender. My throat closed up with emotion.
“Dan was a medic,” she said soft
ly, smiling through her tears. “Rescuing you was his job.” She squeezed my hand.
“I wasn’t even in the Marines at the time,” I said, barely able to speak. At that moment, a huge weight of guilt lifted off my chest. “I was a civilian contractor. I was just there to test some new technology that Brimstone developed for the military.”
She held my eyes. “He was doing his job. He loved his job.”
I nodded, and wiped my eyes. “He shouldn’t have died because of me.”
She smiled faintly, her own eyes wet. “No one should die,” she said softly, “but we all do. My father died taking down a racketeer. It was what he loved to do. Dan died being a medic. It was what he loved to do. You could have died. You almost did. Thank God Dan was able to save your life or the mission would have been a total loss.”
I couldn’t speak my relief was so great. She was so accepting of what I told her. Her husband died when he came to save my life.
She didn’t hate me.
“I feel responsible.”
She shook her head, still holding onto my hand. “It was an IED. The insurgents who set it are the ones responsible. It was the sandstorm getting into the engines that brought down the chopper…”
“If I hadn’t been there…”
She took both my hands in hers. “If my father hadn’t gone to work that day. If you and Sue hadn’t gone snorkeling.”
“You know about Sue?” I said, shocked at the mention of her name.
“Brandon told Leah. From his lips to my ear.”
I pressed her hands against my forehead, biting back emotion, barely able to believe she was so forgiving. So understanding.
The past weeks had been emotional for me, filled with wild swings from happiness and pleasure to the pits of guilt and regret, after I found her letters and met her. I never thought it would be possible for her to understand or accept my story – especially not after I had seduced her and not been honest about my identity.
“Dan’s dead,” she said, her eyes sparkling with tears. “I wish he’d never died and that you and I’d never met, but he did and we did. I’m alive. So are you. I’m so glad that given what happened, I finally met you. I love you.”
I kissed her hands, one after the other, squeezing them in mine. “I love you.”
“We’re alive,” she said, her voice filled with emotion.
“We are,” I replied, taking her face in my hands. “We have to live.”
She nodded in reply and smiled, the tears spilling onto her cheeks.
Then I pulled her into my arms and she wrapped her arms around my neck. Finally, our lips found each other’s, our mouths joining in a deep passionate kiss.
That was the way Colm found us when he came barging to our booth moments later.
“There you are,” he said, standing with his feet spread, his hands on his hips. “Are you going to introduce me to your lady friend?”
He had the biggest grin on his face, which mirrored mine and when I looked back at her, I saw a smile on Miranda’s face as well.
I stood up and pulled Miranda up with me. She adjusted her dress and wiped her tears with the back of her hands, grinning like a kid caught stealing candy.
“Uncle Colm, this is my lady friend, Miranda Parker. Miranda is a student studying forensic psychology and plans on a career with the FBI,” I said and turned to her, barely able to stop from grinning like an idiot. “Miranda, this is my Uncle Colm, my surrogate father. He makes the best damn Cottage Pie in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Hell’s Kitchen!” Colm said in mock insult. “In all of Manhattan. Speaking of which, I have your lunch all ready. Cottage Pie with stout.”
“What do you think?” I asked, looking in Miranda’s eyes.
She smiled. “Sounds fantastic.”
I took Miranda’s hand and we sat back down in the booth, side by side, my arm around her shoulders. Then, Colm and the waitress brought a spread of food, including my uncle’s famed Cottage Pie, and tall glasses of dark brown stout.
“Will you join us?” Miranda asked, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. Colm glanced at me and I shook my head almost imperceptibly. I wanted to be alone with Miranda.
“No, no,” he said and shook his head. “Thank you for asking. You two have a nice lunch alone. I’ve got work to do.”
Colm left us and went behind the bar. As Miranda and I turned to our plates of Cottage Pie, I glanced over to where Colm stood behind the bar. He had poured himself a glass of soda and raised it. Sláinte! he mouthed and took a sip.
I raised my glass of beer, holding it up and toasting him silently.
I took a sip and turned to Miranda, who was staring at her plate. She was smiling softly, and at that moment, I couldn’t really believe my luck at meeting someone like her.
“I honestly didn’t believe you’d ever forgive me,” I said. “Why? Why did you?”
She looked at me, her eyes meeting mine. “Life’s short. People die. We have to keep living, even when bad things happen. Not telling me who you were from the beginning was wrong but I don’t think you meant to hurt me. You’re a good man with a good heart and you deserve a second chance.” Then, she raised her glass of Guinness. “To life,” she said softly, nodding to me.
I raised my glass in return and met her eyes. “To life.”
We each took a sip and then I put down my glass and took her glass out of her hand.
Then, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her, pulling her closer, closer, unable to get enough of her and barely able to believe my luck that she was willing to forgive me.
If she could forgive me, maybe I could forgive myself.
EPILOGUE
Miranda
We spent the first weekend that we were reunited mostly in bed at Beckett’s penthouse apartment. Beckett cancelled his appointments Friday afternoon and we sat with his uncle Colm and talked about the family and Dan, answering Colm’s questions about how we met and what my family did in Topsail Beach.
When we went to Beckett’s apartment later that night, after dinner and drinks, I barely got through the door before he had me naked and in bed with him.
We didn’t leave his apartment for the next two days, except when Beckett went to get fresh cream for our coffee and bagels from a deli around the corner.
“We’ll be like John Lennon and Yoko Ono,” Beckett said with a laugh, as we didn’t even bother to get dressed on Sunday, and ordered in because his fridge was bare. We didn’t even want to get dressed.
Those first few days were spent going over everything that each of us could remember about our shared past. He told me about his DARPA contract to develop a new comms system, about how he was working with Special Activities Division and so his presence in Afghanistan – and especially the breach into Iran – was classified. How he had very few real memories of the events surrounding the IED and crash except for seeing Dan’s face and the immediate aftermath of the crash when Dan’s teammates tried to rescue him. He told me about his long recovery back in a VA hospital in New York.
I told him about the first months of my life after learning that Dan had died, and after the funeral. How I had fallen apart and spent the first couple of months staying at home, sleeping all day, watching old movies at night.
“You felt guilty that you survived,” I said simply, understanding how hard it was for those who lived to accept it.
He nodded. “Friends wanted me to get grief counseling, but it seemed like I was the lucky one so I had no business being depressed.”
We held each other and talked in quiet voices about how lonely we’d both been in the months after our loved ones died – both of us losing our fathers, and both our romantic partners.
Beckett felt as if he failed Sue, being unable to save her life, despite getting her to the nearest hospital in record time but the sting had been too close to her heart and there was nothing anyone could do.
I was unable to go to school that fall and winter, taking a year’s leave of absence to re
cover.
We shared how we each coped with our losses in the aftermath of the crash, Beckett learning how to walk again, and me learning how to live again.
We were each other’s best medicine.
Four weeks later, I had a short break in my school schedule so we took a drive down the coast to Topsail Beach, deciding to take a long weekend so Beckett could meet Scott and Jeanne and thank them for their sacrifice, as he had wanted to do since he found the letters.
The weather was warm and sunny, and perfect for our weekend away. We stayed at the Yacht Club, in the same hotel room, and spent three glorious days doing nothing but walk on the beach, lie on the beach, eat our lunches on the beach and then late at night, we took a blanket down to the edge of the dunes and lay back, watching the stars.
One of Beckett’s interests, I discovered, was astronomy, and as we lay on the blanket staring up at the sky, he pointed out Cetus, the sea serpent, which has the star Mira.
“When I read about Dan’s death on a forum online, it listed you as Mira, not Miranda and so I thought you were named after the star.”
“You asked me about it, if I recall,” I said.
“I did,” he said and I could see his cheek rise in a smile as he lay beside me. “I was already infatuated with you from your letters and your photos.”
“My photos?” I said, pretending not to know.
He turned over and faced me, resting his head on his hand. “You included some polaroids of yourself in with the letters. When I returned letters, I kept the photos.”
I turned over and faced him, keeping my face unreadable. “You did?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it to remove one of the photos. It was dark, and I couldn’t see, so he took out his keys and shone a tiny LED flashlight that was attached to his keychain.
The photo was of me, wearing a floral sundress sitting on the patio at Oceanside. I was smiling, my cheeks sunburnt after a long day on the beach, nose covered with freckles.