by Lisa Ladew
“Yes,” she hissed into his ear, her hands pinching down on his shoulders. “Is he OK?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. I remember him because he was giving the Sergeant a hard time. He wouldn’t get in the truck. They had to pick him up and put him in there. He kept yelling about his daughter. The Sergeant promised we’d go in and find her.” He was quiet for a second as Vivian let her head fall forward in relief, dropping her hands into her lap again. “I guess we found you.”
Vivian felt tears well up in her eyes and she blinked them back. Her dad was OK. And she was OK. For now. Maybe they’d get out of this yet. Somewhere outside, they heard yells and gunfire. They were silent as they both listened to make sure it wasn’t coming close.
After a few quiet moments, she turned her head. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”
“Just doing my job.”
“I’m still grateful.”
“Fair enough. You’re welcome.”
Vivian felt the iron vise around her heart loosen a little bit and she wished there was something to lean against, relax a little bit, maybe even cry into. She bit her lip and knew it was way too soon to relax. There was a bomb-”
Her hands flew back up to his shoulders. “The bomb! There’s a bomb above us! How do you know it’s safe? We have to-!” In her panic, her voice had risen.
Her soldier put a hand to her mouth and his other hand around her shoulders, pulling her into him. “Shh. It’s OK, but you have to be quiet. You have to calm down.”
Vivian froze again, then nodded her head. Slowly, he dropped his hand from her mouth. “Sorry,” she whispered.
He brushed the apology aside, cocked his head to listen for a second, then brought his lips to her ear again. “We have three hours. My team will come and get us out of here long before then.”
“Why can’t we run? Go across the grass to another building? Get away from here?”
“We don’t know who is friendly and who is not. The perimeter fence might be patrolled. My team won’t be able to find us if we leave. We have to stay here.”
“Can’t you call them on the radio again and see how long they will be?”
“No.”
“How do you know the bomb won’t blow up early?”
He flicked on his flashlight and peeked out at the numbers. They both read them. 02:52:39.
He seemed to think for a second, then reluctantly said. “I don’t.”
Chapter 6
Vivian felt the tiny wings of panic try to beat at her throat again. With effort, she forced them away and took a deep breath. Her soldier shifted his weight beneath her and changed his leg position.
“Am I too heavy?” she whispered in his ear, feeling horrible for sitting on him.
“Not at all.”
They fell silent and Vivian shifted awkwardly, still feeling like she had to be too heavy. The silence stretched and Vivian wondered if he felt as embarrassed as she did. She couldn’t imagine how long it was going to go on and how she was going to get through it, sitting on a stranger’s lap in a pitch dark hole, waiting for a bomb to blow up above their heads.
He leaned forward. “So did you see it?”
“See what?” She asked, confused.
“The buildings falling.”
“You didn’t see it?”
“No. Our base went on lock down the instant the second plane flew into the building. We were immediately put on a military cargo plane and flown to Germany to await further orders. We’ve been in the back of a Humvee for twenty-four hours now, and nobody’s seen a television since then. We’ve just been hearing about it secondhand.”
Vivian heard a vulnerable timbre in his voice and her awkwardness popped like a bubble. He was just a person, just like her, missing home. Her heart went to him.
“Tell me about it. Tell me everything that’s happened,” he said.
“Are you sure you want to hear it? Some of it’s pretty awful.”
“Yes, I want to hear all of it.” He was silent again for a moment, then spoke, his voice heavy with meaning. “When I joined the Army, I knew there was a chance - a good chance - that I would have to kill someone at some point, but I was okay with it if it meant defending my country. I have a feeling I’ll be asked to kill a lot of people in the weeks and months to come, and I need to know exactly why I’m doing it. Things are different now.”
His voice hitched on the last sentence and Vivian thought back to the man who had pulled her out from under the table. Had her soldier killed him? Probably. Without hesitation. Lucky for her, or she would be dead. He probably killed the man in the stairwell too. She shuddered, thinking how awful it must be to have to make that decision, especially for someone who was sensitive, as the man sitting underneath her on the floor seemed to be.
She thought back deeply and tried to remember every news report, every image splashed across the screen, everything she would have given a million dollars to forget the day before. She felt she owed him that much. If she made it out of this alive, he would go on and fight for her and she would go back to America and be safe in her own home and her own bed.
Vivian gathered the memories and whispered into his ear until her throat was dry and all of her awkwardness at being so close to him was burned away. She described the black smoke of the towers falling, and the white smoke of the rubble exploding across the streets. She told about the people who jumped out of the windows and the plane that crashed into the Pentagon, and the plane that never reached its intended target because the passengers stood up and fought. She detailed the search for survivors as she knew it and told him how every news station was whispering one name - Bin Laden. Her soldier’s hands found hers and clamped down, and she felt his chest hitch as he silently cried. She felt her cheek grow wet as her tears and his tears mixed and mingled, falling on both of their chests. She told everything she had to tell, then dropped her head to his shoulder and wept silently, feeling better and worse. He held her and she was glad. In the darkness and the stillness, he provided a comfort to her that she had known she needed, but never would have thought a stranger could have provided.
Vivian stayed that way, her head on his shoulder, his arms encircling her, until her tears were dry and her heart felt lighter. She lifted her head and smiled at him in the darkness, knowing he couldn’t see it. Outside, the night was still and silent.
“Did you know anyone in New York?” he asked.
“No one. My family is all out West.”
“California?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then leaned in close and whispered directly in her ear, “The West Coast has the sunshine and the girls all get so tanned…”
Vivian laughed, and then clapped her hands over her mouth, both upset that she had made noise, and surprised that she could laugh in the horrible situation that they were in. She wondered if he was from California, and wanted to ask him, but she bit her tongue and kept her mouth closed. What if he said he couldn’t say? Or wouldn’t say? She suddenly didn’t think she could bear it. This young man was sweet and sensitive and had saved her life, and he hadn’t even asked her name. To him, she was just a mission, but to her this felt like so much more.
He spoke again, his fingers pushing a lock of her hair back from her ear, his words pushing her over the edge. “That’s what I’ll call you, Cali. My Cali.”
Vivian’s thoughts scattered and her heart sped up in her chest. Time seemed to slow. She sensed something between them and her breath caught in her throat. Was he about to kiss her? Oh she wanted him to kiss her. She felt a woman’s desire for the first time in her life and finally knew what all the fussing was about. Every cell in her body trembled in anticipation of his lips on hers. But it didn’t happen.
“How old are you?” he whispered instead.
“Eighteen,” she whispered back, fiercely glad that she was no longer seventeen. A man in the Army wouldn’t kiss a seventeen-year-old.
He shifted
slightly beneath her and leaned forward so slowly she almost screamed. His hands reached up and pulled through her hair, making her body erupt with tingles. She realized he was waiting for her to pull back. She didn’t want to pull back. Instead, she moved towards him, and in an instant, his lips were on hers. A fiery desire built in her head and traveled down her body to her breasts, and even lower. She whimpered slightly and her hands crept to his chest. He pulled her to him, pinning her arms between them, then pressed his tongue to her lips, urging her to let him in. Vivian opened her mouth slightly, reveling at the new sensation. Her body and mind screamed yes! and their surroundings fell away. To her, they could have been in a five-star hotel, with everything right in the world.
Vivian met his tongue with hers lightly, inexpertly. Their kiss deepened but was still gentle. Vivian felt her breath coming harsher in her throat and her body overheating. How could anyone stand this? She wanted everything he could give her, and she wanted it now.
She shifted her weight and dropped a hand to his leg. Her plan was to lift herself up and straddle him, so she could kiss him straight on, without turning her head. The hand on his leg felt something else through his pants, something hard and hot, like an iron bar straight from the fire. When Vivian realized what it was she pulled back her hand and let out a strangled cry of surprise. She thought she could hear him smile in the dark.
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess I got a little excited.”
Vivian’s cheeks blazed and she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to stop kissing him, but the reality of their situation flooded back to her with the interruption. That, and the fact that she was kissing a man, and not a boy, gave her pause.
Before she could think what to do, he grasped her arms and made a shushing sound. Vivian froze, remembering suddenly how much danger they were in. Did she hear something outside the door?
The radio in his pocket made the smallest sound and she felt him shift underneath her, pulling it out of his pocket. “Say again.” he said into it.
“Tango 7, the building is secure, we are headed your way. Is your civilian an American?”
“Affirmative.”
Vivian felt the sudden weight of the room. She was being rescued now, from the bomb, from the building, from the madness, and she didn’t want to go.
Men’s voices sounded from outside the door and Vivian tensed. A commanding voice called out, “Tango 7, it’s Tango 5 and Tango 1. We’re coming in.”
“I’m here,” her soldier called out, and Vivian scrambled to her feet just below the bomb, her mind spinning.
Lights flashed in her eyes, blinding her, and she turned away from them. She felt her soldier stand next to her, his body close to hers. Harsh voices spoke over each other and Vivian strained to understand what was happening. More lights filled the doorway and the tiny corridor was suddenly filled with too many bodies.
Someone grasped her arm and pulled at her. “I’ll take the civilian to the truck,” a gravelly voice said.
“I need to find my father!” Vivian called out, blinking her eyes, squinting and trying to see in the glare.
“We have your father in the truck, he’s asking for you too,” the gravelly voice said, and she was forced two steps towards the door. She looked back at her soldier. His dark eyes watched her gravely. Goodbye, they said.
She reached for him but he didn’t reach back. Her fingers glanced off his shoulder, where a patch, already partially ripped away from his uniform, hung sadly. Her finger caught in it and she tried to pull him towards her. He stood firm, and the patch ripped off in her hand.
Goodbye, she sent back with her eyes, and let herself be led away.
Chapter 7
“Oh my God,” Misty said. “Don’t tell me you never saw him again.”
Vivian pressed her lips together. “I never even learned his name.”
Misty’s mouth dropped open. “Did you try?” she cried, pressing her hands together at her chest.
“I was going to. The whole way home I thought about him and how I could find out who he was, but once I got home there was so much to do. My mother and I organized fundraising drives and gave blood and even traveled to New York. At night, when I was alone and I would think about him, he started to seem less and less real. Sometimes I would wonder if it happened at all. But then I would hold onto this patch and know for sure that it did. But he didn’t want me anyway, if he did, he would’ve asked for my name.”
Misty shook her head. “I bet it wasn’t like that at all. I bet he just didn’t know how to ask you to stay in touch, or didn’t think you would want to. Or maybe he was just so focused on his mission he didn’t think it would be fair to you. I bet he’s out there somewhere, secretly still thinking about you.”
Vivian laughed. She had wanted that to be true eleven years ago, and ten years ago, and even nine years ago, but she really hadn’t thought about him much in the last few years. Life had taken over and went on, like it always did.
She shook her head and looked down at her suitcase. She had to finish packing, because life was still going on. She took the picture and the patch, and placed them gently in her hope chest. They weren’t going with her, for now.
If you have not read Edge of the Heat Volumes 1-4, You must stop here until after you have read them!
Spoilers ahead!
Chapter 8
Westwood Harbor, California
Present day
Vivian doubled her wedding dress gently and placed it on the couch with the sheet she planned on wrapping it in. The doorbell rang. “Come in!” she called, knowing it was her sister.
Emma breezed in the room, holding up her own wedding dress and a bag. “I’m here!” she cried, excited to start going through their mementoes. They planned on wrapping the dresses for proper storage, then writing a short note about each of the items they had saved from the wedding and honeymoon, and putting them inside a kind of time capsule in Vivian’s massive cedar hope chest, to be opened on their 20th wedding anniversary.
Vivian smiled to herself, imagining a house full of hungry, vivacious teenagers by that time. She couldn’t wait for her and Hawk to become parents. She imagined Hawk would be an amazing father, with his quiet sensitivity, gentle caring, and thorough persistence.
“Didn’t Craig come?” she asked her sister.
“He’s helping Hawk bring in the hope chest.”
Vivian nodded and took Emma’s bag from her. She looked inside and started laying out Emma’s items on the dining room table, next to her own. The sliding glass door off the back of the living room opened and Craig and Hawk muscled the large chest into the room. They put it down at the end of the table.
Hawk kissed Vivian lightly on the cheek. “Here you go, Viv, I’m going to get some iced tea. Want any?”
Vivian shook her head no and opened the chest with a smile. Her father had just sent it from back home, and from now on it would sit at the foot of her bed, in her new home that she shared with Hawk. Hawk and Craig disappeared into the kitchen. Vivian bet they’d come back with beer instead of iced tea.
Emma crowded next to her to see and exclaimed right away over the treasures within the chest. “Wow, is this from your communion? What’s this from? Who is this?” Emma barely took a breath between questions, and already had a stack of pictures, a jewelry box, and a lacy, inscribed napkin pulled out of the chest.
“Yes, that is from my communion, that’s from college, and that is my mom’s sister.”
Emma pulled a small framed picture out of the box and turned it over curiously to see the star and sword patch affixed to the back of it.
“Ooh, that’s a special forces patch, where did you get that from?”
Vivian held out her hand for the patch and ran her fingers over it. The last time she told this story came back to her in a rush. She remembered her equal parts of sadness and optimism about what Westwood Harbor would hold for her. She’d been right, she had found a wonderful new life and a large and loving family h
ere. Life always goes on.
“It’s a long story. You sure you want to hear it?”
“Of course I do, I want to hear all your stories.”
Vivian handed the patch back to Emma and thought about where to begin. Of course she had to begin when the planes flew into the buildings. She sat down at her dining room table and the words flowed out of her. Emma sat down across from her and didn’t interrupt once. She looked spellbound by every detail. Vivian knew why. She could tell this story a hundred times and love it a lot, be scared of it a little, and always be in awe of it. It had everything, tragedy, heroism, love, and the rebirth of a nation as seen through the eyes of two people who had thought hope was dead, but learned it was still alive and well.
About a quarter of the way through, Hawk and Craig came back into the living room. Hawk sat heavily on the couch and seemed to hang on her words even more than Emma. As Vivian talked, she wondered how much she should skip over her long-ago feelings for the man who had saved her life. She didn’t want to upset her new husband by talking fondly about her first real kiss. She decided she would just state the facts. We kissed. I left. I never saw him again.
“… I pulled the patch off his shoulder and then the Sergeant pulled me out the door and to the front of the building. He put me in the back of a military truck. My dad was there. He cried when he saw me. It was the only time I ever saw my father cry. They drove us straight to the military transport plane and flew us right back to the United States. Daddy went back to Uzbekistan two days later with his own personal guard, but I never wanted to be a diplomat again. I decided I wanted to be a scientist instead.”
Emma opened her mouth, her eyes wide and captivated. Vivian knew she was going to ask about the soldier. But before she could, Hawk stood and walked through the dining room, his stride purposeful. Vivian searched his face, but couldn’t read the emotions swirling there. He couldn’t be upset, could he? She jumped up and followed him.