MORE THAN THE MOON

by A Rosendale

  “Hmm,” he thought. “San Diego, San Francisco, Denver briefly, Miami, New York, and then back to Boston.”

  “How long have you been back?”

  “About two years.”

  “You and Christian seem pretty close for just two years of friendship.” She realized she was prying now, but hoped it was in such a roundabout fashion he wouldn’t notice.

  “We work together. I helped train him.”

  The room fell silent but for the gentle lapping of water and the soothing music pumped through built-in speakers.

  Chapter 27

  Alma entered her apartment after an exhausting day. She’d walked home through a windy March evening anticipating a simple dinner of cheese and crackers. But the scent of fresh garlic filled the empty kitchen. Curious, she looked through the apartment, found stuffed chicken breasts in the fridge, but no cook.

  A minute later, a key jiggled in the lock and Dirk entered in gym shorts and hoodie. “Oh, I thought I’d beat you home,” he apologized, wiping sweat from his brow.

  He tossed his key ring on the entry table next to hers before noting the glance she aimed at his bare legs. Christian’s ointment had done the trick and only a few fleeting scars were visible.

  “Good run?” she asked, setting her concern aside and kissing him in greeting.

  He nodded. “It’s been nice to get out lately. I was starting to go stir crazy.” He’d started exercising again a few weeks before as the worst of the aches finally faded. Back in his habitual routine of strenuous running, sleep came more easily.

  She laughed. “I noticed.” She’d come home to find him seated on the floor by the coffee table staring at five hundred puzzle pieces one day. It was a most out of character activity. He’d looked up at her entrance with utmost boredom.

  “Ready for dinner? It’ll only take a few minutes more.” Without her acknowledgement, he extracted the chicken to warm in the oven and sautéed asparagus spears. “How was school?”

  “Brutal,” she answered briefly, falling into a kitchen chair. “The university announced a reduction in benefits for professors and an increase in tuition for students. It’s all anyone talked about. We got nothing done in class. It was all I could do to get through a simple PowerPoint.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She sighed and waved the day away. “At least spring break is coming up.”

  “Oh?” Time had taken on a different concept since New Years. It was with an unexpected jolt of apprehension that he asked, “Do you have any travel plans like last year?” He carefully maintained a steady tone. Her presence alone had drawn him out of a deep, terrible despair.

  “I was thinking of visiting my parents.” She watched his turned back as he tossed the asparagus.

  “They would enjoy that, especially since some scoundrel dragged you away for Christmas.” Although his tone was joking, it lacked the light humor that had only recently returned to him.

  “I was wondering if that scoundrel would like to join me,” she added.

  Dirk sighed to himself in relief. He didn’t know if he could toil in Boston alone. Vasquez hadn’t called on him for an assignment since Iraq and, per the recent conversation in the office, it was unlikely the call would come within the next few weeks. The supervisory operative had examined his agent critically, reading the silence. He’d frowned at the end of his scrutiny. The expression had sealed the matter of Dirk’s return to the field as clearly as any shake of the head.

  “This scoundrel would quite enjoy a visit to the Drs. Decker.”

  * * *

  Dirk noted Ava’s probing gaze across the dinner table. He instantly assumed Alma had mentioned the untoward events of January to her. The idea grated on his nerves. He couldn’t know that Alma hadn’t talked to her mother about his injuries or odd behavior. Ava was simply an experienced mother and doctor as well as an astute observer, just like her daughter.

  “Alma said you had fun in France,” William said. He chased a mouthful of halibut with a swallow of craft porter.

  “We did. The Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Seine. Nothing better than the City of Lights, especially with such beautiful company.” He shot a warm smile at Alma, who blushed. “How was Christmas on the Sound?”

  “Quiet,” William answered.

  Ava slapped his arm at the disapproval that crept into his tone. “You can’t fault them for running away to Paris, of all places!” she chastised.

  He rolled his eyes and took another swig of beer.

  “Don’t worry, Dirk,” Ava assured him. “We had a perfectly pleasant Christmas. William is just upset he missed his yearly father-daughter fishing trip.”

  Dirk looked to Alma or William for explanation, but Ava continued to explain.

  “They have this tradition of spending the night before Christmas Eve on the water. I don’t think much fishing gets done, but they have fun.”

  “I had no intention of disrupting a tradition,” Dirk apologized. “How can I make it up to you? Do you want to go on your trip this week?” As loath as he was to lose Alma’s company, he felt it was the right attempt at mending potentially important bonds.

  “What do you think, Dad?” Alma asked.

  William pondered the unexpected gesture. He shot Dirk a look of gratitude. “That would be nice.”

  * * *

  “Woo. I thought I was about to be excommunicated for a minute there,” Dirk said as they walked along the dock to their accommodations on the boat.

  Alma laughed as she stepped aboard. “That was thoughtful of you to suggest. Are you sure you’ll be alright?” She was referring to the nightmare that had woken him just the other night. He’d sat up frantically waving arms in front of him as if brushing away unwelcome hands. It was Alma’s soft voice and tender touch that had coaxed him back to sleep.

  “I’ll be fine.” He sighed and placed his hands on her hips. “As much as I wish it could continue like this, I will have to go back to work at some point and you can’t join me in all my travels.” He kissed her gently. “I’ll be fine.”

  The repetition of his statement gave her pause, but he was right. He needed to be alone eventually. She fought as many of his monsters as she could. She’d nearly reclaimed him from the darkness. The gaze he sent skyward now to appreciate the stars reassured her that he was once again himself, although ‘himself’ sported a handful of painful scars, some of which were not even visible.

  When he dropped his eyes down to hers, her careful scrutiny was ended. She disarmed his suspicions with a heartfelt grin and an amorous kiss he returned vigorously.

  * * *

  “Have an excellent time!” Ava called, waving from the dock.

  “I don’t know how they couldn’t with all the beer they hauled onboard,” Dirk said quietly to her, all while smiling and waving through a gentle drizzle.

  She laughed, a sound quite similar to her daughter’s mirth. “What do you say we have our own party, Dirk?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he agreed affably.

  They walked into town together, bought a fresh case of Ballast Point, and headed back to the house. Pan met them eagerly.

  “What shall we have for dinner, Dirk?” Ava passed him a beer, popped her own bottle open, and slid the case into the fridge.

  “Why don’t I cook?” he offered.

  She shot him a suspicious glance. “Are you trying to impress your girlfriend’s mother?”

  He chuckled. “That wasn’t my intent, but certainly provides an ulterior motive. How about salmon a la pineapple?”

  “Hmm. Sounds delicious. Where did you learn to cook?” She drew a chair from the table into the kitchen to sit and chat while Dirk worked.

  “I taught myself after I moved away from home.”

  “Which was Montana, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He flinched, recalling her orders the previous summer to drop the flattering titles. “Sorry.”

  She waved away the apology. “Does your family still live there
?”

  Dirk considered his mother’s last contact months ago. “No.” He stirred the butter sauce simmering on the stove. A long silence sustained until he’d placed the dish in the oven to cook. He reclaimed his beer and turned around to lean back on the counter. Alma would have recognized the posture as commonplace.

  If it hadn’t been for the week he’d spent with them last summer, Ava would have accepted his silence as characteristic, too. But she studied him with Alma-like scrutiny as he sipped his beer and stared at an old oil painting on the opposite wall.

  “Tell me, Dirk, how long have you been sick?” The question was quiet, yet left no room to sidestep.

  He frowned. “You and Alma are alarmingly similar,” he muttered.

  She raised a brow and waited for an answer.

  “I’m not sick,” he explained; although the word did somewhat encapsulate the fallout of his last job. “Not the way you think, anyway,” he added. “I was in an accident at work two months ago. Recovery has been…difficult.”

  “Alma knows, of course,” she stated knowingly.

  “She told you,” he insisted.

  She smiled softly and shook her head. “No. You won’t find a girl more able to keep a secret. I’ve always attributed it to being an only child.”

  Dirk harrumphed in appreciation of his absent love. “Yes, she knows. She’s been…an exceptional friend. I’m honestly not sure what I would have done without her.” With a final swig, he tossed the empty bottle in the trash. Ava’s bottle sailed through the air to join it. Dirk grinned at her zeal and distributed another round. “Can I ask how you knew something was wrong?”

  “I’m a doctor, Dirk. Even humans give away their symptoms to a practiced eye.”

  “William…” The thought that Alma’s father might think him weak perturbed him.

  She shrugged. “Is oblivious, as far as I know. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  It was unfamiliar to consider her concern. He found it an oddly warming sentiment. The kitchen timer went off and Dirk retrieved salmon fillets from the oven.

  “Delicious!” Ava declared. “And brilliant! However did you think of this?” Salmon was layered on slices of pineapple on a bed of rice.

  “I don’t remember, honestly.”

  They passed the meal in companionable chitchat. Dirk insisted on seeing to the dishes while Ava opened another round of beers.

  “I haven’t drank like this in years,” she claimed when he rejoined her.

  Dirk wished he could say the same, but over the past months, whiskey had eased him to sleep even more effectively than Alma and more often than he’d ever admit.

  “Shall we play cards?” She was already retrieving a deck and cribbage board. “This is a-”

  “Cribbage board,” he finished with a grin. “Alma taught me to play.”

  “Good girl!” Ava dealt while he set up the pegs.

  After two games and a few more beers, their game was interrupted by Ava’s sudden suggestion.

  “Do you fancy a cigar?”

  Dirk couldn’t have been more shocked if she suggested skinny-dipping in the harbor. “Um, yeah. You smoke?”

  “Only cigars and only very rarely and with good company.” Extracting a humidor from an ancient armoire, she motioned to the backyard.

  Still picking his jaw up off the floor, he followed. The moon had risen while they played. It cast a silvery glow over the yard. Dirk found himself idly comparing Alma’s eyes to the celestial shade while he puffed on a surprisingly tasteful cigar.

  “What’s that over by the shed?” He motioned with the cigar toward a patch of dark plants that formed a rugged rectangle next to the outbuilding.

  “Oh, one of William’s many pet projects. He attempts to garden every year. Don’t get me wrong; it usually yields some kind of produce, mostly strawberries. But he struggles with it every year. For instance, he hasn’t even cleared out the brush from last year’s garden. His interest comes in spurts.” She dismissed it with a wave of her beer bottle and sat down in a lawn chair.

  Dirk followed suit. He stared over the treetops toward the nearby water and lounged back. “I’d say we nailed this party,” he commented. “I’m flattered you consider me cigar-worthy company.” He was thoroughly enjoying himself with their odd company. Pan bumped his hand, and he placed his beer between his knees to rub the dog’s ears.

  Ava beamed at him through a billow of cigar smoke. “So, Dirk, what are your plans? Wife? Kids?”

  “We’re getting personal now,” he laughed.

  “Well, I figure we’re friends now, right? It’s a simple, friendly question,” she defended innocently.

  Dirk was silent for so long, she thought he’d decided not to answer. “I don’t know, honestly. A family has never been in the cards before.”

  To Ava’s credit, she didn’t react to the news. She continued puffing her cigar in the dark.

  “But,” he added, “I’ve never met someone like Alma.” The threat in Paris was still fresh in his mind, but Vasquez’s blessing in January gave him confidence that he could possibly make it work. He shrugged. “You wouldn’t happen to have any insight to Alma’s feelings on the matter?”

  Ava shot him a knowing smile and shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. She doesn’t talk about things like that. Not since she finished her doctorate.”

  “That seems odd. Do you know why?”

  She shrugged. “There was guy. They were pretty serious. I don’t remember what happened, but things obviously didn’t work out. She accepted the job in Boston pretty quickly after that.”

  “She’s never mentioned that before,” he muttered in consternation. Then again, she’d never told him she’d been assaulted until it had nearly happened again in D.C. He wondered if Ava and William even knew about the frightful occasions. He frowned. He’d always assumed he’d have more skeletons in the closet than she did.

  “She’s always played her hand close to her chest,” Ava said as way of explanation. Her voice was sympathetic.

  When the cigars were smoked down to the stubs and beer bottles were empty, they retired, Dirk crawling between the covers in Alma’s former bedroom. When sleep wouldn’t come, it was due to his musings about her past, not his own.

  * * *

  Alma and William returned by late afternoon, laughing side by side. The house was empty. Not even Pan greeted them. William trudged upstairs to see if Ava was in their bedroom while Alma checked the backyard. She drew up short under the porch awning.

  Dirk was shirtless in the garden, Pan stretched out in the dirt nearby. The sweat that glistened on his skin was a testament to how long he’d been toiling. His back was turned to the house and she could just make out a few scars. Muscles rippled as he pulled a hoe through the dead plants. Three-quarters of the plot was cleared down to fresh, brown soil. A four-foot tall pile of dry leaves was gathered in the center of the yard. Dirk raked the remaining year-old garden into the pile and paused to lean on the rake. He finally noticed Alma’s presence and a tired smile cracked his lips.

  “Welcome home, seafaring stranger,” he quipped, approaching her.

  Alma couldn’t stop herself from raking his stunning body with a hungry gaze.

  “Who’s the exquisite gardener my mother hired?”

  He caught her by the waist and pulled her in for an ardent kiss. “You had fun?”

  “Loads! You? Was it too awkward with my mom?”

  “Not at all. We had a great time!”

  Her brows rose in disbelief, but her response was cut off by William’s arrival.

  “Where-” He stared past the couple to his newly cleared garden plot.

  “I hope you don’t mind. Ava mentioned it needed some work.”

  “No…I…Gee, Dirk, I really appreciate it!” He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Where is that woman, anyway?”

  “Off on a call. Dinner is in the crockpot.” He propped the rake on the porch and retrieved his gray T-shirt. It stuck to his wet skin a
nd splotches of dark appeared as the fabric soaked up sweat. “If you two would like to get cleaned up, I’ll set the table.” Without waiting for assent, he walked across the yard to replace the rake in the shed.

  “Is this guy for real?” William muttered under his breath.

  He didn’t even realize he’d spoken aloud until Alma confidently replied, “Yes.”

  * * *

  “So, I learned your secret,” Alma said cryptically as they returned to the boat that night. Fingers linked, their arms were swinging along with their gait.

  It was dark and the moon hadn’t quite risen, so she couldn’t see the sudden uncharacteristic scowl that shadowed his features. “Oh?” Despite the mysterious comment, he was sure not to interrupt the steady pendulum of their hands.

  “Your birthday is this weekend.”

  A dispelled breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding escaped into the night and he chuckled. “True. How’d you deduce that?”

  “Christian texted me.”

  “I should have known. That rotten sneak!” But he grinned at his friend’s intervention. “What exactly did he say?”

  “That he’s leaving town on business so would I please wish Dirk a happy birthday for him on Saturday. He knows you have a phone?”

  “Of course he does. He’s just being ornery.”

  “I’m glad! I can’t believe we’ve known each other over a year and I haven’t thought about your birthday!”

  “It seems we both like to keep our birthdays low-key,” Dirk observed.

  “Certainly does.” She turned to face him as they came to the end of the dock. “But this is a somewhat big birthday. The three-and-a-half-decade mark!”

  He pressed a hand over his chest as if he’d been hit. “Ouch! Way to make a man feel old!”

  Her laughter flitted out across the calm water to disappear into the Sound she loved so much. “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but…” She hesitated, trying to read his expression in the dark. But it was impossible to decipher what he was thinking. It suddenly occurred to her that it was often impossible to read his thoughts unless he willingly shared.