MORE THAN THE MOON

by A Rosendale

  “Yes?” he encouraged. His voice had regained the low, confident tone that made her stomach flip.

  “I told my parents and we’d like to have a little celebration in your honor tomorrow night. It’ll be just the four of us, but-”

  “Say no more. No better company can be had than the Drs. Decker on a half-decade birthday. Do you think I’ll need my walker?”

  Alma slapped him playfully on the chest. “We didn’t pack it anyway, grandpa!”

  His laughter joined hers and filled her entire being when he kissed her.

  They boarded the boat a few minutes later. Dirk stripped to boxers and slid into bed. He placed one hand behind his head on the pillow while the other stretched lazily out across the mattress.

  “Are you okay?” Alma asked now that she could see him.

  “I’m great!”

  “You just look tired.”

  He waved away the observation. “There’s nothing like hard labor to cure one’s ails,” he quipped. Muscles sore, thoroughly exhausted from clearing the garden, he felt alive and well for the first time in months.

  “May I?” She motioned to where his arm sprawled across the covers.

  “Please.”

  Alma crawled up next to him to place her head on his chest.

  “Mmm,” he hummed quietly. The sound vibrated in the close quarters.

  “What?”

  “This feels nice,” he mumbled as he slipped off to sleep.

  She smiled against his bare chest and snuggled closer.

  * * *

  “You really didn’t need to do this.”

  “It’s your birthday, Dirk! Of course we need to celebrate!” Ava insisted. Steaks sizzled on the stove.

  “I sure do appreciate the work you did yesterday,” William added. He passed a glass of whiskey on the rocks to his guest, then clinked glasses with him.

  “Any time. I enjoyed it. It’s hard to have the opportunity to work with your hands in a big city. Been too long.” He flexed his free hand as if testing the strength. He did so palm down to hide the long white scar.

  “That’s right. Your family had a ranch in Montana, right? You miss it?”

  “At times. Speaking of which, where did you get these delectable looking steaks?” He stared over Ava’s shoulder, mouth watering.

  “Our neighbor’s brother has a ranch on the mainland,” she answered.

  “We split a steer with him every year,” William explained.

  “Fresh, homegrown beef! What a birthday treat! It’s almost impossible to find decent steaks in the grocery stores in Boston.”

  Alma watched the exchange with a smile from the dining table. Seeing Dirk so happy and positively interacting with her family made it nearly impossible to recall the haunting terrors of the winter.

  After dinner, William led everyone to the backyard. “Thought we’d have a bonfire with all the dead garden debris.”

  “Wait! I had to do all the work for my own birthday bonfire?” Dirk teased.

  They all laughed. The return of his humor was the ultimate facet in reassuring both Ava and Alma that Dirk was recovered. Alma sensed it wasn’t just a show he was putting on for William; his felicity was genuine.

  “Oh! I almost forgot!” Ava jumped up from her lawn chair beside the flames and hurried back into the house. “I picked these up in town today.”

  “Mom!” Alma exclaimed in shock as her mother brandished two cigars.

  Ava shrugged dismissively and clipped the end of one of the brown tubes. She passed it across the fire to Dirk.

  “Dirk!” The exclamation was identical.

  He grinned and copied her mother’s gesture. “Thank you, Ava!”

  “You best be prepared to share, dear,” William told his wife.

  “You bet.” She lit the tobacco, took a puff, and passed it to him.

  Alma rolled her eyes and turned back to Dirk. The flames played delightfully over his skin as the red dot of cigar hovered in his hand.

  “Fine,” she muttered dejectedly. She waved at him.

  It was everyone else’s turn for wide, gawking stares.

  “Seriously?” Dirk said.

  She shrugged. “I haven’t had a cigar in a few years. Will you share your birthday cigar with me?”

  Eyes wide, he passed it over. “God, you’re perfect!”

  She smiled around the stogie.

  “What exactly did you two do while we were fishing?” William asked, glancing between his wife and Dirk with amusement.

  “Um…” Dirk looked uncertainly at her.

  “Pretty much this,” Ava answered, reclaiming her cigar.

  William laughed. “Never thought I’d be comfortable leaving another man with my wife, but damn it, Dirk, I didn’t hesitate for a moment. Maybe it’s you I should have been concerned about left to the ill-influence of my wife!”

  Dirk appreciated the confidence and leaned across the fire to clink beer bottles with the older man.

  “Thank you for the delicious meal and equally delightful cigars,” Dirk thanked at the end of the night.

  “It was wonderful to have you!” Ava proclaimed, giving him an exuberant hug. “I hope you’ll have time to visit again soon!”

  “Me too,” he replied honestly. “William, thank you for the bonfire.”

  “Hell, thank you for the yard work!” His expression softened. “And the opportunity to spend some time with Alma.”

  They shook hands.

  Alma exchanged hugs and promises to chat soon.

  * * *

  “This isn’t the flight we booked,” Dirk noted as Alma led him through the concourse.

  She shot him a mysterious smile.

  “This is going to Jackson Hole. Alma?” He finally drew short at the terminal.

  She swung to face him. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course, I just-”

  “Then please let me provide a birthday present as brilliant as the one you gave me.”

  Dirk took a deep breath and nodded, then took her outstretched hand.

  * * *

  A roar filled the canyon, as if a thunderstorm were billowing within the stone walls. Melting snow highlighted sky-high evergreens that veiled the falls. Finally, the boughs parted to reveal blue-green water cascading over a sheer cliff face a hundred feet overhead. The torrent surged over the lip of the canyon into a foaming river another sixty feet below.

  “Alma…” The sight stole Dirk’s breath as effectively as an icy plunge in the water.

  She squeezed his hand, but instead of staring at the waterfall in the depths of Yellowstone’s spring thaw, she was watching him. Awe was soon replaced by memories, and then by loving acceptance. It was nearly twenty minutes before he tore his gaze from the sight to face her.

  “This is the best birthday gift I could ever imagine! Thank you!” He caught her lips for an ardent kiss. The back of her neck was sweaty where he held her. The long hike from the road had been strenuous, yet beautiful. “I love you so much.”

  Her response was to run her fingers lovingly over his jaw and down his chest, then kiss him again. “I thought you might enjoy it. You said Yellowstone with your dad was the best birthday you could remember.”

  “Second best,” he corrected.

  She looked confused.

  “Second to this one. Actually, maybe third. You may not remember my birthday last year.”

  Alma bit her lip, thinking back. The innocence of the gesture made her all the more beautiful next to this dramatic backdrop. “Spring break, last year,” she mused. “Woods Hole…” Her eyes brightened to a familiar silver as the memory returned. “You came to visit. We spent the night on the patio. The first time…”

  “We kissed,” he finished. It was amazing how his eyes matched the hue of the river below.

  “I had no idea.”

  He shrugged indifferently. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” With a last kiss, he faced the deluge.

  * * *

  As they lay in
bed that night at an off-season, log motel in Jackson Hole, Dirk’s mind returned to his conversation with Ava.

  “Alma, how do you feel about marriage and a family? I mean, really? Every time it comes up, we both jest about it.”

  She was silent for a moment. Dim lamplight highlighted one side of her face and shadowed the other. He noticed the freckles he’d so adoringly viewed had finally faded from a long winter indoors. A white sheet was drawn up to her shoulders and taut across her chest. Her skin was flushed.

  “I suppose I’ve finally started entertaining fantasies about marriage again,” Alma finally answered. A mysterious shadow crossed her features.

  “Fantasies? As in mythical ideas?” He smiled to downplay the serious expression her face.

  She returned to smile to explain. “Dreams, musings.”

  “So say some handsome gentleman asked for your hand in marriage, just theoretically. What would you do?”

  Alma felt her heart start to race at the notion he was alluding to. “I…I just, theoretically, might…” She paused for suspense and glanced at him with a sly grin. “I just might…think about it.”

  He groaned as if in pain. “Ouch!”

  “But then,” she continued, placing a hand on his knee on top of the covers, “I would probably say yes. If it was the handsome gentleman I’m thinking of.”

  The mock agony faded and he took her hand idly. “And what about a family?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve never gotten that far in my musing. I guess having one or two kids would be nice. But only in the right situation. I hate seeing those kids from broken families or awful living conditions. Even in college, those circumstances stick with them. It’s only the truly tenacious kids that can shake those bonds.” Then she frowned. “But, I suppose I’m no spring chicken any more. The biological clock is ticking.”

  “Ha! You could have fooled me the way you scaled that trail today.”

  With a modest smile she lounged back against the pillows. “What about you, Dirk? In all seriousness, what’s your take on family?”

  “My thoughts align quite similarly to yours. I mean, if a handsome gentleman-”

  She laughed and pushed him playfully.

  When his chuckles faded, he continued. “I’ve really never been at this juncture before.”

  “Really?” Alma exclaimed skeptically.

  “Really. There’s never been anyone I’d earnestly contemplate proposing to.” He couldn’t deny the one-night flings or the short accords with women around the world, but no one enraptured him as Alma did. “In fact, I had entirely put the idea aside until recently.”

  The implications of this discussion settled in Alma’s conscious and she couldn’t quite decide how she felt about it. Elated? Hesitant? Fulfill? Tied down? At this same conversation seven years ago, she hadn’t had a second thought. ‘And look how that turned out,’ she thought grimly.

  “And kids?” she asked to distract herself.

  “One or two, when the time’s right. And if the time is never right,” he paused to add to himself, ‘Which it may never be in my profession; too much collateral anyway,’ then continued, “then just a quiet family of two would suit me just fine.”

  He smiled gently at her, noting the hint of storminess behind her eyes. “Thank you again for a fabulous birthday.” With a kiss to her cheek, he flicked off the light and settled down with his arm over her.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered. In the dark, he couldn’t see the storm clouds disperse to be replaced by a warm smile.

  Chapter 28

  With Dirk back to work and traveling again, the last quarter of the school year crawled by for Alma. She realized her apartment sported a new lonely quality she wasn’t altogether pleased about. Instead of staying cooped up on the weekends he was absent, she would either spend the day working or reading at the Lighthouse Café or crossing the city to claim her kayak for brisk paddles down the river.

  “Your guy gone again?” Steven Attenborough asked with his lilting English accent.

  Alma shrugged while he stood across the desk from her.

  “You want to go out for a drink tonight? There’s a new pub across town.”

  “What time?”

  “Seven.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you there.” She hadn’t heard from Dirk proclaiming a return to Boston after a two-week-long absence. A Friday night out of the apartment would be refreshing.

  Steven beamed through his bristly beard and wrote the address on a notepad perched on the corner of the desk.

  “Thanks.”

  By the time the Englishman left the office, she had already replaced her reading glasses and was engaged in a thick, leather-bound volume.

  * * *

  ‘No wonder Steven was interested in this place.’ Alma smiled at the Irish-style tavern. She stepped out of the late spring bluster and took a few strides inside before freezing in shocked disbelief.

  There was Dirk in one of those stunning suits, leaning casually against the bar with a whiskey in hand. A familiar, pleasant smile lifted the corners of his lips, lips that Alma had dreamt so longingly of the night before. The woman perched on the barstool next to him was startlingly beautiful. She could have been a model. Maybe she was. A sleeveless red dress clung to her thin frame while toned and tanned legs stretched toward him. Lipstick and makeup highlighted an already attractive, young face. Blonde curls cascaded to her shoulders. In her hand was a dark red cocktail.

  Alma trembled in fury. She was split between marching forward to throw his drink in his face or just leaving.

  When the woman reached a hand out to touch his forearm, trailing her fingers down his wrist, across the back of his hand, and finally down to the tips of his fingers, Alma took two enraged steps forward, stopped, shook her head, and hurried from the bar.

  Dirk cast a curious glance at the swinging doors and shook the feeling that someone had been watching. With effort, he turned his attention back to the asset at the bar. There was somewhere else in Boston he’d rather be and he was beyond anxious to get there. ‘Alas, not tonight,’ he thought.

  A red haze to match the woman’s dress clouded Alma’s vision, but tears didn’t fall until she stumbled into the apartment. She threw the door locks, even the chain. If Dirk happened by, his key wouldn’t allow him entry.

  * * *

  She debated going to the café at all the next morning. But then Dirk had texted and she’d decided that ending things sooner rather than later would be best. Dressed demurely in jeans and a sweater and jacket, she left the apartment with nothing but the cash in her pocket.

  She was already seated at the table, a paper coffee cup in hand, when he arrived. She hated herself for the wave of attraction his brilliant smile sent over her and a well of anger gathered in her chest.

  After claiming his coffee, he joined her. He brushed his fingertips over her hand as he sat down.

  She yanked her hand away with a glare. “Don’t touch me,” she growled.

  He suddenly noticed the dark circles under her puffy eyes and sat back in confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t believe this! I can’t believe you!” Sweeping the coffee up, she stormed from the coffee shop.

  Dirk stared after her in astonishment and a thread of dread wove itself into his stomach. He raced after her, coffee forgotten.

  “Alma! Alma, wait!” He caught her elbow and she wrenched away from him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  They marched another block before she turned to face him. The park they stopped next to was just starting to bloom into a glory of New England flowers. Her dark eyes and incensed temper were a stark contrast to the light pinks and purples of the blooms.

  “’What’s wrong?!” she shouted. “I’m an idiot, that’s what wrong! I should have known. How could you?!” Tears gathered behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

  The bewilderment on his face enraged her.

&nbs
p; “Last night! What a beautiful date you had!” She sneered the adjective. “You like it when she touches you?”

  “Alma, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bullshit! You and your secrets! What the hell, Dirk!”

  The truth dawned on him and he staggered back a step. “It wasn’t what it looked like,” he muttered.

  “Ha! Maybe we should ask her what it looked like!”

  “Alma, please, let me explain,” he begged, stepping back up to her.

  She crossed her arms obstinately and motioned for him to go on.

  He opened his mouth, but no words came, no excuses, no carefully woven lies. There was nothing he could tell her. Either he would expose his career and lose it and probably his life, or he would lose the only woman he’d ever truly loved.

  “That’s what I thought!” With that, she spun on her toe, hailed a taxi, and disappeared into the city.

  Dirk stood on the sidewalk, dumbfounded for the first time since he could remember. He felt indescribably empty and painfully lonely all at once.

  * * *

  “What’s got you in the dumps?” Christian asked.

  Dirk slumped at a nearby desk, his laptop propped open and the screen filled with characters. “Nothing,” he muttered dejectedly and tapped out a few more words. He scrolled back to the top of the report to reread it. Every time he got to the part of the protection duty that depicted the Irish tavern, he stopped and frowned. He knew precisely the moment Alma had seen. That tickle of alarm that had gone through him as the doors swung shut had been her, he was certain.

  The report continued from there to describe how he’d escorted Miss Van Baron to her hotel, where a US Marshal would rendezvous with her in the morning to escort her to court for her final testimony against Congressman Johnson. Reports had come in over the past months alluding to a potential threat against her due to her in-depth knowledge of Johnson’s unpatriotic overseas dealings. Dirk had insisted on providing personal protection to ensure her safety. The past four nights had been spent outside the hotel, monitoring every individual in and out and escorting Van Baron through the city as an unassuming admirer. Despite invitations to retire with her, he’d declined vehemently.