by Rachel Lee
He knew he’d accomplished important tasks, knew he had helped his country in countless ways, but he had done so while living uncounted lies. Sometimes he wondered if there was a real Ryker inside, or just some amalgam of all the people he’d pretended to be.
For all he knew, deception had become so deeply ingrained that there was nothing real left of him. Except for his feelings about Marisa and her baby. Each time he touched them, he knew they were real. He couldn’t afford them, but they existed. They weren’t invented. They weren’t a part of a job or a ploy.
And he should have known better than to stay here. Once those feelings had reached past his guard, he should have realized the danger in remaining. Not the danger to himself, though this was going to be painful enough, but the danger to her.
Once again he faced the fact that secrecy was different from a lie. He had lied to her. From the instant he had said he worked with Johnny at State, he had sacrificed everything. She would never forgive him.
Oh, she claimed to understand secrecy, and she probably did, but for a long time she had suspected she’d been told lies about John’s death. And she had, although he had no idea what the truth was. He was just certain she’d been given a cover story, like everything else.
Then he’d waltzed in, gained her trust and had been proven a liar. Secrecy was no excuse for what he had done to her.
God, he had to get out of this business. He needed to salvage some honesty and decency before he was nothing but a house of someone else’s cards.
Or maybe he was already there, about as real as some figure in a video game, an avatar that called itself Ryker but didn’t even really exist.
Not knowing what else to do, he washed off the chicken they’d thawed that morning and started to cook dinner.
He was sure she was going to throw him out. He could at least leave a decent meal for her behind.
* * *
The rest of the day passed slowly. Roasting chicken filled the house with delicious aromas. He found the asparagus he’d bought a few days ago and prepared to cook it. He’d make some rice to go with it. After so many years spent mostly abroad, he favored rice over potatoes now.
Pointless exercise. The entire dinner might sit here and spoil.
But then he heard a sound behind him. He turned and saw Marisa. She’d changed into royal blue fleece pants and a top, her belly stretching the fabric. Her eyes had that sunken look again, with big circles beneath them. She’d washed off all the makeup, and he was glad to see it gone. She needed no enhancements.
When she just stood there staring at him, he finally took the plunge, sure that he was going to be crushed on the rocks below. “I’ll leave.”
“No.” She stepped into the room and sat at the table. “No,” she said again. “You stay here. I need someone to yell at.”
“Fair enough. Milk or something else?”
“Milk. Thank you.” Icy. Removed. That hurt more than an eruption.
He brought her the milk, then sat facing her across the table. He didn’t want to loom over her, seem threatening in the least way. Not even unintentionally.
“How’s the baby?” he asked presently.
“Better than her mother.”
There was nothing he could say to that.
She sipped some milk, then sat staring at the glass, turning it slowly on the table. “You lied to me when you arrived.”
“Yes.” His chest tightened as if preparing for the blow of a sledgehammer.
“But you didn’t lie to me when I asked you earlier.”
Where was this going? He couldn’t imagine but knew he was going to find out.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“You could have lied to me again. Could have told me you were with the State Department, that you had no idea about Johnny. But you didn’t, Ryker. That must have broken some kind of operational secrecy.”
It had. Most definitely.
“How many other lies did you tell me?”
“None.”
“No,” she agreed, staring at him now. “No lies. Just a whole lot of omissions and half-truths. How can I ever believe you again?” Her voice had risen, and now she stood, taking her glass of milk and heading for the living room.
* * *
He set up a TV table for her in the living room, then brought her a plate full of food, a napkin and utensils. He retreated to eat by himself, but he was only halfway through the foyer when she called him back.
“Ryker. Eat with me.”
Well, that amazed him, considering that he figured just looking at him must make her feel sick. Reluctantly, he set up a table for himself, then sat perched on the goosenecked chair with his own meal.
For long minutes she made no move to eat, then with an almost visible shake, she picked up her fork and knife and sliced into the chicken. Only then did he begin to eat himself.
“So, tell me,” she said as she ate.
“If I can.”
“What’s the real reason you don’t visit your family and you haven’t married?”
“I think you know,” he answered.
She surprised him with a glare. “I want to hear it.”
The moment of truth. He put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with the napkin before he answered. “The truth?”
“As much as you can tell me,” she answered bitterly.
“The truth is that I didn’t want to leave someone in your position. Because what I did was dangerous and secret, and I refused to be responsible for leaving someone behind to wonder forever. I don’t visit my parents because the whole time I’m there I have to skirt the truth and make excuses about why I’m never home, why I’ve never married, why I haven’t given them grandkids. Because the goddamn lies follow me every waking minute of my life!”
The last came out of him with a vehemence that surprised him. He hated the way Marisa shrank back a little as his voice rose.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, stabbing at a piece of chicken so hard the fork hit the plate with a clatter. “I wasn’t shouting at you.”
“Johnny didn’t have those qualms.”
“Oh, hell.” He’d done it again. Awakened a new pain in her. But when he glanced her way, he didn’t see anguish. He saw something else he couldn’t identify.
Then she abruptly changed the subject. “So you and Johnny are heroes.”
“That’s debatable. I guess it depends on what side you’re on, which parts of the secrets you know, which parts have been hidden from you. John was doing important work. Never doubt it.”
“I don’t,” she said calmly. “Just as I don’t doubt that you’ve done important things. But what the heck? I’ll never know, will I? So I guess you have to be your own judge and jury.”
That stung. The chicken became tasteless in his mouth. He continued eating only because he needed to.
“Can you tell me just one thing?”
“Ask and I’ll see.” Even now, he couldn’t tell. Even now. God, it sickened him.
“Did Johnny, do you, believe in what you’re doing? Or is it all about the thrills?”
The question could have infuriated him, but he didn’t let it. “I believed in what I was doing. So did John. It wasn’t just for a thrill. Those kinds of thrills nobody needs. The kind of work John and I did...well, you could say we were in the trenches. Not at the embassy balls.”
She gave him a half smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “No James Bond.”
“Not a chance. Pure grunt work and intelligence gathering for the most part. Some infiltration. And now I’m saying too much.”
“I can keep secrets, too.” She pushed her plate aside. Part of him was sorry about how little she had eaten, but another part was relieved because now he could stop eating, t
oo. It might have been a good dinner, but he couldn’t tell. Everything tasted like sawdust.
Which he supposed was another warning. He’d been in worse situations without feeling like this. Situations where he might die at any moment. Nothing had ever reduced him to this abject level of misery. He’d have cheerfully cut out his own beating heart. He’d spent his entire adult life trying to avoid exactly this, but he’d walked into it, anyway. A woman’s pain. Her betrayal. Her child. He disgusted himself.
He cleared away the dishes but returned quickly, a niggling fear working on him. She was too calm. At some point... What did he think she was going to do? Kill herself? Not with that baby inside her. He didn’t think he’d misjudged her that much.
But he was still worried.
The phone rang. “Want me to get it?”
She shook her head. “It’ll be Julie, and I don’t want to face the barrage of questions.”
“Then, let me.” He could do that much for her at least. Julie was indeed full of questions, apparently worried about Marisa, why he was answering instead of her.
“She’s feeling under the weather,” he answered. A lie or a half-truth? Damned if he knew anymore. “Can I have her call you back tomorrow?”
When he hung up, he knew Julie wasn’t satisfied. She’d probably be here soon. Then what?
He sat again, facing Marisa. “I’ll give you odds that Julie will be here in the next half hour to check on you.”
“I don’t want to see anyone.”
“I can understand that, but if you think I’m going to be able to successfully hold her off if she shows up, you’ve got another think coming. She’ll be convinced I’ve murdered you and have your body half hacked up in the bathtub.”
Marisa’s eyes widened. Then to his absolute amazement, she started to laugh. She laughed so hard that she bent over a little and held her stomach with both arms.
Hysteria? he wondered. She was making him feel so helpless, more helpless than he’d ever felt in his entire life.
But gradually her laughter trailed away, and she wiped tears from her face. “She would,” she said. “That’s exactly what Julie would think.”
“Then let her come. Sorry, but you’re going to have to put up with her.”
She eyed him. “Then I guess we need our cover story.”
The way she said it, she put him on edge. Now she was going to lie to her friends? No way.
“No,” he said. “Tell her the whole ugly story. You got news about Johnny today and found out I’m not the guy you thought I was, and you’re keeping me around until you’re done yelling at me.”
“Really?”
“Really. Truth is always better when possible. Don’t start covering for me.”
Her face softened for the first time in ages it seemed like. “Ryker? Did you make love to me because I wanted it, or because you wanted it?”
That she would even doubt that made him feel as low as a slug. “Oh, I wanted it,” he said firmly. “Believe me. The only thing that held me back for so long was that I didn’t want to hurt you. I’ve hurt you, anyway. Story of my life.”
“That’s not fair,” she said quietly. “You just told me you did without a full life because you didn’t want to hurt anybody. I can’t say the same about Johnny. He wanted it all. He took it all.” She looked down at her stomach and ran her hand over it. “He did leave me something beautiful, though.”
“Yes, he did.”
She looked up. “And he sent you.”
“Marisa...”
She shook her head. “I’m getting past it, Ryker. Why wouldn’t I? I’ve lived with this secrecy for years, and I understand why you couldn’t tell me the truth about who you are. I get it. It was just such a shock. CIA never entered my head, but you know what?”
“What?”
“I understand so much now. I’m glad I do. It all finally makes sense.”
He wished he could believe this transformation, but he wasn’t sure it would last. Maybe she was in a state of shock?
But she sat rocking gently, smiling faintly, her hands protectively over her belly. If today hadn’t been such a ride into hell for her, he could have believed that she’d finally found some peace.
And just as he’d predicted, Julie showed up. She stormed past him and surveyed Marisa. “What happened?” she demanded.
“I learned something today,” Marisa answered serenely. “Johnny was a true hero. And so is Ryker.”
Julie sat slowly. “Really? What did he do?”
“I can’t tell you. But it’s true.” Then Marisa looked at Ryker and smiled. He felt his heart crack wide open. She was one hell of an amazing woman.
Chapter Eleven
Christmas Eve dawned clear and cold. Ryker had returned to Marisa’s bed, although he refrained from making love to her. She was content to be held by him, however.
And finally she answered his question. “I do feel peaceful,” she said after breakfast. “It’s like...just knowing who Johnny worked for, who you work for...it answered questions for me. I get it now, all the secrecy. I get why he could never tell me anything. I suppose, from what you said, that when he was in the Rangers he worked a lot of missions with you.”
“That’s right,” he agreed as he washed the dishes. “His team did a lot of my insertions and extractions. And you didn’t hear that from me.”
“I didn’t hear anything at all.” Standing beside him, she shook her head a little and swallowed her prenatal vitamin. “And now I know why nobody would tell me anything. That makes it easier.”
He dried his hands and turned around, leaning back against the counter as he drew her into his embrace. He loved looking at her, loved the way the shadows had withdrawn, leaving her face unclouded. Hard to believe that such a parsimonious bit of information could create such a change.
He felt the baby kick against his abdomen and smiled, lifting a hand to stroke her ash-blond hair back from her face. “You’re one beautiful, amazing woman.”
“Big as a house, too,” she retorted.
“An awfully small house,” he answered before dropping a kiss on her lips.
“So,” she said, shifting her gaze to his chest and resting her hand on him. “When do you have to leave?”
“I don’t. Well, I have to go back and resign, but I can do that anytime.”
Her head jerked back, and she gaped at him. “Resign? But you said...”
“If you’ve been listening, I think I’ve been emitting rumbles of discontent and a desire to change, sort of like a volcano getting ready to erupt. I’ve made up my mind. I’m done. Cooked. Finished. I’ll find something else to do.”
“But what?”
He smiled. “I told you, I can take care of myself. Always have. I’ll find something.”
* * *
Ryker was smiling more since Crandall’s visit, as if he’d unloaded a burden. Marisa guessed he had. A huge secret had been shed, and she suspected that it had bothered him from the first moment he saw her.
For her own part, she realized now that she trusted him. All the doubts about Ryker had vanished in a searing instant of honesty. Now she knew who he was. Now she knew who Johnny was. Knowing that, it was easier to accept all the things she couldn’t know.
Of course, Johnny hadn’t died in a street mugging. Her suspicions and doubts had been justified. She’d never know what had really happened, but somehow it was easier to accept knowing that she’d been given a cover story. In some ways, the idea of a cover story to protect lives was a whole lot easier to deal with than the idea that people were wantonly lying to her in order to cover some misdeed.
Now Ryker had decided to resign. She wondered what that would mean for him, for her. Would he stay here in Conard City? Somehow that didn’t seem likely to her. He wa
s a man accustomed to traveling the world, to always being in action. How likely was it that he could be content in this backwater?
So she was going to lose him anyway, which saddened her more than she had anticipated. It almost felt like Johnny all over again, but not quite. When Ryker walked away, he was going to live. There’d be no death in this loss, no finality. Maybe they’d be able to keep in touch.
At least she’d know he was out there somewhere in the world, maybe filling all the gaps in his life. Maybe finding a wife, having those kids his parents wanted. She hoped so for him, because more than once she’d gotten the sense that he felt those gaps acutely. He didn’t say much about it, but Ryker didn’t say a whole lot.
His actions spoke volumes, however. He took care of her, treating her as if she were precious. So, he was a caring man, a rare find. And some of the edge was gone from him, some of the darkness she’d originally sensed. Ryker was waking to a new world.
Just as she had. And looking down at her belly, she felt that she had yet another awakening ahead of her, a joyous one. She and little Jonni were going to build a new, beautiful life. One without secrets. One lived in the bright light of day.
“I’m going out,” Ryker said. “I have to pick up a couple of things. Will you be okay for an hour?”
“We’ll be just fine,” she assured him. Then she said something she never thought she’d say to him. “Hurry back. I’ll miss you.”
She half expected his face to darken, to react to the implications in those simple words. A man who was about to leave could hardly be happy to realize a woman wanted him back.
But he astonished her. His own face softened, and he came to drop a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll hurry,” he said huskily. “Want some milk before I go?”
“Ryker!” He pulled a laugh from her. “I’m pregnant, not sick. If I need something I can get it.”
“Just don’t let me find you on a step ladder.”
“On my honor. I think my nesting phase passed.”