She trembled, her hands to her mouth.
One more step.
She shook as the reality of the day depleted what little resolve she had brought with her.
Yet another step, and he took her gently by the elbow. Kelsey turned to him with a blank look that registered no recognition. “What am I supposed to do now?” she asked, her voice eerily calm.
He pulled her against him, not caring if it hurt his shoulder or not. “Whatever you need to do, honey.”
“I don’t know.” Dazed brown eyes returned to the casket. “I don’t just leave them here alone. Do I?”
He didn’t speak. She had spoken his sentiments exactly, only four years later.
Kelsey took a step toward the oak box, her hand outstretched. “I can’t just go. I mean, how will they … where will I ….”
“Where’s your sister, honey? Where’s Louise?” Alex panned the audience. The woman he thought might be her sister was still engrossed in a serious conversation with the minister.
“Am I supposed to walk away? Is that what I should do?”
The incredulity in her voice stabbed his heart. He couldn’t answer. Yes, Sweetheart. Now you’re supposed to go on living, as if you still have a reason to. Walk away. Leave them behind. They have to stay. You have to go. The sun will come up tomorrow like nothing happened here. Everyone will get on with their lives while you forever wish that you lay in the grave, too.
“Alex?” She clutched his sleeve, insistent that he respond. “Tell me. Am I supposed to leave, too?
“Yes.” There, he said it. The awful truth was spoken. “But I’m right here with you, Kelsey. You’re not alone.”
“But, I can’t.” She leaned her forehead into his shirt, her hands clutching the lapels of his coat as she unraveled. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve been there.”
All he could do was stand and keep her from falling. Louise was at his elbow, but Kelsey was past consolation. He guided her to a nearby chair, hoping to make it before she collapsed. Within the silken curtain of her hair, she sat with her face buried in her hands, her pain whining out of her in an escalating crescendo.
“He … he wouldn’t let … he wouldn’t let me go with them.”
The local television cameraman leaned in for a close shot, but one scorching look from Alex and the man wilted. Alex shielded Kelsey with his coat and a curse. He pulled her to her feet, escorted her through the crowd, and into the rear seat of her sister’s rental car. He tossed his coat into the front seat and slammed the door behind them, cursing all stupid people everywhere who just wanted to see this fragile woman’s suffering.
Kelsey collapsed, half on the seat, half on the floor of the car, hiccupping sobs that wouldn’t stop. “I should’ve been there.”
“Come here.” Alex pulled her off the floor and onto his lap. The day was taking its toll on him, too. Too many memories had come back to life. Hot tears drenched his freshly pressed shirt. He didn’t care. His heart ached for this tender woman hugged up to him. He let her cry, wishing there was some way to help.
“You’re stronger than you know,” he whispered into her hair. Instantly he wanted to call his words back. I sound just like the minister.
“No. I’m not.” She burst into more tears. He didn’t speak again. All he could do was hold her, let her cry, and wipe his own face. At last, the storm subsided.
“I … I don’t know … how you did it,” she murmured weakly against him.
“Did what, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know how you survived after … Sara and Abby. I don’t know how you did it.”
“What makes you think I did?” He gently massaged the back of her neck.
“But you did. You’re successful. You’re … you’re—” Tears took over again.
“One day at a time, Kelsey. That’s all. Just take one day at a time.”
A happier memory broke through the sadness.
“We—I had a birthday party for Tommy last November,” she whispered, biting her knuckles as the story unfolded. “He was so excited. I made brownies. He got chocolate frosting all over his face and in his hair and even in his armpits. He looked like a little chocolate boy.”
Alex choked. He had seen their pictures. The boys were smaller versions of their pretty mother. He gathered her hair over her shoulder in a ponytail and continued the massage down her back. She was thin and gaunt under her simple sheath dress, her backbone sharp beneath his fingers. She had lost weight. Skin, bones and grief, the woman felt like she was staged to fade away.
“Tommy was so happy when he was born. He came out of me smiling like he was glad to see me, or something.” She buried her face in his shirt. “I want him back.”
He stifled his emotion. I want Abby and Sara, too. A memory of lovelier times surfaced, the day his daughter was born. Abby had come into the world eager to see everything. She had craned her little neck like she couldn’t afford to miss a single sight, and she was born hungry, ready to eat. Even as a newborn, she had latched onto Sara and nursed like it was going out of style. It was one of the most precious pictures in his heart, his lovely wife with his newborn daughter at her breast.
His pain was in lock step with Kelsey’s. It was as if those in that golden casket out on the lawn were his boys. This tragedy had become a welding link. He didn’t know how, but Sara and Abby’s deaths were intertwined with Tommy and Jackie’s.
Kelsey sniffed. “Last Christmas I gave Jackie a red and green dump truck. It was just plastic. It was just from the dollar store, but he used to take it to bed with him.” She brushed another stream of tears away. “He would sleep with his truck like it was a teddy bear.”
She relaxed, her cheek pressed against his chest. Alex cleared his throat, blew out a big sigh and shared one of his favorite memories. “When Abby was three, she decided she was Snow White.” His mouth went dry telling that sweet story. “She wore her princess dress for three weeks straight. Sara and I had to call her Snow White, Your Majesty, or Your Highness. She wouldn’t answer to Abby. So we did. We called her Snow White for as long as she wanted.” He bit his lip. I’d call her Snow White forever if it brought her back.
“You’re a good father.” Kelsey sighed.
He breathed in the clean smell of her hair. The feel of her in his arms comforted him. For a moment, tragedy relinquished its chokehold.
“You’re still hurt.” She noticed the sling.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
This was nothing, but she had to check his shoulder, and he didn’t really mind. She loosened his tie and the top buttons on his dress shirt. His heart jumped at that simple personal touch, and when she made him lean forward so she could check his back, too. There was nothing there to see except the hospital bandage. It didn’t matter. She needed something else to think about, and he liked the sensation of her fingers on his skin.
Life almost felt normal. Her hair fell across his face. The fragrance of her perfume filled his nose. He closed his eyes, wanting the nearness of her to last longer than it would. Her softhearted murmurings were an unexpected balm in the middle of an incredibly crappy day. Here she was the one needing comfort, but instead, she comforted him. That was so like Kelsey. All those suppressed tender feelings resurfaced with a heated rush. He wanted more time, more memories, and more Kelsey.
When she was through, he kissed her forehead instead of her lips, and changed the subject. “How long is your sister staying?”
“I don’t know.”
Alex sighed. Louise had probably told her. She just didn’t remember. Kelsey eased back into his arms, and there they stayed until the crowd left. With his arms around her, he was at peace with the world.
At last Louise and her husband Phil ceased socializing and joined them. Alex excused himself. They said their quiet goodbyes, and he watched them drive away to their hotel. Kelsey’s dark eyes never left his from where she sat in the back seat. He stood until their car was out of sight before he folded his coat over his arm a
nd walked back to his truck. The hard part was done.
Now the hardest part, the living without any reason to live part, began.
Kelsey
Down. Down. Down.
Black nothingness pushed her deeper in a descending current she couldn’t escape. A woman’s hysterical shrieks sounded from far away. They scared Kelsey as she searched the murky water. It sounded like that woman was being killed. Or worse.
Several objects swept along in the current with her—a big black dog with a crooked ear, her old blue car, and a tin percolator. A smiling little boy appeared in the dark water. He looked so sweet, but what was he doing all the way down here? Panic clawed up her throat as he slipped beyond her reach. There was no choice. She was scared, but she had to save him.
The water changed to trees and bushes. The boy was gone. Kelsey wasn’t swimming anymore. Instead, she was running. She ran and then she ran faster, but she couldn’t run fast enough, and—
N-o-o-o-o!
Kelsey clutched her mouth shut, the only way to silence the terrible sound that filled her hotel room. The screams were hers. They died in her throat, and just as quickly, the dream let go. In a moment, there was nothing left but the sweat on her body and the pain in her heart. She shuddered under the bed sheets. Nightmares ate her alive, while exhaustion had become a relentless companion. It stalked her. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, still panting for enough air. Each day was a repeat of the last until she lost track of time. Nothing mattered.
She ached for little boy smiles and grumbles, those grubby little bodies against hers, but they were gone. At every turn, regret and guilt suffocated her. There was nothing, not even two strong arms to hold her, or someone kind enough to remind her she might be stronger than she thought.
Alex. How was his shoulder? Did he think of her? Did he miss her? She missed him. The last time she remembered being happy was with him at his cabin. How cruel was life that her happiest recent memory occurred when she couldn’t remember her babies? What kind of a mother was she?
The day he was shot came back to her. The emergency room doctor had examined Kelsey while others performed emergency surgery on Alex. In the doctor’s opinion, her amnesia was temporary, the result of a concussion, most likely induced from the fall out of Nick’s truck, or the blows to her head when he hit her, or the shock of her boys’ deaths. He couldn’t identify the exact cause. There were so many possibilities.
He called it retrograde amnesia, said she might have a few more headaches, but she was past the worst of it. She needed to protect against head injuries in the future. Wear a helmet. Avoid dangerous sports. Seek counseling. Then he gave her a tube of analgesic salve for the skin abrasions, but said they were healing nicely. She was a lucky woman to have treated them so effectively. Things could’ve been worse. He released Kelsey and told her to go home and rest. She never filled the pain prescription he offered.
Instead, she stayed in the waiting room until Alex was out of surgery, and then in his room while he slept those first couple of days. Only when Louise and her husband, Phil, arrived did Kelsey leave. Decisions had to be made. She spent the next days with her sister, letting Louise make most of the funeral decisions. Louise was good at handling those kinds of things, and Kelsey didn’t have the strength to argue with her domineering sister even when Louise insisted one casket was expensive enough. The thought of her boys together offered a shred of consolation. They would be together.
When the medical examiner released the boys’ bodies, Louise and Kelsey scheduled the funeral. That day was hard, but the days that followed were harder. Alex tracked her down before he drove back to Virginia. He held her close when he whispered his sad good-bye in her ear. She had felt his strong heart beating against hers and cried in his arms. “Please stay. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
She knew better. His life was not here. He had to go.
So, she let him.
Last of all, Louise and Phil went back to their comfortable country home in Pendleton, Oregon. They had a farm to manage, fields to cut, hay to bale. They had a life.
Kelsey tossed the sheets aside, and pulled herself to the side of the bed. Dizziness from that quick movement took her breath. Goose bumps covered her arms and legs. She was cold all the time now, like the grave her boys lay in. Her heart ached for Tommy and Jackie. She missed Whisper and Smoke, but most of all, she missed Alex. He had saved her, and then anchored her to sanity at a time when grief had ripped her apart.
One by one, she had lost everyone.
She was nothing—again.
Alex
“Morning, Boss.”
“Morning, Mother. Where’s the final report on the Iran op?” Alex rounded the customer service desk where his two techies, Mother and Ember, sat engrossed at their computer monitors. As usual, Mother was her perky, annoying, and nosey self.
“I put it in the middle of your desk where you’d be sure to see it first thing this morning. The debriefing is your eleven AM appointment. Do you want all the agents to attend?”
“Just Lennox. That will be all.”
“So how was your vacation?” She leaned over the counter as if he actually ever once in his life paused to chat. “Did I hear you met someone interesting in Washington? How’s your arm? Anything you’d like to talk about now that you’re—”
“I said that will be all.” He cut her off and kept walking. She was the last person he would share his private life with. Might as well put it in the newspaper.
Alex opened his office door, half expecting to find a desk overflowing with work. It wasn’t. Murphy had taken care of everything. Alex had stayed in Washington two extra days after the funeral. At first, he told himself he needed a couple more days rest, but the real reason was he didn’t want to leave Kelsey. His arm ached and the sling was an annoyance, but what bothered him most was he hadn’t been able to reach her by phone.
“Hey, there young man.” Murphy settled into one of the leather chairs opposite Alex. “Good to have you back. How’s the shoulder?”
“Shoulder’s fine. Lennox isn’t in yet?” Alex arched a brow at his trusted second in command, intent on making his injury a non-event.
“He’s flying in from Iran this morning. Mother has him scheduled to de-brief this afternoon, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. One o’clock. You mean Lennox filed his final report before he’s home?” Alex was surprised.
“Told you he was good. You might want to go easy on him though. You know, jet lag and all.”
“His reports have all been spot on. I’m not sure I even need the debrief. Why don’t you hire ten more just like him?”
“Now that you mention it, I do have four interviews lined up with some youngsters you might want to meet. I figured they’ll work in the Seattle office if you like ‘em.”
“The last time I checked, we didn’t have a Seattle office.”
“A year goes by pretty fast. If we train them here, they’ll be ready when it opens, and they’ll be darn good to boot.”
“We’ll discuss where they work later. Get them on board first.”
Alex turned his attention to Zack’s written report, but as usual, Murphy wasn’t done with the morning’s pleasantries. Alex dropped the report to his desk as he eyed his friend. A Vietnam vet, Murphy had served in the Army as long as they had allowed, but he might have put his foot in his mouth one too many times in support of his troops over Army politics. He cared about his people, and he liked small talk. Alex let him chat.
“How was the funeral?”
“Tough. Her sister’s taking her to Pendleton for a while. They’re flying out tomorrow.”
“What an awful thing that was. How’s Kelsey holding up?”
“She’s had four years of hell being Mrs. Durrant, that’s for sure.” Alex rubbed the tension out of his eyes.
“But you’ll keep in touch with her, won’t you?”
“For a while.” Alex was guarded in his answer, even with Murphy. His personal lif
e was a closed book. Murphy might know about Sara and Abby, but that didn’t make him privy to his feelings for Kelsey.
“Too bad you couldn’t bring her home with you. Washington’s a long way off for any kind of a meaningful relationship.”
“We don’t have a relationship.” Alex scowled as he picked the report up again.
“Oh? From what the nurse at the hospital told me, that little gal spent every day in your room. You might not know that since you were sleeping most of the time, but Kelsey stayed with you until her sister came to town and dragged her away.”
“There wasn’t much reason for her to go to her apartment, was there?” That bit of information was news to Alex. He had vaguely remembered Kelsey in his room, but thought he had dreamt it.
“Whatever you say.” Murphy rose to leave, but the twinkle in his eyes bugged Alex.
“Besides, she’s a mess. She needs her sister.” The report was flat on his desk again.
“You called her yet? I mean just to see how she’s doing and all?” Murphy stopped at the doorway, his head cocked as he waited on an answer.
“Called her last night to let her know I was home.”
Murphy still waited.
“I told her I’d call. It’s the least I could do,” Alex snapped.
“And?”
“And she was out.”
“Well, it’s three hours earlier on the west coast. You might want to—”
“Don’t you have work to do?” The report was back in Alex’s hand, and his temper was up. “Because I’ve got plenty I can offload to your desk if you’ve got time to stand around and bullshit.”
Murphy outright chuckled. He headed out the door, completely unaffected by Alex’s temper. “Okay, okay. She sounded like a pretty little thing, that’s all. I only got to talk to her that one time, but I’m dang glad she called. Let me know how she’s doing, will ya?”
Alex waited until the door closed. Yeah, right.
He read the Iran Op report from front to back before he called her again. He had hoped the three-hour time difference meant she was asleep in her hotel room. It was early enough, but the phone just rang in his ear, so Alex called the front desk. That’s when he discovered Louise and her husband had already gone home. The room was registered for another week to a Kelsey Durrant. Did he want to leave a message? Alex left his name and cell phone number with the message for Kelsey to contact him as soon as she got in.
Alex (In the Company of Snipers) Page 11