Always Faithful

by Catherine Snodgrass

  Rowan heard him sigh, yet she kept her head buried. If he only knew what effect those words had on her lonely soul.

  "You were a word away from blowing whatever chance we might have of winning this case, Rowan. I don’t care what happens from now on, but you have to hold your temper."

  "Yeah, well, so do you."

  He gave a humorless chuckle. "I guess I do. Why don’t we call it a day? Go to your room, get some rest, and we’ll start again in the morning. I can probably win the adultery issue on the grounds of hearsay. Adultery is very hard to prove. As for the rest, well, we’ll tear into some of those reports tomorrow. Okay?"

  Rowan blinked her vision clear and stood. "All right. Thanks." She paused. "And Phillip?"

  "Yes?"

  "Thank you for coming to defend me."

  She turned and walked out the door.

  Business-like and professional. That’s how Rowan preferred to keep things. That was the way their relationship had to be now. Professional. No matter what sexual attraction she still felt for him.

  Still, she couldn’t help but notice he wore no wedding ring. Not that it mattered where they were concerned. Even if he did manage to forgive her for lying about Ian, even if she could forget how Donald Stuart’s plans for Phillip tore them apart, she was a staff sergeant and he was a captain. Now, it was a criminal offense for them to fraternize. The future held no more hope for them than the past.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  "How are things going?" Zach asked Phillip as they talked on the phone. Zach was fishing for more information about the case, obviously.

  What could he say? That he wanted to crush Rowan in his arms at the first sight of her? That he wanted to strip her naked and make her his again? That he wanted to hold her close each time her eyes flooded with unshed tears?

  "They’re going fine."

  Zach snorted. "Fine? You expect me to be satisfied with ‘fine’?"

  "Yes…I do. Look, I need a favor. Get my car from the shop and bring it up. The government vehicle died on me. I’m getting another one from the motor pool for now, but I won’t be able to use it off base. I think I’d rather stay here at Twentynine Palms over the weekend instead of going home. Maybe I can turn up some more information."

  "No problem. I’ll follow Laura up on Friday and hitch a ride back with her. She’s prosecuting the case, you know." His voice held a hint of amusement.

  "You know that I know, Zach. Why bring it up?"

  "The irony of it, I suppose. Interesting chain of events, huh? Ex-girlfriend prosecuting ex-girlfriend. Better hope Laura doesn’t find out."

  "If she does, I’m sure she will maintain a professional distance," Phillip replied.

  "Like you’re doing?"

  Phillip rubbed the ache from his neck. "Zach, please, just bring the car."

  "Will do."

  "By the way, I forgot to warn you. Oscar got into the leftover chili last night. His stomach might be a little upset."

  "A little? That’s an understatement. He’s got enough gas for ten men. Thanks for the warning, but I don’t know what’s worse. Oscar with an upset stomach or Oscar whining because he can’t sleep with me. I’ve never seen a bigger baby. Gotta go. See you Friday." The receiver clicked.

  Phillip was sorry he ended the conversation so soon. At least talking with Zach, no matter how annoying, kept his mind off other things.

  Because you asked me to. Phillip was amazed at how easy the words came…and how true they were. Rowan called on him for help, knowing only he would put faith in such a fanciful tale. Odd as the whole thing sounded and, although everything pointed to her guilt, he believed her.

  He had imagined this moment for years—the day he met Rowan again. All the hurtful words, each vengeful scenario he played in his mind, every demand for answers had disappeared the instant he’d seen her. She’d hurt him with her long-ago desertion, and the feeling remained. Now that pain was overshadowed by the rage that filled him when he saw the bruise marring her ivory cheek.

  With a wry smile, he recalled her battle in the hallway. Like an Amazon warrior. She could give a fair account of herself when backed into a corner, that was obvious. It was probably obvious as well to whoever attacked her at the airfield since they hadn’t the courage to face her head on. That meant her attacker knew her well.

  It was possible that leaving her alive was a mistake, but he wasn’t so sure. The whole thing smelled of a set-up. Even the story of her affair with Kemp.

  Phillip had been surprised at the spurt of jealousy that overcame him when he thought she had been sleeping with Charlie Kemp. Her insistence that she had not, led to other questions. If not Charlie Kemp, then who had been with Rowan all these years? There had to have been someone. Maybe a lot of someones. Nobody could remain celibate for nine years. At least not a woman of Rowan’s passionate nature.

  All questions were best left unspoken. It really wasn’t any of his business.

  Yet his gaze had wandered again and again to her finger. No ring. No tan mark. No husband. Right? Did she have a boyfriend? If so, why wasn’t the jerk here to support her when she needed it the most?

  Phillip flipped through the pages of Rowan’s military record book. The record of emergency data listing family members was missing. A leave and earning statement showed extra pay for living in town, but he already knew that. Tax status was single with one exemption just like a thousand other Marines.

  "We’re getting ready to close up shop here," Connors said from the doorway. "You need a ride back to the BOQ?"

  "No, thanks. I’ll walk. There’s a page missing from Staff Sergeant McKinley’s record. The record of emergency data."

  Phillip looked up in time to see the man shrug. "Clerk probably missed it. Why?"

  Because I want to know if she’s married. "I thought someone should notify her family about how the hearing went."

  "I called Emma right away. She’ll be here as soon as she gets off work."

  Phillip wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "Work? Rowan’s mother works here? In California?"

  "She manages a small bookstore in the town of Twentynine Palms, south of the base. You probably drove past it on your way here."

  He nodded, barely remembering the cab passing through a small desert town, shops decorated with colorful murals depicting local desert history. He’d been so worried about being late for the hearing that most of the scenery had passed by in a blur.

  "I don’t understand," he said, more to himself than to Captain Connors. "Emma lives with Rowan? Where’s James?"

  "I don’t know any James." Connors looked puzzled.

  "Her husband. Emma’s husband."

  "Oh…I believe he passed away before Ian…excuse me, it’s been a long day…before Rowan joined the Marine Corps."

  Phillip felt like someone had punched him in the gut. James dead? They had been so close. James McKinley’s stories of his tour in Vietnam as a young Marine had inspired Phillip to choose the Corps as his profession.

  Why hadn’t Rowan called him? Losing contact with James in the breakup with Rowan had been hard enough, and now to discover the man was dead. He could feel his face tighten with grief.

  "Do you know how—"

  But Connors was already gone. Phillip pushed away from the desk.

  He had to talk to Rowan.

  A welcome desert breeze greeted him when he stepped outside, bringing with it the scent of sage. A rumbling off in the distance called to him. He glanced to the mountains nearby where a thundercloud dusted the tops with rain. Nature’s cleansing of the world’s impurities. If only everything in life could be so simple.

  * * *

  Rowan was standing on the third floor landing of the enlisted barracks, watching the desert storm drift over the mountains when she first saw Phillip walking down the road toward her building. It was hard not to notice him dressed as he was in a red pullover shirt and white hiking shorts. He still had the best looking legs of any man she had ever k
nown. They possessed that special gait of all Stuart men, the one that spelled arrogant confidence. It was part of their DNA. Ian had it, too—in full measure.

  She hoped he was out for a late afternoon walk. The direction of his gaze told her differently—he was looking right at her. There couldn’t have been a worse time for him to visit.

  From the other direction, Rowan saw her mother’s car coming down the road. It was inevitable, the two of them meeting, but it should have been on her terms. In the office setting she envisioned. A nice, neat, and orderly conversation. Not this spur of the moment meeting.

  Phillip reached her first. Her mother was still dealing with the myriad of stop signs along the way. With any luck, Rowan would have Phillip gone before her mother got here.

  Who was she kidding? The only luck she had lately was bad. Every plan she made fizzled before she had the chance to institute it. Why should this be any different? Still, a little more notice would have been nice.

  Resigned to the inevitable confrontation and determined to roll with it, Rowan waited for Phillip to reach her on the third floor.

  "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" She leaned back and rested elbows against the rail. "Am I being charged with yet another crime? No, wait, don’t tell me. I’m now being implicated in an international espionage plot. Perhaps the drug lab in the back of my van has been discovered?" She managed a nervous grin.

  There was no humor in his eyes. "Damnit, Rowan, why didn’t you tell me about your father?"

  Rowan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was prepared to argue with Phillip, not dredge up painful memories of her beloved father.

  "I did, Phillip. I called the moment it happened and every day until the funeral. Your father took the messages. When you never showed up or even called, I figured you didn’t care."

  His features twisted with suppressed grief. "How could you think that? I loved James."

  "What else was I supposed to think? You never returned the call…any of the calls," she softly replied.

  His answer was strained. "I never got the messages, Rowan. My father never gave them to me…" His voice trailed off.

  Damn, this was killing him. He knew his father hadn’t liked Rowan, but this was carrying things too far. Phillip swallowed the lump in his throat and clenched his fingers around the iron railing.

  "How? When?"

  It was all Rowan could do to keep from wrapping her arms around him. He looked so hurt, and had every right to be—as did she. If Donald Stuart lied about her calling, then it could very well mean he lied about everything else he told Rowan.

  Who was she kidding? Of course, he lied. Why give him the benefit of the doubt? She should have seen it then. But Donald was clever. He saw her vulnerability and struck a wedge between her and Phillip. The perfect opportunity to rid the Stuart family of an unwanted interloper so obviously not cut from the same social cloth.

  "Dad had a heart attack a couple of weeks after you left. The doctors performed a by-pass, but he never regained consciousness. A month later he was gone."

  He let his head drop. "I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m so sorry. Is that why you broke it off when I called that time?"

  Among other things. "Yes. I thought you didn’t care."

  He gave a humorless chuckle. "Well, the old bastard finally managed to do it, didn’t he? My father tore us apart."

  "Looks that way," she said. "How did you find out about Dad’s death?"

  "Connors told me."

  "Look, Phillip, we really need to sit down and talk about this."

  The slam of a car door drew their attention down to the parking lot.

  "Emma’s as beautiful as I remember. I understand she’s managing a bookstore in town," Phillip said with a slight smile.

  Rowan shoved away from the rail. "Well, Captain Connors was informative. Did he tell you my bra size too?"

  Smirking, Phillip arched an eyebrow and looked her way. "Does he know it?"

  "Do you?"

  He gave her a lazy smile that sent chills down her spine. "36B."

  Rowan couldn’t help it. She laughed. For added measure she gave him a playful shove.

  Her mother paused at the sight of them standing together, then hurried forward to wrap Rowan in a one-armed embrace while she dropped the overnight bag to the landing.

  "I’m so happy you’re not being sent away," she whispered softly against Rowan’s cheek. "I don’t think I could bear the thought of you being locked away in the brig."

  After gathering her composure, she turned. "Phillip." She smiled then extended her hands to him. "I mean Captain Stuart."

  Phillip slipped his hands into hers, then pulled her forward into a tight hug. "Hello, Emma. Now don’t get formal on me. How have you been?"

  "You know me," she kissed his cheek, "as long as I have my daughter nearby, I’m a happy woman."

  "I am so sorry to hear about James. I’ve only just learned."

  Emma held him at arms’ length and gave him that searching look that always made him feel as if she could see inside his soul.

  "I should have realized. That damn father of yours. I should have trusted my instincts. But, to be honest with you, there was too much going on at the time for me to do more than survive." She squeezed his forearms. "Kind of what we’re trying to do right now. So, tell me, can you help my little girl?"

  "I’m going to do my damnedest, Emma." He hugged her once more. "Have you eaten? Let’s go grab a pizza. I saw a Domino’s around the corner from the legal offices."

  Rowan poked her head between the two. "I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sure Mom has other things to do. Don’t you, Mom?"

  Her mother ignored her. "Actually, no, dear. I don’t." She smiled up at Phillip. "I’d love a pizza. Sweetheart, go clean up and change while Phillip and I catch up on news."

  The last thing Rowan wanted to do was leave the two of them alone, but they had banded together, summarily dismissing her. She had to trust her mother to leave the subject of Ian for her to deal with as she planned. Or would that too be taken neatly out of her hands by fate?

  Rowan’s stomach churned. She’d deal with that if it happened, and prayed she would at least have some control over the situation.

  As she ducked back into her room, their conversation drifted her way.

  "The California desert is certainly a big change from your old home in Virginia," Phillip said.

  "It’s not so bad," her mother replied. "Of course I do miss my dream job back there, and the base doesn’t have many opportunities for a professional reference librarian. But I’m happy. What about you?"

  The question took Phillip by surprise. There was no lying to this woman. She knew what you thought before you thought it. The only days of happiness he had ever known had been with the McKinley family. Nothing in the last nine years had changed that. No wonder his life felt so empty, this is what had been missing. The warmth and love that Rowan’s family gave unconditionally.

  He forced a smile and knew it didn’t reach his eyes. "I’ve been managing, Emma."

  "Sounds almost routine," she told him.

  Emma nailed it on that one. That’s exactly what his life had become—a constant struggle up the ladder. Success, that’s all he cared about. All other emotions were shoved away. The hell of it was, now that he had seen Rowan again, they were rushing back at him with the force of a cannon ball.

  "Tell me everything."

  He rubbed his nose and tried to hide a smile. "That might take awhile."

  "I have all night."

  She always did have the time for someone in need of a confidante.

  They were still talking when Rowan returned. Without thinking, he let his gaze wander over what the standard Marine camouflage uniform had concealed.

  Her cotton tank top clung to her curves, outlining in perfect detail the swell of her breasts—which, to his disappointment, were covered with a bra…36B, of course. Then there were her legs. Long, delicately tanned, slightly freck
led, and exposed. Always athletic, her muscles were leaner, more defined. Sleek, not bulky. He imagined her running by his side, her pace perfectly matched with his.

  He forced his attention to her face. That was also a mistake. Out of old habit, he reached out and brushed an errant strand of her still damp hair back into place.

  Rowan jerked back as if electrically shocked. Her lips opened, unconsciously beckoning. The temptation was enough to kill him.

  "Come on, you two." Emma steered them toward the stairwell. "I’m starving."

  So am I, thought Phillip, and not for food.

  * * *

  Rowan couldn’t eat to save her life. On the patio at Domino’s she sipped a Diet Coke and toyed with a slice of pepperoni pizza while the two of them chattered away.

  The headache she hoped was gone had returned with a vengeance. Anxiety churned her stomach. What if her mother slipped up and mentioned Ian? She never could keep a secret, and this was a whopper. The two of them tossed words between them like tennis players volleying balls over a net. Their sudden silence jolted her back into awareness.

  Rowan looked up to find them staring at her. "I’m sorry. Did you say something to me? I was, um, thinking about something else."

  "Your mother wanted to know if you cared to tell her any more of what was going on," Phillip said.

  Not really. But she was going to find out soon enough anyway. In hushed tones, Rowan explained everything.

  Phillip turned attorney once more. She could see that in the concentrated lines on his face, and the piercing gleam of his shrewd eyes. She wondered if this was planned. He would think her relaxed and off-guard. Wrong. She was tenser than ever. Her mind went blank as she stumbled over her words. With each fumble, Phillip interjected a comment or question, turning each sentence inside out. By the time she was done, Rowan was physically and emotionally drained.

  Her mother squeezed her hand. "Always have to stick your nose in where it—"

  "Emma, don’t."

  Phillip’s voice was soft, but the tone brooked no argument. Rowan appreciated his consideration.

  "We’ve already been through that…Rowan, you’re going to have to do better with your story. If you can’t tell your mother without faltering, how do you expect to tell the court?"