Pet for Christmas

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Pet for Christmas Page 13

by Rachelle Ayala


  --

  To: Kelly

  From: Elizabeth

  Dear Kelly, I don’t know what to say. I just read the news and realize now why Arman has not contacted me. Yes, he was working with Tyler Manning at Warspring Sports Centre and using their phone to call me. I hope that was allowed. Have you heard anything at all?

  Liz

  --

  I type a reply to her.

  --

  To: Elizabeth

  From: Kelly

  Dear Liz, I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I hear. There’s been a gunfight and the Americans are looking for survivors. We’re all praying Tyler, Arman, and their friends are safe.

  Kelly

  --

  Elizabeth is a doctor who works with the tiny Afghan community in Australia. I wonder how she met Arman’s father and why she left her son behind.

  Another email message appears.

  --

  To: Kelly

  From: Elizabeth

  Dear Kelly, you must think very badly of me for leaving my son. I cannot make any excuses except that my son is a Christian and in Afghanistan, it is illegal to convert anyone. My son talked to a friend about Jesus and the friend reported him. But my husband was able to force the friend’s family to say I was the one who spoke to him. I had to leave right away and had no time to pack or say goodbye to Arman. He doesn’t know why I left. My husband drove me to a US Army base. That’s the last time I saw him.

  Liz

  --

  Oh my. I was so quick to judge her. I hastily type back.

  --

  To: Elizabeth

  From: Kelly

  Dear Liz, I’m so sorry that happened. If it makes you feel better, Arman and his father wanted to give you a diamond ring. Arman called me at some point during their hike. He said his father rescued Tyler and he asked me if I could give him money for a diamond ring.

  Kelly

  --

  I don’t know if this makes her feel any better, having her son think of her as materialistic, but at least she knows Arman was thinking of her. As for the father, I’m sure he just wanted to extort money from us. Anyway, I better pray for all of them. For better or worse, they are all in it together, and I’m hoping Arman’s father can protect Tyler from the Taliban.

  --

  To: Kelly

  From: Elizabeth

  Dear Kelly, my husband is a strong fighter and chief of the northern tribes. He’ll die to keep Tyler safe. You need have no worries. They are Pashtun warriors, but they have their code of honor. Once they put someone in their protection, their entire tribe is bound to defend that person or die trying. They are honorable men. Let’s pray that they are safe. I would go back if I could, but my husband will not allow Arman out of the country. He says Arman belongs in Afghanistan with his people and his earth.

  Liz

  --

  My cell phone rings, and I startle, almost dropping it. It’s a number from Afghanistan with the +93 country code, but it’s not the one Arman called me from.

  I pick it up. There’s a lot of background noise, a steady thumping and men’s voices yelling.

  “Kelly, it’s me, Tyler.”

  “Tyler?” A scream tears through me, and I kick off the sheets. “Tyler, it’s really you? Oh, thank God. Tyler.”

  “I’m safe Kelly,” he shouts over the noise. “Can’t hear you. In a chopper.”

  “I’ll text,” I yell back, tears of joy springing from my eyes. “It’s really, really you.”

  “Is everything okay?” A nurse peeks into my room.

  “Yes, yes! Tyler called. He’s safe.”

  She squeals and rushes to the bed, hugging me. “Don’t get too excited. The baby.”

  “I won’t. I promise. I’m going to text him now. He can’t hear me. He’s in a chopper.”

  The nurse checks the fetal monitor and says, “Everything’s looking good with the baby. Keep him in there as long as you can.”

  I’m too busy texting. There’s so much I want to say, but first, I have to tell him how much I love him.

  ~ Tyler ~

  After a brief stop at Baghram Airfield, the US military flew Tyler to Landstuhl, Germany where he would be treated for his wounds, interrogated, and debriefed.

  The details of the explosion were confidential, but the commanding officer assured Tyler that the US Government was satisfied he had nothing to do with the horrific explosion. What remained was figuring out which faction of militants, insurgents, and terrorists had.

  Since Tyler claimed Arman as a British citizen, and Kelly had contacted Arman’s mother, the authorities decided to take the child to Germany where his mother would meet him.

  Halfway through the flight on a military transport, Arman remembered his father and his death. Tyler had comforted Arman the remainder of the flight, and when they disembarked at the air force base in Germany, he’d said a tearful goodbye to his little friend.

  Arman had gamely shook his hand and even hugged Little Brownie, briefly, still convinced that dogs were vermin. Tyler had begged the commanding officer for a cricket bat, which was duly procured. When he gave it to Arman, the boy was so touched, he asked Tyler to sign it as the man who saved his life.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to go home, although he spoke to Kelly daily. He was stuck in an endless round of meetings with medical examiners, intelligence officers, military investigators, and psychiatric evaluators. Tyler was given a lie detector test, asked to examine satellite photos, and interrogated on every detail of his time in Afghanistan. He was also given treatments for a broken nose, stitches on his face, a bullet extracted from his hips, and antibiotics for infections in his wounds, as well as counseling and therapy for post traumatic stress disorder.

  “When can I go home?” Tyler asked Dylan for the fifteen-hundredth time since he had arrived in Germany. His boss had flown in to accompany him for a few days before going to Afghanistan to visit the destroyed compound and work with the investigators.

  “Day before Christmas Eve,” Dylan repeated, even though Tyler already knew. “Security purposes. The government’s working with the media on the Sports Center situation.”

  “Why aren’t they telling who was really responsible for the bombing? You say it’s not Taliban.”

  “Not Taliban. Can’t say any more. It’s real sensitive.” Dylan propped his feet on the coffee table in the tiny room with a bunk bed, closet, and sink. Officer’s quarters at the base.

  Tyler had an idea why the government was keeping mum. A new group of international jihadists had infiltrated Afghanistan and was trying to wrest territory from the Taliban in the wake of the American withdrawal. Internationally funded and savvy with social media, they were drawing recruits worldwide and were far more dangerous.

  Tyler decided to give it a rest. All he cared about was going home. He’d keep his mouth shut for the rest of his life if he had to.

  “I need to be home for Kelly and Bree. Am I being confined here?” Tyler thumbed through the text messages on his phone.

  “You’re lucky they’re letting me visit,” Dylan said, switching off the TV. “That’s because you’re a civilian and I’m your boss.”

  Still, the government wanted to hold him for two weeks to gather intelligence, reintegrate him, and of course, tend to his cuts and scrapes. Likely they would concoct an official version of the events that had happened and make him memorize it front to back, bottom to top.

  He had his part of the story too, that Arman’s father rescued him from the Taliban. Perhaps that was what it had been all along, a rescue. By keeping him a prisoner, his father won the respect of the Taliban and earned the right to negotiate while leading him toward Pakistan and the border crossing where soldiers would be present.

  “What are you going to do about Kelly?” Dylan’s words broke into his thoughts.

  “What do you mean?” Sweat prickled Tyler’s forehead as he gazed at his friend’s equally penetrating blue eyes. “I’m going
back to her, aren’t I?”

  “Physically, yes, but what about emotionally?”

  “What’s this about?” Tyler’s brows creased and he scratched the back of his neck.

  “Wanna grab a beer?” Dylan asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Sure, whatever.” Tyler reached for the tiny bar-sized refrigerator next to the desk. “I know what I’m doing this time.”

  “Do you?” Dylan popped the top of a longneck. “I know I’m younger than you, and I’m not even engaged to my girlfriend, but we don’t have a baby on the way.”

  “Yeah, well, are you saying I should marry Kelly?”

  “You mean you hadn’t thought of this already?”

  Tyler wiped his sweaty hand on his jeans and sucked on the beer. Damn. Where was this youngster going with this? He hadn’t meant to get Kelly pregnant, but it had happened.

  He took a deep breath and blew out. “Kelly says I’m her fiancé.”

  “You mean you’re not?” Dylan leaned forward and placed his beer on the coffee table.

  “You’re not standing in for her father, are you?” Tyler lobbed a joke. “Shotgun and all.”

  “No, no shotgun,” Dylan said. “I just thought you should get it straight in your head what you’re going to do before going back. Everyone’s going to be excited. It’ll be Christmas Eve, then the baby’s coming. She’s going to have to be able to count on you not to bail.”

  “You think I should buy her a ring?” Tyler’s chest felt tight. Everything was moving too fast. How could he saddle Kelly with his problems? According to the Redwood Warriors Recon program, a PTSD support group, he would never be entirely cured. He’d always have nightmares, react with anger and suspicion to ordinary situations, and generally make life a living hell for Kelly.

  “If you haven’t thought of it, no.” Dylan dropped his feet to the floor and leaned his elbows over his knees. “I just want you to carefully consider what expectations you’re going to set when you return. It’s not just Kelly, it’s Bree and your baby. Of the three, Bree’s the most vulnerable.”

  “I know. She wants Kelly to find her real father, the one who donated the sperm. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe he’s a doctor or someone stable.”

  Pow. Dylan’s punch landed in his gut, fortunately missing his cracked ribs. “Man up, Manning. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  It didn’t hurt, as much as it shocked him. Was it so obvious that he was shirking his responsibilities to Kelly and Bree?

  “Eff you, boss.” Tyler shoved himself from the couch. “Kelly doesn’t need my kind of crazy. She’s capable and can run the entire show. Of course I’ll help her pay for everything.”

  Dylan stood and stretched to his full height. “I’m putting you on paid vacation for a month until you figure it out. No traveling, no speaking deals, nothing. Kelly deserves a full partner, and Bree deserves a real father.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  ~ Kelly ~

  The big day has finally arrived. It’s December twenty-third, the day Tyler’s coming home. This morning, he texted me from Travis Air Force Base and is on his way. Even though I can’t wait to see him and I just want to hug him and hold him tight, I can’t let myself pretend there’s more to this. He was pretty much forced to come home once the compound exploded. If the truck had been filled with supplies, he would have stayed to supervise, and who knew how long it would have taken to hire another director?

  He’s not coming home for me, but the baby. The original plan was February, the baby’s due date. But Bree and I kept badgering him about Christmas, a holiday no one in Afghanistan celebrates, and of course, now he has no choice because the baby’s going to be born in two days. I swallow hard and place my hand over my palpating chest, then rub my womb. I’ve always felt sorry for women who used children to keep their man. Am I using this little one to keep Tyler?

  No. It won’t work. Look what happened to Mom. Even though she had Ella and I, Dad still left her and never looked back, not even when she was dying of cancer. I have to be stronger. I have no choice.

  Although there’ll be hugs and kisses and even ‘I love you,’ once the holidays are over, I need to make some changes. I can’t have a man who’d rather be somewhere else. It’ll never work. Bree and I deserve better, or none.

  My baby tumbles and turns inside, as my adrenaline rubs off on him. I can’t seem to stay still and am antsy to get out of the hospital bed I’ve been parked in for almost three weeks.

  My sister Ella has come early to help me dress. She says I have to look my best if I want to win Tyler over. Part of me wants so badly to have him sweep me off my feet and tell me everything I want to hear, but the more logical side of me wonders why I should bother. Except, I want him so badly. If only he’d want me and Bree.

  “What’s wrong?” Ella holds a hand mirror in front of my face.

  She startles me from my gloomy thoughts, and I paste on a smile for her benefit.

  “Are you sure I don’t look too gaudy?” I’m sitting on the hospital bed wearing a boldly printed and colorful paisley handkerchief dress over my gown. “Like I’m trying too hard?”

  “Absolutely not. You’re freaking gorgeous. Tyler won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

  “Too bad. He’ll have to hold off,” I say drily. I loop the IV tubes behind me, and adjust the straps for the fetal monitor. “Any more excited, and I might go into labor.”

  “Which wouldn’t be so bad now,” Ella says. “You’re going to have him Christmas day. Are you nervous?”

  I wipe my hand over my forehead and sigh. “Of course I am. Stuck here three weeks and missing Bree so much. Thanks for dealing with everything.”

  “Yeah, we had to hire bodyguards to whisk us past the media. Dylan paid for them,” she adds quickly when she notices my eyebrows pop.

  “He’s so sweet,” I reply. “We sure don’t have the money for that. I hope it dies down soon. Why isn’t the government saying who did it?”

  It’s much easier talking about the newshounds and government than what’s roiling inside my heart like razors in a bounce house.

  “They’ve already cleared Tyler, but you know what sharks the media are. Now they’re speculating whether he knew the old center director was affiliated with the Islamic state.”

  “I’m sure Tyler had no clue. Dylan didn’t, and he’s been holed up with intelligence agents all week going over all the records. That guy ripped off Warspring big time. This wouldn’t have happened if his bank account had triggers in place to detect strange behavior.”

  “So, is that a job for you?” Ella asks, handing me a tube of lipstick. “Coral honey. It’ll go well with your pale skin and hazel eyes.”

  “Not sure I can take on contracts while working for the government. Is that something you’re interested in?”

  Despite being a hip hop dancer and an avid cosplayer, my little sister is a computer genius.

  “Not sure.” She heaves her chest, sighing. “I’d like to, but if Jaden wants to go to Korea, I should go with him, right?”

  “Depends.” I unscrew the tube of lipstick and study it. It’s a coral shade with beige undertones, nothing too orange. Good. “It’s a big life change. What kind of commitment has he given you?”

  “Not much. I mean, he says I can go to Korea if I want. It’s a free country, and I guess it means we can keep dating.”

  I quirk my eyebrow. So, she’s not that different from the rest of us Kennedy women. “Would you go to Korea if you didn’t know him? It doesn’t sound like much of an incentive.”

  “We’re both too young to get married. Not like you and Tyler with a baby on the way.” Ella runs her slender fingers through her pixie blond hair. Her eyes turn watery. “Jaden wants to find his birth mother. I want to be there for him. We’ll just be together and see where it goes. Not everything has to lead to anything.”

  “Tell me about it.” I swipe the lipstick on my lips. “I actually don’t know how Tyler feels about co
ming back. I mean, we text, email, talk on the phone, but …”

  “But what?” Ella grabs a hairpin and twirls my hair into a knot. “Are you worried he won’t come?”

  “He’s on his way, but that’s not what I meant. The world’s watching. But after all the hype dies down and it’s just me, Tyler, Bree, and our baby, what’s to say he won’t take off again?”

  “Then you have to talk to him. Honestly. I know you don’t want to ruin the homecoming and holidays, but …”

  Oh, so my younger sister is so good giving advice, but taking it? I think she should stay and take on the job. Once Jaden finds his birth mother and grows up a bit, maybe he’ll realize what a gem Ella is.

  “You should talk to Jaden too. If he wants to go, he’ll go, but you shouldn’t upset your life and plans for him.”

  “I don’t want to ruin the holidays either.” Ella picks up a soccer ball ornament from my spindly hospital room Christmas tree. “Let’s not worry about it now. One thing about us Kennedys is how much we love Christmas.”

  “Especially Bree.” I smile at the pom-pom puppy ornament she and my mother made.

  “I know. Poor kid.” Ella rubs my shoulder. “She’s been sullen and withdrawn this year. She doesn’t even throw tantrums. It’s like she’s afraid to be a bad girl.”

  “That’s because she thinks Tyler’s gone because she wished for her real father.” I dab a tissue on the corner of my eye. “She also hears the things the media is yelling, and she knows Tyler is supposed to come home, but you know what kills me?”

  “Don’t think of it now.” Ella looks at her watch. “Tyler’s due in fifteen minutes.”

  “I have to think about it. My daughter’s happiness is more important than mine. I can’t have Tyler jerk her little heart around. Real dad, fake dad, here today, gone tomorrow. I just can’t. It’s unfair to her. What kills me is the thought that Tyler would only stay for his son, and not for me and Bree.”

  “That’s so untrue, Kelly. Tyler loves both of you.”

  “To some extent, but is it enough?” I push the cover back on the lipstick. “I don’t want him staying with me because I trapped him with a baby. But mostly, I don’t want to see Bree left out. Do you know how much that would hurt?”

 

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