First Light

by Isabel Jolie

  “They should have never been engaged.”

  He exhaled loudly, as if I was a nuisance to him. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “This is over the line, Erik.”

  Ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff. Loud barking, intermixed with a periodic low growl, announced a visitor at the front door.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “Logan’s at your door. What’s he doing there?”

  “What the fuck, Erik? You’re looking—”

  “Jesus, Cali. You too can see your front door on your phone.”

  “Bye.”

  “Wait. I need to talk to you.”

  A sense of satisfaction filled me when I ended the call.

  As I approached the front door, I quieted Nym. He stopped barking, sat on his haunches, and I breathed. Blue, cloudless sky shone through the windows on each side of the door. Calmer, I swung the door open to greet Logan.

  “What are you working on?” he asked. His lips curved into a blatant mocking smirk.

  “Huh?”

  “Dust.” He pointed. “It’s here. There. And here.” The tip of his finger brushed over my nose.

  “Oh. I had to replace some light bulbs in the can lights.”

  “Gabe said you borrowed his ladder. I stopped by to see if you needed any help with anything. Am I too late?”

  “It’s all done.”

  “Well, I won’t bother you. I have a reservation at Aqua at seven. Does that still work for you?”

  A quick glance at my watch showed I’d blown an hour on the blockheaded camera hunt. Logan bent down to pet Nym, and the dog’s tail wagged. I glared at the glass bulb over Logan’s head.

  “Sure.”

  “So, you need help with that can light?” He peered over my shoulder. I followed his gaze to the opening from the hall into the living room. One of the contraptions hung precariously from one slim galvanized steel hook.

  “I can get it.”

  “You sure? I’m happy to help.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good.” I still had all the bathroom lights to check, because, no, I couldn’t trust he wouldn’t do that. And downstairs in the hall. And those bedrooms. I planned to check every single recessed light. For whatever twisted reason, my obsessive brother liked having his security team watching me all day. I did not. Erik’s intentions, while rooted in a place of concern for me, stemmed from a place of paranoia. It was the only logical conclusion. My parents should’ve gotten him therapy years ago.

  “Hey, you okay?” Logan’s dark brown eyes focused on me, and he tenderly brushed a finger against my cheek.

  “Yeah. I’m good.”

  His lips molded to mine, ever so briefly, and my tight ribcage loosened.

  “I’d better go get showered.”

  “Don’t change on my account. I like this outfit.”

  I glanced down at my dusty jean cut-offs and white tank top. “I don’t think this would really fit in at Aqua.”

  He stepped closer. His fingers grazed my cheek, then his lips found mine. My body awakened from his proximity, craving the pleasure he offered. His large hand curved against my ass and drew me against his pelvis. The lines of his erection pressed against my center. He broke our kiss with a groan. He clutched my hips, keeping me close.

  “Were you and Gabe drinking?”

  “We shared a beer on his deck. Why?”

  “You taste lemony. Maybe lemony hops? I like it.”

  He bent down and gave me another taste. Our tongues danced slowly at first. As our kiss grew in intensity, our bodies melded together, seeking friction. He broke the kiss, his breath heavy.

  “If you really want to get ready for tonight, I’d better go. Now.”

  I nodded, but my body begged to drag him into the bedroom. As if it had a mind of its own, my pelvis ground against him, ever so lightly, silently communicating what I really wanted. He gripped my hair and tilted my head back, kissing me deeply, owning me, stealing my breath, and inching me into the house, down the hall, into…

  The bedroom—which still might have cameras. And a security team lurking. Reality fell over me like a bucket of ice-cold water, and I pushed him away. He tilted his head, puzzled. His exhale hinted at frustration.

  “We only have one hour. Should I pick you up?”

  “One hour.” He kissed the pad of his index finger and placed the finger on my lips. “Soon.” After he drove away, I glared up at the security camera hanging nearby, then with a huff, slammed the door.

  Moments later, my BlackBerry vibrated. I ignored it.

  After I showered, dressed, and took Nym for a quick walk, I headed out onto the street. Waiting for him on the curb, on the edge of my driveway, qualified as anything but normal. But my landline kept ringing. This was what Erik and his damned security team had reduced me to. Standing on the curb, pretending to be normal. But the reduction started long before.

  The day I came home to a ransacked apartment. My confidence, my strength—they both took the hit. Instead of calling the police, I called Erik. He’d been living abroad, but had recently returned home, temporarily living with our parents.

  * * *

  “I’ll be right over. Don’t call the cops.”

  “Why?”

  “Trust me.”

  Moments later, he arrived with two friends.

  “Where’s your laptop?”

  “In my backpack.”

  “So, it wasn’t here?”

  “No.”

  “What about your phone?”

  I held it up with a shaking hand.

  “They’re after me.” He said it like it was an answer.

  “What are you into?” It had to be bad. Drugs?

  He held both my hands. “I’m doing good things.” He looked me in the eye. “Sit? Let me explain?” With an energy and zest I hadn’t seen in ages, at least not since he lit up for achieving a higher level on Zeitgeist Battle, he said, “I’m a hacktivist. When a government threatens freedoms, or a company gets too greedy, we go in and attack.”

  I snatched my hands out of his clutches.

  “Not with guns. No violence. It’s the best kind of freedom fighting there is. Myanmar. Ukraine. Kazakhstan. That was us. We’re making a difference, Cali. We’re leading dissension in Hong Kong. And the reason someone broke in here…well, that’s harder to explain.”

  “You’re saying those people are here, in our country?”

  “Some are. The physical location doesn’t really matter.”

  “Why break into my apartment?”

  “The group we started. The business we started. It is a business.” He implored me to understand, eyes desperate. “My partner…one of my partners…he’s off the range. He’s pissed. He has this idea that now we’re at war. And that if he doesn’t teach me a lesson, others will be likely to not follow orders. He knows you’re close to me. I’d hoped he would drop it after—”

  “She’s not safe.” His friend, a guy I’d never seen before, approached.

  I didn’t agree to move that day, but I did agree to precautions. And Erik set about bringing me up to speed. Explaining the intricate world of the Dark Web, that part of the World Wide Web only accessible with special software, allowing users to remain anonymous and untraceable. And the unofficial role all of the world’s governments chose to play and how they influenced public opinion. All the enemies he’d amassed while breaking laws via a keyboard.

  * * *

  I understood Erik’s fears, but he’d taken it to an extreme. I lived on a ridiculously safe island with fewer than three hundred year-round residents. Even if someone kidnapped me to draw him out, exactly how did those cameras help? His security team was off in god knew where. I’d be long gone before they could ever spring to action. It was just another sign of the irrational overtaking Erik’s brain.

  “I promise you. We’re doing good things.” That was what he’d said. As if the ultimate objective warranted the means. He never denied he’d broken laws. Committed crimes. He’d aligned h
imself with criminals, and they didn’t take kindly to his conscience acting without approval from the highest level.

  Were his fears well-founded? Had I been in danger back then? Or now? I still didn’t really know. I’d succumbed to his precautions for many reasons. Agreed to help him out where I could. I still didn’t understand it all. But these intrusive cameras showed me one thing. The time had come to push back.

  Logan escorted me past the throng of vacationers on the outer deck of Aqua and directly up to the hostess stand. I glanced over my shoulder, surveying the crowd outside. Many held cocktails or beers. Some women wore shorts or skirts, others wore colorful, flowing sundresses.

  “Right this way.” We followed the hostess to our seat, directly in front of a window overlooking the pool below, but high enough we also had a broad view of the expansive ocean, punctuated by the occasional whitecap.

  “Do you know someone here?” I asked as Logan held out my chair for me.

  “I do. I know all the restaurant owners and their staff.”

  “Makes sense. I suppose they want to know you, in case they ever need to call in for help.”

  “We have community meetings. That’s really where I’ll meet the owners and managers. Now and then we’ve been called down when a patron has had too much to drink, but that’s remarkably rare. This isn’t really the sort of place where bar fights happen.” He folded the napkin in his lap and leaned back in his chair, making room for the waitstaff to fill his water glass.

  “Do you ever get bored?” He half-smiled and gave me a questioning expression. “I mean, compared to Chicago…”

  “It’s different. But no, I don’t miss homicide. It’s been a nice break. But I miss detective work.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever go back to it?”

  “Detective work? Yes. To Chicago? No. You could say I gave the city to my wife in the divorce.”

  “And your dog too.”

  “Yeah. I should’ve hired a lawyer, huh?”

  “Wait. You didn’t hire a lawyer?”

  “No. She made more than me. We didn’t have kids. I didn’t want her money. No need for lawyers.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s a lawyer.”

  I choked on my drink then dabbed my mouth with my napkin. “Are you crazy?”

  “Some think so.” He grinned. “She wasn’t a divorce lawyer. I’m not that crazy. She was a prosecutor. Then, during our marriage, she switched to defense.”

  “Ah, she switched to the dark side.”

  “You could say that. So, what about your ex? What did he do?”

  Right as he asked, our server arrived. She uncorked the wine Logan ordered. I swirled it in my glass and sipped. A light taste with hints of vanilla and possibly oak. After nodding my approval, she filled both our glasses then took our order.

  After she departed, I lifted my glass in the air.

  “What are we toasting to?” he asked.

  “To transitions. And finding our way.”

  Our glasses clinked.

  I settled back into my chair and swirled the liquid in my glass, contemplating how to direct our conversation.

  “When your ex became a defense attorney, did she change?” I could imagine if they ended up on opposite sides of the courtroom, it could be tense and difficult to leave the work scene out of the home.

  “It would be easy to blame it all on that. But no.” He scratched his beard, and after a brief minute, his gaze took on a faraway quality. Just as quickly, he shook it off and returned to our dinner. “The guy she was cheating on me with? That buddy of mine? He was a client of hers. They worked together closely.”

  “Oh. That’s… I’m sorry.”

  “For a long time, I hated both of them. But there was a lot going on. Our marriage had some… challenges. And, at the end of the day, I couldn’t give her what she wanted.”

  “What do you mean?” If she’d left him for someone with a high-paying job, I wouldn’t have even asked the question.

  “She wanted kids. And now, like I told you, she’s going to have them. And I’m happy for her. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m happy for him, but I’m happy for her.”

  I didn’t understand at all.

  “I can see the questions.” He pointed at me and smiled. “Ask anything you want. We’re dating. You should know.” He shrugged as if to say, “It is what it is.”

  “You don’t want children?” I struggled for the words, more trying to be sensitive in my question. But even as I asked about wanting, I sensed there was more going on than desire.

  “No. I do. But… we were trying. Bethany and me. They say you should try for a year before going to get tested. The closer we got to that date on the calendar, it became more tense. We passed the date. Both of our jobs hit a rough patch. She switched sides, to the dark side, as you say. New job, new role. We let the baby thing fall to the back burner. We fought more. I assumed it was job stress.”

  “And then she ended up with your friend?”

  “I should’ve known something was up. I think that’s the worst part. I’m a detective. I should’ve known, seen the signs.” He lifted his wineglass and drained it. I reached out for his hand and linked my fingers through his.

  “It’s not your fault. Relationships are tough. Multi-layered. And…” I hesitated, unsure what else I could say. I’d never been married, never had a truly serious relationship. I was out of my depth.

  “That day out on the beach. When you found me?” He squeezed my hand, prompting my gaze to lift to his. It clicked.

  “You’d just learned she was pregnant?”

  “And I thought back over our fights. One after the other. We fought.” He raised his eyebrows. “A lot.” He swallowed his water and set it down. “But that day, I realized it was me. I spent so long playing victim. Telling people she cheated. And, I mean, yeah, that’s all true. But she’d been right. I should’ve gone to get tested. She’s close to my age. She didn’t have time to play around with me not wanting to go jizz in a cup. Sorry, that’s a bit too graphic.”

  “It’s okay.” His pain was evident, in his eyes, the way he bowed his head, as if in confession.

  “For so long, I wanted to blame her for our marriage. But it was just as much my fault. I think it worked out the way it should.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Let’s say I’d gone and gotten tested. We learned it was me. I’m infertile. Can you imagine that choice for her?”

  “Huh? No, that’s not. Logan, plenty of couples can’t conceive. There are other options. Look at Jasmine and Tate. There are other Jasmines out there. It wouldn’t’ve been a choice between children and you.” True, disagreements over wanting kids broke people up, but not once they’d committed. I refused to follow his logic.

  “She wanted her own. Now she’s going to have her own.” He exhaled and finished the water in his glass. He set it down on the table and rested against the back of his chair, forearms resting on the armrests. “So, it’s early on for us. I didn’t know when to share this. But you should know, I can’t…” His gaze fell to the tablecloth.

  “Logan?” I waited until he met my gaze, and I schooled the smile breaking out over the absurdity of the situation. “First, I’m not even sure where to begin. The most important part of being a father has absolutely nothing to do with sperm. If you want to be a father, well, there will always be children who need a home. It might not be an easy path, and you might not get the perfect male newborn infant, but if there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  “So, it doesn’t bother you? That I can’t, or—”

  “No. Not at all.” I wanted nothing more than to prop him up and eliminate any insecurities over this perceived weakness. “Has this…idea…prevented you from pursuing relationships?”

  “Honestly, when I first got here, a relationship was the furthest thing from my mind. It’s you…really. You got me thinking, that maybe…” He looked me directly in the eye, and a warmth infuse
d me. With my free hand, I lifted my wine glass, not because I was thirsty, but because I didn’t know what to say.

  “Do you want kids?” In answer, I set my glass down and scratched my face, mimicking his nervous habit. Then my ear itched. Once I’d taken care of all the itches, I placed both hands in my lap and gave him my truth.

  “Maybe? I’m not sure. When I see a baby in a stroller, or out and about, I’ve never wanted to pick it up. That’s never been my… Even as a kid, I wasn’t the girl who played with dolls. I’ve enjoyed tutoring. I like getting to know the older kids. In grad school, I also tutored area high school students. Jasmine and I have a friendship. And I’ve enjoyed watching her grow into her own. I think that’s the most maternal I’ve ever been.” He listened, expressionless. I swallowed. “It’s not exactly a glowing endorsement for motherhood. And while my mother is constantly prodding me, I don’t feel the same urgency she does about it. But I’m not against having children. I suppose I’ve always assumed I would one day.” In all fairness, recent events had uprooted my life.

  Our dinner arrived, and he excused himself for the restroom. His reaction to my answer had been indecipherable. But I had meant what I said. If he could or couldn’t father children, it shouldn’t impact who he has a relationship with. Agreeing on wanting children, that, to me, felt like a bigger hurdle. And did we agree? It wasn’t even worth weighing possible answers. That was a bridge I could never cross with Logan. How would that even work? Oh, yes, Logan, let me introduce you to our children’s uncle. He’s wanted for cybercrimes in countless countries. And yes, that includes the United States.

  When he returned to the table, a silence fell between us. We both ordered the grouper, which arrived with a mango and crab relish and ginger bok choy. His focus remained on his food. His broad shoulders held back, proud and righteous, like always. I suspected that for a strong military man, not being able to give his wife children must have felt like the ultimate failure. Even though it absolutely shouldn’t have. Maybe I should’ve let the subject drop, but I couldn’t. My heart weighed too heavily, and my mind wouldn’t stop circling the heart of the matter.