The Nurse's Bodyguard

by Melanie Mitchell

  “How do you feel about global warming?”

  She actually giggled. “Luke, I’m from Minnesota. Ask any Minnesotan in any given February and we’re pretty much in agreement that we’d appreciate a little global warming.”

  His relief showed. “Ah, well, what about hydraulic fracturing?”

  “Hydraulic fracturing?” She looked puzzled. “You mean fracking? Like oil drilling? I guess I never thought about it. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing.” He decided to change the subject. Pointing to her oversized jersey, he said, “Okay, your turn. Tell me about the Packers and family loyalty.”

  Willing to be distracted, she smiled. “Oh, that comes from Mom’s side of the family. She was born and raised in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Her father and his brothers were an early part of the Green Bay consortium that owns the Packers. It just kind of persisted from there.”

  He frowned. “Your mother was born in Wisconsin?” Luke kept his voice quiet and expressionless.

  “Well, yes. Born and raised there, along with two sisters, by George and Maribel Appleton.” She blinked at his suddenly subdued manner, but continued. “My Grammy was a huge Bart Starr fan...” Claire tried another smile. “Luke, is something wrong?”

  “Your mother isn’t Asian?” His tone was flat.

  Claire shook her head. “No. She’s mostly Norwegian, I think. Maybe some Irish... Why do you ask?” Her eyes suddenly got wider and her lips thinned. “You assumed she was Asian, because of how I look.” Claire blinked and seemed to withdraw. “Obviously, I was adopted. Does that matter?”

  * * *

  HE DIDN’T ANSWER immediately. Luke stared at her and then through her.

  “You were adopted,” he repeated. His mouth tensed and a furrow appeared between his brows. He turned his stare to the computers. “Adopted.” The word was an echo. “Stupid!” he hissed under his breath, shaking his head angrily. “I can’t believe I missed that.”

  Claire was crushed. She stood and paced a few steps away. “My parents are the greatest,” she murmured. “For some reason they couldn’t have children. They didn’t have a lot of money... It took years...” She realized she was crying. Why was he making an issue out of something that was precious to her? Sniffing, she picked up the washcloth to wipe her eyes. At that moment, she was acutely disappointed in Luke—apparently her adoption was a problem to him. Evidently he didn’t like it or approve of it. Her disillusionment was profound; he was not the man she believed him to be.

  Her sniff seemed to get Luke’s attention, and his eyes shifted from one of the computers to hers. She read anger and looked quickly away. Her words were subdued. “I’m sorry if that bothers you.” She wiped her eyes again. “I think I’ll go to bed—”

  * * *

  CLAIRE’S TEARS AND DISTRESS finally cut through Luke’s silent deliberation, and his splintered attention crashed back to the room. He quickly rose and caught her hand, halting her exit and pulling her back to sit across from him. “Wait... Wait... Just a minute.” He stared at her. “I’m still trying to get it... You’re Korean, then? You were adopted from here?” It was as much a statement as a question. He was trying to work out this puzzle.

  “Yes, I was adopted from here! But what difference does that make? So what?” Her voice rose and the tears were coming more quickly. “It’s neither good nor bad—it just is! And I don’t understand why it would matter to you?”

  Luke finally understood. Searching her face, he saw the heartbreak in her eyes. He stood and pulled her into his arms. “Oh, Mary Claire, no.” His tone softened and became soothing once more. “I’m sorry I gave the wrong impression. Please don’t cry!” He hugged her tightly and muttered, “Honey, I don’t care if you came from Minnesota or Korea or Texas or Klingon. It doesn’t matter to me a whit that you were adopted. The only thing that matters is you, period.” He tenderly wiped her tears with his thumbs and gazed into her startlingly lovely eyes. “Mary Claire, I’m in love with you.”

  She studied his face for a breath then whispered, “Please say that again.”

  He grinned. “The ‘Please don’t cry’ part or the ‘I don’t care if you’re from Klingon’ part?”

  She gave a watery giggle and punched him in the shoulder. “The ‘I’m in love with you’ part.”

  “I love you.” He pulled her head onto his shoulder and cradled it with his big hands. His voice was soft. “I think you already know that I love you, and have pretty much since I watched the video of you fighting back when those guys tried to kill you.” His arms tightened around her. He turned his face and kissed her hair then gently lifted her chin to touch her lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

  “Your turn,” he said, hoping Claire couldn’t detect the insecurity in his voice. “I need you to tell me. How do you feel?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I love you.” She bit her lip and then continued. “I probably have since you said ‘please’ when you asked me out the first time... Or maybe even before that... It might have been when you called Jessica ‘Miss Olsen.’ I didn’t understand it then, but I wanted you to notice me, and I was disappointed when you didn’t.” She swallowed hard and added, “That’s why I was so hurt and disillusioned just now when I thought that you disapproved of me being adopted.”

  He laughed and there was a release in the sound. “Okay, well, there you go. I did notice and—wow—I’ve never felt this good or been this happy.” He kissed her again and picked her up, swinging her in a quick, joyful circle. “It seems weird to be grateful that you were the victim of a knife attack, but I’m glad for whatever it took to make our paths cross.”

  He kissed her again and ran his hands through her hair. Finally, he let go and said, “I hate to be a buzzkill, but we need to talk.” He took her hand and led her back to the sofa, pulling her down beside him.

  He searched her eyes, serious once more. “You’re Korean. You were born here.” It was important to verify the fact.

  “Yes, Luke. I was born here. My parents adopted me through an agency in Seattle. I was taken to the U.S. when I was about six months old. Of course, I don’t recall any of that... I’ve not been back until a month ago.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “Not a whole lot. I was told that up until eight or ten years ago, Korean adoptions to the U.S. were quite common. They’re considerably rarer now, because the Korean government is trying to promote local adoptions since Koreans are having too few children.”

  “Who knows about it?”

  “Why, pretty much everyone I know. Certainly everyone I grew up with.” She gave a tiny shrug. “Luke, it’s obvious.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant, Claire. Who knows here?”

  Claire sat up straighter and stared at him. She bit her lip and whispered, “You think that’s it, don’t you?” She looked stricken.

  “Who knows here?” His tone was brusque, and he emphasized each word.

  Her mouth opened and closed before she was able to answer. “The second week I was in Seoul, I went to the orphanage.” She took a breath. “It’s called the Asian Social Welfare Agency. It’s an adoption agency, located not all that far from Youngsai Women’s College and Seoul National University.”

  “Who did you talk to?”

  “One of the assistant directors—a Mrs. Lee.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Not all that much, really. I showed her my paperwork—what my parents had been given when I was adopted—”

  “Do you have the papers here?” he interrupted.

  “Yes. I didn’t want to leave them at Jessica’s, so I brought them with me. I can show you.” She started to get up, but he stopped her.

  “Later. Tell me first.” He kept his arm around her, reluctant to let her leave. Unable to resist, he kissed her lightly on the lips. “This is getting much too natu
ral.” His voice was a little rough. He cleared his throat and pulled away. “Okay, go on.”

  Her smile was lovely, and he longed to kiss her again, but he knew this was too important.

  “So, I showed Mrs. Lee the paperwork and talked to her for about fifteen minutes. She spoke English pretty well, probably about like the detective yesterday. I answered some questions, filled out a form with my contact information and signed a release document. Anyway, she left for a few minutes and came back with a file. It was in Korean, of course, but she said that she had my birth mother’s name and address, and also information about my foster mother—the woman who cared for me before I was sent to Minnesota. The information hadn’t been updated since I was born. Mrs. Lee said she would send a letter to my birth mother asking if she wanted to meet me. She assured me that this is all standard and about half of the time the birth mothers want to meet the adoptees, but half the time they don’t. She said she would contact me when she heard back.”

  Claire shrugged. “She hasn’t called yet. I haven’t really thought much of it. I would like to meet my birth mother, of course, and learn what I can about her.” She paused and studied his eyes. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to be assigned to this particular research project. When Cindy Sung—my mentor—proposed the opportunity, I jumped at the chance... I’d also like to learn about my father.” She shifted a little. “Clearly he wasn’t Korean. The agency didn’t have a name or any information about him.”

  Neither spoke for a moment, both deep in thought. Finally Claire repeated her earlier question. “You think that’s it, don’t you?” Worry etched her face. “For some reason, someone doesn’t want me to be here.”

  “Claire, I’m not concerned that someone doesn’t want you to be here. It’s that they don’t want you to be alive. I told you, they were trying to kill you!” He rubbed his eyes. “Did Mrs. Lee give you anything? Any papers we could use to learn more?”

  “No, not really. She gave me copies of the form I filled out and the release form. I have them with the other papers my parents gave me. Do you want to see them now?” He nodded and she left the room for a moment to fetch the papers.

  When she returned Luke had moved from the sofa to the dining table and logged on to one of his personal computers. She handed the papers to him and he scanned them. While she watched, he pulled up the website of the Asian Social Welfare Agency. Without talking to Claire, took out his cell phone and placed a call.

  “Henry,” he said. “Yeah, it’s Luke. I need some help finding out about a Korean adoption that happened 25 years ago...No, it’s personal...Yeah, I’ve got a little. Here, I’m emailing you the basic information now.” She watched as his fingers sped across the keyboard. “Okay, I sent you the links and the old case number, a birth date, and a number from a new release form...Yeah, you got it?...Good...See what you can find from the Korean databases and email it to me...No problem, I understand...Great, thanks.” He clicked off.

  Luke typed a few more keys and then looked up at Claire. “That was Henry Kim, one of our local informants. He’s a computer geek like me, but from the Korean side. If there’s anything to be found in cyberspace about your adoption, he’ll find it. He told me it might take a few days, though, depending on how deep he has to go into public records... That is assuming there are public records. We’ll give him a couple of days and maybe go back to the adoption agency to talk with Mrs. Lee again.”

  Her mouth tensed and she looked anxious. “Why would it matter to anyone that I came to Korea and tried to locate my birth mother?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows? I can only speculate. But here’s an idea. You could ask Jessica. She might have some insight. Does she know you were born here?’

  “No, we never talked about it. I guess it would have made sense to mention it, but I’ve always felt it was private”

  “It’s just a thought. Since she’s something of an expert on Korean culture—”

  Luke’s comment was interrupted by his cell phone. Glancing at the caller ID, he pressed his lips together and swore under his breath. His irritation wasn’t evident, however, when he pressed the button to answer. “Llewellyn.”

  * * *

  CLAIRE WATCHED Luke’s changing expressions as he listened to the caller and occasionally responded with curt acknowledgments. During the mostly one-sided conversation, she read impatience, frustration, skepticism, curiosity and finally, resignation. After about a minute, he turned to the two darkened computers and hit a series of keys on each; immediately they responded with faint whirring sounds and came to life.

  “Okay, Jack, I’m pulling up the images.” More keys were struck and a black-and-white satellite photo was displayed on one screen. Concurrently, the second screen held multiple columns of numbers interspersed with letters, indicative of some sort of code. Luke clicked the mouse several times to zoom in on one spot of the satellite image. “Yeah, I see it. It could be a Nodong or even a Taepodong.” He studied the screen holding the columns of codes and frowned as he listened for a brief time. “No, I really doubt it’s a Taepodong 2, but we need to be sure... Yeah, I know. See what you can do to get more accurate measurements and keep the line to ROK Command open.” He glanced at his watch and mumbled, “I’ll be there in five.” He clicked off the phone and frowned again at the satellite image before signing off on both computers.

  Finally, his eyes moved to capture Claire’s. Shaking his head, he sighed and said, “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Something serious?” she asked.

  Luke rose and crossed the two steps to reach her. Rubbing her cheek lightly, he answered, “Maybe yes, but probably not. It looks like the North Koreans are moving a missile. They do that from time to time, just to remind us they have them. They’ve repeatedly threatened to use them. You know, old standbys like ‘we will rain down a sea of fire’ or ‘we will turn Seoul to ashes’—blah, blah, blah, blah.” He grinned and wagged his head a little from side to side. Then, his mouth tightened. “But when they move them at night—like now—we get a little nervous. I need to go check it out.” He smiled reassuringly and leaned down to kiss her cheek before heading toward his bedroom.

  In seconds he returned with his jacket and moved to the front door. “This will likely take several hours, so don’t wait up.” He looked at her with yearning. Finally, with a frustrated half smile, he waved. “See you in the morning.”

  It was just after ten when Luke left the apartment. Claire spent the next hour talking to her parents and then reading. About eleven she was having trouble keeping her eyes open and decided to go to bed. She hadn’t been alone in the apartment at night and wasn’t sure whether to leave a light on for Luke’s return. After a brief moment of consideration, she turned on the living room lamp and retired.

  She was asleep in minutes. Her thoughts swirled happily, recalling the look on Luke’s face when he’d declared his love.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THERE WAS A NOISE.

  Claire roused from a deep sleep and tried to determine what had awakened her. Still confused and a little disoriented, she raised her head and listened for a few seconds, but there was only silence. She was about to conclude that there had been no sound when it happened again—a deep, eerie, guttural moan that was only barely human. Instantaneously, her heart was pounding painfully. She held her breath as she sat up and listened.

  “No, no! Stop! Get back!” The words were hushed, muffled by the closed door, but she immediately recognized Luke’s voice. Scrambling out of bed, she fumbled around for the lamp switch and sat for only a second, trying to think—knowing she needed to act.

  A weapon—she needed a weapon. She glanced around the room, searching for something to use, then she remembered she’d seen a couple of baseball bats—probably Brad’s—in the closet when she’d put away her clothes.

  Claire rushed to the closet, grabbed an aluminu
m bat and without hesitation threw open her bedroom door and peered into the living room. Nothing appeared to be disturbed, but she noted that the lamp had been turned off. Cautiously, she turned it back on and glanced around; nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

  Another moan and a shout came from Luke’s room and she lifted the bat to her shoulder and sped across to his closed door, pausing only briefly to listen. The sounds were faint, but she heard someone thrashing wildly. Trying to be quiet, she turned the knob, raising the bat over her head, and ran in.

  “Halt! Don’t move!” Claire skidded to a stop at the hoarse command. The light from the lamp reached past the doorway. Quickly, she scanned the dark room, trying to identify the source of the threat to Luke. She had expected to see him in a physical fight with an intruder, but she was stunned to see that he was alone. Despite the darkness, she could tell that he was half sitting, half kneeling in the middle of his bed. The bedclothes were in disarray and had been thrown aside. Luke’s eyes were open, but he appeared to be looking in the direction of the window, away from her.

  She took a step forward, moving more completely into the room. Her breath was rapid but shallow, and her heart was beating erratically. “Luke,” she whispered.

  Luke seemed to lurch forward on the bed, almost falling face down before bracing himself on his hands, then springing back up to his knees.

  “Watch out!” His scream was hoarse. His eyes, although open, were unseeing—or rather, they were focused on something that wasn’t there.

  A nightmare. It was only a nightmare. Relief flooded through Claire and she was able to steady her breathing a bit. Realizing there was no external threat gave her new-found confidence, and she set the bat down on the floor then slipped a little closer to the bed. She briefly debated whether or not to wake him, but then he moaned again and jerked to one side, and she became concerned that he might injure himself. She eased forward and approached him cautiously. He was now facing away from her and she held out her hand to touch him lightly on his right shoulder. She tried to keep her voice steady as she quietly said, “Luke, wake—”