Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1)

by Shirley Hailstock

  Just as she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, she heard the doorbell.

  Robyn slipped the remaining earring through her ear and pushed her feet into the blue pumps which matched her navy suit. She was halfway down the stairs when she saw Will and Grant locked in a bear hug.

  They separated but grasped hands and shook them like two ex-soldiers at a reunion. "I haven’t seen you in ages. What the hell are you doing here?" Will asked. Robyn noticed that the corners of Will’s eyes were moist.

  Grant explained Kari’s need for blood. "And how do you happen to be here?"

  "Been retired now seven years next May. I got tired of wandering about the world and settled here," Will explained.

  "Hello, Will," Robyn interrupted, as she reached the bottom step.

  "It’s a small world, Brooke." The smile on Grant’s face showed obvious happiness at finding a lost friend. "This man is a near father to me."

  William McAdams was a six foot, silver-haired re­tired colonel from the U.S. Army. He was Robyn’s closest neighbor and had proved to be an anchor after he moved in next door last year. Will was there to fix any inconvenience that needed attention. He’d taken care of Kari when Robyn spent late nights at Yesterdays. Kari thought of him as her grandfather, and Will encouraged it by allowing her to call him "Graffie." Robyn remembered the long conversation her three-year-old had had with Will before they set­tled on "Graffie" as a name.

  Kari was very proud of her Graffie and introduced him to all of her friends at nursery school on Grand­parents’ Day. Will, too, reveled in delight at having a small child around. He had three married children who did not visit often, and none of them had children or seemed to be interested in making him a grandfather.

  Robyn was grateful for his help and attention when she needed a friend. She also thought of Will as the father she had lost.

  "I called the hospital, Brooke." Will addressed her. "They told me Kari’s much better this morning. I came by to give you a lift."

  In minutes, they were seated in Will’s LeSabre. Robyn took the backseat to allow the men to talk with­out having to crane their heads over the front seat. She sat quietly, listening to them. Something about this meeting seemed out of place. Why had Grant never mentioned Will when they were married? Even though their courtship was whirlwind, they were mar­ried for two years. In all that time, he’d told her only about his Aunt Priscilla, with whom he finally went to live, and about a special friend he called Ace, but not that there was a man close enough to him to be his father.

  Stop it, Robyn. She braked her thoughts. This was some of Jacob’s brainwashing filtering into your mind. There is probably a simple, logical explanation for Grant’s silence. And she’d be interested in finding out what it was.

  When they reached the hospital, Robyn went di­rectly to ICU. Kari opened her eyes as she came through the door. "Mommy," she called, opening her small arms and reaching for her. Robyn fought tears. She’d thought she’d never hear that word again.

  "Good morning, sweetie. How do you feel?" She reached over the restraining rail and took her hands.

  "My head hurts."

  "Well, it won’t hurt for long. Doctor Elliott is here, and I’m sure he’ll want to know everything that both­ers you."

  Kari smiled. Robyn knew she liked the pediatrician. Kari was very pale and weak. Robyn smoothed the wisp of hair that sleep had loosened from her braids.

  "Can I have something to drink?" Kari whispered.

  Robyn looked around at the nurse. Almost imper­ceptibly, she shook her head. "Doctor Elliott will be right in," the white-clad woman whispered.

  As if on cue the tall brown-haired man came through the door. His right hand held onto the stethoscope hanging from his neck. "And how is my favorite patient this morning?"

  Robyn couldn’t help smiling at the exchange. To think, Kari was almost dead yesterday, and this morn­ing she was alive and active as if the accident had never happened.

  Dr. Elliott examined her silently, before asking questions that Kari answered in her clear soprano voice. When he finished, he smiled and told her she could have some juice and a light breakfast of Jell-O.

  "That’s great, Doc," Kari agreed but appeared sleepy. "I like Jell-O."

  "I’m going to tell the nurse to give you something for your headache. It will make you sleepy, but sleep is good for you right now."

  Kari frowned. "Can I eat the Jell-O first." A pout that would melt any heart crept across Kari’s face.

  "Yes, Kari. You can eat the Jell-O, first." Dr. El­liott squeezed her hand and winked at her.

  When he left, Robyn told Kari about Grant bringing the blood she needed and how he wanted to meet her.

  For a moment, she stepped out to allow him to visit Kari briefly.

  He came back smiling. "We’re blood relatives now." Two pairs of eyes looked at him. "I had to show her my bandage. She’s a wonderful kid."

  "I know. No granddaughter of mine would be any­thing else," Will said. He passed a stunned-faced Grant and went into the intensive care unit.

  "Will is not your father." Grant made a statement, turning his attention to Robyn.

  "Will is a very close neighbor and the best friend I’ve got. He’s like a father to me and a grandfather to Kari. But, in actuality, we are not related."

  "He has that kind of effect on people."

  In the life she’d been given, Will had no part to play. "Kari and I met him on his moving-in day. That’s what Kari called it," she explained. "I liked him on sight." He was the first real person to come into her life since Grant’s buddy, David, and her friend, Susan, had dealt her the heart-crushing blow that Grant was being held in a Beirut prison. She supposed she grabbed hold of Will as an anchor. They had been family ever since. "He’s been a constant help when­ever I’ve needed him." She finished. "How do you two happen to know each other?"

  "I grew up with his family. We all lived in the same neighborhood. Will was a father to all of us, especially the ones prone to trouble, like me." He grinned.

  Robyn knew this. Grant had been bounced around in foster care until he went to live with his Aunt Priscilla. She loved the old woman and remembered how they relied on each other for strength during the five long months of Grant’s captivity.

  "Finally I went to live with my mother’s aunt, a woman I’d never met," he continued. "She was too old to handle an active teenager. So, like most boys raised by a single parent, I had more freedom than kids with both parents. Will pulled rank whenever he thought I was getting out of hand. Now, I thank him for keeping me on track. I think it made me a better man."

  "How come you lost touch?"

  "I was flying by then. Will’s children married and left. His wife died. He was reassigned to the Philip­pines. I was flying the New York to London route. Our lives got busy. We just forgot to write. We lost touch." He hunched his shoulders and spread his hands in a gesture of unexplained reasoning. "A few years ago I heard his son died. I never got the details."

  Will joined them after Grant’s comment, preventing Robyn from saying she hadn’t known about a son. She knew he had daughters and that he’d lost his wife, but she knew nothing about a son. Will didn’t talk much about his family. There were few photos in his house, but Robyn attributed that to both his lack of conversation about a family and that few men displayed things like photos and mementos. The only thing she remembers were the leather bound books he read constantly.

  "Kari’s asleep," Grant said, taking a seat next to Robyn. "I’m sure she’ll be out of danger soon."

  "I can’t wait for her to be well and back at home, playing with her stuffed animals and pestering me to take her to the park."

  "I’m sure it won’t be long before that happens," Grant assured her. "Unfortunately, I’m afraid I have to leave now. I have to be back in Washington this afternoon."

  Robyn’s eyes met his directly. She steeled her reflexes so as not to give away the turmoil erupting in­side her. This was the l
ast time she’d get to see him. And it was a stolen moment. She’d seized the pro­longed interlude that she knew had to end sooner or later.

  "Will, could you give me a ride to the airport?" Grant asked.

  "Of course. I’ll get the car and meet you at the main entrance." Then, directing his glance to Robyn, Will told her he’d be back to pick her up.

  Grant stood, nodding at Will as he left them.

  Robyn left her seat to walk to the window she’d stood before nearly twenty-four hours earlier. The pale blue walls were designed to be soothing. For her, they were anything but, although outwardly her appearance could have rivaled that of the best secret agent.

  "Grant," she began hesitantly. "I. . .Kari wouldn’t be alive without you." She heard the unintentional double meaning in her words. "We’ll never forget you."

  He came up behind her, taking her shoulders and turning her around to face him. "I want to see you again."

  "No, Grant, it isn’t a good idea."

  "Why not? Is there someone else?"

  "Someone else? No, there’s no one else." No one except Jacob Winston and any number of hit men, courtesy of Alex Jordan.

  "Then why?"

  "I can’t explain it. Let’s just say I’m busy. I have a restaurant to run and a daughter to care for. There’s no place in my life right now for a man."

  "That’s not what your kiss said this morning."

  Color stole under Robyn’s skin tone. With incredible control, she forced it to stop before it broke through the neckline of the white tube top she wore beneath her suit jacket.

  "You weren’t kissing me. It was Robyn you held in your arms. Maybe the man I held wasn’t you."

  Grant was stunned. "You just said there wasn’t any­one else."

  "Even though there isn’t, I have reasons."

  "What reasons?"

  "I can’t explain them."

  "You’re a real puzzle, Brooke Johnson. I’ll admit you’re doing things to me I’d forgotten existed be­tween a man and a woman. I can’t walk away with no hope of seeing you again without knowing why."

  "Please, Grant. You’ve only known me one day. We shared a kiss—a kiss that I enjoyed fully and without reservation. But it was only a kiss. It’s not like we’re in love."

  Robyn didn’t recognize her own voice. Was that controlled speech coming from her? Was she telling this man, whom she loved with her very breath, that she didn’t want to see him again and not falling to pieces?

  His shoulders dropped. The hands gripping her arms fell to his sides. "Good-bye, Brooke Johnson." He turned to leave.

  "Fair winds, Grant Richards," she said.

  "Fair winds, Mrs. Rich—" he answered automat­ically.

  Abruptly, he stopped. Both of them stared at each other. Grant’s eyes widened. Robyn steeled her expression. She knew it had been a mistake, but the words were out before she could stop them. It was an expression they had used to say good-bye whenever he had had a flight.

  "Why did you say that?" he asked, coming to stand in front of her.

  She made herself giggle. "You’ll laugh if I tell you." His features relaxed. "I promise I won’t." Robyn hesitated just long enough to make it seem as if she was embarrassed. "I heard it in a movie. It was about a ship captain and a Russian princess. Whenever he left her to go to sea, she’d wish him ‘fair winds.’ " She paused a moment. "You remind me of the captain."

  Robyn gave him a tentative smile. Her acting was better than she thought. She hoped that it would work and that he would buy her story.

  Suddenly, he smiled. The two of them had watched that movie. She was curled up against him, knowing he indulged her and sat through the love story. They’d picked up the phrase as their per­sonal message. He was sure it was because she re­minded him of Robyn that made her comment suspect.

  "Well, fair winds," he said.

  "Fair winds," she repeated softly. Grant turned and left. She was alone in the room. The same quiet rush of air that foretold his ar­rival accompanied his departure. Robyn sank onto one of the sofas. Her legs had grown weak with the effort of keeping her body erect and now refused to support her frame any longer. The tight rein she held over her emotions fractured, then crumpled. She buried her head on her knees and softly cried.

  ***

  "Tell me about her, Will?" Grant asked, as Will drove expertly through the light traffic on the express­way.

  "I met the two of them a little over a year ago when I moved into the house next door to hers. What in particu­lar do you want to know about her?"

  "Everything."

  "Ah, ha, she’s got ya, huh?" Will teased.

  "Never could hide anything from you." Grant smiled. "You’ve still got a mind like an active vol­cano." Grant knew Will was remembering a conver­sation they’d had years ago when he was a young boy in which he vowed never again to let a girl get under his skin. This was after Mary Beth Armstrong dumped him for the captain of the football team.

  "I’m afraid there isn’t a lot I can tell you. She doesn’t talk much about herself."

  "I gathered that. This morning I told her all about Robyn and Beirut, but I don’t know anything about her except that she has a daughter with a rare blood type and that she owns a restaurant."

  "Robyn? Beirut?"

  Grant relayed his story. Years had separated them, but he still felt close to Will.

  "My God! I didn’t even know that you had married,” Will said. “When I retired, I took a long cruise, went to the Carib­bean. It was almost a year before I returned. I didn’t read any newspapers or watch television while I was there. I knew about the hostages. The papers were full of them for years, but I never heard about your capture or release."

  "It’s ancient history now." Grant shrugged off memories of his captivity. He didn’t want to go into the hardship it had imposed on his life. He knew Will understood that a man could not go through the ex­perience without it having an impact on his life. "And in the last five years, I’ve learned to live with Robyn’s death."

  "And now, Brooke." Will was entering Williamsville. Grant noticed the small black-and-white sign that strained against the wind created by the con­stant flow of cars moving at the fifty-five mile an hour legal speed limit.

  "I asked to see her again. She said there was no one else, but refused me."

  "Did she say why?" Will glanced sideways at him. Grant noticed a change in Will. He was leaning closer to Grant as though probing for specific infor­mation. "She said she didn’t have room in her life for a man."

  "Is that all?"

  "No, she said there were other reasons, but she wouldn’t explain what they were."

  "In the years I’ve known her, all I can tell you is she had a husband, Ensign Cameron Johnson, U.S. Navy. He died of an embolism on his way to the naval base at San Diego. He had the same rare blood as Kari."

  "Kari almost died under the same circumstances,” Grant said.

  Will nodded.

  “No wonder she keeps a list of blood donors." Grant whispered the last. He saw Will’s frown. "Brooke has memorized a list of people with Kari’s blood type. It’s essentially how I came to be here." There was that subtle interest com­ing from Will again. "Will, is there something you’re not telling me?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Twice, now, when I’ve repeated something, you’ve reacted as if it were a surprise."

  Will was quiet for a moment. Grant knew he was making up his mind whether he should tell him some­thing. "I just wonder why, if Brooke knew the names of several people with the same type, why had she waited so long to tell Doctor Elliott?" He related the search for Kari’s blood type.

  "There’s something else." Will frowned. "I was in military intelligence a long time, and I can see things the average person would miss."

  "You think she’s hiding something?" Grant shifted to look at his friend.

  "I’m not sure. I can’t quite focus on anything spe­cific. It’s the way she talks about her past. As if she
had learned it, not lived it."

  "What are you saying? You’re losing me."

  "I don’t know what I’m saying, and believe me I’m lost, too. But it’s like Cameron Johnson is made of cardboard. If I hadn’t actually checked him out, I’d say the man never existed or at the very least Brooke never knew him."

  "But why would she make up something like that?"

  "I haven’t a clue. I don’t know that she did make it up, but I can tell you that Brooke is a smart cookie. I’ve dealt with some pretty ingenious characters in my career, and I’d match Brooke against any of them. She thinks well on her feet. When I talk to her, I feel like she analyzes every word she plans to say before she allows it to escape her mouth. She’s always on guard— against what or whom I can’t tell you."

  It was strange that Will’s assessment was the same as his own. He, too, felt that Brooke planned her words before saying them. "Where did she live before com­ing here?"

  "Atlanta, Georgia."

  "Was Cameron with her there?"

  "No, he died five years ago, just before Kari was born."

  "Kari was born in Atlanta?"

  "Yes."

  "What about before Atlanta?"

  "Texas. It’s all there in its proper place. There is nothing that can’t be traced. Her entire life is available through public information sources. Like I said, it’s nothing that you can pick out. Just in talking to her you get facts, no stories from childhood, no anecdotes on life in general."

  "Will, you worked in intelligence. Are you sure you’re not making more out of this than there is?"

  "Maybe, maybe not. She’s a mystery. I guess it’s the training in me, seeing spies where none exist."

  "Come on, Will. Spies?" Grant grunted a laugh.

  "I won’t be that melodramatic. I don’t think she’s a spy."

  "Good. But why would someone leave the warmth of Atlanta to move to snow country?"

  "I asked her that. Her answer was that she likes snow." He paused. "It’s true. I’ve seen her walking after a heavy snowfall. Once she even fell down like a child and created angels in a fresh drift."