by Amy Brent
Chapter 7
“I’m glad we picked this house,” Shareena told him. They’d moved in a couple weeks ago, and while it had taken some time to unpack and get organized when she was so close to her due-date, she knew that waiting for the right place had been worth it.
The back yard was huge, with a covered sitting area, a pre-installed wooden swing set, and a hot tub on the back deck that was huge and had room for eating outside or a bbq. The inside of the house was clean, but not so brand new you’d be worried a cat or a child would damage it. Her cat had been hiding under the bed and had barely come out since she’d moved in, but she knew it was just a matter of time before he got brave.
It had three bedrooms upstairs, and two downstairs, one they could use as an office, the other as a playroom when the baby got bigger, it had two living areas, and while it didn’t have a formal dining room, the kitchen was huge and you could easily fit a gigantic table in there for holidays if you needed. It felt homey. Right. It was on a corner lot, surrounded by trees and felt fairly private despite being in a neighborhood. There was a fence, trees and bushes separating them and the neighbor, and the neighbor’s garage was closest to the fence instead of the house.
It gave them the illusion of more privacy and quietness. The neighborhood had a small park, and an indoor pool that was open during the year that the neighborhood had chipped in to pay for. She was happy. While it wasn’t a country house, or a ranch, raising kids felt right in this environment for now and it was close enough to the local state parks she could always go for a drive.
Getting up to waddle downstairs from the nursery where she’d been folding linens and putting away baby clothes in the dresser, she felt the urge to seek out Charlie. He was in the garage, trying to organize all his tools and supplies and cussing as he dropped a wrench on his foot.
“It might help to wear shoes when you’re working in the garage,” Shareena said as she stood there, watching him rub his bare foot.
“That would require thinking ahead about the possibility of damaging my toes with a wrench,” he told her and gave her a more thorough glance when he noticed her hand was on her belly and her posture was different than normal. “You feeling okay?”
“Yes, I think so…” Shareena took a step forward, then looked down at the pool of water on the cement floor, running down her legs. “Then again maybe not?”
“Is that your water breaking?” He asked, his eyes getting all big. “Okay, before I panic; what do you want me to do?”
“Let’s give it a little bit of time. Put the bags in the car, let’s hang out here for a while, and when things get too intense, we’ll go in.” She said logically, “I think I want a cup of tea, do you want one?”
Charlie stared at her for a minute, blinking at her sudden calmness. “Sure….”
He didn’t want to do anything to upset her and decided to just go along with it. A few hours later, when she was nearly biting his arm, he was glad he’d given her the chance to be calm, because as she pushed a baby out while standing next to the edge of the hospital bed, refusing to move, her fingers and nails were digging into his skin. And it hurt.
“You can do this, two more big pushes and your daughter will be born,” the hospital midwife encouraged her. She was kneeling on the ground, with gloves on, linen’s next to Shareena on the bed and some linen’s spread out on the floor to help collect anything that fell on the floor.
“I can’t do this,” Shareena nearly yelled in Charlie’s ear, making it ring. “I want an epidural.”
“It’s too late, you need to push, now.” The midwife told her, and then brought her hands up between Shareena’s legs as the head started to emerge. “You’re almost there, one more big push.”
Shareena groaned and bared down, the baby sliding out with the help of gravity. Breathing hard, she nearly roared as one more big push delivered the shoulders and body into the hands of the waiting midwife.
The midwife brought the baby up to Shareena’s chest, and had her sit back on the edge of the bed, because she was now trembling.
“Just have to wait for the placenta, and we’ll be done soon. Hold your baby, she’s beautiful, look at her. Did you guys decide a name?” The midwife asked as she assessed the baby as quietly as possible not to disturb either new mother or baby as Shareena held the baby to her chest.
“Jade. Jade Adella.” Shareena said and squeaked when the baby latched on to nurse, without any assistance or help.
The midwife smiled, “That’s good, and that will help your uterus to contract and to expel the placenta. Let her nurse.”
Shareena nodded, and stared at the baby in complete awe, words escaping her in that moment.
Charlie hugged his arm around Shareena, and watched his new daughter eat. Feeling stunned by the experience. It had been intense, passionate, and a calm before the storm. Yet he wouldn’t trade a minute of it.
“There’s only one thing missing,” Charlie finally announced.
Shareena looked up at him and tilted her head, confused, “What is that?”
“You still haven’t married me.”
“Oh. That.” Shareena laughed, “I guess she’s just in time to be the flower girl?”
“Absolutely.” Charlie said and felt complete. His world was whole, he finally felt like nothing was missing.
PREGNANT BY THE SEAL
I met Jack at an airport in Northern Syria, the day before our expedition was due to head out. It was a sweltering day, high 90's, and the tiny airport didn't have any air conditioning. I stood there fanning myself with a folded map of the surrounding area, wishing we had scheduled this trip during the winter months instead of during one of the hottest weeks of the year. Timing was important, however. The Islamic State militants had been causing all kinds of trouble throughout the region for months now, and this was one of the only times things had settled down for it to be safe for us to get into the country. Though there was still high risk of terrorist attacks in the area, which is why Jack was here.
He got off the plane, a small private jet provided by our benefactor, Tremaine Industries, and headed straight towards me with a purposeful stride. He had a lot of swagger for a white boy, stalking across the tarmac with his jacket slung over his shoulder, a fine pair of Costa Del Mar shades covering his eyes. He had dark hair and a square jaw covered with a few days' stubble, and he moved like someone who knew how to handle himself, scanning the area as he walked for any possible threats. His resume listed him as a formal Navy SEAL, so I figured he knew his business. Why he was working private security now, I didn't know, but I was glad to have him along.
“Ms. Harris?” he asked, offering me his hand. “Jack Carmichael.”
“My pleasure, Jack,” I said, giving his hand a quick shake. “And it's Camille. We're gonna be working together, might as well be on a first name basis.”
“Works for me,” he said. He had a roguish smile, almost cocky. Though I liked a little confidence in a man. “I assume you have a car waiting?”
“Right this way.” I led him through the airport to where our rental car, also courtesy of Tremaine Industries, waited in the parking lot. There were only half a dozen other vehicles there. We'd chosen an isolated airstrip to reduce the chances of running into any trouble. Not that our job here was all that dangerous. But terrorists had blown up a few temples and other historic sites over the past few months, all as part of their religious war. They considered statues and graven images to be idolatry, and they hated with a passion anything that went against their extreme view of Islam. My group had been sent here to retrieve as many historic and religious artifacts as we could, in order to save them from destruction and relocate them to museums in less disputed territories.
I walked over to the driver's side door and opened it, but Jack thrust himself in front of me and blocked the door. “I should drive,” he said. “Just in case we need to make a quick getaway.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. He seemed awfully paranoid for
a white boy, but I guessed that he was right. “Fine,” I said, circling around to the passenger side of the car. It was a large, all-terrain SUV, ideal for our job here since we'd be venturing off the beaten path to get to some of the excavation sites. I was just glad that the car we'd been given was roomy enough. I was a big girl, after all, and it was no fun squeezing into a tiny compact car in a hot, sweaty day.
I eyed Jack as he drove us to the hotel, not even trying to hide the way I was checking him out. My mama always said a girl should never have shame in admiring a man, no matter what anybody had to say about it. This man was built, with firm muscles straining against his tight black t-shirt. The navy didn't take scrawny boys or scrubs and turn them into SEALs. For them it was only the finest of the finest. And believe me when I say he was fine.
A smirk crossed his lips when he caught me looking. “Like what you see?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm,” I replied, pursing my lips. “You got it going on.”
He laughed, and some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to release. “I hope we can have a good working relationship, Ms. Harris...Camille. I take my work very seriously. I wouldn't want to see any harm come to you or your team.”
“You really think there's any danger?” I watched him out of the corner of my eye, studying his reaction. If he tried to coddle me just to ease my worries, I planned to catch him in the act. “There hasn't been any activity in this area for a while now, at least according to the reports Tremaine gave us.”
He shrugged, keeping his attention on the road and watching the other cars we passed, alert for any possible trouble. “I'm cautionary by nature, Camille. I'd rather be over-protective if it helps reduce the risk to all of us. Americans in this part of the world aren't treated well when they cross the wrong sorts of people.”
A shiver went through my spine at that. I'd seen the news reports. There had been people out here who'd been captured, tortured, even beheaded. The artifacts we were here to retrieve weren't really all that valuable, beyond their historic significance. It sure as hell wasn't anything worth dying for. And I had never had any silly ideas about being some sort of Indiana Jones, and not just because being a large black woman, I wasn't exactly much like Harrison Ford.
“Let's just get the job done,” I said, “and get home. I ain't planning on winding up on the news.”
Jack patted my knee. His touch was firm and sure of himself. “I like a woman who keeps an eye on her goals,” he said, winking at me. “I can see why you were chosen to lead this expedition. There are plenty of other archaeologists with your credentials, but a task like this takes someone with some moxie.”
“Mr. Tremaine chose me because I'm the best woman for the job,” I said. Not that I'd ever met the mysterious billionaire. He had funded several expeditions I'd been on, going back all the way to my college internships. I'd worked hard to make a name for myself in the field, working under several prominent archaeologists on digs all around the world. This was my first time leading my own expedition, and I had Mr. Tremaine to thank for it. Though all I knew about him was what the news said: that he had a strong interest in preserving historical artifacts, and that he spend a generous portion of his vast fortune trying to save priceless artifacts from destruction. Though those stories were mixed up with news of Tremaine industries performing hostile takeovers and laying off workers by the thousands, so sometimes I wasn't sure what to think. I never knew for sure how secure my job was, so I made sure to be the best that I could, so that I'd be an invaluable resource.
I doubted that I'd ever meet Tremaine himself, but as long as he kept signing the checks and funding our supplies and travel expenses, that was just fine by me.
“I'm confident that Mr. Tremaine made a fine choice,” Jack said. He looked almost amused as he said it, though I couldn't be sure why.
We arrived at the hotel without incident, though we still got plenty of looks from the locals as we made our way through the lobby. Americans in general weren't too common in these parts, and I doubted any of the people here had ever seen a white man and a black woman together in the same place at the same time. Though there were plenty of neighborhoods back in the States where we would have gotten even more looks, all things considered.
We met with the rest of my team in a cramped little conference room on the hotel's second floor. It was hot, it was sweaty, and there was a bit of a rank smell coming from somewhere I couldn't place. Worse yet, there was no air conditioning, just a few old, rusty ceiling fans stirring the air from above. The rooms we were staying in weren't much better. It wasn't that Tremaine Industries wouldn't have footed the bill for a nicer place. We were just in such a remote region that staying in a five-star hotel wasn't really an option.
“This is Jack,” I said as we entered, introducing him to the rest of the team. “He's gonna watch our backs over the next couple of days. Make sure we all get home in one piece.”
Jack took a look around the room, checking the windows and looking under the table and behind the old, dusty paintings on the walls. “I'd appreciate if everyone checks in with me before going out anyplace on your own,” he said, his tone all business. “I'm not keen on having one of you wander off and getting yourselves kidnapped or something.”
“Is that a thing?” William, one of the younger members of the team, asked. “I mean, is that a thing we need to worry about? Kidnapping?”
“Not while I'm around,” Jack said, exuding confidence. Seeming content that there were no bombs or hidden cameras in the room, he threw himself into a chair and propped his feet up on the table, crossing one ankle over the other. Suddenly he looked less like an expert in personal security, and more like he owned the place.
“It's good that you're sure of yourself, Jackie boy,” I said, smirking at him. “But do you mind keeping your filthy boots away from my maps?” I knocked his feet off the table, then brushed the dirt off the maps spread out before us.
“My apologies,” he said, giving me a wry smile. He pulled over a spare chair and propped his feet up on that, acting as if nothing had happened. I had to give it to him, he didn't miss a beat.
“I guess the Navy doesn't teach manners,” Tracy said. She was our expert on Middle Eastern history. She also had a bit of a chip on her shoulder.
Jack ignored the jab and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and flashing Tracy a smirk. I eyed him for a moment, surprised at his poise. Most men I knew would have a quick comeback or pointed remark waiting for a woman who mouthed off to them. Jack didn't seem to feel the need to defend himself. It raised him up a notch in my estimation. Bickering could get so petty sometimes.
The team and I spent the rest of the afternoon going over the details, plotting out where we'd be heading, what to expect, and how to handle ourselves while we were here. What we were doing wasn't strictly legal, though it fell into a bit of a gray area. We had to make sure we didn't draw the wrong kind of attention to ourselves. Though most of our work would be in isolated areas. These sites had been well-preserved before the conflict in the region started, but now a lot of them were surrounded by wartime ruin.
Jack observed the meeting with detached interest, only chiming in when he had a security-related concern to bring up. The meeting ran smooth as can be, and around supper time we called it a night, with plans to head out first thing in the morning.
After dinner I wandered into the dusty little bar just off the lobby of the hotel. The lighting was dim and a few shady characters lounged at tables off in the corners, while a slender man with a thick mustache polished the bar. A few lazy ceiling fans spun overhead, but they did little to stifle the heat.
I was surprised to find Jack there, sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. I sauntered over to him and asked, “Mind some company?”
The corner of his mouth perked up in a grin and he nodded to the stool next to him. “I always enjoy the company of a lovely lady.”
I took the stool, laughing. “Lady?�
�� I shook my head. “Baby, I ain't no 'lady.' I am a woman, and proud of it.”
He looked me up and down, his eyes roaming over my generous curves. “You are, at that,” he said.
I ordered a whiskey sour, and Jack's eyebrows went up when he heard my order. “Definitely not a 'lady' drink,” he said. He raised his glass to me and took a long drink of it.
“I like my drinks like I like my men,” I said. “Tall, cool, and hard.”
He laughed and took another swig of his drink. We had a few rounds, all on Tremaine's dime. One of the advantages of working for a billionaire was that he didn't look too closely at the expense reports. “So tell me,” he asked once we'd had a chance to loosen up, “what brings a woman like yourself traipsing around the globe, running errands for a billionaire like Tremaine?”
“I ain't no errand girl,” I said. “I do it for history.”
“For history?” He arched an eyebrow, looking at me quizzically.
“History deserves to be preserved.” I finished off my third drink and ordered a fourth. I was just a bit light-headed, but it was a nice, gentle buzz. “My family lost our history. It was stolen from us.”
“Slavery?” he asked, his voice grim.
“What else?” I shrugged, tapping my fingers against my glass. “You ever see that movie, Roots?”
He nodded.
“Well, the guy who wrote it, who wrote the book it was based on, that is, he did all kinds of research. Traced his family history all the way back through their time as slaves and on back to their original tribe in Africa.” I took a slow sip of my drink, savoring the cool burn. “But the thing is, it wasn't all right. I loved that movie, and it was the first book I ever went out and read on my own as a little girl. I always wanted to find my own roots.” I shrugged, running my thumb along the edges of my glass. “But later on I learned that the author messed up a lot of his facts. That doesn't mean the story isn't true, in a manner of speaking. But he couldn't get everything right.”