More Than a Soldier

by Irene Onorato

  He handed her a paper towel. “I don’t remember seeing any pots or pans when we loaded the Jeep.”

  “Aw, man.” Her shoulders slouched forward. “You asked me to do the simplest thing for this trip. Bring food. And I managed to mess that up.”

  She tossed her plate into the fire and went into the tent. Moments later, the battery-operated lantern lit the interior.

  Hank pushed open the unzipped screen door and went inside.

  Cindy squatted beside one of her bags and rummaged through it. “I can’t find my hairbrush. Stupid me. Probably left that behind too.”

  “You forgot a frying pan. So what? Why are you beating yourself up over such a small thing?”

  “There it is.” She pulled the brush out of a mesh side pocket and stroked it through her hair while stepping toward the center of the tent.

  Hank followed and whispered over her shoulder, “Why do you always turn your back on me when you’re upset?”

  “Because, I—” She sucked in a few shaky breaths. “I don’t want you to—”

  “See you cry?”

  “Yes.” The next stroke of the brush caught in a knot. Her yanking it only made it worse.

  Hank untangled the brush and ran it through her hair a few times.

  “I really know how to mess up a day, don’t I?”

  He lifted and stroked the underside of her hair. “I don’t know what you mean by that. It’s been a fantastic day if you ask me.”

  “I forgot the pan, acted like an impulsive kid at the wall, then, to top it off, Eric called, and—” A sob shook her shoulders.

  “So that’s what this is all about?” He should have known. “What happened between you and Eric?”

  “I met him when I worked as a secretary at the police department. He was the tall, good looking detective all the girls had their eyes on.” She sniffled. “Know who he looks like?”

  “No, who?”

  “Sergeant Dexter.”

  “Oh?” Interesting. “Go on.”

  “After a couple of dates, when things got a little steamy, I made it clear I wouldn’t sleep with anyone until my wedding night. He said he respected that and told me I was worth waiting for. A few months later, we were engaged.”

  Hank dragged the brush a little harder across her scalp.

  She breathed something like a soft moan. “That feels good.”

  Cindy continued her story without prompting. “Then, I found out that—” She gulped and gave a long pause.

  “Eric and I went out to dinner one Monday night. I remember every single detail. The design of the tablecloth, the waiter’s face, the sparkle of my engagement ring. Everything.

  “He went to the bathroom and left his phone on the table. While he was gone, he got a call. The caller ID read Belinda. I didn’t answer it, but was nosey enough to check the voicemail she’d left.” Cindy sobbed.

  Hank kept his mouth shut. If she needed to cry, there was no point in trying to stop her.

  “At first I figured it was some other Belinda, and not my sister. But I recognized her voice. ‘Eric, sweetheart.’ That’s what she called him. Then, she told him she was pregnant.”

  Cindy took a breath. “I took the phone to the ladies’ room and checked his text messages and voicemails. My sister and Eric had been seeing one another since before we were engaged. I was so shaken that I felt like throwing up. Then, I got angry.

  “Eric was there when I got back to the table.” Cindy’s breaths came in quivering gasps. “He got up and said, ‘I was wondering where you were, babe.’ I threw the phone at him and shouted, Belinda called to tell you she’s pregnant! I took off his ring, shoved it deep in his apple pie, and told him I hoped he choked on it.”

  Hank touched her shoulder. “Calm down. You don’t have to say anything more if you don’t want to.”

  She continued as if he’d said nothing. “He told me to keep my voice down and not make a scene. But I was furious, hurt, and I wanted to kill him right there on the spot. He took my arm and practically dragged me outside, knocking over a table as we went.

  “On the sidewalk, he grabbed both of my arms and shook me hard. He yelled in my face, ‘what did you expect me to do? I’m a man. I have needs. And you weren’t meeting them.’”

  Hank tossed the brush and turned her around. The sorrow etched on her face gave his heart a squeeze.

  “I loved him, Hank. And I loved my sister.” Tears drizzled down her cheeks. “Why would they do this to me? Why?”

  Why, indeed? Hank pulled her into a tight embrace and let her cry.

  Chapter 18

  “Grrr. Slow down, you stupid clock. I’m moving as fast as I can.” Cindy dropped her arms and sighed.

  Hank would be over to pick her up for the formal event in less than an hour. At least her makeup looked decent, and she’d managed not to mess up this afternoon’s manicure. But getting her dress zipper to cooperate without snagging? Now that was a different story.

  “Mrs. Baker.” Cindy knocked on the bedroom wall and spoke loudly. “Can you come over and give me a hand for a sec, please? The door’s unlocked.”

  “Coming right over, dear.”

  Mrs. Baker materialized in the room seconds later. “What can I do to help?”

  “Zip up my dress, please.”

  “Turn around and let me get it for you.” The zipper whirred up her back.

  Cindy spun back around and presented herself with open arms. “Tah-dah. What do you think?”

  Formfitting at the torso, the dress’s deep blue, satiny fabric hung on her frame as if it had been tailored to her measurements. The perfect fit had even wowed the shop attendant when Cindy tried it on earlier that week.

  “Oh, sweetheart, just look at you.” Mrs. B stared with kind, smiling eyes. “When Hank sees you in that, it’ll be all he can do to keep his hands off you.”

  “Mrs. Baker!” Cindy broke into a laugh.

  “I brought something over for you. Something classy that never goes out of style.” Mrs. Baker flipped open a satin-lined box that displayed a luxurious string of pearls with matching earrings.

  “Oh, Mrs. B, they’re beautiful.” Cindy ran a finger over the necklace. “Are you sure you want to lend these to me? They look awfully expensive, and I—”

  “So they’re expensive. Big deal. I say, better they should be worn and enjoyed, than sit in a box in the dark. Otherwise, what good are they? Now, let’s see how they look on you.”

  Cindy lifted her hair and Mrs. B draped the necklace around her neck. The clasp snapped together with a small click. She put on the earrings, then shook her head and let them dangle against her neck. “Thank you so much. I’ll take good care of these. I promise.”

  “I know you will. Now tell me once again—where did you say you were going for this swanky party?”

  “Golden Crest Hotel in New Rochelle. Seven o’clock. Hank said he’d be here around six.” She wrung her hands. “I have to admit, I get nervous just thinking about going to such a ritzy event.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll be fine.” Mrs. B’s grandmotherly smile appeared. “I’m going to get my camera ready so I can take a few pictures of you and Hank before you leave. This is a night you’ll definitely want to remember. Knock on the wall when you’re ready for me.”

  * * * *

  Hank set the newly purchased bouquet on the Jeep’s passenger seat and hit the road. Edward’s ringtone blared from the inside pocket of his tux jacket. He fumbled for it and answered on speakerphone. “Hello.”

  “Hey, just calling to check in. See how you’re doing.”

  Hank hooked a finger into his collar and pulled it away from his throat. “I’d be doing better if I wasn’t dressed in this stupid tuxedo and noose-like bowtie. I’ll be lucky if I don’t choke to death before the day is done. Go ahead. Ask why I’m wearing a penguin suit.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Why the tux?”

  He relayed everything abou
t the Hollingsworth invitation. “I’m on my way to pick Cindy up right now. I just stopped and got her some flowers. Same kind you gave Audra on Easter. Whatever they are, they smell real nice.”

  “Stargazer lilies. She ought to like them. How’s Cindy doing?”

  Hank shook his head. “If you’d call her once in a while, you would know.”

  “Ouch.” Edward chuckled. “You’re right, though. I haven’t been very brotherly. I promise I’ll call this weekend.”

  “Good. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, especially since she’s the one who went out of her way to—”

  “I got it, Hank.” Edward grumbled under his breath.

  “I’ve got some intel on Cindy’s mysterious telemarketer. Name’s Eric Nolan. Cindy was engaged to him until—whoa!” Hank tapped the brake. “Sorry, some dude almost clipped my fender merging into my lane. I’d better get off the phone. The Friday night crazies are off to an early start.”

  “Hold on, man. First, tell me about this Eric guy.”

  “I gotta watch the road. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Hank ended the call.

  * * * *

  Seeing the Jeep through the slats of the blinds added to the jitters in Cindy’s belly. She smoothed her dress and raked fingers through her hair one last time.

  Hank scuffed up the stairs. Moments later, he knocked.

  Cindy opened the door, and breathed a small, almost silent, “Hi.”

  “Hey.” Hank’s greeting matched hers in volume. His stunned gaze lingered on her face then took a slow, meandering trip to her feet. His lips lifted in a small, satisfied smile. “You look amazing. Every time I think you couldn’t get any prettier, you surprise me.”

  “Thank you. You’re very handsome yourself tonight.” She swept an open palm toward the living room. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”

  “I don’t know.” His smile grew. “With you looking that hot, I’m not sure I can trust myself.”

  Cindy laughed. “I’m sure you’ll behave.”

  “These are for you.” He handed her a bouquet as he passed by. “I hope you like them.”

  “Thank you. They’re beautiful. Mmm, and they smell wonderful.” She found a vase in the kitchen and put the flowers in it. “Mrs. Baker would like to take a few pictures of us. Would you mind?”

  Hank glanced at the kitchen wall clock. “We’ve got a few minutes to spare.”

  Cindy rapped on the living room wall.

  Mrs. Baker arrived, snapped several shots and clicked through the digital photos with a smile. “I’ve got some really nice ones here. I’ll get a set printed for each of you.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Baker.” Hank cast another glance at the clock. “We better shove off.”

  “You kids have a good time tonight.” Mrs. Baker followed them out and waved them on, smiling.

  Cindy paused as Hank held the Jeep door open. “I don’t do fancy very well, Hank. What if I trip on my gown while going down a set of stairs? Or, or, worse, what if I trip going up the stairs? Boy, does that look stupid. And, you know how clumsy I can be.”

  “You’re beautiful, elegant, and graceful. Fill your head with that.”

  She bit her lip. “Don’t you feel at all intimidated at the thought of—”

  “No.” Hank’s persona exuded rock-solid strength. “I’m not easily intimidated.”

  * * * *

  A green-jacketed valet whisked the Jeep from under the canopied entrance of the Golden Orchard hotel and sped around the building.

  Cindy held tight to Hank’s arm as he led her inside and into an expansive domed room with glossy marble floors. Tuxes and gowns stood here and there in groups of threes and fours, their quiet chatter whispering off the walls in hushed echoes.

  A waiter stopped and lowered a small tray he’d been carrying through the crowd at shoulder height. “Champagne, sir, madam?”

  Stemmed glasses filled with pale pink liquid sparkled before her. “No, thank you. Hank?”

  “None for me. Thanks.”

  The waiter raised the tray and continued through the clusters of guests.

  “Would you just look at this place?” Cindy squeezed Hank’s arm. “Check out the paintings on the dome. Don’t they remind you of the Sistine Chapel?”

  Hank looked up and nodded. “Impressive.”

  “Hey, Hank. Glad to see you made it.” A slender man with dark wavy hair approached and pumped Hank’s hand.

  “Hi, Tony. Told you I’d come.”

  Tony motioned toward his date. “You remember my girlfriend Nina, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. Hey, Nina.”

  Cindy smiled and said hello as Hank introduced her. His friend’s city accents, easy smiles, and friendly conversation put her at ease.

  “Have you met Hollingsworth yet?” Tony directed his question to Hank.

  “No. You?”

  “Saw him making the rounds, but no, I haven’t met him yet. Did you know his wife’s in a wheelchair?”

  “Charlotte’s her name.” Nina pushed a honey-colored curl behind one ear and stepped closer, tightening their circle. “I saw her in the ladies’ room when I went to fix my lipstick. She can walk a little. An assistant—Irma, Emma, Ida, or something like that—helped her from her chair to the stall.”

  “We’ll meet them soon enough.” Tony motioned with a sideways head bob. “Follow me and I’ll show you the mock-ups of Hollingsworth’s proposed projects. He’s got quite a display set up in a room down the hall. We’ll have to hurry, though. I think they’re going to herd us into the other room for dinner in a few minutes.”

  Cindy wandered through tables of miniature models of hotels, villages, and resorts, and chatted with Nina. Hank and Tony gave the replicas a passing glance and devoted their attention to pictures on the walls that showed existing structures that would need to be removed before new construction could begin.

  “Good evening ladies. Gentlemen.” Ambling into the room, cocktail in hand, Prentiss Hollingsworth filled the room with an air of opulence and refinement. No doubt, his suit alone cost more than Cindy’s car. Raven-haired with glimmers of silver at the temple, his good looks rivaled many men half his age. A thick gold wedding band circled his finger.

  “Hello, Mr. Hollingsworth.” Hank stepped forward for a handshake. “Hank Fleming. Demolitions. And this is Cindy Giordano.”

  The jittery, fish-flopping-in-a-basket feeling that had subsided in Cindy’s belly only minutes ago now returned with a vengeance. Reflex brought her hand up for a greeting. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine.” Hollingsworth withdrew his smooth, warm hand from hers with a subtle drag along her fingers. His eyes flashed vampirish lust as he gazed into her eyes. Hollingsworth wanted to spend a few minutes alone with more than just her neck. A well-practiced smile covered his covert come-on as he moved on to Tony and Nina and indulged in a few moments of small talk.

  “Shall we go to dinner?” Prentiss Hollingsworth led the way without waiting for a response.

  Cindy took Hank’s arm and clipped along the corridor beside him.

  “You okay, Sassy?”

  Was she that transparent? Her heart pounded. What could she say? She had no proof Hollingsworth had done anything amiss. “I’m fine.” She broadened her smile, but the lie twisted her guts tighter.

  * * * *

  A small orchestra played softly through the meal. Several couples left their tables and moved to the dance floor. Tony and Nina excused themselves and joined them.

  Cindy set her water glass on the table and followed Hank’s gaze with a quick glance. “What are you looking at?”

  “I’m looking at Charlotte Hollingsworth.” His jaw muscles flexed.

  “Why? Something the matter?”

  Charlotte sat erect in a wheelchair, hands folded on her lap, her attention on those on the dance floor.

  “While her husband flits through the crowd, hopping li
ke a moth from one flame to another, she sits there alone with not a single soul paying attention to her.” He shook his head. “It ain’t right.”

  Mrs. Hollingsworth clapped politely when a song ended, then watched with wistful eyes as couples left the floor, and others took their place for the next dance.

  “You’re right. She looks sad, doesn’t she?”

  “Mm-hmm. Like the world’s going on around her, but she’s not part of it.” Hank rested his arm around Cindy’s chair back. “Nina said Charlotte could walk some. Do you think it would be improper if I went over there and asked if she’d like to dance?”

  “I think she might like that.”

  “Okay, then. Here I go.”

  Hank went to Charlotte’s table, grabbed a chair and sat at eye level with her. Cindy smiled. If only she could hear what they were saying. When Charlotte nodded, Hank lifted her feet, one at a time, and folded up each footrest. With help from the female assistant Nina had spoken of, Hank brought Mrs. Hollingsworth to the dance floor and swayed gently to the music with his arm secure around her tiny waist. Cindy blinked back tears at the sight of Charlotte’s glowing face.

  When the dance ended, Hank escorted and helped lower Mrs. Hollingsworth back into her chair.

  He returned to the table. “That wasn’t hard. She seems like a nice person. Her husband needs to get a clue and pay some attention to her.”

  “That was so sweet, I could have cried. As for Prentiss Hollingsworth, I—uh-oh, don’t look, but here he comes now.”

  “Miss Giordano.” Hollingsworth beamed a dashing smile. “Would you do me the honor of sharing this dance with me?” The extension of his callus-free hand suggested her acceptance was a sure thing.

  Hank’s expression gave nothing away. If he felt one way or another about her dancing with Count Dracula, he kept it hidden behind a perfect poker face.

  Cindy took Hollingsworth’s hand and started to rise. Hank met her gaze and blinked an eye. She went to the dance floor and glided about in the billionaire’s arms.

  Blink? Wink? Was there a hidden meaning behind Hank’s simple eye gesture? A wink could mean anything. You’re beautiful, I like you, or, hey, cutie. It could even mean, “I’ve got your back.” That would be nice. Of course, if it was just a reflexive blink. Why was she even thinking about it?