She’d hoped for the best, that things could work in their favor, until that fateful day when the clouds cleared and the pieces fell into place. At least for Cherilyn. Marcus’s life was in increasing danger the longer they stayed married.
Cherilyn hated her selfish side, the one that had thoughtlessly laid Marcus’s life on the line, and all for the sake of satisfying her own wants and needs. Looking back, she found her actions sickening.
Marcus had come home that day, badly beaten and with a broken rib or two. He stumbled into the house and fell into her arms. She barely got him into the bedroom before he passed out. Thank God she’d had a friend who was a nurse. Cherilyn had beckoned her to see to Marcus’s injuries, and had sworn her to secrecy.
In the end, rather than watching him pay with his life for living with her, she left. Ending their marriage was the hardest thing Cherilyn had ever done and it broke her heart.
By the time she’d mentally filtered through the details of their short marriage, Marcus and his friends had finished their story.
“So what do you think?” Marcus waited, peering at her with those hopeful, yet desperate-looking eyes. “Can you help us?”
“Marcus...” Cherilyn could think of several reasons to say no, and just as many to concur. “I’d love to help you. But I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Was it her fault she hadn’t heard a word they’d said?
“Look, Cher,” Marcus’s words faded as he glanced at his friends. “Can we talk privately?” He was still looking at his buddies, but the inquiry, Cherilyn knew, was meant for her. When he turned back to her, bleak lines creased his forehead and his mouth stiffened.
In private? She sensed fear in his words, his stance, his demeanor.
“Sure.” Cherilyn pushed back a wayward strand of her hair. “Your friends might be interested in taking a look at my rose garden out back.”
The time had come to get down to business and find out what trouble Marcus and his friends had brought to her door.
CHAPTER 13
CHERILYN had said go, and Eric grabbed Grace’s hand and heaved her to her feet, elevating her anxiety. Every time she wound up alone with Eric, fear, guilt, and shame twisted into tangled knots inside her gut.
Sooner or later, he was going to demand answers. Answers to those dreaded questions she’d been hiding from all these years. Why she’d disappeared, abandoning him? And, where had she been all this time?
Eric dragged her, less than willingly, toward the slider and swept the glass door open with one-handed ease. Instantly, the scent of roses, strong and sweet, filled the air.
Grace stood stunned, taking in the dreamlike beauty of dozens of rose bushes ambling around green hillocks, thwarted only by the cavalcade of Mulberry and Sycamore trees bordering the garden.
She sucked in a long, deep breath, letting the aroma soothe her senses and calm her worries, if only for a moment. “Get a load of this place, would you?”
“Yeah.” Eric’s biting laughter brought her back to Earth. “Looks like a damn postcard.” His sarcasm wrapped around Grace as if trying to suffocate her. “The picture’s great to look at, but it’s not much good for anything else.”
“That’s a pretty cynical outlook, Eric.” She studied his grim expression. He didn’t used to act like such an ass. Was this her fault?
“It is what it is, Gracie.” He released the stranglehold he had on her wrist and buried his fingertips in his front pockets.
Grace massaged her arm, trying to rub away the imprint of his grasp.
His gaze fell over her and then bounced back up to rest on her face. “Oh, sorry.” The cold void echo of his words shattered her courage and she turned away.
Searching the breathtaking garden, she found a snug retreat awaiting her at the end of a winding path. Grace wended her way down the redwood steps and onto the cobbled path, seeking safety in the gazebo ahead at the heart of the grove.
A woodsy smell mingled with the scent of roses as she approached the gazebo. Inside the structure, a swing tempted her to take a seat. She pivoted around and sat, and Eric, meandering up the path after her, caught her attention and didn’t let go.
His lean physique looked tough in his Levi’s and Marine Corps issued tee shirt. A detached, preoccupied expression revealed the concern and uncertainty he was probably trying to mask, but Grace had learned to read that face ages ago.
Eric stepped onto the porch and she pulled her drifting thoughts together. She patted the empty space beside her and nodded, inviting him to join her on the swing.
“So what do you think about this secret organization business?” she asked, routing the conversation to assure they wouldn’t wander onto subjects she’d rather not visit.
“Well, I’m not naïve enough to think I know everything our government’s doing.”
“So you think it’s possible?”
“Possible.” He agreed with a nod. “Not really probable...but it is possible.”
“Do you see daddy being involved in something like that?” She got sucked into the influence of his intense green eyes. She’d always loved their infinite depth. But they possessed something different now. Sadness.
“I wouldn’t have ever thought so.” He glanced over his shoulder, at the yellow climbing rose behind them. “But right now, I don’t know what to think.”
“Me either.” Grace thought about plucking a rosebud off the bush, but concern over Cherilyn’s reaction stopped her. Avoiding making the woman mad was a good idea. Who else were they going to turn to? “This is so far above my thought processes that it makes me feel kind of stupid.”
“You’re far from stupid, Gracie.” He snapped the stem on the rosebud she’d been eyeing, and offered it to her. “So don’t let it get you down.”
Grace took the flower and wafted it under her nose. She almost got sidetracked by the pretty smell. “You think we’re ever going to find out what happened to Daddy?”
“Somebody knows. And I’m going to find out who that is.” His smile reeked of pity even though his words presented hope.
But Grace saw through both. He was still looking for that logical explanation, only there wasn’t one. Even if the military records could’ve been chalked up to clerical error, how does somebody lose a grave?
A smile curled on Grace’s lips that said she had total faith and confidence in Eric. He’d seen that look more than once in the last couple of days. He wished he felt the same.
“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Her voice oozed intrigue as it threw him the loaded question.
How should he know, Eric didn’t have a clue. Them? The situation? Will she or won’t she help? Take your pick. His own ridiculing laughter scoffed at him, creeping out into the forefront of his mind where it managed to escape for all to hear.
“Your guess is good as mine.” He tried to drown out the lingering mockery with the sound of his own voice. When that didn’t happen, he shrugged it away and draped his arm along the back of the swing.
“I don’t have any guesses, Eric.” A strangely sad expression on her face told him that something inside her was broken. Maybe the General’s death—or was it his disappearance—had been one too many blows in a long line of misery. God knows, she hadn’t had the most advantageous luck during the course of her life. The constant abrasion of misfortune had taken its toll on Grace Hendricks.
And now here she sat, vulnerable as hell, and all Eric could think about was his own self-preservation. He should be mad as hell at her. But he wasn’t. Oh sure, seedlings of curiosity still had him wondering what happened back then, why she’d disappeared? No matter the reasoning, his conclusion would always be the same.
The truth began to flicker on the horizon of his mind. He would always be in danger of losing his heart to her. That worried him. At any point in time, Grace Hendricks could yank his heart from his chest, throw it on the ground and stomp all over it. Again.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, g
etting back on track and, at the same time, steering away from the subject of them. “But I promise you I’m going to find out. One way or another.”
“Do you think Marcus has enough influence with Cherilyn to get her to help us?” Grace knotted her hands in her lap.
Wagging his head slightly, Eric said, “I think Marcus is quite capable of persuading her to divulge any information he desires.”
“Hopefully, he has enough pull with her that she’ll at least point us in the right direction.” Her troubled voice reminded Eric that they sat on opposite ends of the spectrum. She was looking for an adversary while he was looking for a reasonable explanation.
What about this business with the General? Eric might be more worried about their safety if he thought there was something to this theory that the General’s disappearance had something to do with secret organizations and government cover-ups. But he just didn’t buy it. This kind of shit only happened in the movies.
So what...had they stepped onto the set of a James Bond film? Yeah, right. More like Candid Camera.
Eric had all but convinced himself that he was right and Grace was wrong when Marcus and Cherilyn appeared through the back door and headed up the path toward them. Damn. Now it was going to be three against one. Not good odds.
They joined Eric and Grace inside the gazebo and Marcus’s eyes sparkled with an almost hopeful glint. Eric heeded his internal voice that wondered what fueled this newfound optimism—Cherilyn’s presence or her knowledge. Either one was bad. Really bad.
Marcus didn’t need to surrender himself to the mercy of a woman who’d leave him at the first sign of trouble. Had it been so long that Marcus had forgotten what being deserted felt like?
But the alternative was her knowledge. If Cherilyn confirmed Marcus’s suspicions, then Eric had a whole lot of rethinking to do, a complete restructuring of his mindset. Neither option seemed particularly pleasant.
They stood over Eric and Grace, a sly smile spreading over Marcus’s face. “Eric. Gracie.” He buried one hand in his pants’ pocket and loosely tangled the other with Cherilyn’s. “It’s time that I introduced you properly to my wife, Cherilyn Johnson.”
“Huh?” The steel walls of Eric’s intellect held the idea in solitary confinement. No way. Couldn’t be. Marcus and Cherilyn were still married? Really?
After all these years, he’d naturally figured that somebody, at least one of them, had gone ahead and gotten the divorce. Then again, if he put some thought into it he should’ve known Marcus wouldn’t have been that somebody. Impossible.
“Your wife?” Grace’s disbelief blurted out in her somewhat amused voice. She probably found the notion romantic. “You hear that?” She looked at Eric with wide-eyed innocence, but he knew it was merely a smokescreen. “He introduced her as his wife.”
So she wanted to go there, huh? “Yeah,” he said coolly, “And as I recall, she’s still carrying his name. That’s what one would expect from a wife.”
“Maybe one day you’ll stop and actually take notice of what’s right in front of your face.” Grace’s eyelids slipped down over her eyes. He’d hurt her feelings. Great.
“Listen, you two, it’s a moot point.” Cherilyn broke into their quarrelling banter. “Marcus and I are no longer legally married,” she said, stressing the word “legally” over the others.
Everything went silent, even the wind rustling the rosebushes. The stillness gathered around them like a thick, suffocating vapor. Eric had to stop it, conquer the demon. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said as graciously as he could manage, and offered his hand as a gesture of friendship.
Cherilyn accepted his well-intended generosity and clutched his hand with a firm grip. “I’d like to welcome you all to my home.”
“Thank you.” Grace jumped on the bandwagon. “And may I say, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Their host’s smile did not indicate concurrence. If anything, it screamed displeasure. Not that Eric could blame her. They’d dropped in on her without notice, and brought with them a whopper of a story. In her shoes, he wouldn’t be just annoyed, he’d be pissed.
“Marcus has told me about your...” She paused, and her face fell into a more agreeable expression. “Situation.”
Well, that’s one way to put it. Eric shut down his mocking laughter to just a thought.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you in your quest.” Cherilyn’s immediate, and voluntary compliance, caught Eric off-guard. He wasn’t expecting her to be so easily persuaded.
But, she was Marcus’s ex, that had to count for something. It’s not like she had Eric’s excuse. He had a history with the General.
“Well,” Grace’s tone was layered in skepticism, “unless you’re privy to information, such as why someone would want to erase all traces of a man’s existence—” The doubt glazing her voice hardened. “I’m not really sure there’s anything you can do to help.”
“Let’s go inside,” Cherilyn suggested, way too serenely to suit Eric considering what Grace had just said, “and we’ll talk.”
Cherilyn led the party into the house, determined not to discuss a single solitary point until she’d served refreshments.
She left her guests in the living room with Marcus while she threw together a quick tray of cheeses, cold cuts, crackers and iced tea in the kitchen. As she worked, she wondered if Marcus still pampered his guests. She knew how intoxicating he could be. He’d had won her over, straight away.
Cherilyn made a couple of trips from the kitchen to the living room, laying everything out for her snacked feast in defined precision. The crackers—two types, Club and Ritz—had to be centered around the cheeses, American, Cheddar, and Swiss on one side and the meats, ham, turkey, and roast beef on the other. A pitcher of iced tea and four glasses on the opposite end of the coffee table, and to top things off, she dumped a bag of plain salted potato chips into a bowl and placed it in an open space on the table.
Satisfied that things were perfect, she sat down on the couch beside Marcus. She studied his friends snuggled together on the opposite sofa. Their demeanor suggested they were lovers, or at least in love.
Cherilyn envied them the opportunity laid at their feet. Hers had been yanked away long ago, like a too short blanket. She’d kept tugging at it, but fate and society had the stronger hold.
But Cherilyn couldn’t let herself go there, not when there was still a chance for her to grow whole again. And as long as she was breathing, that was an option.
Marcus squeezed her hand and eased into a smile, as if he knew her thoughts. Maybe she should get straight down to business, the only way to protect her heart.
“Well, let me just jump right on into the fire here.” A snorted chuckle rumbled up her throat. How else did one delve into this particular conversation? She turned to Marcus. “The rumors you’ve heard are true,” she said with a nod.
Marcus’s smile faded a little, his body arched into a stance of tension, like hearing it was different than suspecting it. “Which rumors?” he asked, raising one suspicious eyebrow. She knew the reaction well. The one Marcus displayed when he didn’t like what he was hearing.
Cherilyn had never talked about her work with anyone outside her affiliate contacts, but divulging the name of her organization, known only as The Club, was another matter. No one would ever hear those words slip from her lips. If they did, she’d kill the eavesdropper.
She’d never shared the story with anyone. Never told a soul how she came to be acquainted with The Club, an elusive and highly secretive organization, nearly twenty years ago. Back then, shortly after her split with Marcus, she’d traveled down a destructive path. She’d never jeopardized her military career, but she did put her life on the line more than once. As it happened, The Club sought out candidates with an apparent death wish.
How long the recruiters watched her before approaching her was anybody’s guess, but she figured it for several weeks, maybe months. She based her opinion on how it worked
once she started recruiting. They’d monitored Cherilyn at her worst, when she had no scruples and was afraid of absolutely nothing—especially dying.
When her recruiters, two men, propositioned Cherilyn, having just lost the only thing in this world that had meant anything to her, she figured, “why the hell not”. She’d tried love and look how that turned out. Why not go for a life of adventure and intrigue?
That little thing about being shut off from her past didn’t bother Cherilyn. In fact, she’d counted on the break helping her to get over the hurt. Although, in hindsight, that hadn’t happened.
But, you know what they say about hindsight. She strangled the pride chasing her laughter up her throat, plastered on her best somber face, and said, “I am a member of an organization such as the one you’re all speculating over.”
“You are? Really?” Eric said, caught off guard.
They all looked at her, gazes fixed, eyes thirsty for details. Details she did not intend to share. She purposely let the silence fraught the space between them, as if creating an imaginary barrier. Anything to keep a mental hurdle between them and her knowledge.
Grace turned to Marcus. “But I thought you said once recruited, the prospect loses their identity?” Clearly, Marcus’s friends weren’t going to be an easy sale.
“He’s correct.” It wouldn’t hurt to give them a niblet, besides, Marcus needed a certain degree of validation or they might doubt his ability to reason. The last thing Cherilyn wanted was Marcus looking like a fool. “I am Cherilyn Johnson, although I haven’t used my real identity in over fifteen years now. But, nevertheless, that is who I am.”
“But why?” Grace asked with a degree of perplexity.
“The better question is...” Cherilyn’s cautious words floated around the room posing the inquiry to all but addressing it to none. “What makes you all think Grace’s father’s death has something to do with any covert organization?” She wanted to take the focus off herself and direct it to, why are you people really here?
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