The guys’ reactions were a bit more complicated. They had known Jim before what had happened in Afghanistan, and ever since he and Beth had gotten together, they’d quietly observed a change in him. Jim looked more peaceful, lighter and happier. He looked like he believed in good things in the world again; like maybe it was OK to forgive himself at last.
It was early June when Jim finally opened up to Beth completely, and laid his whole truth down at her feet. He’d debated not saying anything, but he knew that Tahir was between them, whether she knew it or not. Besides, she’d given him everything, trusted him with every single dark, horrible thing from her past, trusted him with her real name. He didn’t feel good about holding back on her.
You told her that she needed to let it all go, and she does exactly that, every single day. Now it’s your turn, man.
They had just finished making love, and Jim had gently washed her pussy with a warm, damp cloth. She was teary at his tender gesture and he was holding her in his arms, offering her comfort and strength. Beth took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I cry sometimes… nothing’s wrong, I swear.”
“I know,” Jim said. “You’re releasing, Beth, still letting some things go.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She thought about that for a few seconds. “You think I’ll be doing that forever? Letting go of things from the past?”
“I’m the wrong person to ask.”
Beth raised her head from his chest. “Why?”
Jim sighed. “Because of the two of us, I know the least about letting go of hard stuff.”
She propped herself up on one arm. “What do you mean? What haven’t you let go of?”
“Tahir.” His voice was strained.
“What’s Tahir?” Beth said.
“Tahir isn’t a ‘what’, baby. Tahir is a ‘who’.” He paused. “Was a ‘who’.”
She saw the look of pain on his handsome face and she bit her lip. “Who was Tahir?”
“A kid who died because I trusted the wrong person.”
“Who did you trust that you shouldn’t have?”
“Tahir’s mother. Military intelligence.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “Myself.”
“What?” she said softly. “What happened, babe?”
“I – I didn’t listen to him. To Tahir. He was just a kid, just five years old. And what the hell do five-years-old ankle-biters know?” He gave a laugh so bitter, it made her stomach clench. “More than I do, in some cases.”
Beth waited, just looking at him quietly.
“We’d heard from one of our informants that women in this one part of the city were organizing a kind of Black Widow movement. You know what that is?”
“If it’s anything like the Chechnyan Black Widows, sure. Women who have lost their husbands to war are being recruited to take out the adversaries. Same thing?”
“Exactly the same.” Jim sighed. “Female suicide bombers working for the Taliban are no new thing – just ask Chris about that – but the women involving their kids? Nobody saw that coming.”
“Their kids?”
“Yeah.
“Wait.” Beth stared at him. “You mean Tahir’s mother was a bomber?”
“Oh, yeah… a hardcore, angry, dedicated one. And he told me about it.”
“He did?”
“Uh-huh. Walked right up to me in the street while I was on patrol, told me in semi-decent English.”
“What did you do?”
“His mother ran out after him, and when I questioned her, she was totally amused and relaxed. She just laughed and told me that Tahir had one hell of an active imagination. Kids, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, I checked in to her, but nothing came up. At the time, intelligence didn’t know that her husband had been killed by an American drone strike, so we had no motivations for Fazela to hate us. In fact, everyone I talked to about her said that she was a great woman, a great Mom. She did some translation work for us sometimes, and was helpful in some difficult conversations. She seemed so… so normal.”
“I can see that.”
“So I ignored the kid, even when he told me again. And again. He kept insisting that Fazela was going to do something bad, and he wanted me to stop her.”
“Why didn’t you believe him?”
“Because I trusted his mother, who as it turns out was an Oscar-worthy fucking actress. I trusted the military intelligence about her being on our side. I trusted myself to know better than a messed-up kid being raised in a war zone.”
Beth nodded. “But he was right?”
“He was right,” Jim said heavily. “Fazela strapped on a suicide vest under her burqa, took Tahir by the hand, and detonated it right in front of the main gate to the American Embassy. Took out three Marines, two staff members – and Tahir.”
Beth was frozen with horror. “Jim… my God.”
“My fault,” he said, his voice huskier than usual. “All my fault. I had a kid standing right there in front of me, begging me to hear him, to help him. And I just – just ignored him. I was so fucking stupid, and because of me, people died… including an innocent five-year-old who counted on me to keep him safe. He trusted me, and he shouldn’t have.” He swallowed. “Ever since then, I haven’t trusted anyone besides the guys, and I think that nobody should fucking trust me to protect them. Or to do anything that involves me making a decision, really.” He gazed at her. “How do you trust me, Beth? Why do you? I just – I don’t understand it sometimes.”
Beth reached for Jim now, not sure if he’d let her hold him. To her surprise, he did: he rolled over in to her embrace, his face hidden in her shoulder. She felt dampness against her skin, and she knew he was crying. He didn’t let her see his eyes, but he knew she knew that he was broken and vulnerable.
She stroked his hair. “I trust you, babe, completely and totally, because you make me feel safe. You always have, right from the beginning, and you did it when nobody else could.” She kissed his forehead. “All you’ve ever wanted to do was help me – and that’s all you’ve ever done, even when I fought you. You never stopped being there for me.”
He closed his eyes and let himself be comforted like a child. Beth’s sweetness surrounded him, made him feel enclosed in a soft, gentle place. She didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t need her to. Her touch was enough; her faith was everything.
Chapter Thirteen
Emma gripped the edge of the sink as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She blinked at herself in the mirror, feeling breathless and worried.
OK, calm down. It’s just a dizzy spell. Totally normal; everyone gets them. It doesn’t mean anything. Right?
But her mind was busy now, working and thinking, weighing and evaluating, and it was coming up with some things that she didn’t like very much at all. For example, for the past three days, she’d been totally wiped out by two o’clock in the afternoon. She’d chalked the fatigue up to a few poor nights’ sleep… but what about fatigue combined with whole-body weakness, which she’d felt just the day before? Throw in this overwhelming dizziness and she was starting to see an emerging picture.
Emma forced herself to meet her own frightened eyes in the mirror. She had to ask Dean to take her to the hospital. She had just been in for a check-up with Doctor Fife two weeks before and everything had been fine, so she’d go back and do a follow-up. No big deal.
But Doctor Fife said that if it came back, it would move fast, faster than anyone could believe. You have to get this checked out. Just to be safe.
She took a few steps away from the sink, then stopped cold as the nausea hit her, hard. Emma spun, fell to her knees in front of the toilet. The force of her vomiting stunned and scared her, and she tried to call for Dean, but couldn’t manage to get a breath. All she could do was throw up, over an
d over, shaking and sobbing.
Oh, God. The cancer is back.
The thought scared her badly, so badly that she sucked in a panicked breath and screamed Dean’s name. She heard a crash, then his footsteps as he ran down the hall to her.
**
Dean held Emma’s hand as they waited for Doctor Fife to come see them. She was pale and freezing cold, despite the early-June heat. Dean was freaked out, but he was determined to hold it together for her.
If it’s back, the last thing she needs is for you to fall apart, man. You can do that later, when you’re alone.
The door of Emma’s room opened and they turned to see Hal Fife. He didn’t look upset, they noticed, and they exchanged glances, almost afraid to hope. Maybe everything was OK after all?
“Emma, Dean,” Hal said. “How you guys doing?”
“Scared to death,” she said quietly. “Just tell me, please. Is it back?”
“No.”
“…No?”
“No, hon.” His dark eyes were warm. “Emma, you’re pregnant.”
Stunned, shocked, thunderstruck, Emma gazed at him. “I’m – what?”
“Between four and six weeks pregnant.”
“But… but… how can I be?”
Hal grinned. “Well, when a boy and a girl like each other very much, they –”
“But we’re always so careful!” she said. “And I’ve had all that chemo, and all those drugs, and barely had my period for ages, and how is it even possible?”
Hal shrugged. “It’s amazing, I’m not going to deny it. But your body is healthy, Emma, and it seems to me that this is one hell of a sign that it’s open to and reaching for life. Don’t you think so?”
They stared at him some more, then looked at each other. Emma was suddenly terrified at the thought of Dean’s reaction.
“Oh, God, Dean.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “We didn’t plan this… we’ve never even talked about this. I’m so, so sorry.”
His green eyes were staring down at her, and she couldn’t read the look in them at all. Was he going to bolt out the door, screaming the whole time?
“Sorry?” His rough voice was soft, adoring. “Why are you sorry, angel? I think this is the best news I’ve ever heard in my life.”
She blinked up at him. “It – it is?”
A huge smile cracked his handsome face right in two. “Pregnant! Emma… we’re going to have a baby!”
“You’re – happy?” she asked, needing to be totally sure.
“You’re damn right I am. All I’ve wanted for ages is to start a family with you.”
“It is?” She wiped the tears from her face. “But you never said anything.”
“Because we were focused on getting you healthy.” He ran his hands over her back, gentle and slow. “And now that you are, we can get on with it. Our own place, marriage, kids.” Dean grinned. “Though not necessarily in that order. Seems we got a bit of a jump on the kids part, huh?”
Emma stared up at him, needing to ask again. “So… you’re happy?”
“Hell, yeah.” He looked at her face, and a cloud passed over his. “Wait. Are you happy?”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. He saw that her tears were back now, and he leaned down to kiss her, over and over again.
“Good,” he whispered against her lips. “Because this is all I’ve wanted, baby, for so long. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“So!” Hal beamed at them. “Now that we’re all happy, I’ll refer you to a doctor who’s specialized in dealing with pregnant women with cancer, or who are newly-recovered from cancer. OK?”
She nodded again, but Dean gave Hal a narrow look.
“Hold up a sec, doc. You said Emma’s about a month pregnant, right?”
“Yes. Maybe a bit more.”
“Well, she was just here two weeks ago for a check-up with you, had all the bloodwork done. How did you miss this?”
“Because what we check for in cancer screening isn’t what we look for in pregnancy tests.” Hal smiled. “But when you came in today and described the symptoms, I checked the blood tests for the pregnancy hormone hCG, as well as all the indicators of leukemia, just to be thorough. I was so relieved when the hCG showed up, clear as day, let me tell you.”
“And everything else is alright?” Dean seemed determined to not let this go.
“The rest of the test results will be back tomorrow, and I’ll let you know then. But so far? The reason for Emma’s fatigue and nausea and dizziness is the best reason on earth: she’s going to have a baby.”
“A baby,” she said softly, as it finally hit her.
A baby… Dean’s baby. Oh, my God. This is amazing.
“Our baby,” Dean said, almost as if he could hear her thoughts. She saw his tears now, and she smiled, her heart swelling with love.
“Our baby,” she echoed.
Chapter Fourteen
Cordelia burst in to Dallas’ office without knocking. He and Sully looked up at her, shocked at her totally out-of-character behavior. Then they saw her face and both men got to their feet.
“What?” Dallas said. “Is it Sean?”
“No,” she said. “It’s Michael Ferguson.”
“What about him?”
“He’s on the run.”
“What the fuck?” Sully demanded.
“He was released on bail late yesterday morning,” she said. “Ellen had no idea, but she found out this morning. She sent out a patrol car to Ferguson’s place to check on him and he’s gone.”
The men stared at her.
“Gone?” Dallas’ voice was a snarl. “Gone where?”
“Nobody knows.” Cordelia twisted her fingers. “Any chance he’ll come here?”
“Why would he come here?” Sully asked.
“Why wouldn’t he?” she responded. “Look, he followed Beth as far as the previous state she was in, and we know he was still looking. Her name came up again a few days ago, when those local women started coming forward and reporting him for rape and assault. Right?”
“Yeah,” Dallas said.
“Well… how much did he hear about where Sully and I came from and what sent us to Foxburg Falls? We had to make a bunch of statements to the police there, explaining our even being in the town and why we had all those photos and surveillance notes.” Cordelia shrugged. “The whole reason he got bail was because the man still has friends in the legal system. He was allowed to go home unsupervised last night, no ankle bracelet, no follow-up this morning with anyone. Nobody even informed the cops that he was out – Ellen found out by accident when she saw some paperwork from the court.”
“Goddammit,” Dallas said softly.
“Yeah. So, in effect, the man has a twenty-four hour head start, and he could be anywhere right now.” Cordelia looked helpless and angry. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been tipped off by someone inside? He can fly here in less than two hours, drive in about eighteen hours. He could be here right this second.”
“Shit.” Dallas spun on his heels and grabbed his cell. “Sully, you and Mark get your asses out to Oregon now. Find out what the local cops know, what they don’t know. What they’re doing to watch the state lines, if they’re sending out APB’s. Work with them, OK? You and Cordelia had a good relationship with them, so build on it.”
“OK.” Sully walked out, his face tight.
“Thanks, Cordelia,” Dallas said. “I need to call Beth now – you mind closing the door?”
“Sure.” She shut it quietly behind her as she left. She didn’t envy Dallas having to make that call; she knew it would break his heart to break Beth’s heart.
She thought she was safe at last, and she’s just relaxed enough to start all over again. How the hell is she going to react to this? I can’t even imagine.
Jim almost exploded in to Beth’s apartment, frantic with worry.
“Beth!”
“I’m here.”
She was sitting in the armchair, looking small and shocked. He came over to her right away, dropped to his knees in front of her.
“I am so, so sorry…” He pulled her close. “You OK?”
She nodded. “Yeah. But… we need to talk.”
Jim leaned back, not liking the numbness in her face and voice. “Beth? Look at me.”
She raised those amazing green eyes to his. He stared in to them, and he just knew.
God, in her mind, she’s already gone, already running. She’s checked out, moved on, eyes wide open for the first moment that my back is turned. I’m going to lose her after all.
“Don’t, baby.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and it was laced with pain. “Please, please don’t.”
“Jim…”
“No.” He stood up, backed up. “Don’t say it. Just – just lie to me if you have to, OK? I can’t – I’m not ready to hear what you’re planning to do.” He sat on the sofa across from her. “But I’m not letting you go without a fight. You hear me? I’m not just going to let you walk out that door.”
Beth looked at him, shook her head. She reached for the glass of wine in front of her on the coffee table and took a sip. “We’ll talk about it, OK?”
Jim saw now that she’d poured him a beer and he picked it up, grateful that she’d thought of it. He took a big gulp, then another. “OK. What’s to talk about?”
Maybe I’ve got this all wrong… maybe she’s going to stay after all.
“He’s coming,” she said quietly. “Not for sure, but maybe. Cordelia seems to think there’s a good chance.”
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