Strangers When We Meet

by Rebecca Winters

  His gaze followed R.T.’s progress from the dining room before he realized that Rosie’s complexion had paled to alabaster. She sat rigidly in her chair. “What just happened, Nick? And don’t make light of it.”

  For the first time all day, he felt that maybe he had her attention.

  After a brief hesitation, in which he weighed the wisdom of letting Cody hear this, he said, “All right. Part of our harassment in the bunkers was to be awakened in the dead of night by a long blaring siren set at decibels high enough to puncture an eardrum. That only happened once before we learned to stuff our ears with whatever was available, because you never knew when they were going to pull one of their stunts.”

  Just reliving the memory, Nick felt sweat break out on his forehead. “It happened to us on the fourth night of our incarceration. Up to that point they hadn’t fed us, given us water or let us go to sleep. We’d been put in cages too small for us to stand or lie down. There was nothing we could do but sit or stand in a bent position.”

  “No, Nicky!” his mother wailed. “I can’t bear it.” She ran from the room, sobbing.

  “Janet?” Nick’s father pushed himself away from the table and hurried after her.

  By now Cody’s pallor matched his mother’s. His eyes filled his whole face. “They were trying to break you down so you’d give them information, huh, Dad?”

  “That’s right, son. But R.T. and I kept our mouths shut. After four days and nights of torture, we didn’t care what they did to us. We were too exhausted and just passed out where we were. That’s when they used the siren on us.

  “As I said, the first time it went off, I woke up thinking the bunker had been bombed. Because we couldn’t get out of our cages, we figured we were goners. But we soon learned that it was a routine tactic to make us talk. When that didn’t work, they roughed us up on a fairly regular basis, but between sessions, we were at least given cells large enough to lie down in.

  “I’m afraid the siren we heard a few minutes ago triggered a reaction that’s going to be hard to change. Our nerves have been shot to hell, but give us time. One day we’ll be able to sit as calmly as you did.”

  Which was probably a lie. But it sounded good and seemed to satisfy Cody for the moment.

  Rosie’s state of mind was another matter. She looked ill. So ill, in fact, that Nick thought she might faint.

  “I—I’m going to fix the dessert. Cody? Will you start clearing the table?”

  He nodded.

  “We’ll both help,” Nick offered.

  “No!”

  Her pleading eyes belied the sharpness of her tone. “I’m worried about R.T. Go to him. He mustn’t be alone right now and you’ll know how to comfort him. After what you’ve just told us, I don’t think anyone else could.”

  Maybe he’d gotten through to her a little.

  “He’ll be all right. If anything, he’s embarrassed. I’ll talk to him, and then we’ll be back in for dessert.”

  “Your mom’s going to need help, too.”

  But not you, Rosie?

  A helpless anger raged inside him. “She’s got Dad. That’s what a husband’s for.”

  Rosie turned away.

  In an instant, he’d destroyed the ephemeral rapport between them. Another sling, another arrow. More regrets. Hell.

  “MOM?” CODY HAD JUST walked into the kitchen with a load of plates. “Are you okay?”

  No. I’m not. I don’t think I ever will be again.

  “Not really.” Her voice shook. “I’m sorry you had to hear those things.” Appalled was more like it. Didn’t Nick care that those graphic details of his torture would give their son nightmares?

  “Jeez, Mom, I’m not a baby. We’ve learned about a lot of horrible things in my world-history class. Dad’s so cool not to break. I love him, even if you don’t!’

  “Cody—”

  “It’s true!” he blurted, tears gushing from his eyes. “Dad figured out where you went today. He’s not dumb.”

  Before she could demand he apologize, Cody dashed into the dining room for another load of dishes. The violence of his emotions almost immobilized her. She swayed against the counter where she’d been putting whipped cream on the strawberries. Her chest pains felt real.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Cody began in that aggressive tone the second he came back in with the ham platter and biscuit tray. “I hate Zach. I hate him. If you marry him, plan on me living with Dad.”

  Rosie felt as though she was going to die. “Cody…Cody…” In despair she reached for him, desperate to prevent the fissure from cracking wide open. But for the first time in their lives, he jerked his body away from her and flew out of the kitchen.

  She didn’t have to wonder where he’d run. Suddenly her home had turned into an armed camp, and Cody had chosen sides. In less than twenty-four hours she’d managed to alienate everyone she loved….

  Rosie hid her tear-wet face in the nearest dish towel. There shouldn’t have to be a division. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this!

  “Rosie, honey?” George said gently. She hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen.

  “Dad… How’s Mom?” she asked in a dull voice.

  “Pretty bad. She’s lying down. Nicky’s in with her. I guess you didn’t hear the doorbell. Do you want me to get it?”

  Zach? With the circumstances so precarious, he wouldn’t come over here now. Or would he? Was that what her father-in-law thought?

  Nick had said that if he’d been in Zach’s position, he wouldn’t have let anything stop him. Had she underestimated Zach’s pain? His desperation? If he was at the door, she didn’t want anyone else answering it.

  “No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’ll go. Thank you.”

  He touched her arm to detain her. “Honey…” he began, then seemed to think better of it and fell silent.

  It didn’t matter. Rosie knew exactly what he wanted to say. Don’t hurt my boy. You mustn’t hurt him. How can you hurt Janet and me this way?

  The bell rang again. Her heart had dropped to her feet before she reached the foyer and opened the front door, expecting to see Zach.

  Instead, a slender petite brunette with short hair and a pretty face stood anxiously on the porch. Her blue-gray eyes seemed to be searching past Rosie.

  “Yes?” Rosie said. “May I help you?”

  “I hope so,” came the fervent reply. “I’m Cynthia Ellis, R.T.’s wife. I heard he was here,” she said in a trembling voice. “R.T.’s aunt phoned with the news a little while ago. I drove up from Orem as fast as I could.” She sounded completely out of breath. “Is it true? Is he really alive and home?”

  There were no shadows here. No conflicts. This woman radiated a fullness of joy. Her eyes shone like stars.

  At a glance Rosie saw what Nick had expected to see—what he had deserved to see—when he’d gotten off the plane this morning.

  It couldn’t have been just this morning, could it?

  Confronted by the immensity of her own betrayal, she felt as though another dagger had pierced her heart. In loving Zach, she’d deprived Nick of a pearl beyond price at the most crucial point in his life.

  She could only imagine what seeing Cynthia’s shining face would mean to R.T.

  “Yes. I’m Rosie Armstrong. My husband was in prison with him.”

  “I know. His aunt told me. It’s unbelievable, isn’t it?”

  Yes. Unbelievable.

  “Come in. Please.”

  The other woman stepped over the threshold and Rosie shut the door. “Wait right here and I’ll go get him.”

  “All right.” Cynthia nodded. “But I’m so excited I’m sick. I still can’t believe he’s alive, that he’s here!”

  “He’s not going to believe you’re here, either,” Rosie murmured. “Just a minute.”

  Rosie turned and flew down the hall to Cody’s room. When she entered, she saw R.T. and Cody sitting on the twin beds facing each other.

  She was pretty sure
R.T. was demonstrating Morse code to her son. Cody avoided looking at her, but R.T. got to his feet.

  “Sorry I ran out of the dining—”

  “No one blames you,” she interrupted him gently. “R.T., you have a visitor. She’s in the front hall.”

  Obviously her news stunned him. “Aunt Laura?”

  “Why don’t you go find out?”

  Immediately his face paled. She saw his hands begin to shake.

  Out of pure compassion she moved to his side and put her arm around his shoulders. “Everything’s going to be fine. Come on. I’ll walk with you.” He flashed her a look of gratitude, and they made their way out of the room.

  The second they stepped into the front hallway, Cynthia Ellis’s cry of love reverberated throughout the entire house. R.T. flew into her arms. They clung to each other with a fierce desperation that was too private, too beautiful to watch, but Rosie couldn’t look anywhere else.

  Nick, what have I done to you?

  It might have been five minutes before either R.T. or his wife spoke. “You’ve come back to me,” Cynthia Ellis said. “I can’t believe it. It’s a miracle. Oh, R.T, I love you!” she cried over and over again.

  “I don’t see how. Half of me is gone, and I—I’ve lost one eye, Cyn,” he sobbed into her neck.

  “Do you think I care about that? You’re home, and I’m going to take care of you, soldier.”

  “I can’t believe you’re not married.”

  His words crucified Rosie; whether R.T. knew it or not, the reception she’d given Nick had convinced R.T. that his wife would never have held on this long.

  Like rocks thrown in a still pool, the ripples continued to spread, doing their damage.

  “I am married, you goof. To you. You know you’re my guy, don’t you?”

  “Ah, Cyn, you don’t want an old wreck like me.”

  “How about me, R.T? I’m a much worse wreck. After seven years, I’ve got the battle scars to prove it. We’ll compare wounds all night, shall we? And we’ll kiss every one better, okay? Unless I’m not your girl anymore. Did you find someone else over there?” Her voice caught, revealing the depth of her emotions.

  “Ah, Cyn,” was all R.T. could answer, he was drowning in so much happiness.

  “Go on home with her, soldier. Go home now! That’s an order.”

  At the sound of Nick’s authoritative voice, Rosie wheeled around in shock. She’d no idea he’d been standing there all this time.

  A beautiful smile meant for R.T. alone illuminated his face. He moved past Rosie and put his arms around both of them. She saw him tousle Cynthia’s dark curly locks—and felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

  “In case you didn’t hear him say it yet, he loves you, Cyn. I know because he called out your name in his sleep every night for six and a half years. Maybe tonight I’ll finally get some sleep.”

  There was more laughter, more tears of joy as they all hugged. Their own private fraternity to which no one else belonged. Rosie hadn’t given the proper password, so she couldn’t enter.

  She’d never felt so bereft in her life. She had to do something fast, or she was going to lose it in front of all of them.

  “Cody?” she called to her son, hurrying down to his room. When she entered, he looked up with accusing eyes. If an expression could wither, she’d be shriveled. “R.T.’s wife has come to take him home. Would you help me pack his things and carry them out to her car?”

  He blinked. Obviously such an eventuality hadn’t occurred to him. “But he thought she was married to someone else by now!”

  “I know.”

  “So she did wait for him, like he prayed.”

  Another blow. Any more, and Rosie wondered if she’d still be alive come morning.

  “Yes.”

  Cody’s face clouded in pain before he jumped to his feet. “He didn’t unpack anything. I’ll bring his duffel bag.”

  “Thank you, honey.”

  “I’m doing it for R.T. Not you.” He grabbed it from the corner and lugged it out of the room. Rosie followed him down the hall on unsteady legs, wishing the mountains would collapse on her to bury her pain.

  By the time she reached the foyer, Cody was being introduced; then they all started out the front door. Suddenly R.T. looked around, and his searching gaze found Rosie’s.

  He left the group and hurried toward her. But he seemed to be having trouble finding the words. Finally he gave up trying and they hugged.

  “Thanks for everything, Rosie.”

  “There’s no reason to thank me, R.T. I’m just so happy for you.”

  He embraced her harder. “I’ll pray for you and the Sergeant.”

  Her body shook. “I—I’m afraid we’re going to need those prayers. So will Cody. Come and see us soon? You’re only forty-five minutes away. Nick won’t know what to do without you.”

  “Yeah. We’re both going to have problems for a while.”

  She smiled sadly. “Take care, R.T.”

  “For what it’s worth, your husband’s the greatest. I know you know that, or you wouldn’t have married him in the first place.” He paused. “I guess that means your fiancé’s pretty exceptional, too.”

  “He is,” she whispered, dying a little more.

  “Please remember one thing. If you need help, if you need to talk, you’ll always have a friend in me.”

  “I don’t deserve that kind of loyalty, but I’ll probably take you up on it just the same,” she murmured with tears in her voice. “Bless you, R.T.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  FOR A MONDAY EVENING the Alpine Club was relatively empty, Zach noted, as he entered the dimly lit bar and sat at the nearest vacant table.

  “Hi, there,” one of the cocktail waitresses greeted him, a warm smile evident. “What’ll it be?”

  With a grimace Zach put a ten-dollar bill on the table. Then he took a piece of paper from his trouser pocket and handed it to her. “All I need is for you to dial that number for me and ask for Rosie. If they want to know who’s calling, tell them it’s Fran. If and when Rosie comes to the phone, tell her just a minute, then hand the receiver to me. Can you do that?” he asked with barely controlled intensity.

  She eyed him speculatively. “Sure I can. Follow me.”

  Pocketing the money, she headed for the phone booth next to the rest rooms. He fed a quarter into the slot and waited while she punched in the numbers. The unrelenting throb at his temple was finally playing havoc with his stomach.

  After about ten seconds had passed he saw her straighten. “Hi. May I please speak to Rosie?” There was a pause, then, “Yes, it’s Fran.”

  Zach swallowed hard. This probably wasn’t going to work. If by any chance Rosie’s husband had answered the phone, he’d want to know all about Fran. Rosie would have to think fast since Zach had pulled that name out of thin air. Surely she’d realize what was happening and play along until he could talk to her.

  “Just a minute, please,” the waitress murmured. She handed the phone to Zach, giving him the victory sign as she walked away.

  “Rosie—”

  “Yes?” came a troubled voice. It didn’t sound like his Rosie.

  “Don’t say anything. Just listen. I’m taking a Delta flight to California tonight—I’m on my way to the airport now. If and when you decide you want to get in touch with me, call Barb at the office and she’ll know how to find me. Until later, sweetheart.”

  Before he could change his mind and beg her to talk to him, he jammed the receiver back on the hook and left the bar in a few swift strides. Once outside, he got quickly into the Passat, one of his company cars, and headed for the freeway.

  Reaching for his cellular phone, he called his assistant manager, Mitch Riley. They talked business until Zach reached the huge airport parking lot, from which he could take a shuttle to the terminal.

  Mitch would have to handle things until Zach got back. Unfortunately he had no idea when that would be. It was killing him to leave,
but it would kill him to stay. But putting a thousand miles between him and Rosie ensured that he couldn’t go storming over to her house in the middle of the night demanding her time regardless of her husband’s feelings.

  Zach’s own feelings bordered on the primitive. He could all too easily imagine dragging Rosie off someplace—someplace they’d be alone.

  After he’d parked the car, he grabbed his suitcase and climbed into the shuttle van. The flight to L.A. wouldn’t be leaving for an hour. He’d purposely told Rosie which airline he was using on the outside chance she’d drive out to the airport to see him off.

  But as he checked his bag and made his way to the departure lounge, he realized that such hope existed only in his most delusional fantasies. No matter how much Rosie wanted to be with Zach—and he knew she wanted to be with him—she couldn’t and wouldn’t leave her husband on his first day home from the war.

  Zach’s rational mind agreed that such an act would be an inhuman thing to do to anyone.

  That was why he had to get out of there. His last spark of humanity had been extinguished the moment Rosie said she wouldn’t be seeing him for a while.

  Since he wasn’t fit company for anyone, he’d take out his sailboat. Once at sea, no one would be able to reach him or disturb him, not even his family. Until he’d made contact with Barb, that was the way he wanted it.

  “HEY, YOU TWO. In bed already?”

  “Nicky!” both his parents said at the same time.

  “Come in, son.” His father beckoned with his hand, while Janet gave him a faint smile.

  Nick approached the foot of their double bed, trying not to think about the agonized look on Rosie’s face after Cody had called her to the phone a few minutes ago. It had been a one-sided conversation. Whatever Zach Wilde had said to her, it was enough to drain the color from her cheeks and convince Nick that his wife was in dire pain.

  “Mother? I’m sure you’ve conjured up some horrible images about my imprisonment, but just remember that I survived it, and I’ve come home.”

  “To what?” she cried angrily. “I’ll never forgive Rosie for what she’s done to you.”