by Loree Lough
“Oh, but listen to me, going on and on. Why, if a person didn’t know better,” she repeated, “they’d think I was a little kid with ADD or something!”
Harriet’s warm, robust laughter bounced from every surface in the tiny room, attracting two curious boys … and their cranky father. “Goodness gracious sakes alive, Matthew,” she said, “you look as though you’ve swallowed a cupful of lemon juice. Mixed with vinegar no less! What is your problem today, Mr. Grumpy?”
The twins giggled as Matt’s brows rose slightly. “I don’t have a problem.”
But that quick glance at Honor said otherwise. She wondered, not for the first time, what she might have done to offend him. And—not for the first time—came up empty. She busied herself, wrapping the cake. Anything to keep from looking at him.
The boys entertained Harriet with rapid-fire knock-knock jokes while Honor rearranged the contents of Austin’s tiny fridge. Any day now, an agent would start bringing potential buyers onboard the boat, and the scent of spoiled food surely wouldn’t seal any deals. A perfect place, she thought, moving eggs, milk, and lunchmeats to a cooler, to hide from Matt’s chilly, distant looks … and the painful, exasperating truth:
Sometime between those sweet moments when she’d slept in his arms and when he picked her up today, he’d heard or read something about her. Or Elton or even her former boss, Buzz, had told him about the whole Uncle Mike mess. She wasn’t so naïve as to believe he hadn’t researched every facet of the scandal that toppled her career—he was an award-winning reporter, with friends in high places and access to information the average Joe didn’t have—so maybe that tidbit had been the proverbial last straw. She’d allowed herself to believe that he was different, that he possessed the backbone and thick skin required to stand up to the onslaught of judgmental, selfrighteous finger-pointing, and name-calling. She believed that now, too. The irony: this man who’d built his career on a foundation of honesty and ethics loved his boys too much to expose them to the ugliness. Talk about your double-edged swords, she thought, because it only made her love him more.
The soft slap of waves against the boat’s hull might have been calming and restful, if not for a thought far more disturbing … not that he’d leave her, but that he wouldn’t.
Matt hadn’t so much as hinted at a future with her. Hadn’t said that he cared for her. Hadn’t even kissed her. But he wanted to. Honor knew it just as she knew that Warner and Steve would continue trying to top each other’s knock-knock jokes and that Harriet would laugh at every silly word. It wasn’t vanity or arrogance, but Matt’s very nature that made her so certain. He was part white knight, part protective dad, part investigative reporter; together, those traits would compel him to dig deep inside himself, until he found the resolve to hang in there, despite the taint that clung to her like moss on a north-facing tree … and a way to justify exposing his innocent young boys to it.
He’d do it for no reason other than he believed she needed him to, even though it could destroy his career and subject the boys to all manner of insult and innuendo. Why, even dear sweet Harriet would suffer, watching it unfold, because she cared for them.
No decent person would allow anything hurtful to happen to innocent bystanders, especially those who’d come to mean so much to her. From where she stood, there appeared to be only one way to protect them.
And come morning, she’d orchestrate a plan to get them all out of the line of fire.
23
Honor’s nerves jangled as she reread the e-mail from her pal at Homeland Security. The department was in the process of training dogs to aid in searches at all ports, rail stations, airports, and courthouses in White Plains, New York … and they needed qualified personnel to train the dog handlers.
The job was a godsend. Not only would it get her out of town—and away from Matt and his terrific twins—it would allow her to continue working with dogs and exercise her training expertise.
Buzz invited her to call, any time, to discuss the position and provided his new office and cell numbers. She glanced at the clock. Knowing Buzz, he’d still be up, watching the evening news.
“Well as I live and breathe,” he said on the first ring. “If it ain’t li’l Honor Mackenzie.” Muffled rustling told her he’d palmed the phone. “Honey,” she heard him say, “it’s Mack.”
His wife picked up the extension. “If I wasn’t so happy to hear from you, I’d come down there and kick your butt. What’s wrong with you, girl, letting so much time go by without getting in touch?”
“Give it to her good, Rosie.”
Honor smiled at the reminder of Buzz’s pet name for his wife of thirty years. “Sorry, Rose.” Honor ignored her guilt and the embarrassment that caused it. The last time she’d seen the couple, they’d been visiting Baltimore for an anniversary trip. The night before they were to head back to New York, Brady Shaw’s story broke. Communication had been spotty, at best, in the many months since. “Life’s been … busy.”
“That’s a lame excuse,” Rose said, laughing, “but I’ll let you get away with it. This time. So how are those four-legged geniuses of yours?”
Honor swallowed. “Rerun is fine.” And at the mention of his name, the golden ambled to her side and lay his chin on her knee. “But Rowdy was hit by a car a few weeks ago.” She quieted Rerun’s whining with a gentle pat between his ears.
Buzz said, “That’s awful.” And Rose added a highpitched “Oh, no.”
“It was quick,” she explained. “I don’t think he suffered.”
“How’s Rerun handling it?”
“I’ll bet he’s just the saddest li’l puppy …”
She gave the dog another pat. “He’s coming around. So how are the kids?”
“Fine. Happy. Getting—”
“Smart-mouthed,” Buzz tucked in. “But at least they haven’t ended up in jail.”
Or on the 6:00 news … every night for weeks.
Grinning, Honor pictured Eli and Brigit, who’d moved in with their grandparents after their parents were killed in a car accident. Honor had met Buzz and Rose at the junior high school’s holiday pageant and remained close to the whole family, right up to the Brady mess.
“But you called to talk about this opening up here in White Plains, right?”
Rather than admit that was the only thing that could have prompted her to reconnect with the first people to react to the scandal, Honor said, “There’s just one opening?”
“To do what you do, yeah. Just the one. The world has been a very different place since 9/11. Everybody bellyaches about being searched, but they demand security, everywhere. Can’t have one without the other. But we’re hoping the use of scent dogs will add a level of security, without adding to travelers’ discomfort.”
“Makes perfect ‘scents’ to me,” Honor said.
Laughing, Rose said, “Sweetie, it’s good to hear you’re still ‘punny.’ “
“Sometimes I worry about you, Rose,” Buzz said.
“Why?”
“Because you think things like that are … ,” he cleared his throat, “punny.”
Honor didn’t find any humor in it, and neither would the Turners, if they’d known how much she’d surprised herself with the pun. Lately, she much preferred quietly blending into the woodwork than attracting any sort of attention to herself. The only place she seemed comfortable making noise was during SAR missions, when the occasional wisecrack lightened the tension.
“Well, you two,” Rose said, “if you’re gonna talk business, I’m outta here.” She laughed before adding, “Good hearing from you, Honor.” Then, “Buzz? You make sure to lock her into a date when she can come see us, you hear?”
“Will do, sweet face.”
Buzz’s affectionate nickname made Honor wonder if God ever intended to answer her prayers for love that remained warm and affectionate for years, despite the highs and lows life threw at them. Fortunately, she didn’t have to dwell on the fact that no was an answer, becau
se Buzz said, “Before I get into job talk, I want to remind you that we, that Rose and I, that is, we never believed a word of that story. It’s as full of holes as Brady Shaw’s big bloated head. Anyone with a lick of sense knew it back then, and they know it now, too.”
Honor’s life would be a lot different … if only that were true. “Thanks, Buzz” seemed a shallow and paltry thing to say, but since more effusive, complimentary things sounded phony, even in her own ears, she said it anyway. “So when will they start interviewing?”
“Not they. Me. And I know exactly the kind of candidate I’m lookin’ for. How soon can you get up here?”
Honor had sent a card, congratulating him on his promotion, but for some reason, it never occurred to her that he could influence this decision. Sure it would sting if her resumé was rejected during the selection process, but if Buzz was the one doing the rejection? Even more disconcerting … what if he hired her? “Wow. Well. Gosh. I-I only just started the search for a new job this morning. Sent out a few e-resumés. Got a few ‘out of the office’ replies. I’ve barely had time to wrap my mind around hearing from you, especially this soon, let alone think about when I might be ready to come up for an interview!” After getting all that out in the open, Honor wished she’d been talking to one of those voice mail recorders that allows callers to replay and erase messages because she’d said way too much and laughed far too loudly.
“Mackie, you’re more than qualified for this job slot. Fact is, you’re probably overqualified, and I think you know I’m not the type who’d say a thing like that if I didn’t believe it. And, you know I’m not the type to show partiality to one applicant over another for personal reasons. The interview is a formality, nothing more, or I’d hire you right here, right now. You know the old saying ‘You can’t fight city hall.’ “
She’d heard the phrase, but didn’t see how it fit into their conversation.
“Step by step, inch by inch,” Buzz said, answering her unasked question. “If we follow the rules, nobody can say I was playing favorites, hiring you.”
“How many other applicants have you interviewed?”
“Six, maybe eight. In a couple of years, a few might be as good as you. Right now?” He harrumphed. “You’re it, girl. It.”
“So you’re not concerned that my, ah, history will make problems for you?”
“Not at all. Like I said, the resumé and interview are policy, plain and simple. Infuriating as it is, red tape is what greases the bureaucratic wheels. So don’t give that Shaw mess another thought. Nobody up here knows about it, and in the off chance they did get wind of it, it’s ancient history by now. You don’t think I’d drag you all the way up here if I thought you’d end up dealing with the same swamp, do you?”
“No. No, of course you wouldn’t.” At least, not consciously … “So how soon are you looking to get the new hire on board?”
“Not ‘my new hire.’ You. And I needed you yesterday. Day before, even. If I thought for a minute I could manipulate time and make it happen that fast, you’d be here already.”
Buzz had never been one to beat around the bush. Didn’t like wasting time, either. Both traits worked in her favor because if things fell into place well, she could have a new job and address by summer. To meet administrative requirements, she’d need to update and revise her lecture notes and handouts, and it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to photocopy articles that had mentioned her. Citing quotes from the mayor and high-ranking police and fire department personnel who’d benefited from her SAR work should make it easier for Buzz when he slid her file in front of his superiors. She’d start praying tonight that they’d share the attitude of prospective employers who, after reading quotes from Baltimore’s mayor and high-ranking police and fire department personnel, extended job offers. Honor had politely turned them all down with a straightforward “I love being a firefighter.” After Brady’s story broke, her response to the handful of offers that came in had been dramatically different. “I like having the freedom to make my own hours” wasn’t entirely factual, but guilt born of the fib was far surpassed by relief at hiding from the ugly truth.
The thought awoke a jaw-dropping question. “Oh my gosh, Buzz … what do you think they’ll want to hear, you know, to fill the gap on my resume? I mean, if I don’t list my years with the fire department, I’ll look like I’m trying to hide something. Which I am! But if I list them, well, won’t that look even worse?”
He concluded the nerve-wracking pause with, “How ‘bout if you just let me worry about all that, okay? Dealing with stuff like that is all part of my job. Now, I hate to repeat myself, but how soon can you be here?”
“Well,” she thought, stroking Rerun’s velvety nose, “I’ll need to find someone to take care of the dog. And unless my boss is short-handed, getting time off from the office shouldn’t be a problem, because I—”
“Okay. Okay. I hear ya. Lots of items on the old To Do list to check off. So how ‘bout let’s do it this way: You line up all your ducks and then get back to me. Just don’t piddle around too long. I need somebody, approved and in place, by the first.”
Ironic, she thought, that her new life could very well begin on April Fool’s Day. “I’ll be in touch, soon. You have my word.”
“So I take it things haven’t settled down any, thanks to that sleazeball’s news story …”
“Actually, that has settled down, quite a lot.” Except for a few furtive glances and the strange “somebody’s watching me” sensation that came over her when people stopped whispering the instant they saw her walk into a room, life had pretty much returned to normal. Or, as normal as it could be for a person whose job involved typing up hospital bills when she was trained to put out fires.
“Then why the big push to get outta Dodge?”
Honor had never said she hoped to leave the Baltimore area, soon. But then, Buzz’s perceptiveness no doubt helped him get his job. “Just … things,” she said.
“Ah, man troubles, eh?”
She pictured Matt and the boys the way they’d looked, weeks ago, at Mercy and Austin’s wedding. The yearning was so deep and complete that it nearly put tears in her eyes. “Sort of. No, not really.”
“Y’know, the older I get, the more convinced I am that y’all hold secret meetings and read from a book called The Woman’s Guide to Men,” he teased. “I asked a simple question, and I get an answer that’s a riddle. Wait. Don’t tell me: that’s from the chapter titled ‘Keep Him Guessing’?”
“Soon as we hang up, I’m getting online to see if it’s available in paperback!” She smiled in reaction to his hearty laughter. “Far as I know, there isn’t any such book, and there isn’t a guy in my life, either. At least, not one who’s … It’s just, he and I … Oh, I don’t know, it’s … complicated.” Honor exhaled a huge breath. “Let’s just say things ended before they began.” A little truth, a little evasion should satisfy this overprotective father alternate.
“Guess you don’t agree with that old ‘running away never solves anything’ adage, then.”
“I’m not running away. It’s more like I’m …” There didn’t seem much point on completing the sentence.
“And you know the one that goes something like ‘you should never leave town because of a broken heart’?”
“No, can’t say as I’ve heard that one, but really, Buzz, my heart isn’t broken and I’m not running away.” Half a lie was better than a whole one, right?
“Hey. Give it any name that makes you feel better about the decision.”
Now Honor conjured the image of Matt and the boys on movie night—happy, carefree, comfortable, and thriving in their three-man household. She’d do anything to protect that and felt more certain than ever that this move was the right thing, for her and for them.
“You can’t see me, but I’m rolling up my sleeves. I can be there in four to five hours, tops. Want me to kick some butt, see if maybe I can set that fool straight? Talk him into treating you rig
ht?”
Smiling, Honor said, “No, but thanks. He’s treated me very well.” Too well, and that’s the problem. She told Buzz about everything he’d done on the day Rowdy was killed. “He’s a good guy, really.”
“Except for being—what’s that phrase you women like to use?—a commitment-phobe.”
“He’s a widower, so no, I don’t think commitment phobia is the problem.”
“Aside from Rose and my own beautiful girls and granddaughters, you’re the most perfect ‘other half’ I can name. Which tells me he heard The Story, and it’s messing with his head.”
His overemphasis of the words made her smile a little because Buzz had referred to it exactly that way, ever since it aired. “I can’t speak for Matt, but I know it’s messing with mine.” She’d never been comfortable, talking about herself, even when the subject matter was positive. But when the Shaw story was involved, it made Honor want to go off someplace and disappear from sight. “But enough about me. What’s Brigit doing these days?”
“Still working at the hospital.”
“Children’s ward?”
“Yep. I don’t think she could do anything else, if you want my honest opinion. She loves ‘em all, big and small. You should have seen her at the survivors’ reunion couple months back.” Buzz laughed. “Why, you would have thought every Big C survivor was her very own.”
Honor pictured the freckle-faced blond who’d been her sidekick all though junior high and high school. The friendship was yet another item on the list of losses that began racking up after Brady’s story aired. “And what about Eli? Last I heard, some high-profile Wall Street firm lured him away from the bank.”
“That’s true. He and Lizzy barely passed the nine months married mark before li’l Eli came along.”
“I’m so glad. I miss them, and you and Rose, too.”
“Well, then, when you come up for the interview, let’s get together. Rose will jump at the chance to get you all around the dinner table again, just like in the old days. Give you and the kids a chance to catch up and … Say, you haven’t met Eli’s wife, have you?”