Lockdown

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  “Yeah, but it would probably work better in the classroom next door. It’s got a better setup.”

  “Maybe,” Quinn conceded. He leaned down and made an X with his roll of masking tape to indicate where the professor would stand in their mock shooting. “Do you really think we’ll be able to get enough volunteers for this?”

  “Riley said she talked to the drama teacher, and they have a bunch of students willing to help out.”

  “We’ll have to do some serious rehearsals the week before the cops show up.”

  “Definitely,” Tristan agreed. He marked yet another spot where one of the volunteers would sit during their scenario. When he stood up, Riley was standing in the doorway, her face pale.

  “I . . . I’ll meet you downstairs when you’re ready.” She turned quickly, and he could hear her footsteps echoing as she ran back down the hall.

  Tristan looked at Quinn, confused.

  Quinn just shrugged. “Go after her. I can finish up here.”

  “Thanks.” Tristan dropped his roll of masking tape and took off. Riley was already outside by the time he caught up to her.

  He put a hand on her shoulder and felt her trembling. He had caught glimpses of her vulnerability before, but never had he seen her quite so shaken up. “Riley, talk to me,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”

  She was still trembling but trying hard not to show it. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Tristan wasn’t sure why he felt the urge to push for answers except that he needed to know the cause of the wounded look on her face. “Honey, you’re a ball of nerves every time you step into that building. I want to know why.”

  Riley took a deep breath and blinked back the tears that threatened. “I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it.”

  “Handle what? Being in the same room where innocent people were gunned down?” Tristan asked bluntly.

  She jerked away from him and started to rush down the sidewalk. She only made it three steps before Tristan was in front of her, gripping both of her arms. A tear escaped and trickled halfway down her cheek before he reached out and brushed it away.

  “Riley, stop running away and tell me what’s wrong.” Tristan’s voice was sharper than he’d intended, but his hand remained gentle on her cheek.

  “I graduated from this school.” Her voice was quiet, barely louder than a whisper. Another tear escaped as she added, “I was here the day of the massacre.”

  Tristan stared for a moment, and then he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled her into his arms. Her arms lifted to encircle his waist, her body still shaking as she fought back tears. Tristan stroked her back, trying not to think about how natural it felt to hold her. They stood there in silence as a minute stretched into two. Finally, Tristan asked, “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Riley shrugged and let him continue to hold her.

  His voice held quiet understanding when he asked, “Did you know some of the victims?”

  “It seems everyone knew someone who died,” she managed to say, then pulled back and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay,” Tristan agreed, afraid to push any harder while she was so churned up. “Are you sure you’re up for this wedding?”

  “No, but I’m afraid I don’t have a choice.”

  “If it gets too bad, you can use me as an excuse to leave early.” Tristan reached for her hand. “Navy SEALs are always getting called away for one emergency or another.”

  “Thanks.” Her eyes were still moist as she added, “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  “There it is.” Riley pointed at the LDS chapel they were approaching, noticing that a dozen cars were already in the parking lot. She wanted nothing more than to have Tristan turn around and take her home, but she knew she would never hear the end of it if she didn’t show up for her cousin’s reception. She was still shaky from what had happened that morning, though she was trying hard not to show it. She didn’t know what had possessed her to go back to her old classroom. When Amy had told her that Tristan was upstairs, she could have just picked up her cell phone and called him. Instead, she had climbed through that deadly stairwell and tried to face the worst of her fears. She had failed miserably.

  Now, as if she hadn’t already had enough emotional turmoil for one day, she was about to face her well-meaning family members and their endless questions about why she wasn’t married yet. Even worse would be her parents’ disappointment that another younger cousin had beaten her to the altar. She didn’t know why her parents treated weddings like some kind of finish line they thought she and Taylor should be racing toward. Personally, Riley had always considered weddings as beginnings rather than ends.

  Unaware of the war waging inside her, Tristan parked his truck and nodded at the clothes that were hanging from the hook behind him. “Did you want to leave our things here for now?”

  Riley nodded. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll already be finished.”

  Before she could scoot out of the truck, Tristan reached over and took her hand. “You let me know if you need out of there.” His eyes sharpened. “I’m serious.”

  She worked up a little smile and gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be fine, but thanks.”

  Together they walked inside, and Riley felt a sense of dread settle in her stomach along with some apprehension as she prepared to introduce Tristan to her family. They were barely in the door when her mom approached, immediately welcoming Riley with a smile and a hug.

  “Honey, I’m so glad you made it.” Darlene Palmetta touched a hand to her daughter’s face and narrowed her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom.” Riley motioned to Tristan and caught her mom’s speculative look. “This is Tristan Crowther.”

  Before Riley could stumble over an explanation of why he had accompanied her, Tristan stretched out a hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He motioned toward the door that led to the cultural hall. “Riley said you all needed help setting up. Where would you like me to start?”

  “I need Riley’s help in the kitchen, but if you could help set up tables, that would be great,” her mother suggested.

  “No problem.” As though sensing Riley’s discomfort at having him go help a roomful of strangers, he added, “Don’t worry, Riley. I’ll be fine.”

  Reluctantly, Riley nodded, and Tristan headed for the door. “The kitchen’s down this hall if you . . . um . . . get bored.”

  With a quick smile, he pushed open the door to the cultural hall. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  Riley watched him disappear inside before turning back to her mother. Anticipating her questions, she said simply, “We’re just working together, so don’t get any ideas.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” her mother said as she started down the hall.

  Riley narrowed her eyes. “No, but you were thinking it.”

  “I was just curious,” she insisted, her voice more amused than defensive. “Come on. Let’s go save your grandmother from having to make all of the chicken salad by herself.”

  * * *

  Tristan’s offer to help set up was met with such casual acceptance that he wondered if Riley’s family had been expecting him. After working side by side with her father, various uncles and cousins, and a few ward members, Tristan finally realized that none of them had a clue who he was. Most of them didn’t belong to the bride’s ward, so they just assumed he was one of several ward members who had come by to help. And the ward members assumed he was a family member.

  He supposed it was easier this way. Considering he had only met Riley four days earlier, he wasn’t quite sure how he would have described their relationship if her dad had decided to interrogate him. Casual dating was probably the most accurate term, but Tristan had to admit that he wanted more than that, which was surprising. Usually three or four dates were all
it took before he started backing off from the girls he dated. Now, for the first time in years, he found he wanted to move forward.

  He was still feeling guilty for pushing her so hard earlier, but he knew that if he hadn’t she might never have admitted to being at Oswell that horrible day. On the drive to the church, he had deliberately kept the conversation light. They had chatted about the scenery, her sister’s artwork, even the weather. Although he still suspected that she knew some of the victims, she seemed too fragile at the moment to handle him digging up more difficult memories. He could only hope she would eventually confide in him.

  He glanced over at the father of the bride, who was hanging paper wedding bells from a trellis, and wondered what it would be like to get married. He had never really considered the possibility for himself until Brent and Amy had gotten married the year before. The Navy SEAL profession wasn’t one that went easily with family life, but he couldn’t deny that he had never seen Brent happier than the day he’d taken Amy to the temple. Maybe, with the right girl, marriage and his career could be compatible. Someday.

  With a shake of his head, Tristan tipped the last table into place and looked around to see if there was anything more for him to do. Several other people were now spreading out tablecloths and placing centerpieces, but they looked like they were almost finished. He was debating whether he should go search for Riley when Taylor entered the room carrying the last tablecloth and centerpiece.

  “It looks like we’re about done,” Tristan commented. “Here, let me take that.” He reached out for the centerpiece so that Taylor would have both hands free to spread the tablecloth.

  “Thanks.” She smoothed out the tablecloth and then nodded her head toward the door. “Since most of us came in from out of town, they set up an early dinner for us in the Relief Society room.”

  “How’s Riley holding up?” Tristan asked softly as he set the centerpiece in place.

  Taylor’s expression immediately became guarded. “Why?”

  As an only child, Tristan was always surprised at how siblings could get so protective of one another. He glanced around the room to make sure no one was in earshot before speaking. “She admitted today that she was at Oswell the day of the massacre.” Tristan’s voice held sympathy and understanding. “I’m guessing you were there too.”

  Taylor nodded. “It was a hard time for all of us. Come on. Let’s go eat before Riley gets cornered again by my dad and he starts in on his ‘when are you going to get married’ speech.”

  “Riley is only twenty-four, and you can’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two. Why would he expect you to already be married?”

  “I’m almost twenty-three, actually. But anyway, Dad thought we would be married by now. He married my mom when she was only nineteen.”

  “I guess everyone’s entitled to their own opinions.” Tristan shrugged. “But that seems kinda young to me.”

  Taylor flashed him a smile. “Yeah, you’d think our Dad would appreciate the fact that Riley and I are picky when it comes to guys.”

  He laughed and pulled the door open for her. “Now I’m worried.”

  6

  The food was in place, the lights were low, and music was playing softly in the background. Just inside the door, the bride and groom were lined up with the rest of the wedding party to greet their guests. Riley’s sympathies were immediately stirred when she noticed the smile her sister had pasted on her face. She was clearly ready to be done with her bridesmaid’s duties, which had started early that morning at the Raleigh Temple. But judging from the constant flow of guests arriving, Taylor was in for a long night.

  Beside Riley, Tristan leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Do you want to skip the reception line? We’ve already talked to everyone in it.”

  Riley nodded. She let Tristan lead her to a table near the dance floor and immediately felt her father’s stare. As she took the seat Tristan held out for her, she realized her father wasn’t the only one staring. She couldn’t deny that her date looked incredible in his dress uniform, but seeing him in full Navy attire also reminded her of her previous aversion to dating military men—an aversion most of her family knew about. But a girl was entitled to change her mind, right?

  Nervously, she smoothed her dress over her knees as Tristan sat down beside her. He had barely sat down when Riley’s father appeared at their table and Tristan stood once more to shake the hand he offered.

  “Would you like to join us?” Tristan asked, then waited for Riley’s father to sit before taking his own seat again.

  “I didn’t realize you were in the Navy,” Frank Palmetta said as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes lingered on the trident pin that indicated Tristan was a SEAL, but he kept his voice casual. “An enlisted man, huh?”

  “That’s right, sir.” Tristan nodded at Riley. “Riley tells me you recently retired from the enlisted ranks yourself.”

  “Just last year.” Frank slanted a look over at Riley before asking, “Decided to skip the college scene, did you?”

  Tristan shook his head. “Actually, I finished my degree before I left on my mission.”

  “What?” Frank’s eyes widened.

  “I was young for my grade, and with all of the AP classes offered at my school, I had enough credits be considered a junior when I got to college.” Tristan shrugged. “At the time, it seemed like a good idea to finish up my education before I put in my mission papers.”

  Riley looked on, surprised, as her father asked, “If you have a college degree, why aren’t you an officer?”

  “I didn’t want to be an officer.” Tristan glanced over at Riley and winked as he changed the subject. “You must be awfully proud of your daughters, with both of them pursuing their educations.”

  Frank blustered a little as he nodded. “Of course. They’re both smart girls.”

  Just not smart enough to catch a husband, Riley thought to herself with a touch of bitterness. The next instant she was scolding herself for thinking that way. She knew her father only wanted what he thought was best for her, but it was frustrating that he still couldn’t quite think of her as an adult. The tragedy at Oswell Barron had erased whatever progress she had made in that area, and her dad had reverted back to treating her like a fragile little girl who needed his protection and guidance.

  She listened to her dad chat with Tristan about military life and was somewhat surprised to see both men so at ease with one another. Despite the restrictions of his dress uniform, Tristan appeared completely relaxed. Their table, which had been empty when they sat down, quickly filled up, and Riley was impressed by how easily Tristan could schmooze his way through an otherwise boring evening with casual conversation and a touch of humor.

  When the dancing started, Tristan stood and held a hand out to Riley. “Would you like to dance?”

  She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. She was still rattled by the memory of how his arms had felt around her as she and Tristan had stood in front of Sedgely Hall. His embrace had been intended to comfort, but she worried at the sense of belonging she had found along with that comfort.

  As Tristan turned her into his arms, her whole body tingled with nerves and pleasure. She hadn’t expected him to move so well, but he guided her effortlessly around the crowded dance floor. Her stomach was dancing at a faster pace than the music, and her pulse quickened as Tristan drew her closer.

  Riley tried to clear her head but couldn’t quite manage it. She had dated plenty during high school and college, but suddenly she felt like a young teenager suffering from her first crush. With everyone she had dated in the past, she could predict quite accurately how long the relationship would last. Boyfriends usually lasted days, weeks, sometimes even months. As Tristan stared down at her, she worried that she couldn’t see the end. Even more disconcerting was that she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  As the music changed, Tristan leaned down and asked, “How are you doing?”

  “This hasn’t been
as bad as I expected,” she admitted with a smile. Her smile broadened when she caught sight of her parents dancing a short distance away. “My dad was impressed with you.”

  “Yeah?” Tristan’s eyebrows lifted as he considered her words. “He seems like a good guy.”

  “A little too protective sometimes, but yeah, he is,” Riley conceded. “I’m really glad you came today.”

  He leaned closer as though telling her a secret. “Me too.”

  * * *

  He was nervous. He never got nervous around women, not even when he’d been just sixteen and still in the learning curve of dating. Now, as they drove into the university’s parking lot, he found he was worried about making a wrong move. More than once when they had been dancing he had barely resisted the urge to lean down and kiss Riley. She had felt so perfect in his arms that he could have happily spent hours on the dance floor.

  He pulled up next to her car in the otherwise empty parking lot and climbed out of the truck. She gathered her things as he skirted around the front of the truck to open her door. They hadn’t bothered to change before making the trip back to Bainbridge, and Tristan found he liked the way her dark eyes contrasted with her sunflower-yellow dress.

  He took her hand as she stepped down from his truck, and then he relieved her of the bag that held her change of clothes. When she unlocked her car, he dropped her bag on the back seat and turned to face her. Her eyes darkened under the glowing lights, and he read the nerves in them that matched his own. He reached for her free hand and stepped closer.

  Still uncertain, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was whisper soft, but when she leaned into him, he released her hands and framed her face with his own. Slowly, he took the kiss deeper. He nearly smiled when he pulled back and saw the stunned look on her face—he would have smiled had he not been so shaken himself. What should have been a simple kiss had left him reeling and wanting more.

  He reached out and put a hand on her open car door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at church.”

  “Okay.” She slipped into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition.