Black Moon Rising

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Black Moon Rising Page 16

by Ann Simas


  She was silent so long, he said, “Don’t tell me you aren’t sitting at home panting for me right now, love.”

  As if she would admit to that! “Right now, I’m painting, not panting, and I need to concentrate on that.”

  “I’d better let you get back to it then.”

  He sounded hurt, which had not been her intention. “Luca, wait!” She still wasn’t sure what to say next, so she went with a worrisome thought that had niggled at her. “Do you come across to all your women with that kind of line?”

  “What kind of line is that?” he asked, and though she’d expected him to sound cocky, he still sounded hurt.

  “Wondering if I’m sitting here panting for you.”

  “Let’s get something straight. I don’t have women, okay? As for how I am with you, all I can say is that we seem to be a combustible combination. I don’t completely understand how or why, but I thoroughly enjoy our interactions. The other thing is, I don’t use lines on women. I have never been a game player. With me, what you see is what you get.” Again he paused. “I thought it was the same with you. Was I wrong?”

  “I’m confused,” she admitted. “I haven’t been involved in many relationships. In fact, there’s only been Zach, so you’ll have to excuse me if I act like a girl from the sticks who doesn’t have any experience dealing with a man like you.” Embarrassed by her admission and appalled that she’d even voiced her concerns, she said, “I need to go,” and disconnected.

  Her phone sounded Sweet Dreams almost immediately. She almost didn’t answer.

  “What do you mean by ‘a man like you’? Is there something wrong with me?”

  She barked out a laugh, but nothing about it was amused. “Really? You need me to tell you that you’re a good looking, hunky guy who practically sizzles sex pheromones?”

  “I am?”

  “Oh, please! You needn’t sound so incredulous. Don’t you have a damned mirror?”

  “Yeah, and I look at myself in it every morning when shave, but I sure as hell don’t see the guy you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” she pleaded. “You must have had a hundred women after you since you reached puberty.”

  “Hold up a minute! You think I’m some kind of male slut?”

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “What did you say then?”

  OMG, this was getting out of hand! “Luca, I just think you might be out of my league, and that pisses me off, because I really like you.”

  “If anything, Sunshine, you’re out of my league. You’re pretty, you’re intelligent, you’re successful, and you see things no one else can see. Well, except maybe me. Which begs the question, what the hell do you see in a dumb ass like me?”

  “You’re not a dumb ass!”

  “I’m not?”

  “No. As far as I can tell from the way your pants fit, your ass is quite smart.”

  “Really?” He didn’t laugh, but she heard amusement in his voice.

  “Don’t go getting the big head over it.”

  “Too late.”

  “Luca!”

  “Seriously, Sunny, since you can’t come over tonight, how’s about I call you at bedtime and we can engage in a little phone sex?”

  A jumble of carnal emotions surged through her at the prospect. “Phone sex?” she whispered. “My God, I….”

  “Simmer down,” he said, chuckling. “I was kidding.”

  Sunny didn’t think before she said, “Darn, and I was already looking forward to it.”

  Chapter 20

  . . .

  Instead of getting back to work on her book the next day, Sunny unearthed the stepstool from the back of her walk-in closet and used it to retrieve a box from the top shelf.

  She didn’t know why she’d awoken with the idea buzzing around in her head that she had to reread Zach’s letters, but she felt an urgent need to follow through.

  Though he hadn’t been around much in person over the course of their marriage, he’d been a dedicated letter-writer. She could probably write a book about every one of his team members, based solely on what he’d told her about them in his letters.

  Sunny hauled the box into her workroom and set it on the floor next to the windows. She went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, where she paused for a moment to watch through the window as Libby, Angie, and the kids played kick ball in the back yard. Maisie cheated by picking up the ball and throwing it, but then she was only two. Besides, the ball was almost as big as she was and she didn’t have the art of kicking down yet.

  Sunny laughed, her heart bursting with love for both her children. Maisie tried to throw the ball and ended up on her fanny for the effort, giggling like crazy. Sunny had half a mind to go out and join the fun, but the pull of the letters, for some reason, was strong.

  She returned to the workroom and closed the door, which was signal not to be disturbed. With her coffee cup situated on the low-lying windowsill, she plopped down cross-legged next to the box and lifted the lid off. She withdrew the first packet of letters, which dated from the first month of their marriage.

  Zach had sent out a letter at least twice a week, though usually he wrote every day, even if it was just a few paragraphs.

  The romantic in her had bound each monthly batch of letters, in date order, with a satin ribbon. Even though she soon realized his letters would never ooze romance, she continued with the ritual until his death. She even had one packet that contained letters from his fellow SEALs.

  She started at the beginning, with a letter dated less than one week after their wedding. Zach’s enthusiasm and excitement about the next assignment, and the next, and the next, were obvious in every letter, as was the bond he felt with each member of his team. All for one and one for all could have been the SEALs credo, and he truly lived by their actual motto, Ready to lead, ready to follow, never quit.

  Sunny hadn’t gotten pregnant during those few days immediately after they’d exchanged vows, but on Zach’s first leave, her body had been ready, and Carson was born nine months exactly after Zach’s departure for Afghanistan. He’d made it home for Carson’s first Christmas, which was the only Christmas they’d spent together as a married couple. Carson had been five months old at the time and would never have a memory of it, except as seen through photographs. After that, Zach hadn’t come home again until the following autumn, and then again in the spring. That March had been the month of Maisie’s conception.

  A day here, three days there, a week a couple of times, and once he’d been home for an entire month. That’s all he’d given them.

  After she’d read the first year of letters, she popped up to use the bathroom and get a coffee refill. She was surprised to find it was already two p.m. The kids were down for a nap, a load of clothes was tumbling in the dryer, and Libby and Angie were outside on the patio, sipping lemonade, each apparently absorbed in a good book.

  Sunny grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and headed back to her workroom, but before she could delve into the box for the next batch of letters, her phone belted out Sweet Dreams. “Hi.”

  “Hi, back,” Luca said in his whiskey-smooth voice. “Look, I can’t talk long, but I wanted to let you know that I can’t make dinner tonight. My LT assigned Trey and me to assist on a murder investigation and we have to do a night-time neighborhood canvas, to interview people who weren’t home when the murder occurred, but may have witnessed something going on with the victim that we can use.”

  Sunny felt her disappointment keenly, but she also recognized that Luca had a job to do. “It’s not a problem, really. We can reschedule.”

  He hesitated, then said, “I’m relieved to hear regret in your voice. I was afraid that by now, you might be wanting to run for the hills.”

  “If that ever happened, which it won’t, I’d tell you to your face.”

  “Did I ever mention that I really like you, Sunshine?”

  “Maybe once or twice, and the feeling is mutual.
/>   “Gotta go.”

  “Take care.”

  “I will. I have a date with a beautiful woman sometime down the road and I don’t plan on missing it.”

  He disconnected, leaving Sunny feeling all warm and fuzzy as she tackled more of Zach’s letters. She read and read, making an occasional note on her pad. When she reached May, the first letter on top was Zach’s response to the news of her second pregnancy.

  Hey, babe, I’m thrilled about the baby. I just know we’re going to have a beautiful little girl this time who looks just like you! I even have a name picked out for her—Maisie, after my grandma, who was my most normal relative. I think it’s kind of pretty, don’t you? I also like that we’ll have one kid named after someone in your family (Carson) and one kid named after someone from my family (Maisie).

  I thought about writing my parents with the news, but you know what? I’ve given up hope that they’ll ever take an interest in anything that concerns me. Maybe when our little angel is born, I’ll let them know.

  That reminds me, I met this Army Ranger (Bobby Killion) who told me he ran away from home at 16 to get away from his family, who was involved in a radical apocalyptic cult. I don’t usually share my weird-parents stories, but I couldn’t resist telling him that I had the same experience. His folks are sure the world is going to end based on some Nostradamus prediction and mine are sure it’s going to happen with the black moon rising in February 2018. Go figure, right?

  As ironic as it sounds, I guess one of the things soldiers fight for is the right of whackadoodles to spout their crazy shit.

  On that (un)happy note, I’ve got to jet, babe. Give our little man a hug for me.

  XO // Z

  Sunny set the letter down, a feeling of both sadness and regret coursing through her. Zach always had a hard time saying I love you, which was probably why he wrote more than I can say. She pitied his inability to express his feelings, but that was water under the bridge now. He believed what he’d written, but it hadn’t brought him home more often.

  What kind of man keeps going back and back into battle willingly, leaving his wife and children to fend for themselves?

  The answer had not always been crystal-clear to Sunny. It had taken his death to clarify it for her.

  Zach had been a patriot, of that there was no doubt. He’d loved his country. He’d have done anything to protect it.

  She’d come to understand over the years that he was also an adrenaline junkie. She’d read as much as she could about the phenomenon, even discussed it with other military wives who also struggled to understand it, but the fact remained that Sunny and the kids came second in his life. Perhaps his dedication to the SEALs had been the result of overcompensating for his crazy parents. He’d only been fourteen when they joined the group Zach always referred to as a cult, though to hear him tell the family history, they were “off their rockers” long before that.

  She picked up the letter again, reread the third paragraph, and reached for a pencil to jot down more notes. When she finished, she refolded it and held it against her cheek for a moment before she returned it to its original envelope and moved on to the next one.

  A tentative knock sounded on the workroom door. Libby stuck her head into the room. “We’re thinking of McDonald’s or DQ for dinner.” Her eyes dropped to the open box, surveying the stacks of letters on the floor. “Want to come?”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost six.” She stepped into the room. “What are you doing?”

  “Reading the letters Zach wrote to me while he was deployed.”

  “Oh.” She moved closer. “Is that…hard on you?”

  “No.” Sunny shrugged. “I woke up this morning and had this weird urge to read them, so I am.”

  “Have you been at it all day?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you need a break. Come with us and you can pick up where you left off when we come back.”

  Sunny didn’t argue. She was tired and a little melancholy from the hours spent reading Zach’s most personal thoughts. “You’re right. If I don’t get up and move around, I’ll be in the shape of a pretzel forever.”

  . . .

  They ended up going to Dairy Queen because everyone was in the mood for a special ice cream treat for dessert. Angie drove the company van because it had more seating and the kids’ carseats were already inside and hooked up.

  On the way home, Angie kept looking in the rear view mirror.

  Confident that Carson and Maisie, with their earsets on, were engrossed in the cartoon playing on the monitors attached to the seatbacks in front of them, Sunny asked, “Something we need to know?”

  “Not sure. There’s a car behind us that looks exactly like a vehicle that followed us into the DQ lot, parked there while we were eating, and now seems to be behind us again.”

  “Ooh, goody, cloak and dagger,” Libby said dramatically.

  “You should’ve been in pictures,” Sunny teased.

  “One actress in the family is more than enough, thanks,” her sister said.

  “Ain’t that the truth?”

  “I’m going to deviate from the normal route back to your place and see if they follow,” Angie said. “Whatever you do, don’t turn around and look. I’ll keep an eye on them in the rear-view mirror.” She put on her blinker and took the next left, drove five blocks and took a right, then pulled into a convenience market parking lot.

  “Did they pull in?” Sunny asked.

  “No, they drove past the driveway, but pulled off in the gas station next door.” She reached across the console and opened the glove box, withdrawing a small pair of binoculars. “I’m going inside and see if I can get a bead on the license plate. You guys stay here and keep the doors locked.” She shoved the binoculars into her purse and jumped out of the Expedition, leaving the car running so the kids’ cartoons wouldn’t be interrupted.

  A few minutes later, Angie returned to the vehicle with a six-pack of Diet Coke.

  Libby released the door locks so she could climb back inside. “You’re good at subterfuge,” she said with admiration.

  “Thanks. I texted the plate number to Darren. He should be getting back to us soon.

  “You think whoever it is followed us from home?” Sunny asked, not liking the idea of someone watching the house.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t notice the vehicle until we’d been on the road for a while. Any other bright ideas where we can stop on the way back?”

  “How about the Redbox at McDonald’s?” Libby suggested.

  “Good idea,” Sunny said. “You’ll have to backtrack, Angie, but that might give you a better idea of whether or not we’re actually being followed.”

  Angie’s phone pinged, announcing a text just as they pulled into the McDonald’s lot. To keep up the charade, Libby hopped out to select a video.

  Sunny leaned forward in her seat. “Is it from Darren?”

  “Yep. Guess who the car belongs to?”

  “I can’t even.”

  “Sally Squawkbox, as Libby likes to refer to her.”

  “You’re kidding? Why would she be following us?”

  “I guess she really wants a story. She’s not even in a TV station vehicle.”

  “Like she’s going to get it this way! I have half a mind to march over to her car and give her what-for.”

  “No need,” Angie said, grinning. “Darren called Luca, who contacted patrol, who should be here shortly to issue her a ticket for…something.”

  Libby opened the door and climbed back into the vehicle. “I see whoever it is followed us here.”

  “It’s your former classmate, Sally Box,” Sunny told her.

  Libby tossed the DVD onto the console. “I’ll take care of that!’

  Angie grabbed her arm and repeated Darren’s text message. As soon as we see the patrol car, we’ll go. It’s not like we’re up to anything newsworthy, but she sure has her nerve even following us to begin with. This ought to put
a little glue on her tail.”

  Libby laughed. “Angie, you are a girl after Mom’s own heart. She still has to skulk around sometimes to avoid reporters. I’m hooking her up with you for sure.”

  Angie grinned. “I’d love to help the famous Bebe Carson ditch the paparazzi.”

  Minutes later, a patrol car drove through the lot. It stopped directly behind Sally Box’s car, lights flashing. By the time he exited the vehicle, Angie had pulled out of the parking space and made her way to the exit. Sunny caught the eye of Officer Brant Crawford, the cop who had stopped Boyson from beating her to death. He flashed her a grin and a covert thumbs-up when they passed by.

  “I doubt this will stop her for long, but it’ll definitely send her a message,” Angie said, her tone laced with satisfaction.

  Libby watched the action via the side mirror. “You know, Ange, Officer Crawford is one good-looking dude.”

  Angie shot her an amused glance. “FYI, I already noticed that when I was visiting Della at the hospital. One of these days, I might ask Luca to introduce us.”

  Sunny shot Libby a conspiratorial wink.

  “I saw that,” Angie said. “You two mind your own beeswax. I get plenty of interference in my love life from my mom, thanks, and I don’t need any from Bebe Carson’s darling daughters.”

  Sunny and Libby burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny, Mom?” Bebe’s little namesake asked, peeling off his earphones.

  “Yeah, wha’s funny?” Maisie demanded.

  Instead of answering, Sunny restarted their DVD players.

  Chapter 21

  . . .

  Sunny read long into the night and every chance she got the following day.

  Over the course of their two-and-a-half years together, Zach had written a lot of words. None were intimate or even particularly personal, but all were poignant.

  The list of names of those he’d mentioned, from his SEAL buddies, to various commanders, to soldiers he’d met from other branches of the U.S. military, grew with each letter. He named civilians he’d met in Iraq and Afghanistan, too. Everyone had a story, which Zach had retold to her, sometimes with a flourish that was almost poetic, sometimes with barbs, and at other times, with such sadness that it nearly leveled her. Why had she never noticed before how insightful her husband was?

 

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