“Hey, that's not my fault!” Andrea protests, her hands on her hips, and her face indignant. “Besides, I know you too well, Katrina. You get it as often as I do.”
“Girls?” I ask, and both of them turn to me, both blushing when they realize I overheard them. “Can’t you two settle this without all the yelling?”
“You’re right. If this continues much longer, we're either going to be flipping a coin or having a fist fight over this,” Andrea says, Katrina nodding.
I turn to go away, leaving my sisters behind in the hallway as I round the corner and find the toilet, where I do my morning business and brush my teeth. I'm an evening shower person anyway, so I'm not worried about fighting for it, too. After breakfast I force myself to leave the main building, interested in the chapel that's about fifty yards from the main building. I walk over, opening the door to find a large octangular main room with nothing but dust and some spider webs on the inside. At the front is a large altar table that looks like it's been carved out of a single gigantic piece of stone.
“Wow,” I say, looking around. I walk closer to the altar, my excitement growing when I see the stone it's made of. It's the green-flecked granite I'd read about before, pegmatite I think it's called, with the green being... yes, they're emerald crystals, too small for gem usage, but beautiful, they look so much like Nathan's eyes. I kneel down, running my hands around the stone, shocked. The altar is huge, easily seven feet wide, about waist high and maybe three feet deep, and nearly solid stone, with only a small bit of decoration carved in the front.
“I saw the door open,” Carson says from the door and I turn, looking up. “What'd you find?”
“It's beautiful stone,” I say, standing up. “Seriously, this is beautiful granite.”
“Maybe you can do something with it?” Carson asks, and I shake my head. “Why not?”
“I'm not settled enough yet. I'm not in the right place mentally. This isn't some chunk of wood I could whittle away and just replace with another log if I screw up. This rock... there isn't a lot of it around, not of this quality. I wonder how they even got this in here?”
“Most likely with a forklift, or before the building was even finished,” Carson muses, coming closer and looking around. “Wow, big space. You think Nathan would mind if we used this for a workout area?”
“What, is chopping wood not enough?” I ask with a smile, and Carson chuckles.
“Long walks in the woods, chopping wood, all that is nice, but we're all pretty young, and I think Katrina and Jackson are feeling very serious about wanting to keep their martial arts skills up. Why else would they buy that padding that's still in the back of the truck?”
“Good point.”
Later on, I watch Carson, Jackson, Nathan and Katrina all take turns with the ax, chopping down a dead tree on the edge of the cleared out area. After the twenty foot tree comes down, Andrea and I go for a walk through the woods, gathering fallen branches and other wood to help.
“Didn't want to swing an ax?” Andrea asks me as we walk. When I shake my head, she chuckles. “Me either.”
I pick up a branch that's too long for the bag we have and swing it like a baseball bat against a nearby tree, breaking it in half and picking up both pieces. “Well, you are pregnant.”
Andrea stops and rubs at her belly, smiling gently. “Yeah, I guess I am. Seems strange to think about it. I mean, other than a missed period I haven't really felt any major symptoms. Only real difference is that I'm taking a multivitamin each morning with breakfast. And I know with you and Katrina around, I'll have plenty of support watching over me.”
“I hope I can be helpful,” I tell her sincerely, and Andrea smiles.
“Being you, you already help me. Now, let's find some stuff to prove to the studs and studette in our family that we can help out, too. Because I know Jackson still thinks I can't cook.”
“Well, let's be honest... he is a better cook than you.”
Andrea gives me a glower and then a laugh. “Don't make me be a wiseass with you.”
As we keep walking, finding sticks and putting them in our bag, I look around. “It is really beautiful out here.”
“It is.”
“But I had another anxiety attack last night. Don't worry, Nathan helped me.”
Andrea nods, taking it in stride. “I'm glad.”
“And the stuff you showed me back at the farm.” Andrea bends down and picks up a stick, putting it in the bag, before grabbing a few green pinecones and putting them in as well. “Oh, don't burn those, I heard they're dangerous and can pop.”
“Not for the fire, just the scent. I like the scent of fresh pine,” Andrea explains, then nods. “I'm glad they helped. Although you know what might help even more?”
“What?”
Andrea laughs and blushes slightly. “My old vibrator. Too bad I don't have it anymore. Haven't needed it in a while.”
I gawk for a second, then chuckle. She's not joking, she's just being honest, and I appreciate it. Maybe I can make a little bit of banter, try and fit in with the rest of the family. “No wonder Katrina calls you a slut sometimes.”
Andrea, instead of being angry, smiles and shrugs. “We both are. With the men we have, it's hard not to be.”
The hallway is golden-orange because of the way the afternoon light filters through the old glass in the window at the end of the hallway. It's really old, like a hundred years I think, and its got an orange tint all the time, especially in the afternoons when I get home from my piano lesson. I'm a big girl now, second grade, and after Daddy died, Mom insisted I keep up my lessons, even though I feel so sad when I'm not at home.
School was both good and yucky today, Petey James teased me about Daddy's dying, and something about how he heard I was what he called a 'little ijit'. I don't know what a little ijit means, but from the way he said it, he really hurt my feels. Car-Car can't help me either, he's only two. Besides, he's with the kitchen staff right now, eating his afternoon snack before Sesame Street starts. Car-Car loves Bert and Ernie, and I really like watching with him. I know he's not my real brother, but I love being with him anyway, and he's like a real little brother to me.
I'm looking for Mom, I want to ask her what Petey James meant when he said I was a little ijit, and usually if she's not in the kitchen or in the TV room right now, she's in her bedroom. Also, today wasn't all bad, I want to show her the worksheet I did and the card I made. Maybe it'll cheer her up. She’s sleeping a lot recently, and so she's in bed a lot. I guess she's sick, but I hope she gets better soon. With Daddy gone, I miss Mom around a lot.
I open her door and step inside, a smile on my face at first. I see Mom sitting on her bed, and in her elbow is a needle, just like the one that I see the doctors on TV use. “Mom?”
Her thumb pushes in the top of the needle even as she looks up, her eyes going wide. “Mellie?”
“Mom, what are you doing?” I ask, but before she can answer, she starts shaking, falling down on the bed, the needle falling out of her arm. “Mom? Mom! MAMA!”
“I'm sorry Mellie,” Mom says, her eyes fluttering like a butterfly's wing before they shut. I shake her, but she won't respond, and then the kitchen staff is there, and there's hands on my shoulders, pulling me away from her...
I sit up, the scream barely held behind my lips, my blanket wrapped around my shoulders and choking me a little bit. I tear at it, trying to not scream, I scream too much, I can't let everyone know how weak and pathetic I am. I can't let Nathan see how bad I am, how broken and babyish I am. It’s been so long and I still can’t get over it. Finally my blanket lets go of me and I'm sitting in a strange bed, sweatpants and a heavy sweatshirt on instead of the t-shirt I normally wear for bed. Why? Why am I wearing these clothes?
I get out of the strange bed, wandering into the strange hallway, strange building. All this strangeness, I can't be safe. I can't be safe, I need to get out. Where's Mr. Trumbull? I need to get outside, maybe outside I can see something t
hat'll help me feel safe. The moon, maybe the moon will be there. The moon's the same everywhere, maybe the moon can help me.
I stumble down the hall to the big double wooden doors, just barely lit by the fire in a big fireplace. I push them open and go out into the cold, but why is it cold? Where am I? What's going on?
“Melissa? 'Lissa, what are you doing out here?” someone asks, and I turn, recognizing the voice. Slowly it comes to me... Nathan. Nathan's found me, but why am I standing in the big central area of the compound in nothing but my socks? My feet are freezing me, what happened?
“N... Nathan...” I stutter, then I'm crying, realization washing over me in a black wave that crushes me underneath its weight. Not only did I have another nightmare, not only did I go wandering around like an idiot, something I haven't done in years, but worst of all, Nathan's the person to find me. “Oh Nathan, I'm so sorry!”
“Shh... 'Lissa, it's okay,” Nathan says quietly, pulling me in close. He notices that I'm not wearing any shoes and literally picks me up, his strong arms holding me tight to his body as he carries me inside and pulls the doors shut behind us with his shoe. Carrying me over to the big couch, he sets me down, never letting go of me. “You scared me, that's all. I got up to use the toilet, and I felt the draft. I looked outside, and there you were, wandering the front area in a big circle, pulling at your hair and making this whining sound. It scared me, but it’s okay now.”
“It's not okay, it's never okay,” I sob, and Nathan holds me, comforting me, but I can't feel any comfort. “How am I ever... how can I?”
“How can you what?” he asks softly, letting go of my shoulders and scooting back, not letting go of my hands. “Because from where I am sitting, you can do anything you want to do.”
There's something in his eyes, I just go for it. “Even love?”
“Even that,” Nathan says, smiling. “You can always love. You are one of the most loving people I know. You love Andrea, Carson, Katrina, Jackson and BA with a perfect, pure love that is beautiful to watch.”
“But,” I say, then take a deep breath. “Nathan, what about you?”
Nathan goes very still, and I see confusion in his eyes, so I try again. “Nathan, what about you? I... I think I’m in love with you, I guess is how I'm supposed to say it. I've never been in love before, so I don't know if I'm right or not, but...”
“Melissa,” Nathan says quietly, his eyes glimmering in the soft firelight. “How could you love someone like me?”
“Because of who you are,” I whisper, looking down. “I know I'm just a stupid idiot who doesn't really know what love is.”
“You don’t know what love is?” Nathan asks, stupefied. “If anyone in the world knows what real love is, it’s you. I have seen it for the past four months every day. I see it in every smile, every time you pull yourself out of your nightmares and you still put on a brave face the next day. I see it in the way you opened up yourself to Andrea. But most of all, I see it in the way your hands paint, and the way you made that sculpture. And...”
His voice drops off, and I raise my head to look at Nathan to see him looking down at our hands. “And what?”
Nathan swallows, and looks into my eyes, his own gaze full of what I recognize now. He does love me, but he's also in pain. “And I don’t know how you could love someone like me. I'm a killer, 'Lissa. I have so much blood on my hands, and I’m a terrible, terrible man. I don't even deserve your friendship, and for sure not your trust, let alone your love.”
“But I do love you, Nathan. I know I don't understand it totally, but I love you. Maybe you were a killer, but I don't care.”
Nathan blinks, looking down, and nods. “And that’s why... that’s why I love you, too. But that’s why I can’t do anything about it. Because you might not care, but I have to. I have to remember that I have killed everything that has ever been good to me, that has loved me. I have to remember I am a terrible man. And I have to remember that I can never let my evil pollute the purest, most beautiful thing I have ever known. You.”
Nathan lets go of my hands and stands up. “I’m sorry, 'Lissa. I am flattered... no, I’m honored. And maybe I’m the first person you have ever fallen in love with, I don't know. I do know I fell for you all the way back in October, but that I can’t hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Nathan walks toward the line of bedrooms, pausing just before he leaves the light of the fire. “Would you like me to wake up Carson or Andrea?”
“No... I'll be all right. I just... I wish that you could stay with me.”
Nathan nods, and turns around. “Me too. Goodnight, Melissa.”
He leaves the room, disappearing into the darkness, and I watch the blackness for a full minute. Depression threatens to sweep over me again, but just before it can, I feel a golden thread, a precious jewel inside, like Pandora having Hope still in her box after she closed the lid.
He said he loves me, too. Maybe it's not what the storybooks say, maybe it's not what I was hoping for, but Nathan did say he loves me. I can hang onto that at least.
Chapter 9
Nathan
The next morning, I wake up early and head out. I feel terrible about what I said to Melissa last night, and I can't face the looks from everyone else this early. Instead, I grab an early breakfast and leave a note behind. Need some stuff from the hardware store. I'll be back ASAP.
I know it's a flimsy excuse, but with the nearest town to where we are being the suburb of Asheville called Swannanoa, I can at least get some time to clear my head. Besides, I can get some more gas cans for the generator, I know Katrina at least will appreciate the extra electricity. And maybe I can buy a DVD for everyone to entertain themselves, and then I can...
What the hell am I thinking? I'm being a damn fool is what I'm being, and I'm running like a scared rabbit. Still, I take Carson's truck and drive slowly down the hill to the logging road that connects my property to the Blue Ridge Parkway. From there I can drive down to Swannanoa, maybe not the most direct route but it’s the easiest.
I get to Swannanoa just after eight, still a little while before most of the stores open, and head to the CVS first, since they open early. I kill about twenty minutes looking through the movies they have for sale, most of which I would never buy. Put it this way, if I have the choice of life on a desert island with one of these movies to watch or staring at the seagulls, I'll probably choose the seagulls.
While I'm wondering if I can get through a Mack Bolan novel without going into hysterical fits of laughter, my cell phone buzzes. I'm surprised, I forgot I even had it in my jacket pocket, but it's a habit, I guess. I take it out and look, intrigued when I see I got an e-mail.
I tap my inbox, my fingers trembling when I see who the message is from. Isis Bardot. My finger hovers over the e-mail, wanting to open it, when I remember who and what Isis is.
“I'm sorry Colonel, but I'm turning down the Army's offer.”
Colonel Christman looks somber, but nods in understanding. “I see, Sergeant Black. I heard your recent mission to Kurdistan had some... difficult circumstances.”
I nod. I'm not even in the United States, I'm in Vincenza, Italy at Caserma Ederle, or Camp Ederle as some of the soldiers who can't really even choke out basic Italian call it. Technically the Special Forces doesn't have any units in the area, but as the headquarters of the Army's African Command, and the home of a detachment from the 82nd Airborne, it’s a good base for us to work out of.
“Very difficult, sir.”
Colonel Christman sighs and sits back. I've worked with him in the Green Berets for a while now. “Sergeant Black... Nathan, you're a good troop. You've been in the Berets since you were what, an E-4?”
“E-3. Why are you asking, sir?”
“I'm just curious... what are you going to do now? No offense Nathan, you're good, but you've got an MOS that doesn't exactly lend itself to the civilian world. You don't have a college degree, so you can't get in with one of the ROTC batts. And let's face i
t, our skill and trade isn't one that really works in the regular world,” the Colonel says, scratching behind his ear.
“Doesn't really matter, sir. I've still got my GI Bill, and I've been smart with my money. I've got a nest egg.”
“Nest egg,” Christman repeats, signing and tapping the paper on his desk, my form that says I'm not going to re-enlist. “If you say so, Nathan. I can't force you obviously. I'm just going to give you a warning. You're going to find yourself very appealing to certain groups. A lot of the Berets who leave the service end up working for these groups.”
“You mean mercenary work.”
Christman nods, cutting the bullshit. “They prefer the term private military contractor nowadays, but yeah. I won't stop you. You've got a lot of anger, and I think you probably want to get your measure of revenge. Just... make sure the people you're working for don't end up getting you targeted by our own. Mercs might be strong, but you don't want the CIA after your ass, okay?”
The threat is clear, if unspoken. If I side with the wrong mercs, the CIA might be the ones spearheading the op, but I'd be taken down by Special Forces themselves. We clean up our own messes. “Understood, sir. Is that all?”
“Pretty much. I'm reassigning you to my staff here until you actually clear post, you can discharge here or back at Campbell, whichever you prefer.”
I think, then I shrug. “Might as well catch a free ride back to the States, sir. I'll come by and talk with the S-1 tomorrow, put in for my terminal leave. Where are you going to have me, by the way?”
“Actually, my personal staff. For the next couple of weeks, until your orders come down from SOCOM, you're my driver. Now, since I happen to enjoy riding my bike to work, and my office is in the same building as the base, you can see how busy your work's going to be. Check in each morning with me at 0900, and if I've got anything, I'll tell you. If not... well, just try to make sure you stay out of the bars until after 1700, got it?”
Secrets & Lies Page 51