by Melissa Good
A hand slipped into his, warm and unexpected, and curled around his fingers in a strong grip. “This way,” Ceci murmured as she led him towards the car.
“All right.” Andrew altered his steps to match hers, slowing down and trying to concentrate on just how damn nice holding someone’s hand was.
She unlocked the doors remotely, and hesitantly let go of him before walking around to the driver’s side and getting in. Ceci settled into place and closed the door, then paused and turned her head. She felt like closing her eyes, then opening them, closing, then opening…just to prove to herself this was no dream. He looked back quietly, the lamplight sending glints of reflection off his pale eyes. “I’m…not really sure I can drive.”
154 Melissa Good He looked down, then back up. “Slept in worse places.” The voice was huskier than she remembered, but still held that faint, wry tone. The scars were vivid and cruel, but did nothing to remove the rugged nobility that was as much a part of him as the drawl, and the strength, and the character.
And the eyes hadn’t changed at all. Ceci very gently touched his jaw, running her fingers along the side of his face as he stayed absolutely still, the dark lashes dropping to cover his eyes. Her hand touched the still dark hair, lightly frosted with silver and she tugged, just a tiny bit of it.
“Have to get you a haircut.”
The eyes opened and his soul looked out at her timidly, the fear of rejection so obvious to her it made the tears well up in her eyes yet again.
His jaw tensed and she cupped it, all the things needing to be said piling up and leaving her mute.
Maybe she didn’t need to say them. Maybe he knew like he had always seemed to with her. His body relaxed a bit and he exhaled, warming her arm and sending goose bumps traveling up it. “Want me t’drive?”
Memories long buried stirred. “Have you gotten any better at it?”
Ceci asked, with shy humor.
“Nope,” Andrew admitted.
“I guess I’d better get on with it then.” She took a deep breath, then straightened and started the car, turning on the wiper blades against the newly started rain. The light obligingly turned green as she exited, and she entered the highway, resting her arm on the center console as she watched the road.
After a moment, fingers tangled with hers and the world seemed to float peacefully by, enclosing them in a bubble of timeless wonder.
ANDREW SAT QUIETLY on the couch, only his head swiveling back and forth as he regarded the painfully neat apartment surrounding him.
Kid was right. He let a breath out slowly, running his fingers over the oatmeal colored cloth that covered the sofa. Place looks like a damn hospital, only the chairs aren’t half as nice to sit in.
His eyes lifted to the picture on the wall, whose form and shape he recognized as Ceci’s work, one he’d never seen before. It seemed to add color to the room, but to his knowing gaze, the somber shades and bleak lines painted an entirely different scene.
Well. He wished this part were over. This was the part where they both had to pony up the truth, and maybe go past it, and maybe not.
Andrew stared at the opposing wall. He’d already gotten further than he’d allowed himself to dream of and now…
Now he was in damned uncharted waters, with no damn lifejacket and fins poking up through the whitecaps.
“Here.” Cecilia had come in from the kitchen and now she handed him a mug. “You look like you could use this.” She sat down next to him with her own cup and cradled it in both hands, sipping at its contents in Eye of the Storm 155
silence.
Andrew tasted the liquid. Coffee, double strength with a ton of sugar. He had to pause a bit before he swallowed, to let the tightness in his throat relax. “Nobody ever made this like you.” He looked at her, watching her hands tighten on the cup she held. “Cec—”
“You know,” Cecilia interrupted him softly, “part of me wants to know…what happened. Where you’ve been…”
He lowered his gaze.
“But there’s another part of me that doesn’t. That part of me just wants to sit here and look at you…and touch you...and…” She had to stop and breathe. “And somehow make myself believe you’re here,” her voice cracked, “and it doesn’t have to hurt anymore.”
Somehow, he got his cup and her cup on the table before a drop spilled, then captured her hands.
Still in silence.
What could he say?
Ceci took a moment, then bit her trembling lip. “After they came and told me…” She paused and swallowed. “I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I was breaking apart into a thousand different pieces. Everything I did, everything I saw…” Her eyes closed. “It was like laying my heart on glass shards.” The tears ran her face again and Andrew moved closer, sliding one arm around her for support.
She caught her breath. “I finally realized that the only way I’d survive it is to…” She looked around mutely.
“Ditch the memories?” Andrew supplied.
“No.” She scrubbed away fresh tears. “Just hide them.” She sighed.
“Take away everything I’d known before. Just…lock out that part of me.”
“Even Dar?”
The gray eyes went bleak. “Especially Dar,” Ceci whispered. “Andy.
I’m sorry. I know I was wrong to do that. I know how much it must have hurt.” She cradled her head. “How much it hurt me knowing how you’d feel about me doing that. I knew how you felt about her.” She gasped. “I just didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t…stand the pain…and it was the only w-way.”
Andrew gently pulled her head over and tucked it against his chest, stroking the silver blonde hair in silent grief. “Ceci, I’m sorry,” he finally rasped. “I’da torn my guts out before I’d have done that to you.”
She huddled against him. “Then why did you?” she whispered.
Andrew closed his eyes. “That thing I had to go for wasn’t for what you thought it was. Wasn’t for what everybody knew.” He drew a breath in. “Was a place…had a squad of twenty two men stuck in it. Place I’d been to way back. Team I was with...I was the only one still kicking.”
Ceci lifted her head and looked at him. His face tensed in pain.
“Twenty two of ’em, Ceci,” his voice held a helpless, lost note, “came to me, and I…traded them twenty-two souls for mine.” He stopped for a long moment. “And I did, ’cept they caught on coming out and somebody had to hold ’em.” He blinked and an errant bit of water emerged. “And I 156 Melissa Good thought,” the pitch dropped very low, “there weren’t nothing for me to go back to.”
Cecilia went still.
“So they got me.”
A soft moan.
“And they tried their damndest on me, but a man’s gotta care about somethin’ for you t’do that and I didn’t.” Andy’s whole face twitched. “I cursed ’em for not trying harder.” He paused. “Five and some damn years. ’Bout the only thing kept me half sane was thinking of you.” His voice softened. “Wishin’ things were different,” he whispered. “Hurtin’
that we parted mad.”
Cecilia gave a shuddering gasp. “Andy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” He sighed. “Anyhow, guess I was just too damn stubborn in the end. One day stuff got loud, next thing I knew, I was on a boat headed home.” There was an awkward pause. “They patched me up best they could…set me loose.”
She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “I told you I wouldn’t be there if you came back.”
He nodded silently.
“You believed me.”
Hesitantly, he blinked. “Didn’t have the guts to find out one way or t’other.” He stopped and closed his eyes. “Didn’t want to know if you hadn’t.”
“I was…just trying to get you to stay,” Ceci whispered. “I would have waited my whole life for you.” She buried her face in his sweatshirt.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
Andrew let his chin rest against her soft hair. “Same here.”
They were quiet for a while, as the tension eased and the air cleared.
“Andy?” Cecilia murmured, after a bit.
“Mmm?”
“I’m…very tired…of hurting,” she said slowly. “And I can’t change what happened.”
“No.”
“Can we just start again?” She searched his face intently. “Please?”
His head tilted slightly as he thought, intense blue eyes drinking her in with characteristic seriousness. “I do think I’d like that,” he finally said, lacing his fingers in hers. “Let’s do it.”
So. Ceci felt numb and a little nauseous from the stress, and she had a headache that would fell Picasso at forty paces.
It felt wonderful. But she was totally exhausted and she suspected Andy probably was too. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I stayed up this late,” she murmured, eyeing the clock on the mantel.
Andrew regarded her soberly. “Why doncha g’wan…” He nodded towards the bedroom. “I’ll be fine out here. I…um…” He stopped awkwardly. “Go on.”
Maybe it was best, Ceci reflected. They had time and it would take time to Eye of the Storm 157
readjust to…everything. To each other. Andy was right not to push things.
She didn’t budge.
They eyed each other and suddenly, shy smiles appeared on both their faces. “You know something, Andy?”
“What?”
“Seven years is long enough to sleep alone. Come keep me company.” She squeezed the hand still tangled with hers. “Or I’ll be up and peeking out here all night to see if you’re still around.”
His lips twitched. “All right,” Andy drawled softly. “Hope I don’t move round too much on yer.”
Cecilia stood and very gently pulled at him. “I’m so tired you could do calisthenics and it probably wouldn’t bother me.”
“Not hardly,” he muttered, as he stood, lifted the bag Kerry had gotten him, and followed Ceci into the bedroom. He set the bag down and regarded it. “S’pose that green eyed gal remembered some jammies.” He glanced around at the almost painfully neat room with its austere fabric and crisply made bed.
Ceci tilted her head. “That’s not yours?”
“Didn’t have time to pack.” Andrew unlatched the bag, pulled the zipper open and poked inside curiously. “Lord.” He took out a pair of pale blue pajama shorts with a darker blue pattern.
“What…are…oh.” Ceci muffled a laugh. “They’re seals.” She fingered the fabric, which did, indeed, have little dark blue seals on it.
“Would that be Dar’s friend Kerry?”
He scowled a little. “Yeah. Got some kinda sense of humor, I’ll tell ya that.” He investigated further, finding a small shaving kit and other bathroom articles, a towel, several neatly folded sweatshirts, and two pairs of jeans.
And underwear. Andrew’s eyebrows lifted as he removed a pair of burgundy silk boxers. “Jesus H. Christ.”
Ceci clapped a hand over her mouth, as a burst of hysterical laughter threatened to escape. “Well, she’s got good taste.”
Andrew muttered something under his breath and pulled the pajamas out, then turned towards the bathroom, stopping when a hand touched his arm. “Yeah?”
“Since when are you shy?” Ceci tugged at the sweatshirt.
The low light in the bedroom turned his pale eyes a dim gray. He studied her for a long set of heartbeats. “Lotta marks on me. Aren’t real nice to look at,” he told her honestly.
“And your point would be what, exactly?” Cecilia inquired.
He was silent, then handed her the pajamas and pulled his sweatshirt off, which he folded with automatic precision and tucked it into the side pocked of the bag.
Cecilia bit the inside of her lip, but made no comment, looking with pained eyes at the burn marks and criss crossing scars that covered his chest. A jagged tear ran from the point of one shoulder down to his hip, so recently healed she could see the still visible marks of the suture scars.
158 Melissa Good She handed him the pajama shirt, then ran her fingertips over his ribs.
He put the shirt on without comment, then finished undressing as she did the same, ending up face to face with her in front of the bed. They linked hands and pulled the blankets down together in comfortable silence, then crawled under them.
Ceci lay curled on her side watching the strong profile outlined in the faint light from the window, too tired even to cry anymore. There would be tomorrow for that, and the day after, and the day after. Until her mind readjusted to this wonderful new reality and the feeling of bleak emptiness she’d felt for so long became as distantly remembered as the sense of peaceful joy she now felt had been before tonight.
She closed her eyes, then opened them after a moment, to see him looking back at her. She squeezed his hand and smiled, and even in the dark, saw the movement as he smiled back. Ceci closed her eyes again and left them shut, finding herself in the unfamiliar position of looking forward to the morning.
Chapter
Eighteen
“I DID NOT jinx you.” Kerry brought the bottle of medicine into the living room, lit with the first rosy tint of dawn. “So don’t you blame me.”
She sat down next to the grumpy, miserable figure on the couch, who was cradling her head in her hands. “It’s not like I wanted to see you sick, Dar.”
Dar sighed. “I know.” She swallowed, trying to tame a rebellious stomach that had kept her up all night, in bouts of nauseous spasms.
“God, I hate being sick.”
“Well, I don’t think many people enjoy it.” Kerry poured a spoonful of the medication and held it up. “C’mon.”
Dar gave her a pathetic look, then winced and accepted the offering, swallowing it with a grimace. “Jesus.”
Kerry pushed the dark, disheveled hair out of her lover’s eyes, then felt her forehead. “I don’t think you have a fever. It’s probably just a bug.” She’d woken to find Dar huddled miserably in the bathroom and tried to find a way to make the poor thing more comfortable. “You’re definitely staying home today.”
“C’mon. You know I can’t do that,” Dar muttered.
“Dar! You most certainly can,” Kerry protested. “Don’t be goofy.
You are not in any condition to go to work so just get over it.” She rubbed the terrycloth covered back. “Curl up here with Chino, and watch cartoons, okay?”
Dar briefly considered ignoring the suggestion, then held her breath as another spasm hit her. Well, I could always go in and throw up all over Ankow. That might be satisfying, at least for the moment, but she knew Kerry was right. “You’ll have to sit in on the Marketing meeting for me.”
“Ew.” Kerry made a face. “Can I call in sick too? I’d rather hang out here and watch Space Ghost and take care of you.”
Dar looked at her.
Kerry sighed. “Okay, okay. It was just an idea.”
“I appreciate the thought.” The blue eyes flicked to her face and a bit of a grin appeared for a second. “Don’t stay too late, huh?”
That was better. Kerry smiled. “I’ll see if I can get out of there after the meeting. I don’t have anything scheduled for later on.” She stood up and tugged her jacket straight, then she walked into the bedroom and pulled 160 Melissa Good open a drawer. She removed a soft, fluffy blue blanket and brought it back with her. “Here,” she tucked the blanket around her sick friend,
“keep the phone by you, okay?”
Dar exhaled, then gave up and curled up on the couch on her side, bringing her knees up to ease the cramping in her guts. “Okay.” She glanced up to see Kerry gazing at her, the torn emotions very evident.
“What?”
Kerry scowled unhappily. “I think I hate you being sick more than you do,” she muttered. “I feel like such a turd for leaving you here.”
The cool leather felt good against her skin, as Dar rested
her head on the couch arm. “It’s all right.” She felt absurdly contented with the reaction. “Go on. You’re going to hit traffic.”
“Mmph.” The blonde woman still wasn’t pleased. “Chino, you take care of mommy Dar, okay?” The puppy was curled up at Dar’s feet, her pale head resting on one bare foot, and she blinked at Kerry’s words.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Sure,” Dar agreed, biting the inside of her lip.
Reluctantly, Kerry retrieved her keys and briefcase and left, not without several aggravated backwards glances. She locked the door and headed down the steps, surprised at how much she had to force herself not to turn right around and go back. “Jesus, Kerry. Would you chill out?
She’s just got a stomach virus. Calm your butt down already.”
She got into the Mustang and started it, then leaned on the steering wheel and gazed at the condo. Long fingers drummed on the wheel, then she sighed, and put the car into gear and backed out of her parking spot, starting towards the ferry as she punched a number into her cell phone.
“Good Morning, Dar Roberts’ Office.”
“Morning, María.” Kerry smiled, as she realized she’d unconsciously modeled her tone after Dar’s.
“Aye. Buenos días, Kerrisita. How are you?”
“Well,” Kerry glanced in the rearview mirror, “I’m fine but Dar’s not going to make it in today.”
María’s voice took on a concerned tone immediately. “What is wrong? She is not feeling well?”
“No, some kind of stomach bug.” Kerry sighed. “She was up all night sick. Anyway, I’ve got to sit in a meeting for her this afternoon.
Could you call Eleanor’s admin and sniff out the chances of moving the meeting to this morning?” She knew María would have a better chance at that then her newly commissioned Mayte.
“Sí, sí.” María wrote something. “I will do that. Is there anything that Dar needs?”