Promises to Keep

by Kathryn Shay

  “No.”

  “I’ve been thinking, I might teach now.”

  She rolled her eyes as she fussed with his food, but she admitted to herself the kids would love him.

  “I’m great in bed.”

  Her actions stilled. She swallowed hard. “I don’t care.”

  Again, he grabbed her wrist when she started to walk away. “The hell you don’t. Why can’t you just admit that you’re glad I’m not a high school student?”

  “Stop it!” she yelled, appalled by how close to tears she was. “This is just a game to you. Well, it wasn’t to me. It isn’t.” She yanked on her hand. He let go, and she drew back. “Don’t flirt with me. Don’t call me honey. Don’t try to charm me into your bed. You hurt me, and I’m still reeling from it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “If you are, then stop all this.” She made a motion with her arm to encompass the room.

  He watched her assessingly; suddenly she realized this was no boy she could control. No ordinary male she could snap her fingers at and make him do what she wanted. The sheet slipped, and she saw the glint of steel in the morning sunlight. This was a dark and dangerous man who could, maybe had, killed.

  His voice was deadly calm when he said, “I don’t know exactly where this thing between us is headed, given my job, my lifestyle. But if you think for one second I’m letting you go without finding out, you’re crazy.”

  She stared at him, then turned and hurried out the door.

  She had never been more scared in her life.

  And it wasn’t because of Rush Webster.

  o0o

  Later that morning, Suzanna and Joe walked down a deserted hallway at Fairholm High School. Vacations at school were always a breath of fresh air; though she went in to work almost every day, she was glad for time without the kids to catch up on a thousand things to be done. “You don’t have to escort me to my office, Joe. Both Pat and Nancy are coming in.”

  “Are they here yet?” he asked casually.

  “No, it’s still early.”

  “Hmm.” At the door, he asked for her keys, unlocked her office, and scoped it out. She stood back, acknowledging that her life was never going to be the same. Danger and intrigue were a part of it. So was this man. Her feelings for him had deepened in the last few days. From making love, of course. But also from his tenderness with her, his concern for Ben, and the way he treated Kelsey and Luke.

  She sighed.

  “What was that for?” he asked, opening the inner office door.

  “I was just wondering how Kelsey and Luke are doing.”

  “Think they’ll be in one piece when we get back?”

  “I hope so. She’s really upset.” He flicked on the lights. “I—” She stopped in the doorway. “Oh!”

  On the credenza were the most delicate peach roses she’d ever seen. At least two dozen of them were arranged in a vase, standing upright as the sun from the window glinted off them. Their sweet scent filled the office. She turned to Joe. He’d closed the door and, leaning against it, stared at her with a fiery green gaze that melted her insides like candle wax. “That first time, you wore a robe this color.”

  Her eyes clouded. Her heart hurt.

  “Sweetheart, what’s the matter? Flowers aren’t supposed to make you cry.”

  “Thank you; they’re lovely.”

  Frowning, he pushed away from the door, drew her to him, and kissed her hair. “Why the tears?” he asked after a moment.

  “We...this is almost over, isn’t it, the undercover work?”

  He nodded.

  “I...” She swiped at the tears. “I’m going to miss you.”

  A look of profound sadness swept across his features. He brushed back her hair. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  Which meant he was leaving. She knew it, of course. But sometimes, when she lay in his arms, when her skin still burned from his touch and his male scent filled her head, she hoped he’d find a way for them to be together. “This is foolish. I knew the score when I...”

  “Seduced me?”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “Did I seduce you, Dr. Stonehouse?”

  “Hmm. And it was magnificent.” He pulled back. “I’d better go. I’ll be right across the hall if you need me.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Bring me coffee when you’re done with the Duchamps.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You and Luke are cut from the same cloth,” she said, thinking of Kelsey’s complaints this morning.

  He kissed her nose. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  After he left, she wandered over to the roses. She wondered how he got them into her locked office. Stupid question—he was Secret Service. She fingered one, brought it to her nose. She remembered the robe she’d worn that afternoon, and how he’d taken it off her... Arrgh. Think of something else. She went to her desk, picked up the phone, and dialed Brenda at work, only to be told her friend was home ill. When she tried the condo, she got the machine and left a message.

  Suzanna worried about Brenda as she hung up. Lately, her friend seemed unusually interested in Kelsey and Luke, and in Suzanna’s state of mind. Brenda was normally solicitous, but there was something about her latest inquiries that didn’t seem right.

  Hearing the outer door open, Suzanna glanced at the clock. It was early for the Duchamps. “Pat?” she called from her office. No answer. “Nancy?” Still none.

  Spooked, she was just getting up when Max appeared in the doorway. He looked like a Skid Row bum again today. His face was gaunt, his hair greasy. His army fatigues were wrinkled enough to have been slept in. “Max, are you all right? Come on in...”

  “I’m not staying.”

  “We have an appointment at nine with your dad.”

  “My dad ain’t coming.”

  “Why?” Though she’d called and asked both Max and his father for an appointment to discuss the Young Guns issue, she planned to get at more about Max if she could pin down the colonel.

  The boy’s shoulders sagged. He sank against the wall. She rose and came around her desk. Again she could smell the cigarettes. With motherly authority, she drew him to the furniture grouping and pulled him into a chair next to her. “What’s wrong, Max?”

  “Nothing,” he said wearily. “My dad got called out of town. I think his all-important fiancée went with him.”

  Suzanna knew about the surprise engagement from Luke. One of the risk factors in Joe’s studies cited big changes in a kid’s life. “He’s getting married?” she asked carefully.

  Max nodded.

  “Are you upset about it?”

  “I don’t care what the fu—hell he does.”

  “I think you do.”

  Max leaned back and closed his eyes. Suddenly he seemed like a little boy. “It doesn’t matter. I decided to sign on with the army. I’ll be leaving in a few months. She can have him.” The boy opened his eyes and scanned the room; his gaze landed on the roses. “Those are cool.” He thought for a minute. “Your husband died, didn’t he?”

  “Five years ago.”

  “You never found nobody else?”

  She thought of Joe. “No.” She waited. “How long has your mother been dead?”

  “Ten years.”

  “It’s hard with one parent. Harder still when someone else enters the equation.”

  “He needs more, he says.”

  The stupid jerk. How could you tell a kid that? “He didn’t mean you weren’t enough.”

  “Yeah, sure.” The boy sank further into the chair.

  “You eaten anything lately, Max?”

  He studied her with hollow eyes. “Yesterday sometime, I think.”

  She rose. Before he could object, she circled the desk and removed her purse from the drawer. “Come on, Maxwell. I’m taking you out to breakfast.”

  She’d never seen such shock on a kid’s face. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, because I’m hungry, maybe.”

  “Don’t bullsh..
.give me any bull, lady.”

  She cocked her head. “I’d like to get to know you better. And the mother in me doesn’t like how you look.”

  Scowling, he watched her. “They say you’re like this.”

  “Who says?”

  “The other kids. They say you take an interest in everybody.”

  At one time she’d wondered if being an educator these days was worth it. She smiled. “Why, Max, that’s one of the nicest things ever said about me.”

  He stood. “Can we, um, go someplace nobody’d see us?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, there’s a little diner just outside of town. Your reputation will be intact.”

  o0o

  “Hi, Ruthie. This is a nice surprise.” Waiting in his office for Ben, Joe was having trouble concentrating on work when his cell phone rang.

  “Can you talk?” his sister asked. She was used to catching him when he couldn’t.

  “I’m expecting somebody in about ten minutes. Until then.”

  “How are you?”

  Satisfied. Happy. More content than I’ve ever been in my life. “Good.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What does that mean?” He tapped his pen on the desk.

  His sister hesitated. “Suzanna still in the picture?”

  “Ruthie, don’t go there.”

  “You were different with her, is all.”

  Oh, Christ, you don’t know the half of it.

  “Joey, is there any chance a relationship with her could work out for you?”

  Pushing back his chair, he lifted his feet to the desk, lounged back. “No. When I leave here, I’m required to cut off all contact.” He sighed. “Even if I wasn’t, you know the stats on Secret Service agents. Most relationships don’t last two years. My marriage only lasted four.”

  “Would you, if you could?”

  “Be with her, you mean?” He pictured Suzanna under him, on top of him, between his legs, loving him. “In a second. But there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening.” The words broke his heart. He tried to harden it. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  She chatted about her church activities, about Mark’s website, Shelly’s new interest in field hockey. He laughed, picturing his vibrant, alive niece and nephew. Then Ruthie said, “Something odd happened, though.”

  Joe stiffened. Because of Josie’s death, he was acutely sensitive about his family. “Odd?”

  “Yeah, I met Al for lunch last week at the diner where Suzanna took us. The waitress there had found a picture of Josie in a booth.”

  Swallowing hard, Joe remembered the pixie face and eyes full of life. Juxtaposed was the memory of her, waxen and lifeless, in the coffin.

  “Joe?”

  “I wonder what the picture was doing there,” he managed to say.

  “I’m sorry,” Ruthie said. “It upsets you to talk about her.”

  “No.”

  “You told Suzanna about her.”

  “I did.” He forced himself to relax. “Was the photo Josie’s senior picture? Maybe a kid had one in his wallet and it fell out when he went to pay.”

  “No, the pic came from the Internet, downloaded off of a New York Times site. It was from when she was killed.”

  This did not sound good. Joe felt the slippery edges of worry crowd him.

  “I don’t know what to make of this.” Ruthie’s tone was casual, but inflected with concern.

  “Let me think about it.”

  Ben came to the door.

  Joe dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straight. “My appointment’s here. I gotta go. I’ll call you tonight.”

  “You don’t have to call me. I’m fine, big brother.”

  “Talk to you soon.” He clicked off his phone.

  “I can wait,” Ben said hopefully. Joe recognized that he didn’t want to talk. Still, he’d come.

  “Why would you do that?”

  He nodded to the phone. “You were busy.”

  “My sister.”

  Ben’s brooding eyes lightened. “Yeah? You got a sister?”

  “Uh-huh. We’re close.” He nodded to a chair. “Sit down, Ben.”

  The boy dropped into a seat.

  Joe asked, “You get along well with...what’s your sister’s name?”

  “Ashley. Yeah, she’s okay. She’s at college.”

  “You miss her?”

  He nodded. Didn’t say anything more, just stared bleakly at his black sneakers with red dragons on them. He wore shiny black pants and a black long-sleeved shirt with matching red dragons. With his hair still dyed the color of midnight, the kid did a good imitation of a vampire.

  Joe stood to close the door then sat down. “You’ve had a lot of loss in the last few years. Your dad. Ashley going to college.” He waited a bit. “Zach Riley.”

  Again the silent nod, indicative of a thousand sighs.

  “It’s hard to cope with loss, isn’t it, Ben?”

  “Yeah.”

  A word. Good. “Want to tell me what you feel inside?”

  Studying the floor, he shook his head.

  “Why?”

  “I’m afraid if it comes out, it’ll eat me alive.”

  Joe had felt the same way about Josie. He’d kept it in for too long. “That’s not good. It’ll eat you from the inside out instead.”

  “I want to be in control.”

  “We all want that. But we can’t control death.” Or kids’ obscene actions that bring it about. Josie had been so full of life. “You need to talk about your feelings.”

  “I know. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  “Then tell me as much as you can.”

  An hour later, Ben leaned back in his chair, exhausted. “I’m whipped. I can’t do more right now.”

  “That’s okay, you’ve done enough for today.”

  “I don’t feel any better.”

  “Talking about bad things can make the situation worse, initially. I’ll bet you’ll feel better tonight.”

  “I hope so. Mom’s pretty freaked.”

  “She had to be told about this depression. It’s my job as a counselor to keep her informed of something so important.”

  “I know.” He nodded to the outer office. “She drove me here. She’s outside, waiting.”

  Joe smiled. That kind of support for a kid was vital. “I’m glad you have her.”

  “Me, too.” He stood. Scowled. “I been trying to call Luke, but nobody answers.”

  “Oh, he went to see his mom for a few days.” That was the story they’d decided on. When the kids saw his battered face, Luke would say he’d been in a fight at home. “I’ll have him call you when he gets back.”

  After Joe spoke with Mrs. Franzi, an outgoing, concerned mother, he was feeling hopeful. He glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty. He decided to go find his girl. He made his way to Suzanna’s office. Inside, he saw Nancy and Pat hard at work. “The boss in?” he asked lightly.

  Pat scowled. Her matronly shape and graying hair made her look like everybody’s mother. “No, she isn’t. Her calendar says she has a meeting with the Duchamps, but she didn’t show for it. Neither did they.”

  His insides went cold. “I saw her early this morning.”

  “Her purse is gone.” Pat shrugged. “I checked. I’m sort of a mother hen.”

  “Tell her to give me a buzz when she gets in.” His tone was nonchalant, but concern clawed inside of him. He strode back to his office and called Luke. Kelsey answered, said Luke was asleep, and no, Suzanna hadn’t come home or called.

  By eleven, Joe was pacing his office. He checked with her secretary twice more, and still she hadn’t shown up. He didn’t know what to do. Had someone visited this morning after he left her? Had she gone out and...

  He paced. By eleven-thirty he was ready to spit nails.

  She came strolling into his office ten minutes later, when he’d just begun to pray.

  “Hi.” She was smiling. Excitement danced in her amber eyes.

>   His hands were shaking, so he stuffed them in his pockets. “Close the door.”

  “Why? None of the counselors are working today.”

  “Suzanna, close the door.” He emphasized each word. His tone, deadly calm, was one he’d used on drug dealers and porno kings. She must have caught its seriousness.

  Wide-eyed, she closed the door then leaned against it.

  “Where were you?”

  “Max came in this morning. His dad copped out on the meeting, so I took him to breakfast.”

  Joe tried counting to ten. Twenty. “Breakfast. You had breakfast with one of America’s Most Wanted?”

  “That’s an exaggeration.” She grinned. “Joe, it was such a breakthrough. I got him to talk. He even told me...”

  Joe missed the rest of the sentence. He was trying desperately to get control of the fear that had gripped him as he pictured her alone on the road with a dangerous boy in her car.

  “Joe, is something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” His temper spiked. “Wrong?” His hands fisted in his pockets so he wouldn’t grab her. “Have you no common sense? Going out alone with Duchamp?”

  She frowned. “I have common sense. I did what I thought was right for a student today.”

  “And what about your safety? How can you be so idiotic as not to consider that he could have hurt you?” he asked tightly.

  “Look, Joe, I can see you’re upset, but you don’t have the right to talk to me this way.”

  He swallowed hard. “Oh, I have the right. I was worried about you.” His voice rose a notch. “I love you, damn it.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He swung around, unable to face her.

  At that moment, Suzanna’s entire world shifted. Everything changed, everything was altered forever. For a long time she just stared at Joe’s back, their labored breathing loud in the small space. Then she crossed the office and sidled around to face him. “Joe,” she whispered.

  His shoulders sagged. His hands came up to cradle her cheeks; he leaned over, and his forehead met hers. She grasped his wrists and held onto them while he calmed. His body eclipsed the light, his presence dwarfed her. But she had never felt more powerful.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he whispered raggedly.

  Words like that couldn’t be taken back. “Did you mean it?”