A Matter of Circumstance

by Heather Graham

  A shadow suddenly fell across her work. Instinctively she looked up.

  She was so surprised that the breath was swept cleanly from her.

  Sean was standing there, in a standard three-piece suit. Tall and dark and handsome, a stray lock of hair falling over his forehead, his eyes as green as the spring fields. He stood there silently, then smiled slowly.

  “Hello, Mandy.”

  She eased back at last, just staring for several moments. She lowered her head, thinking that this wasn’t exactly how she had wanted to see him. She was in overalls and a dusty lab coat, and half the dirt that had been on the bones was smudging her face.

  She shook her head, frowning, before she managed to speak. “What—what are you doing here?”

  “I have a paper that needs your signature.”

  She frowned again. She’d heard from the FBI sporadically throughout the week, and no one had mentioned anything that required her signature.

  “You’re here on business?”

  He hesitated a second too long. “Yes.”

  She smiled, looking back to the bones, delighted to see him, but wishing she’d had just a little more time.

  He reached into his coat pocket for an envelope, then crouched down across from her. “This is it. You said you wanted to testify for Señora Garcia. This is a document compiled from your conversations with the FBI and the Miami PD. I need to get it back to the D.A.’s office. They’ve set a trial date for late September.”

  “Oh,” Mandy murmured.

  She read the document over. It had been accurately compiled and said exactly what she thought. She started to scrawl her name on it. “Is Señora Garcia in jail?”

  “No. She’s out on bond.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “Julio’s father is out, too. Peter had been pulling strings for him.”

  “What about Julio?”

  Sean shook his head. “He’s in jail. It’s probably for the best. He’ll definitely get time, and this will count toward it.”

  Mandy nodded. “Roberto?” she asked.

  Sean’s mouth twitched grimly. “I don’t know what the courts will decide. But he’s been connected to everything—drugs, robberies, murder. If they manage the case correctly, he’ll end up with a dozen life sentences.”

  She lowered her head, shivering a bit. She still couldn’t help but feel that Roberto deserved whatever he got.

  “I, uh, got a telegram from Peter.”

  She raised her head quickly, frowning. “You did? Why?”

  He smiled and reached into his pocket again, then passed her the paper. There were only two words on it, other than the address and the signature: MARRY HER.

  Her hand started to shake; she clasped it with the other one and pursed her lips. Finally she said, “I guess he knew something was going on.”

  “So it seems.”

  “And you were wrong. He doesn’t mind.”

  “I’m sure he minds.” He paused, then asked, “Do you mind what I do?”

  She stared at him, then shrugged. “Police work isn’t the safest profession.”

  “But I’m in homicide. I deal with people who are dead—and harmless.”

  “But the people who made them dead aren’t harmless.”

  He sighed softly. “Mandy, narcotics is a little scary. Not homicide. The last time I pulled a gun before I was on those docks—except on a shooting range—was four years ago. You watch too many cop shows.”

  She grinned. “Actually, I don’t watch any.”

  “Oh.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “What?”

  She tilted her head back, determined that, no matter what followed, she would not be punished for anyone else’s sins. “I’m a blonde. Daughter of the American Revolution all the way. Rich bitch.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m willing to overlook that.”

  “Are you? And what made you decide that I might not be a bigot?”

  He lowered his head. Lowered his head, and lifted his shoulders and hands a little helplessly. “Mandy—”

  “Oh!” she cried suddenly.

  “What?”

  “You’re on his hip!”

  “What?”

  “Move back! Move back quickly. You’re on my bone!”

  “Oh.” Red-faced, Sean scrambled to his feet, quickly moving away. Mandy hurried back to the slightly protruding bone, checking it quickly for damage.

  She sighed with relief.

  “Er, uh, what is he?”

  “Tyrannosaurus rex,” she answered absently.

  “The big bad guy? The one in all the Japanese horror films?”

  “Uh-huh. Except that he wasn’t really so bad. See, look.”

  She stood, skirting the area to show him the complete layout of the skeleton. “Look at his arms—there. See how tiny they were in comparison to his bulk? He couldn’t really grab and rip and tear. He could barely get things to his mouth. We think now that he was a scavenger—a carnivore, but one who went in after the kill had already been made.”

  She glanced up and blushed, surprised by the softness in his eyes as he stared at her. “You like your work, don’t you?”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “I like it, too. You could teach—me.”

  She didn’t know what to say. As the breeze lifted her hair and wafted it around her face, she knew she should say something but, at that moment, she couldn’t.

  And then the moment was gone, because Dr. Theo Winter, who was in charge, came around the oak tree with a group of workers behind him, ready to start the plastering process. Mandy introduced Sean, but Dr. Winter was understandably unimpressed with anything but the cache of bones. All he wanted was for Sean to get off the site.

  It was a good thing Dr. Winter hadn’t seen Sean standing on the protruding skeleton, she thought wryly.

  “I guess I’d better go,” he told her, surprising her. She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

  One of the assistants was asking a question, and she knew she had no right to be standing there talking while everyone else was working. But she didn’t seem to be able to move any more than she could talk.

  Sean solved that dilemma. He saluted her with a rueful grin, then walked away. She simply stood there, feeling the breeze in her hair, watching him leave.

  Why hadn’t he asked her to dinner or something? she wondered over and over again as the day wore on. But it wasn’t a question that took much pondering on her part. It was going to be all or nothing. They weren’t going to date. They weren’t going to go for dinner or cocktails, or to the movies, or for a picnic in the park.

  They were either going to get married or not—and only if she did marry him would she get to go to dinner and the movies and for walks on the beach. Maybe after the way they had begun it would be impossible to date.

  She was beginning to understand him now; maybe he even understood her. She didn’t think he was insensitive to her reasons for holding back; he just felt that they could be overcome—and should be.

  Mandy thought she might hear from him the next day, but she didn’t. He didn’t contact her hotel, and he didn’t appear on the site. She wondered if he had returned to Miami already and was startled to find herself annoyed at the thought. So much for hot pursuit!

  On her last night there was a dinner party for her, which she made it through by rote. She realized that she had actually been doing all of her living by rote—until she met Sean.

  There were a million good reasons why she should marry him, two that were extremely important. One, she loved him. Two, if the test she had bought at the drugstore worked, she was expecting his child.

  The only thing that stood against her was the panic she felt at the prospect of loving so deeply again.

  And the problem, which Sean didn’t understand, was that it wasn’t just an emotional reaction. It was physical. Her hands would sweat, her heart would beat too loudly. Confusion overwhelmed her at the thought.

  T
hought… Once upon a time she had assumed that she would simply never have another child, because the horror of loss was so deep. Of course, if not for circumstances, she would have been responsible enough never to let such a thing happen.

  And now…now she knew that nothing would keep her from having this child.

  Her thoughts would not leave her alone, not even for an instant. Not even while she said her goodbyes, lingered over breakfast to thank everyone—and nearly missed her plane because she seemed so incapable of doing anything right. She groaned while she raced through the airport terminal and decided that she was either going to marry Sean—he was serious, wasn’t he?—or move to an isolated village in Alaska.

  She settled into the sparsely populated first-class section of her plane and picked up a magazine. She had been staring at the picture of an elegant dining-room set for several seconds before she realized that it looked odd because it was upside down. She sighed, then froze.

  Because Sean was on the plane, blocking those trying to board behind him, staring down at her in dismay.

  “You’re in first class?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, damn!”

  He moved on by to let the others pass. Mandy just stared at the seat ahead of her. In a few minutes the passengers were all boarded and belted. The stewardess made her speech on safety, and then they were airborne.

  At last Mandy kicked off her shoes and curled her feet beneath her, determined to get comfortable for the duration of the trip, despite the fact that her heart refused to slow its frantic beat. She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. He really meant to force the issue.

  The stewardess offered her champagne; she took it, intending to sip it. Instead, she swallowed the contents with a toss of her head.

  The stewardess, of course, came right back, thinly concealing a shocked expression—and offered her more champagne.

  “There’s really nothing to be afraid of,” the attractive young blonde told her. “Honestly. Captain Hodges has been flying for twenty years. He’s wonderful. You won’t feel a bump the entire way.”

  Mandy shook her head, smiling. “I’m not afraid of flying. I love to fly.”

  “Oh.” Confused, the woman smiled, then quickly walked away.

  Mandy stared out the window. They were already high above the clouds. It seemed that they were standing still above a sea of pure white cotton. If only she could concentrate. If only she could think about anything besides the fact that Sean was on the plane.

  Her stomach lurched. What was the matter with her? He really did care. He had to care, or he would never have gone so far.

  She took a deep breath, shivering. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life alone? Life was full of risks, and, yes, loving was a risk. But what was life except for a lonely expanse of years without the loving?

  And now that Sean had touched her life, it seem absurdly bleak without him.

  But could she love again? Worry about him, day after day? Pray that he came home each night? And what about children? Could she hold a child again, always knowing how quickly that life could be snuffed out?

  “Move your feet.”

  Mandy started at the sound of his voice, then gasped, spilled her champagne and stared up at him guiltily.

  “C’mon, move your feet!”

  She did so, and he slid in beside her.

  “What are doing up here? You’re supposed to be in economy class!” she demanded.

  “I bribed the stewardess.”

  “Stewardesses don’t take bribes.”

  “Everyone takes bribes.”

  As if on cue, the stewardess walked by, watching them with a curiously knowing eye.

  “What did you tell her?” Mandy asked suddenly.

  He shrugged.

  “Sean?”

  “Nothing major.” He smiled. “I just said that you were a deranged criminal whom I was trailing from Miami. I said I didn’t want to put cuffs on you and frighten the other passengers—I just wanted to keep an eye on you.” He smiled pleasantly, reached for a magazine, and gazed idly around the first-class cabin. “Nice.”

  “Sean, you didn’t—”

  “I did.”

  “I’ll kill you!” Mandy snapped angrily just as the stewardess walked by again. The woman’s eyes, cornflower blue and already big, seemed to grow as wide as saucers.

  “Now, now, calm down, Mrs. Blayne,” he said in a professional soothing voice. He winked at the stewardess, giving her a thumbs-up sign of assurance.

  “Sean Ramiro—”

  “Maybe you can plea bargain, Mrs. Blayne. Just stay calm, and I’ll be at your side.”

  “I’m not a criminal!”

  “Tsk, tsk, Mrs. Blayne. I’m afraid the State believes that lacing your great-uncle’s coffee with that arsenic was a criminal offense.”

  The stewardess, barely a row ahead of them, stiffened and swallowed, and almost poured champagne on a businessman’s lap.

  “Sean, I will kill you!”

  “Please, Mrs. Blayne. I really don’t want to have to use the handcuffs.”

  “Oh, Lord!” Mandy groaned, sinking back into her seat and giving up. “There’s definitely Irish blood in you—I’ve never heard so much blarney in my life!”

  “Behave,” he said wickedly, “and I’ll get us more champagne. I do like this,” he observed casually. “First class. It’s a pity the department is so cheap.”

  “You really got the department to send you out to Denver?”

  “Of course. I had to talk to you about the trial.”

  Mandy groaned again and turned to face the window. She didn’t see the clouds anymore; only the reflection of his face. And for all his dry humor, she thought she saw pain mirrored there.

  Her heart began to beat faster. It was the strangest thing, the most awful emotion. There he was, and there it was, all the laughter, all the love. All she had to do was reach for it, but she was unable to, taking two steps backward for every step forward.

  She closed her eyes, then jumped when she heard him call the stewardess back.

  “Could we get some more champagne, please?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I can control her much more easily if I keep her a bit sloshed, you know?”

  “Oh, yes, of course!”

  “Ohh!” Mandy groaned. “Couldn’t you just have paid the difference for a first-class ticket?”

  He started to answer her, then paused, thanking the stewardess gravely as she poured Mandy more champagne and offered a glass to Sean.

  “Cheers!” he said, clinking his glass against hers.

  She pursed her lips stubbornly, refusing to respond.

  “Come on, where’s the Mandy I used to know?”

  A twitch tugged at her lips. “Damned if I know. Last I heard, you were taking a criminal back to Miami.”

  He started to smile wryly at her, but the stewardess returned with their lunch trays. And then, to Mandy’s surprise, he didn’t pay any attention to her at all. He was watching the stewardess.

  The pretty woman seemed exceptionally nervous, which Mandy thought was Sean’s fault, since he had convinced her that Mandy was a criminal.

  The stewardess almost dropped the trays, but recovered her poise. Sean continued to watch her as she moved down the aisle, then sat back in his seat, perplexed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t like the way he looked. She really did love to fly, but suddenly she thought of all sorts of disasters. Someone had forgotten a little pin or something, and their jumbo jet was about to fall apart in midair.

  Except that the flight wasn’t even bumpy. It was so incredibly smooth that it felt as if they were standing still.

  She gripped his arm tensely. “Sean,” she whispered, “do you think there’s something wrong with the plane?”

  He stared at her. “The plane? Something wrong?” He shook his head. “I’ve never felt a smoother fligh
t.”

  “Then what—?”

  “Are you going to eat that steak?”

  “What?”

  “Eat, will you?”

  He didn’t pay any attention to his own food. He ate it, but he was giving all his attention to the stewardess.

  The woman still seemed a little shaky when she returned. She had poise, though. She smiled; she chattered. It was just that her manner was slightly different, and not only with the two of them.

  Mandy tried to quiz Sean again as soon as they trays were removed, but he interrupted her first word, murmuring, “Excuse me for a minute, please.”

  “Sean!”

  But he was already gone. He disappeared into the little kitchen area—right behind the stewardess. And he seemed to stay there a long, long time.

  When he emerged, he returned to his seat beside her like a sleepwalker, totally remote.

  “Sean…”

  “I don’t believe it,” he murmured distractedly.

  “You don’t believe what?”

  “Shh. You didn’t finish your champagne. Drink it.”

  Drink it. As if she would need it.

  “Sean!” She slammed a fist against his shoulder.

  “Shh!”

  “You said there wasn’t anything wrong with the plane.”

  “There isn’t. I swear it.”

  The stewardess came hurriedly toward them once again, then bent to speak softly in Sean’s ear. “We need you now, lieutenant.”

  He nodded and stood, ready to follow her again. She paused suddenly, looking back at Mandy with dismay.

  “Will she be all right?”

  “What? Oh, yes, of course. As long as you don’t have any arsenic on board.”

  They disappeared together toward the cockpit. Mandy was ready to scream.

  It seemed an eternity before he returned, though it was only about twenty minutes.

  “Sean, what the hell is going on?”

  “Hey!” someone complained loudly from behind them. “I take this flight constantly. What’s going on? They should have announced landing by now. And we should be over land—not water!”