‘Well, she certainly knows her stuff. But we could have handled that call in five minutes instead of two hours. That list of questions you sent was as long as my arm.’
Peter laughed. ‘I know. But you handled them like they were yours. I just wanted to give her a dress rehearsal for what may happen when Lydia’s Closet takes off. So that she’s prepared.’
‘Got it,’ Bill replied. ‘Well, no worries on that front. And you’re right. Her business is going to take off like a rocket.’
‘Our business,’ Peter said, motioning to the chef that he was ready for dessert.
Bill was silent for a moment. ‘I thought she said it was sole proprietor, that she owned one hundred per cent of the business.’
‘Oh, she does. For now.’
Mike and Allison
New York City
Mike lived on the top floor of a brownstone overlooking Gramercy Park. The graceful five-storey house had been built for a family in 1835 when Samuel Ruggles was developing the park. The gas lamp installed then still burned at the doorway.
Allison rang the bell again and again but there was no response. She knew he was there. She could see the lights burning up there through the windows.
She rang again. Nothing. She knew what he was doing. He was sitting up there, all pious and right, wondering how he could have loved someone who consorted with a snake, as he had called Peter Collins. How could he have allowed himself to care for her, someone who would blow off a date with him for something as inconsequential as a business meeting?
She rang the bell again, getting angrier by the minute. All those things he said to her about understanding how Lydia’s Closet was more than a way to make money, how he knew it was a tribute to her late mother. They were just words. How could he have pretended to love her when, at the first mis-step, he turned and ran?
She was determined to let him know just how she felt and no locked door was going to stop her. She hadn’t spent her whole life with police officers without learning a trick or two.
With the help of a credit card and a small tool on her Swiss Army knife, she was in the lobby, in the elevator and at his front door in less than two minutes. That lock was more complicated. It took three minutes.
She tore through the apartment looking for him. ‘Michael Dennison, I want to talk to you!’ She was shouting. ‘How could you care so little for me that, at the first sign of trouble, you turn and run? So much for “I’ll love you forever!” So much for “I’ll never leave you! I swear!”’
‘Allison, what are you doing here?’
She whirled around, her violet eyes blazing. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call! I’m sorry I got caught up in the launch of the business I have worked my whole life to build. But how could you be so self-involved, so consumed with your hatred of Peter Collins that you’ll not even answer my calls, open the door to a woman you profess to love?’
‘Can I offer you a drink?’ Mike asked, a smile in his voice.
Allison stopped mid-rant as she registered the man standing in front of her. Mike was dripping wet, obviously just out of the shower and wearing only a towel.
She stared. The sight of his nearly naked body kindled feelings that did not go well with her current state of mind. He looked like Michelangelo’s David just after a downpour of rain.
When she could speak, and it took a moment, she said, ‘What are you doing? If you think …’ She stopped as reality began to creep through the haze of anger.
‘Why don’t you help yourself to a glass of wine while I get some clothes on,’ Mike said, his eyes twinkling.
‘No!’ She startled herself with her outburst. ‘I mean …’ She stopped. ‘I don’t know what I mean. You didn’t answer the door because—’
‘I was in the shower,’ he cut in.
‘Yes. I can see that.’
They stared at one another, both trying to sort through a myriad of feelings coursing through their bodies. Finally, Mike spoke. ‘How was the meeting?’
‘Long.’
‘I figured.’
‘So, you weren’t—’
‘Mad? No, I wasn’t,’ he interrupted again.
‘You understood?’
‘That it was business?’ Mike said. ‘You’re about to launch something you’ve spent your whole life planning. Naturally, I understood that.’
Allison’s cheeks were aflame. If she could have, she would have run out of the door. But then, this beautiful, muscular, still-damp body was in her way.
‘I’m … I don’t know what I am,’ she mumbled.
‘Crazy? Nut job? One who jumps to conclusions without the facts? Pick one.’
‘All of the above,’ Allison said. ‘By the way, you’re beautiful.’
‘Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.’
‘Thanks,’ Allison said, a catch in her throat.
The two stood gazing at one another, filled with longing. Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her, softly at first, then with growing passion.
His towel slid to the floor, followed immediately by the clothes Allison was wearing. One by one they dropped off until they were both naked.
Mike took a step back and looked at every part of her.
Allison did the same.
Then without a word, he picked her up and headed for the bedroom.
‘Remind me,’ Mike said, his voice husky with desire, ‘never to change the locks.’
Kevin
Afghanistan
The helicopter was emblazoned with a red cross, identifying it as an unarmed medical rescue aircraft. The crew was circling the rocky area where the ‘nineline’ had come from, the US military’s name for the call that goes out for a medical helicopter to pick up a fallen soldier.
On board were a medic, a crew chief, a pilot, and a co-pilot, Kevin Dennison. His brother, Mike, had not only piloted this same type of aircraft during two tours of duty, he had commanded the Dust Up group, military slang for the unit.
Kevin had been flying fixed-wing aircraft since Mike taught him when he was fifteen. But he did not plan to stay in the military long enough to qualify for the perilous role of pilot. His goal was to do his part, serve his country with honour, get out, and design beautiful houses.
Many of his classmates in architectural school had longed to create great skyscrapers. Not Kevin. He wanted to build homes, family homes. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really had one since his parents were killed.
Not that his brother hadn’t given him the best life he knew how to give. What Kevin felt about his brother was nothing short of hero worship, and a deep, deep love.
The weather was treacherous and the chopper had been buffeted by winds and down-draughts as they followed the coordinates, looking for the platoon, or even a surviving soldier, calling for help.
‘Eleven o’clock!’ the crew chief shouted, pointing to what appeared to be a group of men in US military uniforms, lying on the ground beneath a rocky outcropping. There was so much brush atop the cave-like structure, it was impossible to tell what condition the men were in.
Kevin tried to raise the men on the radio. No response. The pilot tried to take the craft lower, but with the wind and the rocky terrain, there was no way to get close enough to see how badly they were wounded, or even if they were alive.
‘I’m going down there,’ Kevin said, unbuckling his safety harness. He checked his M9 pistol and stuck extra clips of ammunition in his vest. While Medevac copters were unarmed, crew members could carry personal weapons for self-defence.
‘I don’t know, Lieutenant,’ the pilot said. ‘I don’t like the looks of this.’
‘So you’re just going to cut for home? What if our guys down there are too badly hurt to use the radio? Two minutes. I’ll check it out. Circle once and come back for me.’
Reluctantly the pilot found a relatively flat bit of land where he could hover close enough to the area for Kevin to drop to the ground. He headed towards the wounded men on the run as the chopper started its a
scent.
That’s when the gunfire broke out. The men in US uniforms were up and firing. It was a trap!
‘Get out!’ Kevin shouted, waving his arms. ‘Go, go, go! They want the chopper.’
There was no choice but for the aircraft to soar out of danger. As it lifted off, Kevin ran like a jackrabbit for cover; he remembered what Mike had said to him on the phone:
‘Don’t be taken. If something goes wrong, hide!’
No matter what, Kevin Dennison was not going to be taken.
Allison and Mike
New York City
Allison awakened in Mike’s arms in a strange bed in a bedroom she had never entered before. Yet she felt more content than she had in years, maybe since she used to curl up on the little bench in her mother’s colourful closet and dream about the future.
Home. That was how she felt now. Like she was safe at home. Lying there nestled against Mike’s strong body, she felt safe for the first time since her mother was snatched away from her. She didn’t move, afraid to dilute the magic.
They were going to Coney Island today to be silly adolescents. Because of the early losses both had suffered, they had missed that step. Allison smiled, thinking of it. They would ride the Cyclone and eat hot dogs and Mike would win her a teddy bear by hitting the gong at the Strong Man booth.
Somewhere during the night, Mike had told her he had something important he wanted to talk to her about in the morning. He wouldn’t say what it was, but she knew it was nothing terrible. On the contrary, she felt sure that it was clear sailing for her and Mike after their night together.
Somewhere around two in the morning, they had emerged from their love-tangled sheets, starving. Neither had eaten dinner. He made omelettes that were better than the ones she made. Omelettes and champagne looking over Gramercy Park still illuminated by gas lamps from almost two centuries ago.
They had talked through her madness of the night before. Mike understood her more than she had realised. He could relate to her fear of being abandoned, and that the fear was nothing short of terror. They both knew it was linked to the sudden loss of her mother.
In time, with Mike’s love and steadfastness, she knew she would learn to trust again.
That settled, they had returned to bed and made love again, then fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
Now the sun was bright. It must be almost noon, she thought, stretching like a cat. She couldn’t resist kissing him.
He stirred and, without opening his eyes, he rolled on his back and pulled her on top of him so their bodies were in perfect alignment. They fitted together like two lost pieces of a puzzle that had finally found where they belonged.
‘What about the Merry-go-round?’ he said softly. ‘Are we too old for the Merry-go-round?’
She kissed him gently. ‘Never too old.’
But there was to be no Merry-go-round that day. Or hot dogs, or serious discussions. Mike’s cell phone rang. He was about to shut it off without answering when he checked the caller ID. He slid her aside and sat up.
‘Captain Michael Dennison here.’
Allison also sat up and pulled a sheet around herself, watching his face with growing unease.
‘Where? What time? Has a rescue been launched? Got it.’ Mike was up now and pacing. ‘Who is on manoeuvres in the area?’ He listened. ‘Roger that. I’ll be at Teterboro Airport by 1300 hours. Have someone waiting, engines running.’
He hung up the phone. Allison searched his face for answers, afraid to speak.
He headed for the bathroom.
‘Kevin?’
‘MIA. Behind Enemy Lines.’
‘Oh, dear God. Are they looking for him?’
‘Of course. But they’ll never find him if he’s hiding. I need to go.’
‘What do you mean, you’re going?’
‘I’ll be able to find him. I taught him survival.’
‘So tell them. Tell someone where to look. Mike, you can’t go.’
The only sound from the bathroom was the noise of the shower.
Allison started to shake.
Mike
Afghanistan
In general, the military has hard and fast rules that cannot be broken. There are, however, exceptions, and the highly decorated Captain Mike Dennison was one of them. Not only had he continued to serve in the National Guard after his two distinguished tours in the Middle East, he was a West Pointer. Although he had left before graduating, there wasn’t an officer on base who didn’t know the reason was to raise his orphaned kid brother.
And now that brother was missing in action.
The army had aircraft and ground troops looking for him but so far they had not been successful.
It took some doing, and went up the chain of command, but within four days, Captain Mike Dennison had re-upped for an additional tour of duty for the minimum twelve months. Because of his National Guard training, he was flight and battle ready. He was to be deployed immediately, assigned to the search team that was looking for Lieutenant Kevin Dennison.
Now came the hard part. Telling Allison.
No one was at the house on Breezy Point when Mike got there. By now he knew where the key was and, like the rest of the extended family, he let himself in.
He could guess where she was. She had gone to St Thomas More’s to pray several times a day since Kevin had gone missing. It was the same parish church where most of Breezy Point had gone to pray after most of the community had been burned or flooded after Hurricane Sandy. He knew her dad and Jimmy stopped there to light a candle every morning on their way to work.
They had met Kevin only once but loved him immediately. That’s how his brother affected people.
He decided not to go looking for Allison there. She would need all the strength she could muster to receive the news he was about to give her.
He understood her fear of loss and the reasons for it. He hoped she would understand his need to go after his brother.
And she understood. She just couldn’t live with it. ‘Mike, you can’t go back. You’re not trained. You’re not ready.’ Allison was shaking so hard, she could barely speak.
‘I am as combat ready as I was when I left my unit. The whole purpose of the National Guard is to be trained and ready to go, should a need arise. I have to find Kevin.’
‘But a year?’ Allison could hardly speak through her tears. ‘You signed up for a year.’
‘I had to, Allison. They wouldn’t let me go to war for a couple of weeks, or until I found Kevin. It doesn’t work like that. I’m lucky they’re letting me go at all.’
‘Lucky? Lucky to be risking your life?’
‘I know what I’m doing over there,’ Mike said. ‘I already spent six years there. I can survive one more.’
‘Can you promise me that? Can you? Like you promised me, if I let myself love you, that you would not take risks. What was it you said? You’d get flu shots, look both ways …’ She was sobbing too hard to continue. ‘No cadet shall …’ She crumpled in a heap on the couch. ‘You said you understood how it was with me.’
Mike went to her and held her in his arms until her sobs quietened. He rocked her back and forth like a child. ‘It’s okay. It’s going to be all right.’
Finally, she looked up at him, her face red from crying. ‘I can’t do this, Mike, I can’t. I have to stop loving you. I don’t know how I do that, but I have to find a way.’
‘Allison …’
‘I pray you find Kevin. I pray you’ll be safe. But I can’t be part of it. I cannot go through that kind of loss again.’
Mike fished the ring box out of his pocket. He opened it and showed her the violet sapphire. ‘Wear this, my love. Wear it until Kevin and I come home. That will keep me safe. I promise you.’
He put the box on her lap.
She studied the ring. ‘Beautiful,’ she said. ‘It’s Art Deco, I think. You can tell by the way the diamonds are cut.’
She carefully closed the box and handed it b
ack to him.
‘Don’t come back here, Mike Dennison. Just don’t. May God keep you and Kevin safe.’
She stood, then headed upstairs to her studio. Her pain was so intense she could barely walk.
Mike sat still for a long time, holding the velvet box. Finally, he left, locking the door behind him and returning the key to its hiding place.
Allison and Peter
New York City
The next days were a blur for Allison. Later she wouldn’t remember what she’d done, how she had gone to meetings about the launch, if she ate or slept or cried. That’s the way she wanted it, to stay numb. If she allowed herself to feel anything, she knew she would shatter into a thousand pieces.
Her one solace during that time was Peter Collins. He did not ask about Mike, although she assumed he knew all that had happened. Very little went on in the world that Peter didn’t know about. He seemed to have feeders everywhere.
Allison didn’t care. What mattered was that he asked no questions, made no suggestions, and acted as if her zombie-like demeanour was normal.
She longed for news about Kevin, of course, and Mike. But there was nowhere to get it. As usual, the army didn’t play up the stories of soldiers missing in action. No need to let the enemy know who they were looking for or where he was thought to be.
They did, however, post the names of the dead. Someone would tell her if either, or both, of the Dennison brothers were killed.
She pushed thoughts of these two men she loved from her mind. For her sanity, she steadfastly refused to watch news of any sort, to even glance at a newspaper. She disconnected from the Internet, except about things that pertained to Lydia’s Closet. What she needed to do was pretend Mike Dennison had never existed, forget she had ever loved so deeply and completely.
Easier said than done, with her family and friends talking about him, constantly worrying about him and Kevin. Her friend Kimberly called every day, but she stopped answering. Or listening too long to supportive messages. Instead of being comforting, the idea that even little Tessa was worrying about Mike made her want to scream. Children should know nothing of loss. It scared them; she knew that only too well.
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