by Sarah Bylund
Geoff leaned back in his chair, pleased. “I am happy to tell you that nothing you said incriminates the judge. Inciardi is not the reason you lost the contest five years ago. Furthermore, you are now cleared to re-enter the current competition. If you want to, that is.”
“Oh, I do, I do,” Boyar assured Geoff. “Thank you very much. But I wonder…is there nothing I can do to help EvaLynn recover?”
“I’m afraid not,” Geoff sighed. “Thank you for asking, however. You are excused. Good luck to you.”
Geoff strode toward Deja’s room after questioning Chef Boyar and then meeting with Deja’s team of doctors once again. If the oddsbreaker didn’t awake in the next few hours, they’d give her a stimulant. He nodded to the guards charged with protecting Deja from prying eyes, especially all the reporters vying to interview her. His CO had held a press conference stating the facts of the case. If there hadn’t been a leak in the first place, no one would’ve known that it was Deja who had fed the judges dirt. Anyhow, the contest had resumed without three of its contestants: Deja, Geena, and Gaskón. But the media was almost more interested in the Famous Foodie drama than the Ultimate Chef of the Galaxy Contest.
He was about to plop himself down in the chair but started pacing in front of her bed instead. Out of habit, he straightened his uniform and clasped his hands behind his back. Then he walked.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Until…a groan from the bed brought him up short.
He swung his head toward Deja as her eyes fluttered open. He opened his mouth. Yet as she spoke, his greeting died on his lips.
“What… Who the slag are you?” She took in his uniform and swore. “You’re Coalition. I’m…under arrest, aren’t I?” she groaned again.
Something cracked inside him. She didn’t remember him. His heart crumpled into ash.
“No, no, you’re not,” he managed, struggling to keep his feelings in check. “You were injured during a Coalition operation—under my purview. But you’re safe. And thanks to you, we caught the people involved in a high-profile murder plot. I’m…my name is Lieutenant Colonel Geoff Thorne.” He paused, searching her face for a hint of recognition. He found none.
She raised her eyebrows. “Geoff Thorne, huh? Well, if I’m not under arrest, lieutenant colonel, why are those guards outside my room? Why the heck would I even work with a Coat such as yourself? And what the slag happened to me? Why can’t I remember stopping a murderer?”
He chuckled a bit. “The guards? They’re just here to keep you safe from reporters and other annoying folks, Miss Ortega. Please don’t worry about it. You’re important to—to the Coalition,” he caught himself. “We just want to be sure you recover as soon as possible.”
She rolled her eyes in that charming way she had. “Fine. Go on. Tell me how I ended up here.”
“Of course.” His knees felt wobbly, so he walked over to the chair and sat. He clung to his training as a soldier, working to find that dispassionate center of calm within. This was just another battle, he reminded himself. He could make it through. “A food activist subjected you to a memory wipe because you learned about her plot to assassinate a judge in the Ultimate Chef of the Galaxy competition. I’m afraid you were hurt because of me. I’m beyond sorry. I tagged you with a bio tracker that would leave faint traces of a certain radioactive signature in your wake. You went hunting the murder weapon. Then the suspect found you and kidnapped you. We had drones out scouring likely sites for signs of the tracker. But I didn’t…get to you in time. I regret that more than you can ever know, Miss Ortega,” he finished, forcing his face not to show any inappropriate concern.
For several moments, she said nothing. Then she looked up at him with soft eyes and whispered, “Call me ‘nurse’.”
Geoff’s jaw went slack.
The expression on his face must have been priceless. She hid a laugh with a cough, then held out her arms. “Oh, stop gawking and get over here, Geoff,” she teased. “I’m a bit fuzzy on some stuff, like how Famous got the drop on me. Yet I haven’t forgotten everything. But you did deserve a little payback. Hey, where did you get that black—”
But she couldn’t continue; his lips were firmly pressed over hers. After a gentle but long kiss, he pulled back, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. His hopes for the future shone bright again, soothing the ache in his chest. She remembered enough to love him.
“Nurse,” he sighed. “You came back.”
Deja squeezed Geoff’s hand as the holopanel powered up. He was trying to pull her in for a proper kiss when the screen revealed a 3D image of Whitley, who lay convalescing in a bed and propped up with pillows. Straightening, Deja nodded at him. She’d been the one to request a conference with the older man. From what she could remember, if it hadn’t been for him, a whole lot more of her memories would’ve been zapped. Also, from what Geoff told her, Whitley had been a great help in getting his sister to cooperate with the Coalition, aiding them in tracking down other dangerous criminals in return for a lighter sentence.
“Ahoy, Whitley. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he said quickly. “I’m just glad you’re okay, too.” He took a breath, hesitating, then plowed onward. “Did you lose any memories? I’m so sorry. What I did—”
“Was not so great,” she finished for him. “But stop apologizing, would you?” she insisted, waving a dismissive hand. “You were a jerk. But with a sister so, er, disturbed, I’m amazed you didn’t do worse. In fact,” she added with a wicked grin, “I think what you did to help me took more courage than, oh, a dozen dares.”
The man’s gray eyes widened, embarrassment coloring his face red. That’s right, she thought, I heard and remember every word you said before you reprogrammed that memory wiper. I just don’t remember what else you and your sister did to me. Anyhow, now he knew that she knew that he was a little sweet on her. Whew. What a sentence.
At her side, Geoff leaned in close. “What’s that about?” he asked, although the request sounded a bit too much like a demand. Jealous, was he? Well, that might have annoyed her in the past, but now it gave her great amusement, not to mention satisfaction.
“Odds are you’ll never know,” she replied, and Geoff gave a little shrug.
Whitley continued. “Uh, well, thank you, Dej—Miss Ortega. I still don’t think I did right by you. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve never known the truth about my father. I would’ve never been able to even talk to him.” He paused, looking a bit choked up. “And my sister—okay, she’s going to need a lot of help before she can face him. But I never dreamed she’d be able to stop hating him so much. Basically, I’m glad we got caught.” He nodded. “Best thing that could’ve happened.”
“Yes, I think so, too,” Deja said.
The holopanel lit up, showing an image of her papá tucked in a hospital bed with a fuzzy, yellow blanket.
“¡Hola, Papá!” Deja exclaimed. “¿Como te sientes? Que tal la mano?” The surgeon had operated on his hand again that morning.
“Mas o menos,” he replied. “But I’m better just looking at you, mija.”
“Silly, Papá,” she told him, smiling. “I will come see you as soon as I can.”
“I know. And I know something else.” He paused to cough, and Deja’s forehead crinkled. “Geoff,” Patricio said, “don’t you have something to say to mija?”
Deja turned to look at Geoff, curious.
“Yes, I sure do, Señor Ortega.” Geoff lowered himself onto one knee, holding up a shiny ring in one hand. A rare, Tuvian fire opal flanked by two diamonds topped the ring, flashing in the light. Deja’s stomach shuddered in surprise. Her mouth dried out like the desert planet her papá had been trapped on.
Geoff spoke, trembling, “Deja Ortega, I have never wanted someone like I want you. You’ve never been unworthy of me. Your past, present, and future are all I could ever ask for in a mate. You think I don’t know that you have flaws—like how much you rely on a stiff drink. But I
know we can get through that. Together. You’re like this opal: fiery, mercurial, and so very precious. I love you. All of you. Please, be my wife?” His head dipped to the side in suspense as she stared at him.
He knows the best and worst things about me. Yet he still loves me. And I love him. I’ve loved him this whole time.
She raised a hand to caress his face and said, “Yes, on one condition.”
He would’ve fallen over, but she steadied him. “Just name it,” he told her, breathless.
“I marry you. Then you help me find the slaggin’ scum who murdered my mamá and the rest of our troupe.”
“Deal!” He grinned, jumping up and jamming the ring on her finger as if she’d change her mind.
“Good,” she said.
“So, can I kiss you or what?” he asked, color returning to his face.
“How about ‘or what’?” she said, smirking up at him.
People ask me how long it took to write this novel. The thing is, I really couldn’t tell you. The ideas have been in my head for so long. Moreover, it took me years of writing off and on to actually finish it—first as a novella and then as a full-blown novel. At first, it started out as a short story that I wanted to enter in the L. Ron Hubbard’s Writers of the Future Contest. But, well, my characters refused to be contained in a measly short story! I often felt as though I would never finish it or it would never be good enough. But I managed to finish it and find someone who wanted to take a chance on it.
Speaking of which, I feel incredibly lucky to have found a home for my book at Immortal Works Press. I am grateful for my editor, Holli Anderson, who not only listened to my pitch but also asked to read my book, which was only a novella at the time. When she devoured it in about two weeks and asked if I could write more, I was both thrilled and humbled. I also wish to thank the whole team at IW for their assistance.
Long have I been fascinated by food and its myriad facets of meaning. I wrote my entire master’s thesis at BYU about the power that food and consumption have in defining or shaping gender, culture, religion, psychology, and so on. “Animals eat,” the French gourmand Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin once declared, but only “men and women dine. And men and women of discrimination dine well.”
Naturally, I’ll always be grateful to the Life, The Universe, and Everything Symposium (a sci-fi/fantasy con also known as LTUE), which is the whole reason my manuscript was picked up in the first place. Back in February 2020, the con offered pitch sessions. Without that, my book may never have found its way out of the slush pile.
Many other people have given me feedback and encouragement throughout the years. The first people to really workshop my story were the members of my (now-defunct) writing group, Type & Gripe. (Yes, that awesome name was my suggestion.) Oh, what crazy fun we had! I’d like to personally thank them all: Vanessa Christenson, Jana S. Brown, Kristin McAlear May, Kathleen Dorsey Sanderson, and Jeffrey Creer.
Carrie Parker, an alpha reader and sweet friend, read it quickly several times and helped me a great deal. She was the very first person to read the book in its finished form as a novella and then as a novel. Aunt Marcella Bolzenius is my other alpha reader—the first of anyone in my family to read the book and offer this kind praise: “Cute slaggin’ book, gravgummit!”
I also have some beta readers to thank for their highly helpful feedback: Kathleen Dorsey Sanderson, Ryan Hayes, (Aunt) Ron Nelson, and (Cousin) Karilee Gardner. In addition, I want to thank some of my favorite authors for their influence on me: Terry Brooks, Brandon Sanderson, John Scalzi, Jim Butcher, Patricia Briggs, Dan Wells, Brandon Mull, Eric James Stone, and so many others. A special thanks to the awesome Allyson Bylund for the book ad she created. A big thanks to Guy Larson for his help with the big math in my mortadella chapter.
Moreover, I need to mention my honorary sister, Mandy Stock Bylund, who has become one of my dearest friends. In fact, she let me read my book aloud to her whilst she was extremely ill with her third pregnancy. Her suggestions, questions, and support along the way were invaluable. Love you, Mandy!
When I pondered who I should dedicate this book to, it didn’t take me long to decide on Mandy—and, indirectly, Aaron, the brother who still has no clue how he managed to win her hand in marriage. My brothers are all so dear to me. Incidentally, all of them are “present” in my book as names for three different characters.
In general, I have my mom, Tessie Bylund, to thank for my love of reading and writing. She introduced me to the magic and wonder of books at a young age. One day when I was in junior high, I was home sick. A lover of libraries, Mom brought me a special book that day: The Druid of Shannara by Terry Brooks. Now, I’d read fantasy and sci-fi before (Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain, etc.).
However, Brooks’s book transported me into a whole new mindset. From that moment on, I dared to hope that I, too, might one day create new worlds and new peoples in awesome universes. For that, I will always be deeply thankful to my mom—and to Terry Brooks. Love you, Mom. And thanks, Dad (Alan Bylund), for believing in me and for being the dad you didn’t have to be. And thanks to my Heavenly Father because I couldn’t have done any of it without Him.
A hopeless bookworm and native Utahn, Sarah Bylund enjoys a variety of nerdy and not-so-nerdy pursuits such as reading, writing, collecting antique inkwells and poison bottles, prowling museums, taking photographs, cooking, traveling, and playing board games and card games. As for books, she particularly enjoys science-fiction and fantasy as well as historical romance, mysteries, and suspense/thrillers. By day, she works as a customer service representative in the genealogy field, and by night, she works as a freelance writer and editor. She has two master’s degrees: one in Publishing and Writing from Emerson College (Boston, MA) and one in American Literature from Brigham Young University (Provo, UT). One day she hopes to own two or three dogs. She resides in Utah, and Deja Ortega: Oddsbreaker will be her first novel.