by Caro Carson
“We’re divorced, Russell. We settled all the property.”
He smirked a bit at that. “It takes paperwork a while to catch up in the army. You know that. How easy do you think it was for me to call and find out about the household goods from Gannon in Seattle?” He nodded toward the pile of boxes. “You’re going to need to open these now. You can’t let them sit there for a month like you did last move. I want that giant spaghetti pot back. I’m going to need the silverware, too.”
Tom laughed, a deep sound she felt in his chest as she stayed securely in his arms. “You’re divorced, Russell. You are divorced and I am married, and you aren’t touching anything that belongs to my wife.” He let one hand drift slowly across her stomach to rest on her hip. “Anything.”
Russell seemed mesmerized by her body for a moment, then his eyebrows snapped together. “Wait a minute. Married?”
“Yes,” she said, with a sigh. She snuggled back into Tom a bit, who was making her feel like she was his bombshell of a trophy wife. She felt sexier with him because she was sexier with him. Russell was no Tom Cross. A sexier man made her a sexier woman. She should have known.
Russell seemed offended at her marriage. “We’ve only been divorced for, like, three weeks. Three weeks. How could you get married again so fast?”
She smiled at him like she was the cat who’d gotten the cream. “Vegas, baby.”
In a few minutes, it was over. Russell had spluttered a little bit more and made one attempt to touch a box marked Fragile, and Tom had put an end to that by walking up to him and asking one, quiet question: What part of the term anything don’t you comprehend?
Russell drove away empty-handed, without Helen’s silverware or her spaghetti pot, and without even the tiniest piece of her heart.
She knew she was smiling like a kid at Christmas when she turned to Tom. “That was great. You were great. Did you see his face? Finally, I feel like I am well and truly done with that man. Divorced, with a capital D. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Tom’s smile was only pleasant. Friendly. He pushed a length of her hair back, but only because it had fallen in her eyes. He didn’t tug on it playfully, he didn’t use it to hold her in place so he could kiss her neck, and he didn’t smooth it back and cup her head and ask her if she remembered. “You didn’t need to beg me to handle Russell. Don’t worry about the deal for June. I’ll still file in February.”
Her fragile heart cracked into a thousand pieces as he picked up a box and stacked it neatly away.
* * *
He thought, for a moment, that Helen was laughing.
He stood in the dark hallway outside the door to the spare bedroom and listened.
She was crying.
He should let her have her privacy. It was nearly midnight, and she probably thought he was asleep, and they were married on paper only, so it really wasn’t his place to sit beside her on a bed and chase away whatever she feared in the dark.
But it was Christmas. It had been a barren Christmas, spent doing trivial paperwork in their offices. She had volunteered to be the brigade duty officer. He had volunteered to be the battalion duty officer. Their offices were not in the same building.
It wasn’t midnight yet. He couldn’t let her cry alone on Christmas Day. He turned the knob and opened the door. “Hey, Helen. What’s going on?”
“Oh.” He’d startled her. In the dark, he heard a little scurry of movement. He could see enough to know she was standing at the foot of the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. “It’s nothing.”
“Right.”
She didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, but then again, he hadn’t asked her to. If he asked her a question, she would answer, because she was still the same woman he’d married, and Helen would never give him the silent treatment, not for as long as they both lived.
“What’s making you cry, Helen?”
She took a long time to answer him, but she did answer him with a sigh. “Memories.”
“The lack of them?” God knew that made him want to cry, too.
But she laughed a little with a hitch in her breath. “There are some I do remember that I’d like to forget. This bed—I thought it would be okay. I really have no love in my heart for Russell, so I thought this bed would be okay, but I can’t get that memory out of my head.”
Aw, hell. This was the actual bed she’d caught her husband screwing another woman on.
“And I feel like such a fool. It’s an inanimate object. What’s the big deal? But it’s been hard these past couple nights. Then I thought, well, I’ll just sleep on his side of the bed instead of the side where he—where I remember seeing him. But I have to tell you, Tom, and I know you’ll laugh at me, but I want to assemble that futon sofa again and use that instead.”
“I’m not laughing.”
And then she was crying again, and he couldn’t stand there and do nothing. Love-honor-cherish.
That pillow she clutched, for starters, wasn’t good enough for her. He tossed the pillow on the bed and pulled her into his chest. She could cry there instead.
“I’m not crying over him.”
“No? My shirt sure is getting wet while you’re not crying over him.” He said it kindly. He wanted to lighten up the night a bit, but it was hard for him to speak with any equanimity at all. He was jealous of Russell, jealous that she was shedding a single tear over that marriage. It ate him up inside, that her divorce with Russell made her sad, but her divorce with him couldn’t happen soon enough to make her happy.
“That bed is just a kind of brutal reminder that my life is not going to be the way I’d envisioned it. I never thought I’d be such a bad partner. But I must have been, because Russell divorced me. And I have been the biggest disappointment of all to you, because now you’re divorcing me, too.”
“Helen, you asked me to divorce you.”
“Because I knew I was going to disappoint you. And I did.”
“I’m not disappointed in you.” But as soon as he said it, he knew she’d never been blind.
“Tom.” She took a shaky breath. “The fact that I don’t remember is the biggest disappointment of your life. That’s why February is okay with you now.”
He rested his cheek against her and rocked with her a little bit in the dark. “February terrifies me.”
The words had come out as he thought them, but they were true, and they needed to be said. “I’m letting you go because you said being married to me without your memories causes you pain. I don’t want to cause you pain. But I’m afraid if your memory does come back and we’re divorced, you’ll never forgive me. I can imagine you saying, ‘How could you, Tom? How could you let me go?’”
“Oh, Tom. She sounds very devoted to you, that Helen you know. I can’t bring her back. I can’t be her.”
“You don’t have to stop being who you are and become someone else. You’re Helen. I promised I would love you forever, and that won’t change.”
She took in a shivery breath. “That’s...that’s kind of scary for me.”
He scared her?
“The thing is, I can completely believe that I fell in love with you and jumped at the chance to marry you. You are...” She pulled away from him a little bit and flapped a hand to indicate his whole body. “You are exactly my cup of tea. I mean, you are ridiculously attractive. Lizzy and Michelle weren’t the only ones lusting over you at the pub. I was practically drooling, but it kind of makes me sad, because if we’d met at the pub, we’d be dating and falling in love together at the same time.”
We did fall in love at the same time. He’d told her that before. It hadn’t helped. Maybe he should stop pushing her to fast-forward. Maybe he should just listen.
“Instead, it’s like we’re at two different places on a timeline.” She stepped back and held her hands far apart. “You’re all the way ov
er here, at the finish line. You already crossed it and married me. But I’m way back here, at the beginning.” She looked between her hands, and then she looked up at him, and he thanked God there was enough starlight coming through the window that he could see her wink. He’d treasure the memory of that wink.
She brought her hands closer together. A lot closer together. “Maybe it’s more like this. I can see the finish line. If we’d started out at the same place, I would definitely be hoping you were going to pop the question. I can imagine being married to you in a way I’ve never been able to imagine it with anyone else.”
Because we already are married, he wanted to say, but for once, silence might be the best response. He settled for a smile.
“But that future already happened. I wore the white dress and made the vows. It’s like I’m in a terrible time warp, with everything happening out of order.”
“You told me that over a glass of scotch, just a few nights ago. You woke up with a husband, you said.”
“Bam.”
“It was crazy for me to expect you to stay that morning in Las Vegas. If I woke up with a woman who told me she was my wife and I should blow off army orders to stay with her, I’d run out the door with a croissant in my hand, too. More bacon than you took, though.” He pushed her hair back from her face. Her tears were drying.
“You’re not still mad at me for that?”
“Nope. I have a question to ask you, and it might sound crazy, considering all the things you do remember. You’ve already survived your in-laws and we’ve already had some fights, issues at work, three sessions of marriage counseling and at least two rounds of sex that were better than any two other people have ever had.”
He saw the flash of her white smile in the dark room, and it gave him hope.
“But despite all the memories we already share, I’d like to get to know you better. Helen Pallas, I think you are very pretty and a little bit of a smart-mouth and a very sharp officer. Can I take you on a date?”
“A date?”
“Well, yeah. If I married a girl at one-thirty on a Sunday morning and three weeks later wanted to get to know her better, I’d probably ask her if she wanted to get coffee or something. Maybe go to a party that weekend. Maybe I could take you to a movie. I’m pretty sure I can scrape together the money. That ROTC scholarship has paid off.”
“Oh, Tom.” Helen was crying—no, this time, she was laughing. “I think all the coffee shops and movie theaters are closed right now. But maybe we could get a blanket and lie on it and look at the stars. I would love to do that with you.”
“It’s December twenty-fifth. It’s freezing cold out there.” He scooped her up in his arms like she was as light as a feather, because to a guy like him, she was. “But I do know where there’s a blanket we can lie on.”
“I’m so glad I’m going to be dating you.” She tucked her head into the space between his shoulder and his neck as he carried her down the hall.
He laid her on his bed. “Here is a blanket. We can talk all night. No pressure. We’re on our own crazy schedule, and we don’t have to do a damned thing we don’t want to do in February or June or any other day of the year.”
They did talk, but that led to more of the best sex any two people ever had and then they fell asleep together. When Tom’s alarm went off, very early, he had to go to work and lead PT, because he was the company commander and had to set the example. He kissed her on the cheek as he left.
Helen smiled because she wasn’t awake enough to laugh, then she slipped back into sleep and had a lovely dream. She dreamed about a glass elevator, about a blue-eyed man who’d found her on the fifth floor by an ice cream parlor where he’d licked whipped cream off his fingers. She dreamed about sitting by a resort pool, looking at his bare feet next to her bare feet, loving the way he touched her by sliding his ankle between hers as they ate lunch at a little table. She dreamed about all the wedding gowns she didn’t buy and about the one she did, and her breath caught in her sleep when she stood in the jewelry store with Tom and he slid that diamond band on her hand for the first time, and she knew she would wear it forever. And she dreamed about the high roller lounge, how she and Tom had sipped ridiculously expensive drinks and scoffed at the high rollers who thought they were hot stuff for betting ten grand a hand. That was nothing. She and Tom were the real high rollers. They were betting everything on love at first sight, and they were going to win.
Then Helen’s alarm went off, and she rolled over and blinked at the ceiling of a modestly sized bedroom in a government house on an army post, and she remembered everything.
* * *
Tom was a little late to the counseling session, but that wasn’t why he jogged to get into the building more quickly. It was because he couldn’t wait to see his wife again after last night. She couldn’t jump ahead on the timeline, but he could move back. They were going to start dating.
He kissed her cheek lightly when he walked into the room with the Tiffany lamp and then he sat directly across from her, knee to knee.
Jennifer asked them how their holiday had gone. They laughed and said, “Very well.”
“Today, we’re going to try something just a little different with the questions. I think you should each write a question, at least one. Here are the blank cards. I’ll give you a moment.”
Tom knew he was smiling like a lovesick fool as he wrote out his questions. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me sometime? Can I take you to a movie this weekend?
Helen scribbled away at her own.
“Finished?” Jennifer asked. “Excellent. Now the twist is, I want you to exchange cards. You won’t be asking the questions you wrote. You’ll be answering them.”
Tom shrugged and traded cards with Helen.
She picked up his card. “Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me sometime?”
“Yes, I would.” He picked up the card she’d written. “What was the very first thing I ever bought for you?”
Odd question. He raised one eyebrow as he looked at her.
She smiled. “Vanilla ice cream.”
His heart stopped.
“Go ahead and read all your cards, Tom,” Jennifer suggested in her politely interested voice.
He drew the next card. “What color bathing suit was I wearing at lunch... Helen.”
“Red. Bright red, like a lifeguard’s. You should have been on Baywatch. Hurry up. Read the last one.”
His hands were shaking so badly he could barely read what she’d written. “Why was the hem of your wedding gown wet when you ran out of the hotel room with a croissant in your hand?”
“Because after the ceremony, I was so happy I’d married you, I stood in the middle of the fountain in the hotel and told the whole world.”
“Helen.” Tom vaulted out of his chair and scooped his wife up in his arms and kissed her, oh God, how he kissed her.
“But you’re still taking me to the movie on Saturday, right?” she asked him. She was laughing, and she was crying, and damn it, he was crying, too.
He’d thought his wedding day had been the happiest day of his life, but he’d been wrong. This day was.
The marriage counselor left the room. She was no longer needed.
Epilogue
On Valentine’s Day, the 89th Military Police Brigade at Fort Hood, Texas, hosted a very traditional military dinner. The proper order of events was followed. All the traditional toasts were made.
Captain Tom Cross wore the blue evening mess uniform, as did Captain Helen Pallas. Her floor-length blue skirt and her sharp tuxedo-like jacket could not be worn with flowers, but she was seated at a table that had been sprinkled with rose petals. It was the only table in the banquet hall to have such an untraditional decoration.
Colonel Oscar Reed stood to close the ceremonies and to open the dance floor. “Ladies a
nd gentlemen, there is one more toast to be made, one that isn’t on the official program. Captain Cross, if you will do the honors?”
Tom held the microphone in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. “Thank you, sir. I know the rumors have been circulating at various rates of speed over the past twelve weeks or so, and tonight, I’d like to lay them to rest. Yes, Captain Pallas and I are married. I’d like to raise a glass in honor of my bride. To Helen Pallas.”
“To Helen Pallas,” the officers, NCOs and their guests responded with enthusiasm. The sparkle of raised crystal champagne glasses lent just the right atmosphere.
“Thank you,” Tom said. “The rumor is also true that we didn’t know each other very long before we said our vows. I can only tell you that when you meet the right one, you know, and we didn’t hesitate. Maybe it was all of our fine army training that inspired us to seize the opportunity to advance.”
He paused until the approving ooh-rahs quieted down.
“Some of you in this room, like some of our relatives on both sides, think we should do the whole thing over again with all of our friends and family around.” He looked at Helen and remembered everything—and smiled. “But we had a great wedding. We’ve made our vows, and I wouldn’t trade how we did it for anything. There’s only one thing we missed. I never got to show off my beautiful bride on the dance floor. We’ve never had our first dance. So, if you would indulge me...”
He set down his champagne glass and handed the microphone to Colonel Reed. Tom offered Helen his hand. She rose gracefully and looked absolutely smashing, a wife to make a man glad to be alive as he escorted her to the center of the dance floor. He slipped one arm around her back in the properly formal, officially approved, traditional dance hold.
Colonel Reed nodded to signal the start of the music as he addressed the crowd. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for their first dance together as husband and wife, Tom and his lovely bride, Helen.”
The sound of spoons clinking on champagne glasses drowned out the music. Nobody in the ballroom was going to be able to hear the music and dance as long as the crowd kept that up, so Tom decided it was common sense leadership to toss the regulations out the window. The groom kissed his bride. Thoroughly.