by J.D. Tynan
"Untie her restraint, please," Ryan said and the soldier untied my hands from the chair, then stilled and looked at Ryan over his shoulder. It was probably already common knowledge that I had dug a scalpel into another soldier's shoulder.
"Both, sir?"
"No." Ryan narrowed his eyes on me. "Just the one."
I guess that was better than nothing. "Thank you." I grabbed a tissue and blotted my red eyes, with my hands still snuggly bound together.
"Sector 72G, huh?" Ryan said intriguingly.
I stared at him for a good three minutes.
He tapped his fingers on the file and stood up. "Fort Benning, Georgia." With palms planted firmly on the table, he bent forward in a hostile manner and stared me down.
"What do you want from me?" I asked through clenched teeth.
"Why won't you just talk to me, Charlie?"
"I am talking, but no one is listening," I shouted and stood up to get into his face that time. The chair banged against the floor and bounced on the concrete a few times before I finally spoke. "I want to know where Bella is and I want to know Now!" I slammed my hands down and grabbed my file. "This is mine."
He tried to grab it back, but I, too, can be fast.
"This is private," I yelled at him and not even for a second did I want Secret Agent Man to know anything about my past. As far as I was concerned, he had no right to be looking at my military record. I was just an ordinary citizen trying to make a decent living as a nanny for Christ sake.
"Charlie, cut the bullshit."
Clearly, he felt stressed again because he was raking his hand through his hair. I didn't care though. No one could possibly understand my state of mind during that time, and keeping my cool had flown out the window the previous week when I shot and killed a number of men.
"Duane. You tell DuLucere to level with me about Bella and I will tell you everything you want to know."
I think that amused him because one corner of his mouth perked up.
"Even the reason you quit?"
I think I paled slightly. I know my breathing grew ragged and I felt my knees buckle. No one outside of my unit knew why I quit and I wasn't keen on the idea of talking about it nearly four years later.
"That's personal."
He cocked a brow, but then let it go. "Some other time then," he said as he conceded. "I'll talk to Inspector DuLucere."
I think he looked at my boob.
"Can I get you anything?"
I looked down at myself and shrugged. "Clothes would be nice."
"Got it."
For some reason, I rather hoped that he'd give me the shirt off his back, but that didn't happen. He did return with some black sweats pants, a U.S. Navy sweatshirt and a pair of shoes that were two sizes too big. It was the thought that counted.
"Thanks."
"My job is done then." He grinned and went to leave.
"Sir." I grabbed his wrist. I'm surprised that the room didn't fill with bad asses again, but it didn't. "Is she okay?"
"I don't know, Charlie. I honestly don't know."
DuLucere came back after Ryan left and after a hot turkey sandwich, a bag of potato chips and an entire cup of coffee, I started asking questions.
"Why did this happen? Why did you have us removed from Athens?"
He blew out his breath then lit a cigarette because he hadn't inhaled toxins for about thirty seconds. His eyes looked tired. My guess was that he was sixty going on eighty.
"When I walked into that conference room at the embassy in Athens, I knew that all hell would break loose if Claude's enemies found out about Annabelle, so I took it upon myself to initiate a preemptive strike of sorts."
"So, you had us moved to protect us from his enemies?"
"Yes, in so many words."
"What aren't you telling me?"
"There are forces here in Eastern Europe that have been working and strategizing for years. Years longer than I have even lived. Let's just say that I owed a very good friend a very big favor."
Interpol? I just then put two and two together and my guess would be that Claude and Christian DuLucere went way back. Back to the days when Claude was working for Interpol. Somehow, my questions remained unanswered, but I had bigger things on my mind.
"So, where is Annabelle now and what were you planning on doing to me?"
He laughed and sat down, reached out and placed his hand over mine in a comforting way. "Miss Ford. My men never meant any harm. I was the only one privy to your background, so I asked them to take extra precautions, but not to harm you or the girl. My men didn't know anything about you and Annabelle, they were just following orders."
"So, you weren't going to have me…." I winced "eliminated?"
He chuckled again. "Non, my dear. We were simply going to make sure you made it home to the States once Bella was safe, and we no longer needed you to look after her."
I let out the breath I had been holding and felt bad that I had kneed cute French guy in the groin and had given DuLucere a bloody nose and, of course, all the horrible things I said and did to Bifocal Man.
"I'm sorry if I was trouble. I'm just really worried about her."
"She's safe, Miss Ford. I guarantee it."
When we finished talking about the bad guys who drugged me and tried to make me talk, I looked through some photos and could only pull one guy out of a black and white surveillance photograph and that man was the Rat. I could not and would not ever be able to forget his face.
It amazed me that things were so formal and choreographed. These people took everything so seriously. I did get to make an apology to the soldier I wounded with the scalpel. He understood that I felt traumatized and gave me a firm handshake, before grinning and telling me that I had a nice ass.
I actually liked the compliment at that time. I asked him to send in Duane and he looked at me with a funny expression.
"Duane?" I said again.
"I don't know who you mean, ma'am."
Here we go again. "The man, the man who was wearing the cast?"
"Oh him," he said and I was sad again. "He's gone, ma'am."
"Oh," I said without expression and sank back down in my seat, feeling sorry for myself as I thought about how much I wanted to tell him that I was sorry. I hadn't been myself lately. I'm a bear. I know that, but not always. Most of the time I can be quite pleasant. I can sit in a room and actually not go for the jugular when I get irritated. I wanted him to know that I was nice. I was normal…well…sort of normal and that I'd like to share a meal with him sometime; preferably not one that we had to catch ourselves and dangle over the fire in the middle of hell.
I'd like to take him to Henry's in Westport. They make a mean Steak Diane at Henry's, but I never get to order it because Steak Diane is a meal for two and I never date. I wanted a date; a date with Ryan. I'm a woman, I wanted to shout: I'm a woman, and I'm not ashamed of it anymore.
A few minutes later, the door opened and a man dressed in a sharp suit sashayed in and dropped his briefcase on the table. Visitors at that time were just icing on my happy little cake that I called my life. I figured that this man was the key to my ticket home. That man looked like a lawyer.
I was wrong again. If I had learned anything about myself in the past ten days or so, it was that I make too many assumptions.
"Miss Charlene Ignatius Ford," he said sternly and took a seat in front of me. "Let's talk."
***
On the airplane ride home, I thought about many things. I thought about Bella, Ryan, the man in the Armani suit and I tried not to think about why I quit Sector 72G. It had been a long healing process for me to deal with what happened that day and I still wasn't ready to talk about it. Perhaps I never will be and I was somewhat glad that I'd never see Ryan-Duane-Vince again, because I didn't even want to tell him it was over. I think I've learned from my mistakes and was past it. I wanted to move on with my life.
I stared out the window and tears rolled down my cheeks when I saw
the twinkling lights of the runway at LaGuardia International Airport. When we touched down and I felt the first little jolt caused by the wheels hitting the runway, I eased back in my seat, closed my eyes, and said a prayer to God. The only thing I had was a letter from the U.S. Embassy in Armenia saying that I was a U.S. citizen and nothing else, not a driver's license, not a credit card. Nothing but the U.S. Navy sweatshirt that I was wearing and the giant tennis shoes that some poor SEAL donated to me in Northern Armenia.
I sort of felt like a traitor, wearing a Navy SEAL sweatshirt and all, but it didn't matter then. What mattered was that I was home. Home. On American soil.
I hadn't slept on the long flight home, so I couldn't wait to curl up in bed and slip into my pajamas.
"Yoohoo." I heard his cat call before I even started looking around. "Charlie," Gregory shouted from behind a crowd of people. Even at ten o'clock at night, the airport was full of international travelers, domestic travelers and even some drunks who just like to frequent the airport lounges.
I wouldn't say that Gregory and I are even friends really, I mean I hardly know the man, but I was damned happy to see him and even happier when he pulled me into his arms and gave me a big giant gay-man bear hug. He rocked me back and forth and wept into my hair as if he were my mother. "How are you?"
"Overwrought." That was the best word I could come up with to encompass how I was. Then I added another.
"Elated." And I smiled.
I slept the entire way to Greenwich, which was only about a half an hour without traffic and that night there was none. The giant wrought-iron gates opened up and Gregory parked in the fourth garage bay. It seemed so strange for me to be returning home without Bella, but it didn't feel right for me to return home to Oregon without seeing for myself that she had made it home safely. I still had no idea when that was going to happen, but I hoped for sooner, and not later.
"Oh God," I groaned at the giant plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that Gregory had been kind enough to make me. "You're my hero," I gushed and sat down at the counter. I ate three sandwiches before I even felt the need for a hot bath.
"Do you think he'd mind if I used his bathtub?" I asked Gregory, because I wanted to ease myself into the giant tub. The tub seats five grown-ups, but it was in Roald's private bathroom so I felt strange about it.
"Are you kidding? The man can't stop gushing about you. I think he'd give you anything you want at this point. Go on up. He's still out of town anyway."
It took me a minute to retrieve my things from my quarters. I still couldn't believe all the things that had happened to me. I wanted to write it all down so I wouldn't forget any details. I wanted to remember what burned figs smelled like and I wanted to remember the way that Bella looked at me when she finally realized that I wasn't just another bimbo out to marry her father. I wanted to remember it all.
Well, I'm exaggerating a bit there. I would rather forget some parts. The bruise around my eye still told a gruesome story and the puncture mark on my lower back was still sore from where they hit me with a tranquilizer. I still couldn't believe that they had drugged me like a wild animal.
I'm not that bad, am I?
I peeled off my clothes and slid under the bubbles. Gregory let me use his own private stash of lavender bath beads. I love lavender. Lavender makes me want to sleep. I'd like to sleep for the next week if that is possible.
I had just closed my eyes when I heard the light knock on the door.
"Can I come in?" Gregory stuck his head in and handed me a well-needed martini: an apple one with a cherry floating in it. He had one too, and had a look in his eye as if he wanted the juicy stuff.
"You first. What's been going on here?" I took a sip and felt the alcohol warm my veins.
"Well…" He began and went on and on about how Roald and Nicole were all set to fly over to Athens in Steven Spielberg's jet, but then they got a phone call from Gammy saying not to bother because Bella had been moved somewhere safe for the time being.
Then I got it. Gammy was privy to the deal, too, and therefore filled our captors in about what kind of food Bella liked. It was Gammy, and Gammy probably had her. I felt a bit better about things after Gregory went on and on about the phone calls, the letters from fans, and how everyone from Barbara Walters to Connie Chung wanted interviews once she returned. After three martinis, he finally fell silent, winded.
"Nicole is doing her best to kiss his ass with all the publicity and all. She wants to move back in and start over…" He rolled his eyes, as did I. "She's such a skeezer."
"Nice." I laid my head back. "What's a skeezer?"
"I dunno," he slurred and dipped his bare toes into the water. A cross between a slut, a skank and a tease maybe?"
I laughed hard and it felt good to laugh. I decided I needed friends after all. Friends make the world a brighter place.
"Can we finish this tomorrow? I'm exhausted."
"Sure. As long as you tell me everything," he gushed dramatically.
"Sure." I lied. No one needed to know everything. Some things are just better left in the closet.
***
I slept in Bella's room because I wanted to and she wasn't there to kick me out of her space. Photo spreads of Justin Timberlake covered the ceiling above her bed. I had a strange feeling that he was watching me while I slept so I turned over and thought of Ryan. How pissy he would get with me when I watched him sleep. How did he know? Was he that good of a spy that he just knew?
I closed my eyes and tried to dream of Ryan. I dreamed of Bella instead.
***
Morning came quickly. At least it seemed that way to me. I guess I hadn't slept as well as I thought I would, being home and all. Gregory had taken the dogs to the vet, so I had the house to myself. I made pancakes with real maple syrup and scrounged around for bacon. There was none, so I cut up some ham steak into strips and pretended it was bacon. If it looks like a pig and smells like a pig—it's bacon.
I didn't know what to do with myself after cleaning up and soaking in Roald's tub for an hour and a half, so I went to my lonely cottage and noticed my machine was blinking. I pushed the button and there were fifteen calls from my dad. I wept like a baby, sitting there on my bed, staring at the machine as my father left message after message. Most of them were short and sweet. "Call me…I love you, Charlie." Others were a bit longer. "I got your letter sweetheart and I...well, I don't know what to say, really…I guess I'd just like to say I'm sorry, baby. I'm so proud of you and I'm sorry."
"Wow," I said aloud after the last one. He actually said he was proud of me and I hadn't even broken the news to him that I almost have a master's degree. Holy shit. I grappled for the phone and dialed him at home, no such luck. I tried his office and again, I just hung up because I didn't want to leave a message.
Without even realizing it, I had changed the course of my relationship with my father forever. I knew that things might not ever be perfect between us, but I somehow had made him hear what I had to say and somehow that made him proud. That's all I could ever ask for.
I had been through so much shit the last couple of weeks that just having a father who was alive and healthy was just about good enough for me. Don't get me wrong, I loved hearing him say he was proud of me and that he loves me, but somehow my zany fiasco abroad had changed the way I looked at everything and I wasn't going to sweat the small stuff anymore.
Things were looking up for me and I know now that I will never look across the street or turn on the TV and think that the grass is always greener. 'Cause it's not. I'm happy with who I am and I'm happy and I'm grateful for what I have. It's a whole new me.
Chapter Twelve
That night, I had just finished the dishes when I heard laughter coming from the garage. Female laughter.
I wiped my hands dry on the dishtowel hanging by the oven and prayed it was Bella.
When she walked in, my smile faded and I felt completely demolished because I had gotten my hopes up that i
t was Bella.
"Charlie," Roald grabbed me under the armpits and spun me around in the kitchen, hugging me so hard that I struggled for breath. "How's my hero?" His voice was boisterous and gleeful. "When did you get back?" He looked me up and down and carefully touched my battered cheekbone.
"Last night." I said, and extended my hand to Bella's mother. "I'm Charlie Ford. It's nice to finally meet you."
She smiled that fake actress smile and shook my hand, then helped herself to a bottle of Perrier from the fridge. I don't know why I took offense to her doing that, but I did.
"We just can't thank you enough for all that you did," she said, then smiled at Roald. "We should get ready, the gala starts in an hour." She walked past me and into the foyer.
Roald stood speechless and then gave me another hug.
"I spoke to my mother this morning. Bella should be home in a few days. What do you think we should do for a welcome home party?"
"Whatever you do, invite Justin Timberlake." I grinned and he slugged me in the shoulder, pulled me into his burly arms and began weeping against my hair.
Now that is the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. His estranged wife was changing her clothes and he was weeping into my hair.
"I don't think I can ever repay you or thank you enough. I want to hear everything." He sat down and wiped his eyes. "Bella told me that you were a real hero."
"Ah shucks," I said playfully, and then realized that he wasn't kidding. "I had help. There was this guy, I don't know who he was, but he got us safely out of there. I didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done yourself. She's a wonderful girl and she deserves the best."
"I will give it to her." His eyes lit up. "A party, yah! A big one with all her friends and I'll invite that boy…"
I had to cut him off at this point. I'd like to think that I got to know Bella pretty well over the past couple of weeks.
"Roald. Stop." I shook my head. "All Bella wants is you. She needs her father to pay attention to her. To see her and to know what she is doing. Don't take her for granted…" This time I cried. "She's a very brave and special girl and she has so much going for her. Please don't ignore her."