by Odette Stone
“You think my husband is hurting me?”
“I saw how pissed he got at the BBQ.”
I waved my cast in the air. “This was an accident. I’m clumsy. That’s all.”
It was the truth, but it didn’t sound like the truth.
“I’m just putting it out there that if you need help, I can help.”
“I’m good,” I tried to give him my most reassuring smile.
“Hi, Mark.”
From behind us, Jackson’s voice sounded deceptively casual.
Mark stood up straight. “Sir.”
Jackson stared without blinking. He didn't move, he just stared.
Mark cleared his throat and took a step back. “Nice running into you again, Mrs. Hunter.”
“You too.”
Jackson watched as Mark walked away before he sat down across from me. He lifted his beer and took a long sip. There was a mild expression on his face, but his actions were too deliberate. My husband was pissed.
“Bad phone call?”
“I turn my back for one minute.”
I crossed my arms. Jackson was completely unreasonable. “Why this sudden concern about Mark?”
His response was the look.
I picked up my virgin mocktail. “Pretty hypocritical if you ask me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You spent three years with Harper, and you guys make googly eyes at each other, but since you tell me nothing is going on, I’m just supposed to believe you. I spent ten minutes talking to one person at the BBQ, and you go all Navy SEAL on his ass. Even after I told you nothing was going on.”
He looked away from me and took a sip of his beer. “That’s different.”
“What? No, it’s not!”
He looked back at me. “Fine. Let’s drop it.”
“What was your phone call about?”
“I have to report to work tonight.”
I felt my face fall. “Again? You just got here.”
“I knew this turn around would be short.”
“How long will you be gone for?”
“Just a couple of weeks.”
I leaned back in my chair, the breeze blowing the hair off my face. This was what I had signed up for. He had warned me, but I was only just starting to understand what it meant to be the wife of a SEAL. I already felt lonely. “I get it.”
“What do you get?”
“I need to make some friends.”
Chapter 29
My husband was full of surprises. It took me most of the morning to discover it, but when I was in New York, he had painted Alien’s room without telling me. It was a beautiful cream color, and I cried when I saw it.
I worried about Jackson. Where was he? Was he in a gunfight? Fighting off monster snakes with his bare hands? I looked up HALO jumping and wished I hadn’t. Jumping from a plane that flew as high as a commercial jet, jumpers needed to breathe pure oxygen and faced temperatures that would freeze their skin in seconds. Falling at a rate of over 120 mph, jumpers free fell for almost two minutes before deploying their chutes at the last possible moment. The thought of Jackson hurtling to earth from so far up made me feel sick to my stomach. I tried not to think about it, but sometimes thoughts of his safety overwhelmed me to the point of tears.
To my complete horror, twice more I found cooked chicken in our backyard. I brought the chicken to the vet who confirmed it was laced with rat poison. I watched Chloe like a hawk, terrified that she would eat something bad.
Sunday morning, unable to sleep, I got up early. I looked out my bedroom window, and in the dusky shadows, I saw a figure come around the front of my house and jog lightly down the street. It was a tall, slender woman. Her hoodie obscured her face, but I saw a bit of wheat blonde hair sticking out. It instantly reminded me of Harper.
After my shower, I took Chloe out to the backyard. There in the middle of the lawn was a small pile of cooked chicken. In tears, I cleaned it up.
Usually, I preferred to go into Newport to grocery shop, but it was raining, and I just needed a couple of things, so despite my trepidation, I made my way to the military grocery store. The place was mostly empty. I grabbed a cart and started to push my way around the store quickly. I was almost at the front when someone aggressively stepped in front of my cart.
It was Harper. I stopped and looked up at her. My heart pounded. She had a small smile on her face like she had some little secret.
“Hi, Emily.”
“Hi.”
She peered into my cart. “Doing some shopping, I see?”
“Yes.” I had no idea why I felt so tense. I stared up at her beautiful face. She had a benign expression on her face. She was making polite conversation. So why did it feel like she was going to stick a shiv into me?
“No dog biscuits, I see.”
My entire body froze. “Excuse me?”
Her smile widened. “You do have a dog, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
We stared at each other for a long moment.
She leaned forward and said very quietly, “You should keep an eye on her. You wouldn’t want her to eat anything she shouldn’t.”
My lips parted. I couldn’t believe she was saying this to me. Why would she say something like that? Was that her in my yard this morning? Was this her evil way of taunting me?
“What do you know about that?” Rage darkened my heart. My voice wobbled.
She gave a knowing shrug. “Jackson mentioned it to me.”
She might as well have kicked me in the gut. Jackson had no business mentioning anything about our lives to Harper.
“I should go.” I wheeled my cart around her.
My hands shook as I paid for my groceries. When had Jackson talked to her? Were they still in constant contact? Did he Skype her? Thoughts tumbled through my head. When I looked up, she was gone.
Later that night, Jackson skyped me. He looked big and badass with his military gear. He sat outside beneath some camo netting. It looked like morning there. I didn’t even know what country he was in.
“Hey,” his teeth looked white against the dark tan of his face.
“Hi.”
We studied each other. Suddenly, I missed him so much it hurt. I wanted to touch him, smell him, and wrap my arms around his strong muscular waist.
“Thank you for painting Alien’s room.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I was so happy when I walked in there.” I paused and then added. “I started the mural.”
He leaned forward, interest in his expression. “Show me.”
“You don’t want to see it when it’s done?”
“Nope. Show me now.”
I carried the iPad up to the room and hesitated, feeling suddenly shy.
“There's going to be two scenes. This is the daytime scene, and I haven’t started the nighttime scene yet.”
His face looked serious. “Show me.”
I turned the iPad and showed him the wall. Dad Bear was standing at an old-fashioned stove flipping pancakes up into the air behind him. Little Bear was dancing behind him, catching all the steaming pancakes on a plate. Mother Bear looked on with a tender smile on her face, while Grandma and Grandpa Bear waited patiently at the kitchen table. Most of it was painted, I just needed to fill in some spots.
I turned the iPad around, and Jackson looked down at the table in front of him. He lifted his green gaze up to me. “You did all that?”
“Yeah.”
He looked away from the camera for a long moment, and when he looked back at me, his face was devoid of emotion. “It’s good.”
I watched him, aware that he was fighting some emotion. Did these pictures remind him of his time with his mom?
“Thanks.”
“So how is Chloe?”
“She’s good. I found more poisoned chicken in our backyard.”
“When?”
“Three times now. I don’t even let her outside without walking through the backyard first.”
I chewed on my lip, debating on how much I wanted to say. “I saw someone leave our yard this morning. And then I found more chicken.”
“What did you see?”
“It was a tall, slender woman with blonde hair. She wore running gear, and she had a hood up. I couldn’t see her face.”
“Anything else?”
“I saw Harper at the grocery store.”
He blinked.
“Did you tell her that Chloe was poisoned?”
“I don’t remember.”
“She seemed to know all about it.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Well, obviously I did tell her then.”
“When were you talking to her?”
“Is that what all of this is about?”
“Do you Skype her?”
“Are you implying that Harper came out of our yard this morning?”
“I didn’t say it was Harper.”
We eyeballed each other.
“Jackson. I don’t want to fight about it. I was just telling you what I saw.”
He leaned forward and spoke straight into the camera. “You better be certain about your facts.”
“I’m certain about what I saw.”
“Emily, you can’t go making half-assed accusations about someone.”
“Who said I was making accusations?”
“Sure sounded like it to me.”
“Has it dawned on you that she might be the one doing this?”
“Harper would never do that.”
“How do you know that?”
“I think I know someone’s character after being with them for three years.”
That stung. Yes, he had spent three long years with her. It was a reminder I didn’t want.
“I’m not the enemy,” I said tersely. “But I think it is pretty rude that you would choose Harper over Chloe.”
“I think it's pretty rude that you'd drag Harper into this mess. This is a small community, Emily. And a lot of people know and like Harper.”
“What are you saying?”
“Just don’t go making an enemy where you don’t have to.”
“I’m not making an enemy.”
He looked annoyed. Which made me want to burst into tears. Although the last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of him or fight with him. Not when we were so far apart. I had no idea why he defended her. I couldn’t prove anything, but I was wary of her. It felt like a betrayal that Jackson would automatically take her side.
He leaned forward. “I should go.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“You okay?”
I nodded again.
He looked resigned. “Okay. Talk to you later.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter 30
It rained for three days. Chloe and I were going a bit stir crazy.
My doorbell rang. It was Lauren.
She gave me a careful smile. “I thought I'd drop by and say hi.”
I held open the door. “Come in.”
I put on coffee as she wondered around our family room. She turned, holding up my baby book.
“You’re pregnant.”
“22 weeks.” I brought her a cup of coffee.
She eyeballed my stomach. “How are you feeling?”
“Fat.”
She smiled. “Just wait until you are 38 weeks.”
We sat down.
“Where are your kids?” I asked, trying to be conversational.
“My mother-in-law is visiting. What happened to your arm?”
“I was in New York, and I tripped backward over a stool. I have a hairline fracture in my wrist.”
We fell into an uneasy silence.
“Lauren, I don’t mean to be rude, but you didn’t seem that enamored with me at your BBQ.”
“Harper is my best friend.”
Ah. That made a lot more sense. But that still didn’t explain why she was here.
She started, “Your husband is an exceptional soldier.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She looked down at her coffee. “My husband was on night patrol. And he got jumped by some insurgents. He said he was about ten seconds away from being killed and Jackson saved his life.”
My eyebrows went up. Trying not to imagine that scene. Night time. Men with guns. What Jackson would have had to do to save her husband’s life. “My husband asked you to be my friend.”
“I'd do anything for Jackson.”
My face grew hot. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“He reminded me that you hadn’t been given a fair chance.”
“People love Harper.”
She took a sip of her coffee. “Jackson never wanted to settle down. I’ve seen dozens of women fling themselves at him, but no one could hold his interest.”
“Until Harper.”
“Everyone thought that she was going to be the one. They were together a long time.”
“Then he came back from New York with me in tow.”
“No one seems to remember that Jackson has the right to marry whomever he wants. Everyone just looked at that situation and felt bad for Harper.”
“He got me pregnant.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, he never looked at her like he looks at you.”
Apparently, she had missed the fiasco at her BBQ. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I didn’t even know about her until I got here.”
She gave a short laugh. “No. But you get the blame.”
I looked down at my hands. I didn’t know if I should be thrilled to be talking to someone other than Chloe or devastated that my husband had to call in a favor to get someone to come over and talk to me.
“What is this?” she leaned forward and was looking at some of the sketches I had done for Alien’s mural.
“Just some preliminary drawings for a mural I’m doing.”
Her head shot up. “You paint?”
“You want to see?”
Five minutes later, Lauren stood in Alien’s room.
“This is incredible,” she turned and looked at me. “You did this?”
“I have a lot of time on my hands.”
She cleared her throat, hesitating. “My daughter loves Elsa.”
“You need a mural?”
“Are you for hire?”
I tried to think of how my granny would handle this opportunity. “I'd do it for an exchange.”
“What kind of exchange?”
“I need to meet more people, but I don’t even know how to do that.”
“I know everyone.”
We looked at each other.
She held out her hand, “I think we could make a deal.”
A couple of nights later, after dinner, Jackson called me on Skype.
“Hi,” I peered at him on the screen. He sat outside under the shade of the military netting. His cameo baseball hat was pulled low over his eyes. His hair was sticking in all directions from beneath his hat, making him look adorable. “How are you?”
“Good.”
“Are you safe?”
He just smiled at me.
“So, Lauren dropped by the other day for coffee.”
“Oh yeah?” His expression looked innocent.
“Embarrassing that my husband had to call in an old favor to get me a coffee date.”
His expression was hard to read. “How did it go?”
“She has commissioned me to paint Elsa on her daughter’s wall.”
“Who’s Elsa?”
“You’ll find out soon enough if Alien is a girl.”
“What’s the commission?”
I shook my head.
He leaned forward, intrigued. “What?”
“I’ve been invited to a Scentsy party and a bridal shower.”
“You’re bartering for friends.”
“Chloe told me the other day that I’m starting to repeat my stories.”
He laughed. “That bad?
”
“I’m desperate.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“She got me an invite. I still have to win them over.”
“You've got this.”
“How did you save her husband?”
He was about to speak when suddenly a loud explosive boom happened off camera. Jackson turned, shielded his face, and then he hauled an enormous scary automatic weapon up from his side. He stood up and looked towards the sound of the explosion.
“No,” I said as he moved, disappearing out of view of the camera. I sat there, my hand over my mouth, staring at that netting, and listened to the worst sounds I had ever heard. Men shouted. The pop pop pop of gunfire. I saw other men run by with huge guns, in the direction that Jackson had disappeared. Another explosion. More shouting. Terrifying gunfire that never seemed to take a break. Then the camera was falling and lying on the ground. And then everything went black.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” I looked at the screen. I was crying. “Please call back. Please call back.”
I sat there for an hour and dialed his Skype number to no avail. The absolute worst things were going through my mind. Visions of Jackson lying in that dusty sand, bleeding. Hurt. Possibly even dead. I texted him. I emailed him. I tried to call him. Nothing.
There was no communication at all from him. Where was he? What had happened? I knew he was a soldier, I knew he was a SEAL, but what I had just witnessed, made me realize first hand that this was real. Jackson lived and worked a dangerous job. He could die at any moment.
I could not erase from my mind the sight of him heading into a gunfight. If something happened to him, I would not survive. I couldn't imagine my life without him. The thought alone made me sick. I knew what death was. I knew what loss felt like, but to have Jackson die, that would feel like all the oxygen would be sucked out of this world. I would never make it.
I paced the length of the house, too freaked out to sleep. I made up some rules for myself.
If Jackson survived this, I'd never bother him again with my shit.
Going forward, he’d get sunny, happy me on Skype telling him how awesome life was.
The house could burn down around me, and I'd tell him everything was great.
I wouldn't distract him with my petty problems.
