by Krista Wolf
Dawn glanced up, and I saw her do a double-take. I tried looking down quickly, but it was already too late.
Shit!
Slowly she pushed her cart my way. There was barely anything in it. The stuff that was in it wasn’t any good for her either.
I considered turning away. Pretending I’d never seen her and rolling down the other side of the aisle. But then I realized it could come off as childish, and I really didn’t want to be that way.
Besides, running just wasn’t my style.
“Hey Sammara.”
Even her voice sounded tired. When I finally looked up to acknowledge her, she was wearing a weary half-smile.
“Oh…” I said, trying to sound surprised. “Hey.”
What followed was the longest, most awkward period of silence in my life. I think both of us were waiting on the other. Neither one of us really knowing what to say.
“How’s things?” she offered.
“Good,” I said immediately, realizing the lightning quick answer sounded a little desperate. “Real good, actually.”
“Glad to hear it,” Dawn grinned weakly. I looked at her now, examining her carefully. I detected no sarcasm, no malice.
“I heard you… opened another—”
“Yes,” I said. “Universal Designs.” I took a deep breath. “We’re doing well, so I’m moving in another direction: new construction.”
I don’t know why I even told her. Dawn had practically robbed our past business blind, and then tried to snake me by swindling all of our decorating pieces out from under my nose. If it hadn’t been for Jason and Ryan, a pair of bolt-cutters, and a couple of midnight box trucks, she would’ve gotten away with it. But the guys had helped me to get everything back.
Everything and then some…
Quite honestly, that wasn’t my idea. I was prepared to take the things that belonged to me, and half the stuff we’d purchased together. Instead, Jason and Ryan loaded up all of it. In the end, they left nothing in Dawn’s storage unit but a single piece I absolutely hated.
“I’m glad,” Dawn was saying. Her eyes drooped at the edges. “Tell me more about your new thing, though. It sounds interesting…”
Dawn and I had our differences, both as business partners and beyond. If there was one thing we did have in common though, it was our love for old homes, bygone styles, and ancient architecture.
Once again, I don’t know why, but for some reason I told her. I told her everything I was doing, everything that was going on. Dawn’s reaction reminded me of the old days — her eyes lit up, her face grew more animated as I kept talking about the things I planned to do. By the time I was finished she and I were almost amicable, talking like old friends again… despite what she’d done to me.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Oh, same old stuff,” she smirked. “Between girlfriends right now, but that’s okay. Busy with life, I guess. Can’t complain.”
I glanced down, and saw three different kinds of dog food in her cart. She chuckled.
“Luna unexpectedly popped out a litter of puppies a few weeks back,” she explained. “So now I’ve got five more mouths to feed. And find homes for.”
“You’re up and running again I heard?”
Her face dropped again a little. “Yeah…” she said guardedly.
“That’s cool, no?”
“It is and it isn’t,” she shrugged. “It’s slow going. Hard to do without you there,” she winked, “but I’m gradually building a new client base.”
I nodded in understanding. “These things take time.”
“They do,” she smiled. “They do.”
Another pause. Another silence. When she looked at me again, the last of whatever facade she held up crumbled away. Staring into her eyes, all I saw was sorrow.
“Listen…” she said awkwardly, “I’m sorry about what happened between us. About… you know… about everything.”
I said absolutely nothing. I might’ve nodded the slightest, tiniest bit, but I really couldn’t tell.
“Well, it’s good seeing you again anyway,” she said as she turned away. She chuckled again nervously. “I always feared I’d run into you again. That we’d have words. Bad ones…”
Now I did nod. Dawn shrugged.
“I… I guess I didn’t expect it to go like this,” she said. “But I’m glad it did.”
She spun away, and I watched her make her way back up the aisle. For some reason I felt awful. Awful for her, but good for me. Good for the way I’d handled the situation. Glad to have gotten some kind of apology, even if—
“Hey! Dawn, wait…”
Before I knew it I was walking back up the aisle. She turned to face me as I removed a single key from my keyring.
“This is the key to my warehouse,” I told her. “You know where it is?”
She cocked her head, like she was unsure about my motivation. But she nodded anyway.
“Go get your stuff Dawn,” I said, pressing the key into her hand. “Your stuff — the stuff I took. Nothing else. Okay?”
Tears filled her eyes. Her hand was shaking as she closed her fingers over the key.
“R—Really?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “Really.”
It felt good, watching her slip the key into her pocket. Seeing the expression on her face change to one of reconciliation… and hope.
“Everyone would say you’re crazy to trust me again,” she admitted, “especially after what I did.”
“Yeah, well I never was one for sanity,” I joked. “Besides, I know you’ll do the right thing. Remember who I know, Dawn. Remember what I am now.”
My voice had gone stern enough that she knew I meant business. Somehow though, I knew it wasn’t necessary.
“T—Thank you, Sammara. Really.”
We smiled one last time and said our goodbyes. By the time she made it around the corner of the next aisle, a strange feeling stole over me. One I couldn’t put my finger on, until I was already on my way home.
It felt like closure.
Twenty
SAMMARA
It was early Sunday evening when I forced Melissa to go home. Though we’d had the most amazing girls’ time together, and she’d brought joy and happiness to my otherwise empty house, I didn’t want to keep her for too long.
“You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“If I kept you another night,” I laughed, “Rich would kick my ass.”
“If anything he’d take it out on my ass,” she smiled wickedly. “Not saying I wouldn’t enjoy it.”
I smiled as I shoved her through the doorway. Same old Melissa.
“Fine,” she said, acting disappointed. “I guess I’ll just have to go home and satisfy the needs of my loving husband.”
“Just one?” I teased, laughing. “Rookie.”
She winked, turned around, and slapped her own ass on the way down the walkway. “Fuck you Sammara.”
“In your dreams, bitch.”
I closed the door, letting out a long sigh of contentment. Seeing Melissa was always amazing. We’d reminisced about the old days, the simple days, the single days. The days before our lives became complicated past the point of no return.
Still, we were more fortunate than most. We’d each found the love of our life. Or in my case, the loves of my life. Whichever way you wanted to look at it.
Not everyone gets to be that lucky…
No, I thought to myself. Definitely not. My mind wandered back to Dawn, who’d screwed up her life the moment she’d screwed me over. She’d gotten what she deserved, I guessed. And hopefully she’d learned her lesson.
So far at least, it seemed that way. Melissa and I had taken a Saturday night recon trip to my warehouse, only to find that Dawn had stayed true to her word. She’d taken every piece of furniture that once belonged to her, and nothing more. Not a single piece of my own stuff was missing, and she’d locked the door securely behind her on the way out.
“I stil
l can’t believe you trusted her,” Melissa asserted. “After what she did!”
Even better, she’d left a piece of furniture I didn’t have: the one controversial piece I’d left behind in her storage unit. It was the first piece we’d bought together, after forming our partnership. The piece Dawn had made us buy through her own insistent nature… ignoring my every protest.
“That’s funny,” I’d laughed, pointing out the hideously-painted table. “She knows I hate that thing. Why would she leave it here?”
“Maybe she’s fucking with you?” Melissa suggested.
I was rubbing at my neck. “Nah. More like she’s paying homage to what I did. She’s acknowledging that I got her good, and now it’s all come full circle.”
“Fuck her circle,” Melissa declared.
She had been almost drunk, but not quite. It wasn’t helping that she still held the bottle, brought from my kitchen.
“It’s a peace offering, I think. Maybe she’s turned over a new leaf?”
Melissa had promptly punched me in the arm. “Fuck her new leaf,” she’d said, slurring the last word. “She messed with my girl. And nobody messes with my girl!”
We’d returned home to drink more wine, and eventually pass out on the couch sharing the same cozy blanket. It really was like old times.
And best of all, it took my mind off the guys.
Kyle and Ryan had called once more, just before they departed. The two of them promised they’d get in touch again as soon as they knew something. They also told me not to worry, because they weren’t exactly sure when that would be.
That part I wasn’t too fond of.
I was still thinking about the guys when I heard a sharp knock at the door. It froze me mid-stride, until I walked into the kitchen to check the little bank of monitors up near the ceiling.
Standing alone on my porch… was Dawn.
Dawn?
I opened the door, and there she was — looking much better than she had two days ago. In her right hand, she was holding my key. Her eyes were as wide as saucers however.
“Sammara! This place is breathtaking!”
I laughed and took the key from her outstretched hand. “Thanks.”
“I mean… just look at it! I knew you were renovating an old Victorian, but this… this is a mansion!”
I felt a swell of pride at her genuine astonishment. Of anyone I knew — even Cindy — Dawn had the best historic eye. She and I loved all the same things. We shared the same sense of wonder and awe, whenever it came to places like this.
“Would you like to see it on the inside?” I asked, without even thinking. “It’s even nicer in here. I could make coffee.”
I couldn’t believe I’d said it! And yet, I was actually relieved. A big part of me was happy to not have to look back at Dawn, and what happened between us, in a negative light for the rest of my life. Some of the times we shared together had actually been good ones. We’d built something special. Accomplished great things together…
“I wish I could,” she said anxiously, glancing back over her shoulder. “But I’ve got the dogs in the car. Right now they’re probably climbing all over each other. Freaking out that I’m gone.”
I looked at her and blinked. “You’ve got five German Shepherd puppies crawling around in your car?”
Dawn laughed merrily. “Yeah.”
I glanced at her car, then back at her, then back at her car again. Stepping outside the house, I closed the door.
“Show me.”
Twenty-One
SAMMARA
He was the cutest, cuddliest, most delicious thing I’d ever laid eyes on! And he was all mine. All mine to hug, and kiss, and sleep with and—
Annnnd… there he was, shitting on the living room floor.
A dog, Sammara? Are you crazy?
It probably was a little crazy, but I just didn’t care. The house already seemed less empty with my newfound friend running around from room to room, zooming up the hallways, skidding clumsily across the recently polished, two-hundred year old oaken floor.
“Bad Sarge!” I cried, with not even the slightest bit of authority in my voice. “Outside!”
Sarge looked at me quizzically, tilting his head to one side. One ear flopped backwards and he stuck his tongue out at me in a look so cute, so adorable…
I could just die.
The name had seemed like a good one, and I thought the guys would like it. All of them were well past sergeant, so at least if they didn’t like him they’d outrank him immediately.
And who couldn’t like furry, tail-wagging, adorable puppy?
I got a lot done in the days and weeks after that. I picked up the house a bit, and stocked the shelves in the pantry. It made me feel good to go out and buy every single thing the guys liked, so that it would be there for them when they got back.
And I knew they’d get back soon. Actually I was sure of it. Every time I doubted it for an instant, Sarge would put his little chin in my lap and look up at me with his big, chocolate eyes until whatever worry I might’ve been building up had gone away.
I taught our new puppy how to play, how to fetch, and how to stop chewing on the irreplaceable turn-of-last-century furniture. I soon had him housebroken, at least for the most part, and whenever he was particularly riled up I’d wear him out on a long, beautiful walk around the lake.
We went to work together too. Sarge enjoyed touring job sites with me, and took a particular liking to Cindy. She was one of those rare people who let dogs lick their entire face, which at first I thought was pretty gross, but that was only until I’d gotten a dog.
“Think the guys are gonna like him?” I asked fearfully.
“Like him?” Cindy cried, rubbing Sarge violently behind both ears. “They’re gonna love him!”
I certainly hoped so. I knew Kyle had grown up with dogs, and Ryan once worked alongside members of the K-9 Corps. Those were bomb-sniffing dogs though. I hoped nothing terrible had happened during his time around them. Anything that might sour him to the whole idea of falling in love with Sarge.
Being able to leave the puppy at the office even gave me the courage to do something I’d been putting off: scheduling my HSG test. I took it bright and early on a Monday morning, holding my breath as they injected the dye and positioned the X-Ray machine over my abdomen. It felt warm, and not terribly comfortable. But it didn’t hurt. And the doctor was both kind and gentle, and the whole thing was over before I knew it.
But now you’ll know…
It was the one thing I was dreading even more than the test itself: getting the results. Knowing for sure whether or not I could bear children, or whether I had fertility problems that might prevent us from becoming an even bigger family.
You did the right thing, Sammara. You can’t run from this forever.
That much was true, I guessed. Still, ignorance was always bliss. Especially when it came to life-altering information that could potentially change the way the guys looked at me… or maybe even loved me as well.
Bullshit. They’re going to love you no matter what.
I cried on the way back. Not because of the test or my possible infertility, but of just plain missing my four beautiful men. It felt like years since I’d seen them, even though it had only been a few weeks and months. And the holidays were just days away. Christmas. New Years…
Instead of choking back the tears I just let them go. They streamed down both sides of my face, soaking my sweater, destroying my makeup. I didn’t care. It got so bad I actually pulled over and cried for a good ten minutes, getting it all out, letting everything I’d been holding inside me just rush out of my body in a flood of unchecked emotion. Then I cleaned myself up, put drops in my eyes, and drove back to the office…
… where Sarge rushed over, leapt into my arms, and made everything all better again.
Twenty-Two
RYAN
The explosion bloomed like a flower, so yellow it was almost pretty. It struck the M1
224 dead center of its undercarriage, belching the MaxxPro MRAP into the air a couple of feet before setting it back down on its smoking tires.
“OUT! OUT!”
The big armored doors swung open on either side, and smoke began pouring out. The driver bailed, and rest of the crew of the embattled vehicle began leaping out.
Two... Three… Four…
My hands squeezed the grips of my Browning so hard it felt like I’d wrench it out of its gun mount. I still hadn’t taken a breath yet.
Five… Six…
The smoke turned black. I could see flames now too, licking up from the bottom. Our entire column had stopped.
Shit.
“Murphy! MURPHY!”
I was too late. Kyle had already leapt from his Humvee and was sprinting over to the burning hulk. There was still movement inside. Another soldier — Dawson, probably — fell from the cab, coughing and covering his mouth.
Seven…
Kyle took one look through the doorway, then climbed in. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end as he disappeared into the black smoke… then returned seconds later, with the last crew-member slung over one big shoulder.
Eight. Whew.
Relief flooded through me as a half-dozen other members of Di Spatia rushed in to help. I returned my attention immediately to the horizon, sweeping the big .50 cal back and forth, searching for any sign of an ambush or attack.
There wasn’t any, at least not this time. The explosion had been isolated to a single triggered IUD.
“Ford! Take over.”
I climbed down and approached the scene, which for all intents and purposes wasn’t bad at all. The M1224 was toast. The fires were out, but the undercarriage was a smoking amalgam of twisted metal. It might run again with a few months’ work, but it needed an all new suspension and a shit-ton of fresh paint.
