Midnight swallowed almost nervously, then nodded.
“When was this?” Rick asked, his tone clipped.
“About fifteen years ago,” she answered, her voice starting to match his.
“And it was a one-time thing?” Rick asked hopefully.
Midnight shook her head.
“How long?” he asked, rapid fire again.
“A year.”
Rick stared at her dumbfounded. His eyes took on a hurt look, but his face remained stony as he asked, “You dated him for a year?”
“It wasn’t an all-the-time kind of thing—he lived in New York.” When it was obvious he was waiting for further clarification, she continued, “We were together when he was in town, which was maybe once a month.”
Rick said nothing for a long few moments, looking everywhere but at her. Midnight waited, aware that he was assimilating what she had said. She didn’t like the position she was in; she hated being on the defensive. But she also knew that in order for Rick to be okay with this, she needed to let him vent his feelings about it if that was what he wanted to do. Finally his eyes came back to hers, and Midnight felt herself flinch at the pain she saw there. She didn’t understand it until he spoke again.
“Did you love him?” he asked, his voice quiet and stricken.
Midnight stared back at him for a long moment, stunned that he was actually worried about that. “Rick…” she said softly, searching his eyes as she reached up to touch his cheek. “I have never loved anyone like I love you.” Then she shook her head, because that hadn’t cleared his mind. “No, I didn’t love him.”
He swallowed convulsively, trying to get his feelings under control, as Midnight leaned forward, laying her head against his chest. He nodded, more to himself than to her, as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. They stayed that way for a long time. Then she pulled back, looking up at him.
“What else do you want to know?” she asked softly.
“Did he bring it up tonight?”
“The past?”
“Yeah.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “In fact, at first we both pretended we’d never met. When I finally slipped and called him by his old nickname, Masters, he was surprised I did remember him after all. We talked about our kids, you, and about his life too.”
“You talked about me?” Rick asked, clearly surprised.
“Yeah, we were talking about his kids and then about Keyl and Ricky, and then he said something about my very intense husband who loves me very much.”
“Why did he say that? And how does he know me?” Rick asked, suspicion creeping in.
“He saw the funeral, Rick,” she said, her voice softening. She knew how hard it was for him to think about that time.
Midnight had seen so many clips from the media since then. She’d seen him at the gravesite, and watched as he had literally flinched at each shot of the twenty-one-gun salute, and as he had sunk to his knees during the playing of “Taps.” She’d seen the agony on his face, and how lost he had looked. It made her physically sick, but it gave her a real understanding of how much he really loved her too.
“Oh,” Rick said, understanding exactly what Masterson had seen. He’d watched some of it himself since then, and he knew there was no question in anyone’s mind about what would happen to him if he ever lost Midnight for real. “So you trust the guy?”
“Yes, I trust him.”
Rick nodded slowly. “Then I’ll give him a chance.”
Midnight smiled. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“Good,” Rick said, leaning down to take possession of her lips. He was still kissing her as he moved her back off his legs, getting to his knees as he laid her down on the bed. Their heads ended up at the foot of the bed as they kissed for a long time, his body half covering hers. When the kisses ended, he slowly rolled to the right, pulling her with him, moving onto his back. Midnight’s head rested against the hollow of his shoulder, her body pressed against the length of his side, her leg over his possessively. He stroked her hair as he stared up at the ceiling, her nails tracing patterns lightly on his bare chest, both of them lost in their own thoughts. That’s the way Mikeyla found them twenty minutes later.
Mikeyla Debenshire was a precocious eleven-year-old. She was a perfect mixture of both parents, with Midnight’s copper-blond hair and Rick’s deep blue eyes and finely boned face. She was a beautiful girl, and would eventually be a beautiful woman, and she couldn’t wait to grow up. She had Midnight’s intellect, but also her father’s wild side, and she’d inherited both parents’ passion for everything. There were so many things she wanted to do, but as was inherent in youth, she wanted to do all of it right now. Lately all her friends had been telling her how “great” her parents were, how cool it was that they were so “hot” for each other. Her best friend, Sarah, who was thirteen and a half, said that her parents never looked at each other the way Mr. And Mrs. Debenshire frequently did. Mikeyla was caught in the struggle to grow up and see the world through mature eyes, and yet in many ways she was still a child. Looking at her parents, who hadn’t yet noticed her presence, she tried to see them the way her friends did.
She saw her mother’s hand on her father’s bare chest. His shirt was open and she could see his tan gleaming in the bedroom light. He wore a gold chain at his throat, a series of flat links Midnight had given him years before for his birthday. His light brown curly hair lay around his shoulders and spread out on the sheet behind his head. None of her friends’ fathers wore their hair long like her dad did. She liked it in a way, thought it was cool, even though most younger guys were cutting their hair these days. She’d heard her mother threaten her father with great bodily harm if he cut his. There had been many times when she’d walked into the kitchen to find them kissing—her mother’s hands would always be in his hair. Mikeyla had also heard her father threaten her mother about not cutting her hair as well. It was funny in a way, that her parents cared so much about that kind of stuff. Kinda like teenagers. Mikeyla looked at her mother’s copper-blond hair, lying over Rick’s upper arm as he stroked it lovingly. She wondered what it would be like to have a boy touch her hair like that, so adoringly.
There had been so many boys interested in her lately, but she didn’t know how to act around them. Many of them had been friends of hers for years. She tended to hang out with older kids because kids her age were just dumb. Being around two dynamic personalities like her parents, not to mention the colorful people that made up their circle of friends, Mikeyla had become so acquainted with adult conversations that she expected the same level from her friends. While the eleven-year-olds she knew were only interested in Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears, Mikeyla was interested in the latest cars, books, and movies. While she liked the music from the popular bands, she didn’t spend as much time worshiping them as other girls did. She knew it set her apart, but she’d found some older friends who seemed to get her much better. Sure, they liked the boy bands and stuff too, but they weren’t so gaga over them that they couldn’t talk about other things. Of course, lately all the talk had been about this one chat room that everyone was logging into. That’s what she wanted to talk to her parents about.
Rick glanced up, noticing Mikeyla standing in the doorway.
“Hey, Keyl,” he said. Midnight propped herself up on her elbow to look back over her shoulder at her daughter.
“Hi, you two,” Mikeyla said, walking into the room. She went to sit on the bed as her parents moved to sit up. Even then, they didn’t move away from each other. Midnight turned to face Mikeyla, and Rick sat with one arm bracing himself on the bed, the other sliding around Midnight’s waist. It was like they knew how the other was going to sit and they just moved that way together.
“What’s up?” Midnight asked. Mikeyla didn’t usually pop in for no reason. Lately she’d been busy with her friends a lot.
“Can we get the Internet?” Mikeyla asked without preamble.
Mid
night looked back at her daughter for a long minute, then glanced at Rick. He kind of shrugged, and looked back at Midnight, basically telling her it was her call.
“What are you going to use it for?” Midnight asked, knowing all about the latest chat craze. “Well,” Mikeyla began, aware they’d want her to use it for school and stuff too, “I can use it for school, to look up stuff for book reports and things.”
Rick’s grin was lopsided as he said, “Yeah, but what are you going to use it for?” His tone told her she wasn’t fooling him.
“Dad!” Mikeyla said, exasperated.
“Keyl!” Rick mimicked. “I know you,” he said confidently. “And you said ‘I can use it for,’ not ‘I am going to use it for.’ So why do you really want it?”
Mikeyla stared back at her father for a long moment, then at her mother, who was giving her a look that said, He’s got you there. Once again she cursed having parents who were both really good investigators and readers of body language. “Okay, okay, I want to go to this chat room everyone’s talking about.”
Midnight nodded, and Rick said, “Uh-huh.”
“It’s really cool, Dad. All my friends are on there all the time.”
“All the time?” Rick repeated.
“Well, not during school, of course,” Mikeyla put in, though she knew that wasn’t always true.
“No, of course not,” Midnight replied, grinning back at Rick. “How old are the kids in this chat room?”
“My age, some maybe older,” Mikeyla said vaguely.
“Maybe how older?” Rick replied, narrowing his deep blue eyes, telling her that he was getting suspicious with her answers.
“Older, Dad,” Mikeyla said. “Like fourteen and fifteen.”
“Do people from this chat room hook up?” Midnight asked. She knew generally how the whole thing worked, but not well enough for her comfort.
“Sometimes,” Mikeyla said, shrugging.
“Are you planning to?” Rick asked.
“No, Dad,” Mikeyla said, sounding petulant and slightly rebellious. “I just want to chat with my friends.”
“You see your friends every day out here—what’s the point in talking to them in some chat room?” Rick asked, mystified.
“It’s different!” Mikeyla said, wishing her parents were more like Sarah’s. They didn’t care what she did on the Internet as long as it didn’t cost them money. She’d already talked on the phone to two boys from it. One she said was really cool, though the other one had been a real creep according to Sarah; he’d wanted to have phone sex. Sarah had hung up on him, happy she hadn’t given him her number and that her parents had star-69 blocked on their phone line. Sarah was talking about meeting the first boy though. He was from San Bernardino, and he said he had a car and could drive there to pick Sarah up. It sounded really cool and romantic to Mikeyla. Now if she could get into that chat room and find a boy from San Bernardino too, maybe she and Sarah could have a double date!
Rick was nodding, giving her a knowing look, and Mikeyla glanced at her mom, begging her silently to let her do it. Again, Midnight turned to Rick. He shrugged and nodded. Mikeyla knew she’d gotten it. She was so happy she threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tight.
Midnight laughed. “Okay, okay, but I don’t want you overdoing it,” she said sternly.
“And don’t you give our phone number or address out to anyone,” Rick added, his tone even more formidable.
“I won’t, Dad, I promise,” Mikeyla said, thinking if she did decide to talk to any boys on the phone she’d just get their number and call them from Sarah’s house. She knew how paranoid her parents were about their home address and number. She’d never totally understood it, but they had always been that way.
Mikeyla sat back, looking at her parents again. They really did make a gorgeous couple. With her mother’s creamy skin and gold-green eyes, and reddish-blond hair that flowed down to her waist, and her father’s strong but finely boned handsome face, his deep, dark blue eyes and curly brown hair that fell around his face so casually. They were both physically very fit, so they seemed to go so well together, Rick’s tall, lean frame against her mother’s petite one. “You guys look good together,” she said, still happy that they were going to let her get the Internet without too much of a fight.
“Do we?” Rick asked, grinning down at his wife as she looked up at him.
“Yeah,” Mikeyla said, laughing. “Kinda like a rock star and his groupie girlfriend.”
Midnight looked stunned at the description, but then started to laugh. Rick was already chuckling.
“Great, I’ve been reduced to your groupie,” Midnight said to Rick, elbowing him in the ribs.
Rick tried to block her move but was unsuccessful. “So get me a beer, will ya?”
“I’ll get you a beer…” Midnight said, trailing off ominously.
“On second thoughts…” Rick said, looking contrite. He dropped his head to her bare shoulder and kissed it softly.
“Yeah…” Midnight said, smiling as she slid her hand over his, which was wrapped around her waist.
Mikeyla watched the exchange, starting to see what her friends saw, looking at their hands together, the gold of their wedding rings glittering against their tanned skin. It was kinda cool, having parents who still played and enjoyed each other as much as they did.
Later that night, as they lay in bed together, their bodies still intertwined from their lovemaking, Midnight remembered Kyle was coming to the house the next day for dinner.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she said, glancing over at Rick. He was still lying half over her, his arm around her shoulder, his leg over hers.
In response, he moved his head down to her shoulder, kissing it, then inward to her neck, leaving a trail of tender kisses. When he got to her ear, he whispered, “What?”
“Umm… was I saying something?” she joked.
“Uh-huh,” he said, grinning as he nodded, his head right next hers.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, sounding like she’d just remembered. “Kyle’s coming for dinner tomorrow night.”
Rick pulled back. “Why?”
“So he can meet you on your own turf,” she said simply.
Rick looked thoughtful for a minute. “And you’re sure he’s not looking to rekindle an old flame with you?”
“Yes,” Midnight said with conviction.
“How?”
“Because he was married, and obviously very much in love with her.”
“Was? Isn’t that the key word there?” Rick asked skeptically.
“She died, Rick,” Midnight said solemnly.
“Ouch,” Rick said, grimacing. “How?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But he seemed pretty crushed by it, and it happened three years ago.”
“Wow…” Rick trailed off as he considered that information, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll give him all the benefit of the doubt. If you trust him, I will.”
“I trust him.”
Rick said nothing for a moment, looking down into her eyes. “Then I do too.”
“Thank you,” she said, moving to kiss his lips softly.
“One question,” Rick said, canting his head to the side.
“What?”
“If I had said I couldn’t handle it, him being here, would you have rescinded your job offer?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
“Could have cost the department a fortune…” he pointed out.
“Nothing is worth losing you,” she said, snuggling closer.
Rick grinned lopsidedly. “You know I’d never put you in that position, right?”
Midnight grinned in response. “Yep.”
She fell asleep shortly after that, and Rick slept for an hour or so before an excruciatingly vivid nightmare woke him in a cold sweat. He had dreamed about Midnight’s car exploding and her being inside. It was a nightmare he’d had constantly for two months after Midnight’s return. He’d final
ly had to start taking sleeping pills to keep them away.
He got up carefully, put on his discarded shorts, and walked into the kitchen. He stood at the sink for a long time, trying to block out the images from the dream. He knew talking about Kyle’s wife dying and Midnight mentioning that Kyle had seen her funeral the year before had brought everything back into specific relief. After a few long minutes, Rick walked over to the bar. After pouring himself a succession of three shots, he began to feel his nerves calm down. “Gotta get a handle on it, Debenshire,” he told himself. He knew he couldn’t let himself get as run down as he had before.
After an hour he went back into their room. He stood staring down at Midnight. She was sleeping on her side, her hair flowing around her. Her left hand lay on the pillow next to her face. Rick looked at her wedding rings—her band, and the emerald ring his grandmother had left for him in her will, telling him to give it to the woman he loved. He had given it to the right woman, that was for sure. The ring had been a source of a couple of particularly painful memories for him.
There was the time he and Midnight had been in the middle of a divorce, when he’d lost his mind long enough to have an affair, causing Midnight to file divorce papers. Once he’d realized his mistake, it had been too late. Unable to face the prospect of not being married to her anymore, he’d fled home to England to lick his wounds. Midnight had sent him the rings, parcel post. He had closed his hand so tight over them that the emerald had cut into him. He still bore a small scar in his palm from that.
The other time had been three years before, when he believed Midnight was dead. While he was still trying to adjust to the nightmare his life had become, a package had arrived from Mexico. Inside were Midnight’s wedding rings. The Chief of Police had returned them to Rick, since the body they believed to be Midnight’s was charred beyond all recognition and the rings had been found in the wreckage nearby. He had gone down the hall into his and Midnight’s room, closed the door quietly, and proceeded to hurl them across the room, accompanying that with a banshee howl of agony that had pierced the heart of every person in the house at the time. All he had wanted was his wife back; he didn’t care what he had to do—he’d even have given up his own life.
Past in the Present (MidKnight Blue Book 9) Page 7
