by Kaylea Cross
She rushed down the hall, took the stairs to the lower floor and shoved the coms room door open. Ben wasn’t there, but Sam sat at one of the computers. She partially turned her body toward her without looking up. Emily waited while she finished whatever she was doing and Sam finally turned her head and smiled. “Hi.”
Emily put a hand to her tight throat. “Can you still reach Luke?”
Sam’s smile disappeared. “He was in a meeting last I heard, but I can try.”
Relief swept through her. He hadn’t left yet.
Sam grabbed a phone from the corner of the desk. “Everything okay?”
No. “I just need to talk to him for a minute.”
“Sure, hang on.” She dialed and adjusted her headset, waited a few moments. “Just his voicemail,” she said as she disconnected. “Let me try Ben.” Buttons clicked, then another pause. “Hi, Ben, it’s me. Could you get Luke to call in when you guys are through? Thanks. Love you.” Sam eyed her. “Want to leave one on Luke’s voicemail?”
“No. I have to tell him something, and it can’t be left as a message.” Unless it was a last resort.
A hint of sympathy crept into Sam’s mahogany eyes. “I’ll come and get you when he calls. Probably on their way to the airfield.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Disheartened but still optimistic she’d get her chance to say what she needed to, Emily went back upstairs.
Bryn and Nev were in the family room watching the huge flat screen TV mounted above the marble fireplace. A cable news channel was on, broadcasting footage of combat in Afghanistan. A female reporter stood before the camera wearing a helmet and armored vest, talking about American military casualties in the latest offensive launched by the Pentagon.
“We are receiving reports that a team of America’s elite Navy SEALs engaged the enemy in the mountains northeast of Jalalabad again last night,” the woman said. “Sources say that at least a dozen militants were killed in the most recent operation, and the enemy is said to be hunkered down in the region behind me, anticipating more attacks...”
“For Christ’s sake,” Bryn hissed, looking daggers at the screen. “How the hell do these idiots expect the SEALs to get the job done when the media tells the whole world they’re there? She’s going to get them fucking killed.”
Emily went and sat beside her, setting a hand on her shoulder. The muscles beneath her palm were rock hard. She perfectly understood her friend’s outrage. SEALs and their families deeply resented the media prying into their operations because it put men’s lives at risk. For a band of covert commandos who worked best under cover of darkness using the element of surprise, unwanted attention was a bad thing. “No she won’t. They’re isolated up in the mountains, and no reporter’s going to get up there.”
“Yeah, well I bet someone will try to get a couple of them to do interviews or some stupid thing.” Bryn shook her head. “God, why do they do that? Can’t they understand how dangerous these reports are?”
Oh, guaranteed they did. But it also increased ratings because the public loved anything to do with commandos and their secret operations. She squeezed Bryn’s shoulder. “Think Dec’s out there?”
Bryn rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know. Luke told me yesterday he was close to here, but they could have been dropped in Afghanistan overnight.”
And if Dec hadn’t been, he certainly would be heading there now with Luke and Rhys. Emily glanced at Nev, who watched the footage with haunted eyes. “You okay?”
The surgeon nodded, staring at the screen for a moment before replying. “Just takes me back. I keep thinking about what happened out there. To me and Rhys. And my friends...”
Emily’s heart ached for her. “Should we change the channel?”
“No,” both women answered at once. Emily wasn’t surprised. Part of her wanted to see what was happening, too. Luke would be there sometime later today.
Behind the reporter’s shoulders, the rugged peaks of the mountains rose sharply into the sky. What Emily could see of them in the shot was covered with snow, and the wind blew hard enough to interfere with the reporter’s audio equipment. Whenever they got there, Luke and the others faced their upcoming operation in what appeared to be bone-chilling conditions. It made her want to cry, thinking of them enduring more of it.
“I’m going to take a shower.” The others nodded but didn’t look at her, and Emily didn’t bother trying to pry them away from the TV.
Upstairs she pulled off her wig and placed her robe on the counter before taking a good long look at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized herself, but somehow the scars on her body didn’t repulse her the way they had before. Luke had touched them all. Kissed them. He still thought she was beautiful. Her eyes went to the gold medallion resting in the center of her chest. All these years Luke had worn it. Had he put it on her because it was meant to be some sort of protection for her? Or because he didn’t think he’d be coming back?
Forcing the thought away, she showered and dressed, trying to decide what to do with herself until it was time to leave for her appointment. She wasn’t up to socializing right now, and she didn’t want to watch any more disturbing footage coming in from Afghanistan. Instead she went to the study with a book she’d brought along, and curled up in the chair where Luke had found her. But a few pages in, she hadn’t retained anything about the plot or characters. As usual, her mind refused to be distracted when she had something weighing on it. Sighing, she got up just as Bryn knocked on the door and cracked it open. Her friend had dark shadows under her eyes Emily hadn’t noticed before.
“Feel like some lunch?” Bryn asked.
“Not really, but I guess I should eat something.” Maybe that would take care of the acidic rumble in her stomach. Together they made up some grilled cheese sandwiches with a Greek-style salad and took it downstairs to eat with Sam and Neveah. Sam pulled herself away from her computers for a few minutes and joined them on the couch outside the coms room.
“We need to find something to do,” Nev said between bites, “or we’ll go nuts.”
Sam’s phone rang and she jumped up to answer it using her headset. The three of them watched her disappear into the coms room, and the tension in the air was palpable. She came back out a minute later and stopped when she saw them all staring at her. “None of the guys,” she said. “Sorry. But isn’t it time for you to get going to your appointment?” she asked Emily
“Yeah, soon.”
“I’ll call the security guys out front. Anyone want to go with her?”
“No,” Nev said.
“Me either,” Bryn said, giving Emily an apologetic smile. “Sorry, hon. I want to hang around in case something important comes in to Sam.”
Emily nodded. “I understand. I could use some time alone anyhow.”
“What if Luke calls?” Sam asked.
“And what if he doesn’t?” She already knew he wouldn’t. He hadn’t the last time he’d walked away.
Sam tossed her hair over one shoulder. “Take my cell then,” she said. She went into the coms room to get it and brought it to her. “It’s got a GPS tracking chip in it so I’ll know where you are, and when Luke checks in I’ll have him call you. If you need to get hold of me, just press and hold the number two.”
“Thanks.”
Bryn called down to the gate house and asked one of the guards to drive her into the city, and Emily walked with her down the driveway. “Be back before you know it,” she said, desperate to get away from everyone and their whole situation. Who’d have thought she’d ever look forward to an oncology appointment?
Bryn hugged her tight. “If I wasn’t so frantic for information about Dec I’d be going with you whether you wanted me or not. Just so you know.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Bryn pulled away, her dark eyes delving into Emily’s. “You’re still in love with him, huh.”
She sighed. “More than ever.”
“You at least get to be with him last night?” Her ex
pression must have answered for her, because Bryn gave her a sad smile. “Oh, honey... This whole damn thing sucks.”
Tears welled up. “I didn’t know he was leaving. He didn’t say goodbye.” She took a deep breath. “And I didn’t tell him I love him. God, I’m so stupid.”
Bryn smoothed a hand over the long wig. “I’m sure he knows.”
“I hope so, but I... I’m scared he doesn’t think he’s coming back. He put this on me.” She lifted the medallion from beneath her sweater. “You know how he is with Tehrazzi. He’s obsessed. Won’t stop until he gets him or dies trying.”
Bryn shook her head. “Don’t think like that. You can’t. We’ve all got to be strong and stay positive.”
Emily wasn’t sure she could anymore. She’d been hoping and praying for him forever, but now she was at her breaking point. She wiped her damp cheeks. “If Luke calls and I’m not back yet, have Sam tell him I’m going to light a candle for him.”
“A candle?”
“He’ll understand what I mean.”
“Sure.”
The guard nodded at them, and a minute later another pulled up with the silver Range Rover. Stepping out of the gatehouse, the first guard held the door open for her.
Bundled in the back of the Rover, Emily waved once to her friend. The driver took her to her appointment, escorted her into the building and up to the fifth floor office. When she came out forty minutes later, he was there waiting to escort her back to the vehicle. She asked him to drive her to a place she’d seen on the way in from the airport. Closing her eyes, she laid her head back against the leather seat for a moment, willing herself to calm down. Her blood counts were good. Luke wasn’t gone yet. She might still get the chance to talk to him before he left, tell him she loved him and would be waiting for him when he got back.
She needed to hear him tell her he was coming back.
The driver stopped at a security checkpoint before driving through traffic into the downtown area. They had to stop a few times because of congestion, and when they came to a standstill the third time, Emily was feeling anxious. Through the windshield, she spotted the Christian church nestled next to the mosque a few blocks away. She’d go into the church and light a candle, then maybe go to the mosque and offer up a prayer there as well. Hedge her bets. Why not? Couldn’t hurt.
“I think I’ll get out here and walk,” she told the driver.
His dark eyes met hers in the rear view mirror. “You’re going to the church?”
“Yes, that one,” she said, pointing. “Then the mosque, I think. Will they let me in if I’m not a Muslim?”
A smile quirked his mouth. “Just make sure you cover your hair and take off your shoes before you go in. Someone will see you and tell you what to do.”
“Thank you.”
“Not at all. I’ll pick you up outside the doors.”
“You don’t have to wait. I’ll call you—”
“I’ll wait,” he said firmly before putting the vehicle in park and coming around to let her out. “Go ahead. This is a safe area.”
As she slid out the passenger door, the cool, damp air washed over her, thick with the promise of rain. People crowded the sidewalks, heading for shops and cafes or businesses. She caught the tempting scent of pastries when she passed by one of the shops, weaving through the pedestrian traffic as she cut across the street. The spire of the church and minaret of the mosque were her beacons, guiding her through the unfamiliar streets. The comforting weight of Sam’s cell phone rested in her hip pocket. A gust of chilly wind plucked at her jacket, and she wrapped the pretty red velvet scarf Bryn had given her for Christmas higher around her face.
The old brick church welcomed her with a breath of slightly musty air when she pulled the heavy front door open and stepped inside the dimly lit interior. She wasn’t particularly religious, but she’d been baptized and raised an Episcopalian. Growing up, she’d attended St. Michael’s Church in Charleston every Sunday with her parents. Though she might not attend services regularly anymore, her faith was a gift that had seen her through many hard times throughout her life. And St. Michael’s was where she’d always lit candles for Luke.
Her gaze immediately went to the altar, still decorated with the advent candles from Christmas celebrations, and the table filled with flickering votives close to it. Walking toward it and the elaborate manger scene set up on a dais, her heartbeat settled.
Feeling calmer already, she silently recited the Lord’s Prayer as she approached, and selected a candle for Luke. Lifting the lit taper, she closed her eyes and asked for his protection, then chose a votive and touched the flame to its wick. The instant it caught fire something inside her eased, yet she still gripped the St. Christopher medallion tightly with her free hand. She had performed this same rite every time Luke had gone out on a mission or training exercise she’d known about. Sometimes she went in between those times to light another candle just in case. Over the years they’d been apart she’d gone once a month without fail to do the same.
And every time he’d come back alive. Maybe he hadn’t come back to her, but he was still alive.
Kneeling before the flickering votive, her gaze went to the statue of Jesus suffering on the cross, suspended above the altar. It didn’t seem right for her to ask anything more of Him than she already had. Too selfish somehow. But staring up at that icon, another prayer formed.
Please let him come back to me. Let me live. Give us the rest of our lives together.
Bowing her head, she sent up one last prayer for Luke’s protection, and rose. She felt lighter, as though some invisible weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She breathed deeper and easier than she had in a long time.
Leaving the church, she walked the short distance over to the mosque, paying careful attention to what the other people did. Everyone seemed to be leaving. She must have just missed afternoon prayers. She didn’t see anyone going inside, so she waited until the crowd thinned out.
Remembering the guard’s words, Emily lifted the ruby velvet scarf and covered her wig, carefully tucking the hair inside it before tying the ends under her chin. Beneath her coat she wore a long-sleeved turtleneck and dark jeans, so she was modestly covered. Approaching the entrance hesitantly, she stopped in the foyer and took off her shoes, glancing around. A large fountain graced the center of the room, and, unsure what protocol she was supposed to follow, she didn’t dip her hands in the water. The last thing she wanted was to offend anyone.
A white-bearded man saw her as he appeared from another room and approached, making eye contact. She put on a smile and waited until he came close enough that he could hear her lowered voice.
“May I go in?” she asked.
A pleased smile broke over his grizzled features, and he bent a little at the waist, holding a hand out to an inner doorway. “Please.” She followed behind him at a respectful distance. “Is this your first visit to a mosque?”
“Yes.”
“You are American.”
“Yes.” Which likely didn’t raise his opinion of her any, but he seemed friendly enough.
“In here,” he gestured, indicating an open prayer hall. Its rows of carpets were broken only by ornate white pillars that anchored floor and ceiling. A reverent hush filled the cavernous room. “You may stay at the back,” her guide instructed in a whisper, “away from the men. Be mindful not to walk in front of someone who is praying, out of respect.”
She nodded. When he left her, she gazed around with a growing ache in her chest. From what she’d read about Islam, it was a beautiful, gentle religion. Emphasizing charity and tolerance and peace. The mosque fit with that image. The radicalism Luke and his team faced did not.
Every religion had its dark side, she wasn’t stupid or naive enough to believe otherwise. But how could men twist the teachings of God until they actually believed they would go to paradise for killing innocent people? How could they wage what they considered a holy war, looking for any excuse to blow
up those they regarded as “unbelievers”? She’d never understand it.
But that’s not what she’d come here to think about. God was God. She wanted to kneel here and pray for Luke, showing Him the fight Luke waged was not a crusade to crush Islam. It was about doing what was right and defending the world from those who would do harm in His name. No matter what faith they practiced.
Moving quietly, she slipped along the back wall to find some privacy, stopping when she spotted a man in white robes kneeling off to the left facing an embellished wall, his forehead touching the carpet as he prayed. Walking away from him, she picked a spot and knelt down on the prayer carpet. The nap was soft and worn from age, a bit threadbare in spots, clear marks upon it from countless knees, hands and foreheads touching it. Closing her eyes, Emily laid her palms on her thighs and bent her head, clearing her mind of everything but her prayer to keep Luke safe from harm.
When she was done, a feeling of peace filled her, like a warm weight in her heart. It brought a smile to her lips and made her eyes sting. Wherever he was, she hoped Luke was safe.
He’ll call. Stop worrying.
No he wouldn’t. She knew better.
Exhaling deeply, she rose and brushed off her knees. Raising her head, she saw the man over by the wall turn to look at her over his shoulder. Her heart skipped. Had she disturbed him? Done something wrong?
She would have lowered her eyes and walked away, but something about him was familiar. He was young, maybe in his early thirties, with light skin and a neatly trimmed mink-brown beard. His shoulders were broad, the robes merely hinting at the muscular build. He watched her with an unnerving stillness. Unblinking. Alert, as though waiting for something.
She took a step backward, instinctively touching the medallion that hung around her neck. His gaze followed her hand, and even from where she stood she saw the sudden tension grip him.
When he raised his eyes their gazes collided. Her pulse beat frantically in her neck. This didn’t feel right. She should leave. Taking another step back to do exactly that, he suddenly surged to his feet, staring at her with an eerie focus. Like he was a hunter and she was his prey.
