by R. T. Wolfe
Andy Jr. may have been toddling fast these days but needed help navigating the stones at the bottom. She drew her brows together as Nathan hovered his free hand over the water. Craning her head, she noticed as his open palm and fingers inched toward the water. He thrust in his hand. A.J. squealed as Nathan pulled out a squirming, kicking thing about the size of his hand. Pinchers. The thing had pinchers. Oh, hell no.
She marched on around the corner and ran head-on into two of Liz's grandsons. Each carried an armful of water balloons, but Nickie was on the top of her game and dodged out of the way. One slid out of a frantic hand and smashed at her feet.
"We're sorry, Nickie. Um. Hello. Good to see you." Their faces turned red as they juggled the rest of the slippery weapons.
"It's just water. My legs will dry," she said.
"You won't... ya know... tell anyone about the balloons?"
She pretended to zip her lip. "Your secret's safe with me."
The trees in the back of Nathan and Brie's home were younger, replaced from a fire of their own. Life was full of crazy good and crazy hard. When the hard hit, people had a choice. Bitter or better. She nodded and stepped into the better that was this day.
* * *
Duncan wasn't sure if it was the hint of lavender that brushed his senses or the heartbeat of his wife that entered his proximity, but he lifted his head from the grill in front of him and spotted her.
She stood like a Greek goddess. The short waves of her dyed hair blew in the wind and exposed her bare shoulders. The lacy tank and khaki shorts were something he'd only seen her wear a handful of times. His chin nearly dropped to the charcoals at the sight of her thighs, her painted toes and the way the tank hugged her stomach. Her stomach.
She found him, smiled and dipped her chin as she made her way to him. "Nickie!" Duncan's cousin squealed and ran to her. Only because Hannah was raised as Duncan's baby sister did he allow her to interrupt the greeting between him and his Nickie.
He turned his attention to the grates full of burgers, brats and hot dogs as he overheard bits of their conversation over the noise. College water polo. Nickie's sandals. Graduation plans.
The two of them reminisced as Nickie's foster brother and his wife organized a pickup game of softball in the field behind Duncan's childhood home. Eidetic memory or not, he remembered each room and corner of this home and beyond every remodel and organization thereof. It was home.
Home.
He and his Nickie had much to decide. Where to live, to grow, to be. Could they ever create a fraction of what Nathan and Brie had created? A place. A home for their children and grandchildren. Their neighbors, colleagues.
No. They were not his aunt and uncle. They were Duncan Reed and Nickie Savage. The canvas that was their future was blissfully clean, their paint tray full of colors and brushes eagerly waiting to create and design.
His aunt came down the short deck stairs, carrying two platters of food, each with a mini tent of netting covering it from mid-summer insects. The three women laughed and reminisced until Nickie took one of the trays and followed Brie to the two eight-foot folding tables filled with food.
Nickie set down the plate and nodded her head as she listened to something Hannah explained. Nickie's sincerity would be without question if not for the way her feet backed up toward him as she did so. Brie placed a hand on Hannah's elbow, distracting her long enough for Nickie to get away.
"There you are," he said and took her by the shoulders. Friends and family be damned, he pulled her in and set his mouth on hers as he kissed her more than was appropriate for a family gathering. Catcalls erupted from spectators of all ages.
"Great. Now, the food is ruined," Eddy said from his lounge chair.
Duncan craned his head around Nickie's to see him clearly. "Please feel free to get your sorry ass up and man the grill, friend."
"Pretty boy burgers. Can't wait," he said and threw back the last swig of his can of beer. "Look at that. I'd better refill."
He walked toward the back door, passing Andy and Rose as they napped in the shade of the deck in the hammock that hung below. Andy slept behind her with his hand resting on his child that grew inside of her. Eddy took the stairs two at a time as Duncan's Aunt Liz passed him with two arms full of buns for the grilled meat.
Duncan set his chin on top of Nickie's head, inhaling her scent. Taking his wrists, she wrapped his arms around her waist. "I haven't seen you naked in ten hours," he whispered as they swayed.
"Mmm," she hummed. "We'll have plenty of time for that. Look." She lifted a hand and pointed to Jess Larsen. He and Nickie's foster mother sat in adjacent Adirondack chairs, leaning over the side table that separated them. "They're up to something."
"Making plans to save each and every trafficked child in central and South America, no doubt." His words were meant to be facetious, and yet.
She rotated in his arms, making the state of his pants inappropriate in mixed company. "Don't you and Andy have fireworks to prepare?"
"Ah," he said and tilted his head, memorizing every detail of the hair that lay around her face. "Our reputation of pyrotechnics withstands time."
The sound of a throat clearing from a familiar voice caused him to reflexively jump back. He turned his head and, indeed, Aunt Liz stood with her hands on her hips. Her gaze went from his face to Nickie's waist.
His body stiffened as Liz pointed to the hand Nickie rested on her stomach. "You're pregnant," she said loud enough for far too many to hear.
Nickie's gaze darted to his. Their eyes met. The steel gray that was his Nickie lit with light and peace. Together, they smiled from ear to ear.
Epilogue
Sweat dripped down Nickie's back in the old school bus. She crouched behind the last seat, watching through the peephole drilled in the metal. Three others waited with her. Two were veteran Green Beret. The other was retired FBI. Former Special Agent Hurst had somehow squeezed himself into the floor space in the seat next to her. He was in charge of the recording equipment.
Picturesque mountains loomed all around. Distant patches of crops Nickie didn't recognize were dotted with Cambodian workers wearing large hats.
As beautiful as the scenery was, her attention zeroed in on the three who stood along a rotted wooden fence speaking with human traffickers. Gloria served as the undercover boss. Jess Larsen and Duncan were her underlings.
They were amazing. Gloria was amazing. She wore a floral dress with her hair tied on the top of her head inside a headdress that matched the dress. Her M.O.
Small children with no shoes fed the few chickens and hogs that wandered in front of a stone building. Large holes in the walls served as the windows and doors.
Gloria negotiated the agreement as Nickie and Hurst recorded the transaction for the local authorities. Nickie waited for any sign that said she needed to intervene.
One of the toddlers stopped his work and faced Duncan. A T-shirt several sizes too large that once was white hung on the child's shoulders. His curly hair was buzzed short and his dark skin shimmered with the sweat of the day. Bright, curious eyes stared at Duncan's face.
The child drew unnatural attention to a would-be customer. The boy should be scared of him. Was it a breach? Wait on it. Wait on it. Nickie wasn't in charge. She wasn't even second in command. Patience would never be her virtue.
The boy stepped closer to him, too close. His little head craned upward to see the face of the white man who lounged at the entrance to the camp. The traffickers glanced down at the child, but then returned their attention to Gloria and their negotiations. Gloria peered down her nose at the men and pulled her purse around, opening it confidently.
Tilting his head, the boy wrapped an arm around one of Duncan's thighs. Duncan stiffened and ignoring the child, lifted his chin.
There it was. Money was exchanged. Eleven children were summoned, carried and dragged to the bus. Eleven. This was good. Nickie kept repeating this in her mind. This was good. This was good.
But so many were left behind. The boy in the large T-shirt. He cried as well but for a completely different reason. The boy sensed it, the light that surrounded Duncan everywhere he went. Duncan put up an act, but he couldn't fool everyone. The boy knew. Duncan walked away as the boy reached out an arm only to be shoved back to the home.
It was all she could do not to rush the place and rescue each and every one of them. Patience. The recording would be given to the Cambodian authorities. They would come back if Child Rescue provided evidence. Today. They promised.
Duncan nudged Gloria and everyone stopped. With her chin lifted high, she rotated on the balls of her feet, pointed to the boy and barked out an order. Nickie didn't hear just what she said, but the man at the gate shrugged and shoved the boy in her direction. Duncan picked him up with a single arm before continuing his slow meander to the bus.
The hidden four watched through peepholes even as they loaded. They didn't dare show themselves for miles. As Duncan stepped in, his glance searched the back until his eyes met hers. He blinked a long blink then slid into a seat as if he hadn't noticed her.
The boy clung to him, his little arms and legs wrapping completely around him as his head dug into Duncan's neck. He, too, showed no surprise or interest in the men that waited in the back. She guessed the boy was used to that as well.
Twelve children saved. Safe. Free. Free to heal, to grow. They huddled in hot vinyl seats waiting for the abuse that would never happen again.
Their future would be hard, but they had a chance. Many had donated the funds for the mission. People waited at the safe house to care for the children.
Good people lived everywhere.
Jess Larsen and Gloria bumped along in the front seat. Her façade as a heartless purchaser of children was flawless.
"Clear," Jess said, then turned to Gloria as the strange mix of former Green Beret, FBI and detective crawled from their hiding places to care for the children. "You're a natural," Jess said to Gloria as she released her hair from the fabric.
It was true. And so true that the children were cautious when she came back to care for them. That was, until she brought out the crackers and chocolate. It worked every time.
"This," Gloria said to her as she passed out food and bottles of water. "Is my calling."
Nickie got that. Duncan's eyes closed, and he let his head fall back against the top of the seat. The boy squirmed until he was wrapped in a tight ball, curled in Duncan's arms. She wondered if this boy would end up like Rico. Did Nickie trust herself to serve as mother to another adopted child along with Rico? Their Joseph was almost a year old now. Oh, how she missed him. He'd learned to walk just before they left on this mission. She rested her head against the back of the bus seat as it swayed along the rocky ground. Her life was already filled with boys. Why not?
An older child grabbed the food from Gloria and scurried to the space between Nickie and the window as if she could hide there with the food. She had smooth dark hair and the same filthy clothing as the others. The child may be older than the others, but she was also much younger than Nickie was accustomed to saving.
It seemed like short minutes before the food was gone and the girl let her head fall on Nickie, using her leg as a pillow. Turning her head to Duncan, Nickie found him staring at her. He mouthed the words, "I love you," the deep chocolate of his eyes penetrating her soul.
She did not mouth her response, but said, "Is it too late for me to become Mrs. Reed?"
The End
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Want more from R. T. Wolfe?
Here's an excerpt from
ISLAND SECRETS
The Island Escape Series
Book One
~
Zoe's mother turned to him now, shoulders, face, and eyes. "Find her, Dane."
"I don't know where she is." What would he say if he did find her? Where would he look?
"She's a woman, Dane. She loves you. Go find her."
And then, he knew. Butterflies burst in his gut. He knew where she would be. But what if he was wrong? What if the timing was off? He kissed her mother on the forehead, then ran out the door waving backward before jumping into his Jeep.
* * *
Zoe sat with her eyes closed and her legs crossed. She heard the quick rush of water between hundreds of fins as a school of fish darted in circles behind her. It mixed like a melody with the steady bubbles that released from her facemask serving as the harmony. It was almost July and the water was warmer, so she'd chosen her diving skins over her wet suit. A boat sped by somewhere above. She tried not to focus on anything up there.
She wouldn't put herself at risk as she had done with her brother. Carefully, she had used the charts and guidelines of underwater diving to ensure she wasn't coming down too often or too long. The last thing she wanted was to give herself decompression sickness or be the cause of her parents losing another child.
He was with her here, Seth was. She could feel him. The memories were crisp. Ones of him carrying her on his shoulders when she was a little girl, all the way to the last dive they did together. This was the location of that last dive, not fifty yards away from where she found his skull. They'd spotted a grouper and took a zillion shots of it.
Sensing something was watching her, she opened her eyes but didn't move. Slowly, she glanced to the left, then right, keeping her breathing in controlled rhythm. It could be anything. Hiding in the seaweed. In a cavern. Behind a rock.
Of course something was watching her, she grinned. She was in the Gulf of Mexico.
Rotating, she started kicking lazily the fifty yards to the spot she found his skull. The water was choppy. Choppy was normal. The day she found him it had been unusually calm. Staring at the spot, she realized she would have never noticed the cavern under normal conditions. It was a mirage. No dark blue tint giving hint to the protruding opening.
She came to within five feet of it and waited. They had an agreement, her and the moray eel that made this its home. It poked its head out and tried to scare the hell out of her. Then, it bolted out of its hole, darting quickly in an effort to, once more, scare her before escaping the cavern and into the crevasse below.
Here, she'd found the skull with a knife through the eye. Her brother. Not much had been disturbed by the police. No yellow crime scene tape, she thought, sarcastically. Each of the last few days she'd come down here, she expected to find some sort of disturbance. Maybe rocks that had been chipped to release her brother from the wall. Or samples taken from around. Other than a small, jagged hole about the size of... of a knife, there was nothing.
She placed her hands on either side of the small opening, letting her legs dangle to the open water below. She felt something brush across her calf and assumed it was her friend the moray eel. She would buy a new camera. A good one. Her brother would want that. She would take out a loan and buy a Seth-approved camera and come down here to take pictures of her friend. He brushed her leg again. It made her smile, and she slowly inched herself from the crevasse. Friend or no friend, it was probably not a good idea to piss off a moray eel.
She came face-to-face with him. He wasn't the eel, and fear was nowhere to be found. Her body reacted regardless. Not with fear but an overwhelming warmth.
He came for her. The words repeated in her mind. He came for her. His beautiful, amazing blue eyes, although blood shot, searched her face. She saw tenderness there and hoped she returned the same. If there was one thing she could have asked for at that moment, it would be
to gaze into the eyes of Dane Corbin. He looked sad. She reached out and put her hand on his cheek. It was warmer than the warm water.
~
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Island Secrets
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~
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R.T. Wolfe enjoys creating diverse characters, twining them together in the midst of an intelligent mystery and a heart encompassing romance. It's not uncommon to find dark chocolate squares in R.T.'s candy dish, her rescued Saint Bernard at her feet and a few caterpillars spinning their cocoons in their terrariums on her counters. R.T. loves her family, gardening, eagle-watching and can occasionally be found in a third world country helping others help themselves.
R.T. enjoys hearing from readers. You can contact R.T. through her website: www.rtwolfe.com
