“Promise me you won’t lie to me about how you feel—about me, about anything.”
“I promise.”
“Good. Then you’ll tell me what you’re really thinking when I tell you the hat I swapped with the girl last night had Brendan Blake’s phone number in it,” Libby told me as calmly as if she was reciting a grocery list.
“What the hell?” I barked, the urge to find that singer and make him lose his vocal chords sounding more appealing.
Smirking, she cupped the side of my face. “I’m a big girl, Cal. And I know who I want. Remember that.”
My heart was still pounding in a combination of fury and lust when I lowered my mouth to hers and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
We didn’t end up watching the rest of the game. I checked the score on the airport monitor.
Dawgs won.
Perfect day other than the fact I’m hundreds of miles away from Libby.
18
Present Day
Elizabeth
We’re both laughing as I recount my version of Cal’s and my date to the Small Town Nights concert from the early days of Brendan Blake’s career. “It was so much fun.” I’m gasping for air.
“After everything that happened to you, Brendan reached out to you, correct?” Dr. Powell asks.
“I was truly shocked. I mean, he’s Brendan Blake now.” I emphasize Brendan’s name because he’s now country music’s megastar. “I thought it was sweet.”
“How did Cal react?”
The amused look I shoot him says it better than words can. There’s more I could share about Cal’s reaction, but I won’t. Those memories are just between me and Cal. And they’re delicious. My lips simply curve as I shake my head, refusing to answer.
Dr. Powell tries another tack. “So, other than the big dates, what kind of things did you do together?”
I cross my legs from one side to the other to get comfortable. “Everything and nothing.”
“Do you mind elaborating?”
“Not at all. I grew up in the city, but I got to experience it again through Cal’s eyes. Yes, we both lived there, but he never explored it. We’d wander the city checking out all of these must-do food places. I swear, for a man who grew up in the South, I was appalled he’d never had chicken and dumplings or fried green tomatoes! You’d have thought he was a Yankee with his eating habits.”
“That seems almost criminal. Is now the wrong time to admit I’ve never had fried green tomatoes either?”
“It certainly is,” I say with a touch of indignation. We both laugh again. I continue. “We went out to Fort Sumter and on the USS Yorktown, which is a must do. Then there were just the days when we’d drive and talk until our voices got hoarse. Those were my favorite days.”
“The talking?”
“Any day I was with Cal, but especially those.”
“Why?”
“I felt connected to him in ways that can never be replicated. I wasn’t just learning about him in dribs and drabs; I was absorbing the information as if you’d dropped me into the Cooper River and I came out wet. I soaked it in. What we have now is different.” What we have now was the result of tempering the edges of misunderstandings, loneliness, and fear and forging them into a love so strong that no foe in heaven or hell could break us.
Some of what I’m thinking must be reflected on my face. “Would you go back and change any of it?” Dr. Powell asks me gently.
“To change any of it is to change all of it. And I’m sitting before you because in my heart, I know this.”
“According to my notes, after the incident on the Sea Force, you didn’t reconcile immediately with your husband. Why is that?”
“Because accepting you can’t live without someone and forgiving every lie they ever told are very different paths. And the first step begins with forgiving yourself for believing you’re a fool when you have nothing to forgive.”
“Very true, Libby.” There are some papers shuffled before a smile breaks out. “I have a note here to ask you about the first time you told Cal you were in love with him.”
I groan. “I felt like an idiot.”
“Why? Did he not say it back?”
“No, because I screamed it. I never thought he heard me!”
“That makes no sense, Libby. You screamed it and you didn’t think Cal heard your declaration of love?”
“I thought my face was going to kiss the ground, Doctor. Literally. I was screaming prayers and goodbyes at the same time.”
“Dear Lord. Were you in a wreck?”
“No! He took me skydiving!” I’m still pissed as shit after all these years.
Dr. Powell drops his organized file of papers as all professionalism flies away. Kind of like the words out of my mouth the day Cal took me up in that plane.
19
Elizabeth
Twelve Years Ago from Present Day
If I murder my boyfriend, will that get me sent to jail for the rest of my life? The thought tantalizes me as we’re spending a perfectly beautiful Saturday preparing to die.
He just might die sooner if I think it will keep my feet on the ground.
As if he can sense my thoughts, Cal reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It will be fine. Now pay attention; they’re telling you important information.”
“It’s important if you plan on doing this more than once,” I hiss at him.
He just grins that smile only I ever get, and then he faces forward, the pressure on my hand urging me to do the same.
Cal got home from a two-week business trip just three days ago. Three remarkable days where I spent most of them in bed, making a few appearances at Deja Vu primarily to do payroll so my staff didn’t up and quit on me. The rest of the time, I listened as Cal explained about missed connections, materials Iris complained she needed for the client that went up and missing, and lost luggage on the way home. I soothed him by saying, “It’s over, you’re here. That’s all that matters.”
He rolled into me, picking up one of the sunflowers he never fails to bring home after an extended business trip, and dragged it down my arm. “What did you do?”
Ache without you. It was on the tip of my tongue to say, but something was holding me back. When I went out to Akin Hill last weekend, I sat by Nonna’s grave and admitted to her I was head over heels in love with Cal. “You’d love him too, Nonna. He complements and completes me.” After explaining all of the ways I wasn’t sure I could live without him if he wasn’t a part of my life, I pushed to my feet and pressed my lips to the cold stone that has the biggest heart buried beneath it. “I just hope you can see everything. I wouldn’t want you to miss the life I hope to build with him.”
Instead, I told him, “I worked, went out to see the family, baked a little. Normal things, Cal.”
He scowled. “You baked? What?”
Oh, my man wasn’t going to be happy. “A coconut pecan cake.”
Cal pushed up on his elbows. “Where is it?”
“Gone,” I said nonchalantly. It happened to be waiting at Cal’s in a cake carrier, but since he’d come here first, he hadn’t seen it.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish. I don’t even think he realized it. Finally, he was able to form words. “You couldn’t even save me a piece?” He was so incredulous, I burst out laughing. Tears leaked from the corner of my eyes into the pillow beneath me. Then, there was something that tugged at my heart.
Hurt.
And my laughter dried up.
God, if there’s a man who needs cake and smiles and laughter, it’s Calhoun Sullivan. We hardly talk about it, but growing up without parents affected him. The way I nurture him feeds his soul. I touched his arm gently. The muscles bunched beneath. “Cal, honey, you know me better than that,” I reminded him.
He relaxed imperceptibly. A rough smile crossed his face. “Then where’s my slice?”
“Your cake,” I emphasized. His lips parted as I continued. “Is waiting for you at your place. I thought
you might stop there to get your clothes. I didn’t realize they’d lose your luggage and you’d come directly here, or I’d have kept it waiting for you.”
Now, I’d like to smash the remains of the cake into his gorgeous face. This is some sadistic payback; I just know it.
Cal is patiently sitting through the beginner’s skydiving course with me even though he’s been a certified jumper for years. I’m sure that’s because he knows if he doesn’t, there’s no way on this planet I’m staying, let alone going up in that plane. None. I lean over and whisper, “Aren’t parachutes supposed to be for emergencies only?”
He coughs to hide a laugh.
“Okay, everyone.” The instructor claps his hands together. “Let’s practice what we learned.”
Practice. Right.
Can I practice running away from the room screaming like a madwoman?
Cal stands with grace and pulls me from my chair. I groan. “I promise, Libs, it will be unlike any experience you’ve ever known. Trust me?” His dark eyes are shining down at me.
And another piece of Cal is handed to me. This isn’t payback; this is something he truly enjoys that he wants to share with me. “Trusting you isn’t the problem.”
“Then what is?” he asks as we join the others in the practice room.
“My fear of only living long enough to see the earth come up to my face is,” I grumble as I go over to the instructor, my partner for the tandem jump.
Cal leans against the wall while we move around in necessary training required for our certification for a while before he disappears. Good. Now I can’t shoot daggers in his direction and can actually focus. We’ve practiced how we’re going to be hooked up, how we’re going to land, and everything in between. The only part we haven’t practiced is my screaming, but I figure that’s something I don’t need to work on.
Finally, the moment I’m dreading arrives. “Who’s ready to fly?” Bruce, the instructor and the man who’s going to hurl me to the earth for my final moments living, calls out.
The entire room—save me—erupts in cheers.
“Then let’s go!” Bruce leads the way. Cal and I are somewhere in the middle. Cal’s got a pack on his shoulder he didn’t have before.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“My chute.” It takes me a second before I realize Cal’s already got his harness in place. He slips on a pair of dark shades, but even without being able to see his eyes, his entire demeanor is relaxed.
It’s just another reason to hate him right now.
“Libby!” Bruce calls out to me. “Come on over so I can get you in your harness.”
“You’re not getting a blow job for a month. Don’t imagine my mouth on your dick because it isn’t happening.” I grit my teeth in a semblance of a smile at Cal before turning on my heel to stalk away.
He barks out a laugh right as I take the first step. Reaching out, he snags the back of my shirt to halt me. “One thing, Libs?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll bet your mouth will be wrapped around my cock by the end of tonight. You have no idea, baby, but the rush…” Instead of finishing his sentence with words, Cal chooses then to kiss me, leaving me incapable of telling him the million and a half ways he’s wrong.
Instead, I’m left light-headed by the feel of Cal’s hands on my hips drawing me close against his body so I can feel his arousal. Knowing this may be the last time I feel these lips on mine, my arms twine around his neck as I give in unconditionally. His head slants and draws me deeper into the kiss, his tongue stroking against mine over and over. The passion is driving me dizzy, crazy, in a world that’s suddenly gone upside down. The only thing to hold on to is Cal, so I do.
Slowly, our lips part. His are fuller and glossy from where my tongue has gone over them, my teeth nipped them. “Go to Bruce, baby. It’s time to fly.”
This time, there’s no sass when I reply, “But I just did.” Still, I turn and head over to the instructor, who has a knowing smirk on his face.
I don’t care. I can officially die happy since the man I love just kissed me goodbye.
20
Elizabeth
Twelve Years Ago from Present Day
“Are you ready?” Bruce yells to another tandem team. They give him a hand slap/fist bump thing before easing to the open doorway. Each one. Is it some kind of come-back-alive ritual of the crazy helmet people?
“I’m surrounded by lunatics,” I whisper.
“What’s that?” Cal yells as he adjusts his goggles. He looks cocky and so damn hot I want to jump him in the back of the plane—not strap myself to Bruce and go out the front of it.
“Nothing,” I yell back.
“Are you ready?”
I look away, nauseated. “Sure. I’m just fine.”
Cal opens his mouth, but whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by Bruce yelling over the wind whipping through the open door. “Elizabeth! Let’s hook up.”
I give him a thumbs-up. I just hope I’m the only one of the four of us still left on this tin bird—including the pilot—who can tell it’s shaking life a leaf. Standing in front of Bruce, I’m outwardly calm as he attaches the D-rings to the fittings on the back of my harness under Cal’s watchful eye. Cal reaches over and jerks the harness a few times. Hard.
“Ready to fly, baby?” Cal yells.
“Sure.” But the rolling pitch to my stomach has other ideas as Bruce frog-marches me to the door.
“Remember, step as far onto the platform as you can, Elizabeth,” Bruce yells.
“Libby. If I’m going to die, call me Libby.” His rough beard rubs against my face as he chuckles.
“You’ll be fine, Libby. In fact, let’s celebrate. You’re about to be my 12,000th jump.”
“Can we make it to 12,001?” I’m practically begging.
“It’s going to be fine. Cal’s going to hop out right behind us,” he tries to assure me when it does nothing of the sort. Why do I want him telling me the man I love is about to do something so monumentally asinine as jump out of a plane after me? “Shouldn’t he go first so we can, I don’t know, save him or something?” Didn’t I see that in a movie once?
My foot begins to edge out onto the platform, and the wind is whipping through the jumpsuit I’m wearing. Yeah, there’s no need to hide how hard I’m shaking now because I’m clutching the oh-shit bar at the edge of the plane door like someone’s declared it’s a winning lottery ticket.
“Libby, you can do this! I promise. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Sure. After all, what could happen when you’re 14,000 feet up in the air being held up by a harness that’s been worn by umpteen number of people before me? These are the questions I should have been asking in class instead of sassing Cal. Now, as Bruce gently rubs my fingers, I may never have the chance.
“It’s the only way down?” I’m going to cry soon if we don’t do this; I just know it.
“It’s the best way,” Bruce says.
“Then do it. Just do it.”
“Okay. On three. Let me signal Cal.” He tosses a two-finger salute to my boyfriend. I lift one hand from my death grip to do the same. Courage, Libby, I mentally tell myself.
Instead of letting me put it back, Bruce snags my fingers and places them around my waist, holding them snugly. “You call it.”
“One,” I call shakily.
“Two…” The next thing you know our bodies are pitching forward. “I love you, Cal!” I scream with all my might, my eyes so tightly shut they might as well be fused together, figuring there’s no way anyone can hear me.
We tumble. I feel my entire being forced open and backward into Bruce’s. I’m waving my hands in every direction. I come into contact with something, I just hope it isn’t something like the cutaway thingy. We’re spinning, twisting, turning. “Oh, sweet Jesus, deliver me safely,” I chant. Not that anyone can hear me. Except, I pray, God.
The devil who holds my life literally in his hands is laughing. I ca
n’t hear it, but I feel his big body vibrating. I just hope like hell it’s not separating the harness that holds the two of us together.
I begin to pray in earnest.
“I never got to tell Cal I love him before I die! Holy God. Sweet Lord. I swear, I meant to tell him.”
My arms are swinging. I have no concept of where we are, how far we’ve fallen.
All I know is I have no center.
“God in heaven, forgive me for taking your name in vain.”
I feel a tap on the front of my shoulder as Bruce and I are floating, and I scream, not that anyone can hear above the wind. I’m struggling against Bruce when he forces us back into position. It’s only due to my need for oxygen my eyes pop open, and there he is. All I see is the beauty of Cal’s face. There’s something different about it. Maybe it’s the covering of his helmet softening his normally taciturn features but…
I’m about to reach out for him, to be brave enough to touch him midair, when Bruce suddenly yanks the rip cord to our chute and we’re jerked up feet away from Cal, who’s still falling in the sky.
We float along gently for a few moments. As we get lower in altitude and I figure my chances of not succumbing to my death are better, I have to admit this part’s not bad. So, I decide to unwedge my big-girl panties from my throat and redeem myself by asking, “How fast were we going when we jumped?”
“Us or the plane?”
“Us? You know when we were, um, free-falling?”
“At a guess? Somewhere between 120-140 miles per hour.”
Ripple Effect Page 9
