Ripple Effect

by Jerald, Tracey

  I don’t hold back. “Our wedding mug. I figured it was an eighteen-ounce mug. I estimated.”

  “Heaven help me, I have to see this cake.” Libby tilts her head back. I can’t tell if her head’s hurting or if she’s praying. I figure if it’s the first she’ll tell me. Certainly, she’s let me know that more than once in the last few days.

  “Well, if you’re sure.” I wait for her to lift her head before sending her a smile, one she cautiously returns. I place the box in her lap. I vaguely hear her “Umph!” as the weight of the disaster I baked weighs down her thighs.

  “Cal, what on earth is in that box?” Libby demands. “It weighs a ton!”

  Leaning over her, I absorb the light floral scent she wears. It’s obvious someone’s helped her clean up, but up close, I can still see the bruises that go well into her hairline. “God, I’m so sorry, baby. So, so sorry.”

  Hesitantly, she raises a hand to touch my cheek. “Okay,” she whispers.

  “Okay?” What does that mean? I pull back so I can see her face.

  “It means we have my recovery to figure out where we go from here, Cal. Because I need you to remember you made a choice when you married me. We planned to be together forever. We did, Cal, not you and your job. I won’t go through something like this alone again.”

  “You won’t.” It’s a vow.

  Searching my eyes, Libby finally nods. And it’s like benediction has been granted. “Now, how do I open this?”

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  She pauses. “Is it really that bad?”

  “Probably worse,” I admit.

  “Then I definitely want to see it. I want to be able to bask in glory when I make you one in the future.”

  “I just don’t want you going into a coma at the sight,” I mutter, pulling back so I can lift the top off the box.

  I’m not sure if it’s my words or the cake itself that makes Libby laugh hysterically. “What…is that…Cal, you weren’t kidding about the nuts!” Her laugh is the balm my heart needs. “I don’t want to imagine what the kitchen looks like.”

  “I’m bringing in a professional to clean it,” I joke.

  She grins before poking at the cake with a brave finger. Then to my surprise, she calls out, “Daddy, come see how Cal mutilated Nonna’s cake just for me.”

  “I hope you bought life insurance for us if you expect us to eat that,” Marcus mutters as he steps into his daughter’s room. His eyes the cake askance. “Son, you need to go down to the kitchen with Natalie for a while to learn how to make something edible. Otherwise, you’ll either die of starvation or have a hell of a commute to work while Libby’s recovering.” It’s as close to an invitation to stay as I’m going to get.

  “Well, since I have the next month off to take care of my wife, I’m certain I can learn how to crack an egg between now and then,” I state calmly.

  But it isn’t the reaction to the time off that garners the most attention.

  “You didn’t crack the egg,” Marcus says slowly.

  “The recipe didn’t say to,” I say defensively.

  “Oh, boy,” Libby mutters. “Hey, Dad? Can you get a picture of me with the cake?”

  I beam with pride—for about two seconds until Libby says, “Because there’s no way in hell I’m eating it.”

  “You got it, honey.” Marcus goes off in search of Libby’s cell phone.

  “No way in hell?” I demand of my wife.

  “Cal, if I made this for you, what would you have done?”

  “Um.” She has me there. “Kissed you, said thank you, and politely handed it to someone to dispose of.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She crooks her finger at me. I lean down. Libby’s lips linger just a moment longer this time. “Thank you. Dad, are you ready to take that photo?”

  “I can’t find your phone. We’ll use mine.”

  “That works.” Marcus takes a picture of Libby holding the cake. “Now take this—somewhere—and bring me some of Nonna’s bread pudding, please?”

  “You got it, honey.” Marcus shakes his head as he carries my ice breaker out of sight.

  Libby watches as it goes, a bemused expression on her face. “Now, tell me what happened to your phone that no one could reach you?”

  As I begin to tell my wife what went wrong, I notice her expression is a lot less tense even though the fierce determination is still there. I haven’t won, but I haven’t lost because of the vows that we made—vows that will cause Libby to run if she feels they’re broken.

  And now I know it.

  37

  Present Day

  Elizabeth

  “Was that the first real fight in your marriage?” Dr. Powell asks me.

  “It was more than a fight. A fight is when you want to buy a new couch and you disagree on the color or whether or not to get leather. I questioned who Cal was at his very core. And that scared me.”

  “How?”

  “Such a simple question with a million answers, Doctor.” I lean on the arm of the couch with my chin in my hand. “I was supposed to still be living in a honeymoon phase. Do you know where the term derives from? I looked it up while I was recovering.” I hold up a hand. “Yes, I know. I wasn’t supposed to look at computers.”

  “I believe it means the term, not the act, relates to period following marriage meaning love and happiness. Some say the first month, some say the first year. And I’m glad I don’t have to scold you for breaking doctor’s orders.” There’s a sternness to Dr. Powell’s voice.

  “Let me guess, you’re a parent?”

  “A grandparent, actually.”

  I grin. “Well, rest assured. My mother did when she caught me. But here’s my point: if people dating back to the Renaissance understood the significance of that delicate period of two lives merging together by documenting it when so few things were in that era of history, how could my own husband not understand the vows we took had significance?”

  “You didn’t feel Cal took your vows seriously?”

  “Not then, I didn’t. For the record, now, I do. But immediately after the crash? I questioned whether our love was going to make it out of the state of ecstasy and denial we’d been living in. I knew what I wanted out of marriage; I thought he was on the same page.” I let out a sigh.

  “It wasn’t the same?”

  “It wasn’t the same timing, something I would have understood if we’d talked about it.”

  “Would you have delayed marrying your husband?”

  Hmm, an interesting question. One I’ve never been asked before.

  I think about it before responding. “No, but maybe I would have spent more time at home? I would have accommodated Cal’s schedule more knowing each moment we had together was precious instead of wasting any of it fighting.”

  “And would that have been honoring your marriage? The marriage Cal wanted you to have?”

  I laugh. “I guess not. In the end, we all have to be content with who we are, and our partners have to accept us for who that is.”

  “What was life like in the years between your separation?”

  “Busy! Deja Vu built a strong clientele not just in Charleston, but up to Charlotte and all the way to Atlanta. I expanded my own business when I saw Cal’s wasn’t letting up any.”

  “And that didn’t bother you? The fact his work wasn’t slowing down?”

  “After the first year, after the scare of our marriage being in such trouble, I understood it more. Cal got me read on—a vernacular for being able to hear certain types of information—to a certain extent, so I learned a little about the business.”

  “What did you think it involved?”

  “Computers. I knew from an early age my cousin was a huge hacker, so I presumed Cal was as well. Back then, I kind of pictured Alliance as this big think tank. It’s so much more than that.” An evil smirk crosses my face. “But I will state with one hundred percent no guilt whatsoever that Cal likely suffered every time I call
ed him with a problem about my work network—something Sam designed for me.”

  “Live tech support?”

  My lips twitch. “I think he bought himself the T-shirt that says, ‘I won’t be your technical support.’ After the accident, I insisted on being able to contact him at all times. That was nonnegotiable. Cal agreed and that’s when he hired Rebecca. She was—and still is—a godsend. I mean that in every way. I went from having a husband who’d work fourteen-hour days in the office to a husband who worked normal hours at least three days a week when he was home. She organized him and basically became his drill sergeant.”

  “And you met her when you toured the Alliance office?” Dr. Powell asks me.

  “Yes.” God, thinking back, I was so nervous that day. How far we’ve all come since then.

  “What was it like?

  “I can’t really talk too much about that.” Now that I’ve been fully briefed on everything Alliance did, and what Cal does now, I know what I can say and what I can’t. “Let me just say there was a formal office in addition to the training facilities. After my first visit, I was given unrestricted access to the office space.”

  “What did it make you feel to see that part of your husband’s life?”

  “Proud,” I say immediately. “My husband was doing an important job that helped people; I understood that even if he couldn’t talk about it.”

  “What can you tell me about your first visit to Alliance?”

  “I was greeted in the lobby by Cal. He was wearing a suit that was pressed for once.” Then I begin to share about my first visit to Alliance and what it was like to enter this part of my husband’s life for the first time.

  38

  Elizabeth

  Year Two – Nine Years Ago from Present Day

  Hmm, the building looks fairly ordinary from the outside. About six, seven floors, I wonder if the reflective glass is tempered enough to keep Cal’s office cool.

  Following the protocol Cal reminded me of over breakfast this morning, I pull up to the gate. I roll down my window and offer a hesitant smile. “Hello. I’m Elizabeth Sullivan. I have an appointment to see my husband, Calhoun.”

  “Yes, ma’am. May we see some ID please?”

  “Certainly.” I reach in my bag for my wallet. Sliding out my driver’s license, I hand it to the somber-faced individual.

  He enters it into the computer before holding it up. His eyes flicker back and forth. “Here you go, ma’am. I’ll just do a quick walk around to get your tag and you’ll be all set.”

  Anxiously, I wait for him to come back. “All set, Mrs. Sullivan. Do you know where you’re going?”

  I nod. Then because the butterflies in my stomach get the best of me, I blurt out, “Does Cal have to do this every morning he comes to work?”

  Leaning down with an arm braced on my window, the guard answers, “Employees access through a different entrance, ma’am.”

  “Well, it explains why he leaves so early,” I mutter as I shift my car back into gear. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sullivan. Have a nice day.” He raps the roof of my car as the gates in front of me warning me of persistent video surveillance open.

  “Nice. Right. Not exactly the word I’d use.” I wave as I drive off.

  I can hear Cal’s voice in my head saying, “Drive to the front of the building. There will be signs for visitor parking. Any of the spots there are fine.”

  I navigate to a spot close to the building. Taking a quick moment to check out my gloss in the mirror, I debate whether I need to send the manufacturer a letter of thanks since it’s still perfectly in place. “It’s just an office, Libby. Stop being so nervous.” With that mental shove, I open the door and swing my legs out.

  It takes only a few minutes in the warm South Carolina air for me to reach the lobby door. Before I can reach for it, it’s being swung outward. I almost stumble back on my heels. “Excuse me,” I say automatically. I grab onto the handle to hold it open for whomever is exiting.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Libs.” Cal’s deep voice sends ripples of awareness through me.

  Relief flows through me. “Hey. I thought I’d have to wait. Didn’t you say they’d have to call you?”

  He smirks and it makes me want to push him against a wall to lay my brand on him here where no one has ever seen it before. He holds out his left hand. The glint of gold beckons to me like nothing else other than the love in his eyes. “They did. From the gate. Let’s get you a badge, and then I’ll give you the tour.”

  I take his hand. “Sounds wonderful.”

  Cal tugs me toward him and brushes his lips against mine. “That’s you. This will be fun.” He turns and holds me close to his side, and we walk as one unit to the front desk. “Karl, this is my wife, Libby. She needs a visitor pass for today, but I know the Admiral has requested a long-term pass for her.”

  “I received the request from Yarborough this morning, Cal. You know that takes seventy-two hours.”

  “Not a problem. Libby, this is Karl. He handles all access into and out of the facility.”

  I hold out a hand. “A pleasure, Karl.”

  He smiles. “You as well, ma’am. Here’s your badge for today. As long as you’re escorted, you’re fine to go anywhere in the building except…”

  Cal cuts him off. “I’ll give her the full rundown; there’s no need to go through everything.”

  “You got it, Cal.” With a jaunty smile, Karl turns back to his computer.

  Cal slips the red visitor badge over my head. “Remember what we talked about?”

  “Yep.” I lift my new accessory. “This doesn’t come off until you take it off me.”

  Behind us, Karl coughs hard. Cal just shakes his head. “Then, let’s go.” Cal takes my hand to lead me to a bank of elevators. There’s no up or down button, only a badge reader. He uses his own badge and taps it. “When you have your permanent visitor pass, you’ll be able to do this,” he tells me.

  Okay, I knew Cal was into some high-tech toys, but this is ridiculous. But there’s a nagging thought riding through my head. “Cal? You work for an admiral? I thought you weren’t in the military anymore.”

  “He’s retired, Libs. Still doesn’t mean the man didn’t earn his rank.”

  “Right. Got it. So, will I meet him?” As the elevator is climbing, so are the numbers—five, six. We get off at seven, though I note there’s a R, likely leading to the roof.

  Cal waits for me to step off the elevator before saying, “Where do you think we’re going to first? To say the man is still torqued with me for not receiving an invitation to our wedding is an understatement.”

  “Oh, my goodness! You can’t drop that kind of news of me and expect me to handle this! I need days—mainly to kick your ass.”

  Cal grins. “Libs, don’t worry. I told him it was mainly a family affair.”

  I’m going to pass out right in the elevator lobby. “We had close to two hundred people there,” I retort.

  “And if you think back to your nonna’s funeral, it was mostly family. Come on.” He tugs on my arm as I dig in my heels. “I promise, it’s going to be fine.”

  “That’s what Josh said after we snuck out of the house for a Hootie concert,” I mutter. “I was grounded for six months.”

  Cal bursts into laughter as we walk into an enormous office. The man behind the desk has close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and is dressed in a suit that must have been tailored for his broad shoulders. “And of course, he’s every woman’s dream of what their men will age like,” I say to myself.

  Or so I think.

  The man bellows out a laugh and comes around his desk. “Rick Yarborough, US Navy retired.” He holds out his hand. “It’s an absolute pleasure to finally get to meet you.”

  Now that he’s standing near me, I kind of want to curtsey. Instead, I take his hand in a firm grip. “A pleasure, Admiral.”

  He wings a brow in Cal’s direction, who just shrugs. “Lib
by—may I call you Libby?”

  “Of course,” I stammer. “Did I do something wrong?” Already, is what I want to add to that sentence.

  “Now, why would you think that?

  “Maybe because my husband told me in the elevator you wanted to come to our wedding?” I blurt out.

  The Admiral shoots my husband a look so frigid it should take a week to thaw him out. “You don’t say shit like that to a wife.”

  “You’d know. You’ve had three,” Cal drawls. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

  “Three,” I squawk.

  Yarborough waives his hand in the air. “Was too young the first time; we’re still close friends. I set her up with her husband. Second one was just a mistake. Piece of work, that one. Third one—couldn’t live without my Molly. Been with her going on twenty years now.”

  “Wait. Hold on.” I lift a hand to my head. “How can you have been married three times when you’re like what? Fifty? Did you overlap them or something?”

  Cal roars with laughter while Yarborough grins. “She might be good for you, but she’s better for my ego.”

  I’m hugged closer as Cal says, “Don’t I know it,” before turning me to face him. “Honey, the Admiral actually just turned seventy this year.”

  I whip around so fast my hair smacks Cal in the face. “No. Way. That is not possible.”

  “I didn’t retire until I earned my second star, Libby. Twenty-four hard years I spent serving after I graduated the academy. And you know what? It took less than six months before I realized I was going to go stark raving mad out of boredom. That’s when I decided to open Alliance’s doors.”

  “That’s extraordinary,” I tell him. “You’re a true patriot, sir.”

  Cal’s boss beams at me like I passed some kind of test before extending his arm. “Mrs. Sullivan, it would be my honor if you’d let me escort you for a few moments around Alliance.”

  Breaking away from Cal, I tuck my hand in his arm. “It’s my pleasure to let you.”