And right now, I need to let him know I’ll always love him regardless of if he loves someone else. Because he doesn’t know it yet, while I want to be his everything—because that’s what he is to me—I need him to be able to give his child more.
So, I turn on my phone. I take a picture of what I just drew. Opening up my text message, I type the greatest truth when it comes to love and the greatest lie when it comes to my happiness.
If Iris can make you this happy, then I wouldn’t be the woman who loves you if I didn’t step aside. We’ll talk when I get home, but I hurt because I heard your heart beneath mine for so long and I didn’t listen to the fact it wasn’t beating for me. I’ll always love you for what you gave to me, Cal.
I press Send before I can stop myself. Then I shut down the phone to get ready for dinner. I need to figure out what to wear since it’s formal night. Even though I’m not hungry at all, I figure I’ll manage to swallow down enough to satisfy what I need to for our baby. It will all taste like sawdust to me anyway.
63
Present Day
Elizabeth
“What was your reaction when you got that text, Cal?” Dr. Powell asks my husband.
“If I knew where she was, I would have figured out some way to get to her,” Cal growls. His hand holding mine is almost white with tension. “There I was sitting on my hands waiting for her to come home to tell her the truth, and here she was trying to tell me it was okay if I didn’t love her anymore.” Cal glares down at me.
“I didn’t know,” I say helplessly.
“Was I still breathing?” he counters.
“Yes.”
“There’s your answer, Libs. If I’m breathing, then it’s because my heart’s still pounding. And it only beats for you.” Cal lifts our entwined fingers and rubs his lips over my knuckles.
I’m lost in the sensation until there’s a discreet cough. Dr. Powell’s smile has faded. “I hate to move on.”
Cal stiffens next to me. I lay my head against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” I whisper.
A low rumble starts deep in his throat.
Dr. Powell holds up his hands in surrender. “It’s difficult to discuss,” he begins.
“You’re not the one who will catch her staring out windows, remembering. I should have protected her. I’m the one who will gladly hold her through any nightmares this might induce. But every time, I want to slam my fist into the people who want to dissect what happened from start to finish. This is our life.” Cal’s frightfully calm. “What right do you have to more of it?”
“Cal.” I lean into him and lay my head on his heart. His lips come down and kiss the top of my head.
“Why don’t you start, Cal?” Dr. Powell says quietly. “Pick up from where Libby left off.”
He holds me tight against his chest. “I’d just received her text and called Sam and Iris into my office to discuss it.”
64
Calhoun
Year Six – Five Years Ago from Present Day – October 22 1349 Hours EST
I’m still clutching my phone in my hand when Iris and Sam close the door to my office. Without a word, I hand my phone to them. Until this moment, there was never an all-consuming panic I might not get my wife back.
Until now.
She loves me enough to let me go. I don’t know whether that kind of love is so selfless I should feel honored or pissed. I think it’s a bit of both. Then I hear Iris crying behind me, and I whirl around to find her in Sam’s arms. “That’s so beautiful.” She’s crying so hard the words are next to impossible to make out.
Sam shoots me a helpless look as he strokes his wife’s back. “Babe, she’s letting him go,” he points out gently.
“Because she loves him. God, are men that stupid? Libby loves Cal so deeply, she won’t accept less than all of him. Since she figures she doesn’t have it, not that it’s true, she’s setting him free so she can hold on to the memories.” Lifting my phone again, her face contorts. “And she’s giving her blessing to your happiness, no matter what that is.” Iris’s face buries deep into Sam’s neck.
I would give my life to be with her right now, to explain everything so she doesn’t harden her mind against me in the ten more days she has on her vacation. “I don’t care what anyone says, I will be waiting for my wife when she gets home. She’s not going one more day without understanding it all.”
Sam’s head, which had been bent over Iris’s, snaps in my direction. “Everything?” he asks with a note of hope in his voice.
“Everything.” With or without anyone’s intervention, I’m going after my wife.
“She figures you’re already looking for the next possibility,” Iris warns me. “Even with explanations, winning her back isn’t going to be easy.”
“Don’t you understand? Without Libby, life has no possibility. I don’t love her because she’s willing to walk away; I love her because she may be willing to stay.” Sinking into my chair, I put my head in my hands while my friends stare at me agape.
* * *
Hours later, I’m rereading the texts between me and Libby over the last few days while sitting in the corner of the common room when everyone goes static. “We interrupt this broadcast to bring a special news bulletin…” Standing, I make my way closer to the TV. “Shut it, everyone!” I call out. “Let’s see if we’re going anywhere.”
The volume of the television goes up as the yapping from the people goes down to a low-level buzz. The news announcer says in a shaky voice, “The Sea Force, a luxury yacht that originated from Malaga, Spain, four days ago, stopped in Funchal, Portugal, for a day of excursions. Less than twelve hours after it departed the small island, an emergency distress signal was picked up by the USS Lassen, a Arleigh Burke class destroyer on maneuvers out of their homeport of Mayport, Florida. Only fifteen miles away, they quickly headed in the direction of the ship. Approximately five miles out, they received a communication. The Sea Force has been hijacked. Approximately two hundred people are yet to be accounted for.”
My jaw clenches. “There’s a reason they targeted that ship.”
And as if she can hear me, the announcer continues. “The luxury liner has a jewelry and antique exhibit on board valued at close to a hundred million dollars. Although all passengers were subject to additional screening, it’s suspected, though not yet confirmed, one or more members of the crew are in league with the pirates.”
She takes a shaky breath. “Before making this announcement, all emergency points of contact for all persons on board the Sea Force have been notified.”
Suddenly my phone begins vibrating in my hand. It’s Josh. A sick feeling begins crawling up from the bottom of my stomach. I push the button to answer. “Yeah?”
“Are you watching the emergency news broadcast?” His voice is raw as if he’s been screaming, crying. Or both.
“About the Sea Force?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?” But, instinctively, I already know what he’s about to say. Breaking away from the team, I start sprinting down the hall that leads to Yarborough’s office. I get there just as he hangs up the phone. Yarborough’s head swivels toward me. His face is horrified for a second before it’s wiped of all emotion.
And in my ear, Josh confirms everything when he chokes out, “Libby’s on that ship, Cal. Can…is it possible to get her home?”
Slamming open the door so hard it ricochets back at me, I answer the only way my heart will allow. “Yes. We’ll do everything we can to get her back. I swear it, Josh. We’ll bring Libby home.”
“Thank you. I…Cal…”
I cut him off before he can apologize for not interceding with Libby. Jesus, if it wasn’t for me, none of this would be happening. “I’ll call you back as soon as I know what’s happening.”
Facing the man who gave me the skills I need to save my wife, I state flatly, “Don’t try to keep me out. You’ll regret it.”
“I just got a request to send in a team to h
elp with tech. Do you honestly think you can lock it down enough to make the decisions to save not just her, but to help rescue the 112 passengers and 95 crew we have yet to account for? Because if you can’t—” He braces his aging arms on the massive desk that once intimated me sixteen years ago. Now, all it does is offer me reassurance. “If you can’t, your wife might die. You have to decide now.”
“Would you trust anyone else if it was one of us?” Our lives are the closest things I can equate to Yarborough on the significance of being a part of this team.
“No. I’d demand to be there—to be a part of this. Which is why I’m giving you the choice.” He collapses down into his chair. “Pick your team, Cal. Anyone. Get them ready to fly out to the Lassen within the next two hours.”
I nod. Moving out of his office, I choke down my fear. I’m unlocking my phone to call Josh back.
He answers on the first ring. “Cal?” His voice is shaking.
Not giving in to allow mine to do the same, I tell him, “I’m taking Sam, Iris, and a team out to the Lassen. We’re going to go bring her home.”
He’s sobbing on the other end of the line. I tip my head, the increase in my breathing the only thing betraying my true emotions. “When this is done, if she still ends up wanting to walk away, I’ll let her.”
“Cal…” But I have to get the words out.
“Beyond every part of me that knows I can’t live without her, I need her to be happy, Josh. She had every right to demand that from me. Now, I’m going to make sure she lives so she can have it—however she wants it. I’ll call you with updates.” I hang up while he’s protesting.
Striding back into the common room, I’m swiping a hand across my face. “Sam, Iris. I need you both for ten minutes. The rest of you are on standby.” I have to break the news to them to see if they can handle this mission.
Just because there’s no way I’m being kept off that helo doesn’t mean I won’t give them the choice.
65
Elizabeth
Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day – October 22 2048 GMT
By the time dessert and coffee is being served, most of the passengers at my table have a greenish tinge to their features. I haven’t experienced nausea yet in this pregnancy, but as David, then his husband, Matthew, excuse themselves repeatedly, each time coming back perspiring harder and harder, I become slightly queasy.
That mild feeling starts to turn into a full revolt as the man from the table behind me shoves his chair back so hard as he races from the dining room, it jolts me forward, practically landing me face-first in my fresh vanilla bean ice cream.
I lean toward Linc, the only other person not ill at our table. “Do you get seasick?”
He frowns. “The seas are a little turbulent tonight, but nothing that should be causing this kind of reaction. Camille has been on boats plenty of times, Elizabeth.” Just then, Camille stands and grabs her napkin. She races on stilettos for the exit. “See? If she’s able to run in those shoes… If you’ll excuse me, my dear.”
“Of course. Go,” I urge him.
David sits again, his face pale but resigned. “What did you have for dinner?”
Since none of the specialties contained anything but fish, I went for something from the standard menu. “The filet and fresh vegetables.”
“Then I fear you may be one of the few of us who won’t be dealing with this tonight,” he says bluntly. “I suspect we all have a form of food poisoning. Darn swordfish must have been bad.”
“I never thought it could come on that suddenly,” I question as David starts to look a little green again.
“I don’t remember it happening this fast the last time, but it’s entirely possible.”
“Do you think we should call the medic?” Concern laces my voice.
David shrugs before he grips his stomach tightly. “If it is, we’re all going to get the same advice. The symptoms might range from diarrhea to nausea, stomach cramps, and vomiting. There could also be fever and chills. Stick to our cabins, don’t bother the other passengers. If it’s worse, call the ship’s clinic.” He groans. “If you’ll excuse me, love.” David shoves away from the table.
A few minutes pass before Linc returns. “David thinks it’s food poisoning,” I blurt out.
His face grim, he nods his agreement. “Don’t go outside for a walk tonight. Half the passengers are unable to make it back to their rooms, so they’re availing themselves of the open deck to relieve their nausea.”
My nose scrunches. “What did Camille have for dinner?” I ask curiously.
“The chef’s special. Mussels.” At my frown, Linc asks, “Why?”
“That’s not what David and Matthew had.” I bite down on my lower lip.
“Maybe their refrigeration system went bad.” Linc gives a disgusted look at the creamer sitting next to his coffee. “If that’s the case, then neither of us is going to be immune for long.”
“True. And on that pleasant thought, maybe I’ll head back to my cabin for the night.”
“Do me a favor, Elizabeth?” Linc stands with me. “Check in with us in the morning? You’re traveling alone, and I don’t like the idea of you being ill.”
A warmth steals across my heart. I reach for his hand and give it a quick squeeze. “Go take care of Camille. I’m sure things will be fine by morning.”
But just as we’re about to leave, the ship’s alarm goes off. “All passengers, make your way to your muster stations. This is not a dri—”
The last word is eliminated by a gunshot followed by a scream before all sound is cut off from the PA system.
Linc grabs my arm. I feel the fine tremor in his fingers. “Come with me, Elizabeth. We have to go find Camille.”
I nod, too scared to say anything. Together, we race toward the entrance of the dining room to find something beyond horrifying.
It’s blood, copious amounts of blood. Only it’s not due to any gun; it’s from the passengers as they continue to heave their dinners.
I bury my head against Linc’s arm. “Oh, God.”
“What the hell kind of food poisoning does this?” Linc wonders aloud.
We both hear footsteps behind us. Turning in unison, neither of us expect what happens next.
Two men approach. Simultaneously, one uses the butt of a gun to clip Linc in the jaw while the other delivers a slap across my face that makes what I gave to Iris in the grocery store a mere love tap. It knocks me backward in my gray silk heels, dropping me in my short, silver sequined dress to the floor.
Linc drops to his knees to check on me when there’s a cocking of weapons. We freeze amid the waste being expunged by our fellow passengers.
“It really would have been so much easier for both of you if you’d just had one of the recommended specials for dinner. Now? Well, your fate depends on whether or not you decide to please me. And you haven’t had much success at that so far, have you, Signora Sullivan?”
I know that voice.
Lifting my head, fear takes over my overwhelming concern for my fellow passengers as Alessio approaches, his malevolent smile in direct contracts to the blood splattered shirt he’s wearing.
And the gun in his hand.
66
Present Day
Calhoun
“Who was still alive at that point, Libby?” Dr. Powell asks her gently.
“That I knew of?” Libby reaches for a tissue, but I hand her one. “Thank you.”
I just shake my head and pull her tighter against my side. Dropping a kiss down on top of her head, I mutter, “Babe.”
She wipes her eyes before answering. “The captain and the bridge crew; I recognized them from the videos on the television in my room. So, the five of them.” Inhaling sharply, her breathing accelerates. I’m about to call for a break as she struggles to recall who else was moved into the bar located directly above the bridge where she was held captive for thirty-four of the worst hours of her life. “Linc, who I swear kept me san
e.” I squeeze her tighter, if that’s even possible at this point. God, if it hadn’t been for Linc McCallister, I don’t know how my wife would still be sitting here as emotionally stable as she is right now. I owe the man a lifelong debt of gratitude.
Libby couldn’t be closer unless she were sitting right on top of my lap, and if that’s where she needs to be, then so be it. I shift her so she is, and she shoots me a grateful smile before turning back to Dr. Powell. “There were a few members of the crew alive who weren’t involved in Alessio’s scheme, but…” Her voice drifts off.
“But?” Dr. Powell probes Libby gently.
Her voice catches. “Alessio used most of them as examples. Their deaths were so brutal.”
“In what way?”
Libby flings the details at him like bullets firing from a gun. Then, like a gun that clicks when it’s empty, her words start to stumble. “In the way of stripping them and then allowing all of his men to shoot them? Allowing their bodies to fall over the rail…”
I shake my head, salty wetness flying everywhere. I don’t care. Hearing this, however many times, guts me.
“Go on, Libby,” Powell urges, making me want to coldcock him.
“Don’t make her, Doctor. Not now.” I place my hand protectively over our child. Twisting so her face is accessible, I murmur, “You don’t have to do this.”
She grabs the back of my neck so hard, it hurts. I’d let her pull out all of my hair a chunk at a time if it would help. “I have your love. I can do anything.”
“You can, but you don’t have to,” I argue.
Leaning my head against hers, the tears that flow between us spark more memories. Of being on board the Lassen. Being helpless to do more than listen and advise while knowing my wife was being tortured on board the Sea Force. I tune in as I realize she’s started talking about what happened.
Ripple Effect Page 24
