by Laura Taylor
AS SHE sat on the pallet in her cell and stroked a brush through her hair, Emma reflected on the stillness of the predawn hour. She had been incarcerated for over a week now, and she’d come to appreciate this particular time of the day because of its peacefulness.
These few hours gave her a reprieve from the constancy of air-raid sirens, exploding bombs, and anti-aircraft fire, the agony-filled cries of prisoners undergoing interrogation and torture, and the intermittent rifle fire that echoed in the courtyard adjacent to the cellblock. Although often terrified, Emma had discovered within herself the courage to hope for freedom and the strength to face each day. She periodically doubted David’s assurances that she alone would determine how she handled imprisonment, because she considered him to be the primary source of her optimism.
Emma heard David stir in the adjoining cell, but she remained silent and concentrated on braiding her hair. She then continued her morning routine by dipping a small section of the hem of her blouse into the inch of water that remained in her battered tin cup.
As she dabbed at her face and neck with the damp fabric, she longed for a luxurious soak in a tub filled with hot water and scented bubbles. The simple pleasures she’d always taken for granted, such as brushing her teeth and wearing clean clothes each day, now constituted a fantasy.
Emma welcomed the familiar sound of David’s footsteps. After shedding her cape, she also paced her small cell. She walked for over an hour, swinging her arms vigorously as she adjusted her steps to his long-legged stride. Her western-style boots and his heavy leather flight boots quickly synchronized, giving the impression that only one person moved briskly back and forth across the hard packed dirt floor.
Invigorated by the exercise, she returned to her pallet. She picked up her tote bag to search for her notepad and pen. Somehow, both items had worked their way down to the bottom. Pawing past a pair of socks and a soiled San Diego State University t-shirt, Emma encountered a narrow, foil-wrapped rectangle.
Puzzled, she fingered the item. Shock immobilized her for a long moment, and then hope sparked within her as she recalled her layover in Zurich and the purchases she’d made at the airport’s duty free gift shop. She hurriedly upended the tote bag, spilling the contents onto her lap. She grinned then, disbelief and pleasure lighting up the vivid blue of her eyes as she stared at the candy bar.
“Chocolate.” She handled the confection with complete reverence. “I found a candy bar!” she exclaimed once she convinced herself that she wasn’t hallucinating. Scrambling to her feet, Emma raced to the corner of her cell. “Did you hear me, David?”
“I’m not deaf.”
Her smile faltered, but she refused to let his terse reply rob her of the joy of her discovery. She knew he expected her to observe their rule of silence during the early morning hours, but Emma couldn’t remain quiet. “It’s still wrapped in foil, and it’s in perfect condition. I can’t believe I missed it. Nor can I believe the guards missed it.”
“I told you those guys were inept. I still have my watch. They overlooked it when they searched me.”
“We’ll share, David.”
“I don’t like chocolate, so just eat the damn thing and shut up.”
Startled, she fell silent. Then, comprehension slammed into her a few seconds later. She knew David well enough now to understand the motivation behind his lie. She probably knew him now almost as well as she knew herself. They had progressed from strangers trapped in life-threatening circumstances to intimates who shared their thoughts, dreams, fears, and desires without a moment of hesitation.
Emma caught her breath as tears filled her eyes. Only David would pretend to hate something he thought she needed more. Only David would put her needs before his own.
She cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “Quit being a hero. It isn’t necessary. There’s plenty here for both of us, so stick out your hand. We’re sharing this little treasure. I won’t have it any other way.”
“You need the energy, babe.”
“And you don’t?” she asked, her tone teasing so that she wouldn’t betray her constant worry over his survival. And then there were all of the emotions he inspired in her. Emotions she kept locked in her heart for fear of becoming an even greater burden to him. Emotions that made her realize she could easily fall in love with him.
“I’ll get by. Give me a break, Emma, and just eat the damn thing.”
“I refuse to take one bite of this chocolate bar if we don’t share it.”
“You’re getting on my nerves, Hamilton.”
“And you’re behaving like a mule, Winslow, so shut up and get over here. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll give it to one of the guards.”
He muttered a harsh expletive, which Emma ignored as she waited to hear the sound of his footsteps. She heard, instead, the desert wind as it whistled in the eaves above the small barred window at the top of the rear wall of her cell. The bleak, lonely sound snapped her patience.
“I’m putting you on notice as of right now. If you don’t meet me at the wall, then I’ll be forced to toss this candy bar in your direction and hope you can reach it through the bars of your cell. You should know, though, that I don’t pitch worth a damn.”
David moved to the corner of his cell, the briskness of his footsteps an obvious indication of his annoyance with her. “Your Italian is showing, babe.”
“So’s my Irish,” she countered. “Most sane men wouldn’t willingly mess with such a volatile combination.” All too aware of the deprivation he’d already endured, she gentled her tone. “Don’t fight me on this, David. You can’t possibly win once I’ve set my mind on something.”
“God save me from temperamental women.”
Emma grinned at the return of his good humor. Dividing the chocolate bar in half, she tucked her piece into the breast pocket of her blouse. She wedged herself into the now familiar corner of her cell, and then slipped her arm through the bars and along the wall. She encountered empty space. “David, get your hand over here.”
“You’re getting bossy in your old age, Hamilton.”
“So sue me.”
“I’d rather…”
“You’d rather what?”
Silence, save for the sound of his harsh breathing.
“David?”
“I’d rather have you than chocolate.” His fingertips brushed across her skin in the next moment.
Emma felt his touch to her core. “I feel the same way.”
David cupped the back of her hand, the sureness of his touch reaching deep into her soul. When she heard a heavy sigh escape him, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. How she longed for him.
“I've missed touching you,” he said. “Maybe we should revise our hand-holding schedule. An hour each morning added to our afternoon and evening sessions.”
She pressed the back of her hand against his palm, burrowing against him as best she could as she savored his touch. “Only if your shoulder can take it.”
“I can handle anything if it means I can touch you, babe.”
Emma opened her mouth, but her reply died the instant she heard the heavy metal door at the end of the cellblock hallway crash open. She sucked in a sharp breath, nearly losing her grip on David’s half of the candy.
“Get back, Emma. Now!”
The urgency in his voice made her jerk backward. Wincing as she scraped her shoulder against the wall’s rough surface, she dashed into the rear of her cell.
Her heart raced. She knew the guards rarely bothered with prisoners this early in the morning. Counting at least four sets of footsteps, she pressed herself against the wall and held her breath.
Four instead of one.
She shuddered, fear knifing through her.
Four guards instead of one.
Why? she wondered, although she feared that she already knew the answer.
The armed men bypassed her cell and came to a halt in front of David’s. She stood there, shaking as the guards dragged open his cell door. One
of the men barked an order at him. Emma strained to hear David’s reply. She heard only silence — yet another measure of his stubbornness.
A scuffle erupted in his cell.
David mustn’t know she was frightened for him, she cautioned herself. When she heard his grunt of pain and the angry words he shouted at the guards, she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her. She clapped a hand over her mouth, certain that his resistance was partially rooted in his desire to distract them from her presence in the adjacent cell.
“David?” she whispered.
She needed to tell him not to try to protect her, but how? Stymied by her anxiety that she might cause him more harm than good, she kept silent.
Another one of the guards growled a command. David exploded with a string of earthy, rage-filled curses.
Emma surged forward and threw herself against the bars of her cell, heedless of the risk to herself. Clinging to the bars, she struggled to see beyond the uniformed men who blocked her view.
One of the guards turned and pointed his weapon at her. Emma hurriedly backed away. She tripped over the edge of her pallet, lost her footing, and landed in a sprawl on the floor.
She brought herself up to her knees just in time to catch a glimpse of David as he was hauled out of his cell. She registered the dark mahogany of his thick hair, the fury darkening his shadowed hazel eyes, and the fierce expression on his angular, beard-covered face. Defiance made his big body rigid with tension and fury. She screamed his name before she could stop herself.
Beat them at their own game, babe,” he shouted.
When she saw the blood that trailed from his split lip and down his chin, Emma jammed her fist against her lips to keep from calling out to him a second time. One of the guards silenced David with a hard punch to his midsection. He gasped and slumped forward, but the guards kept him from sliding to the floor.
She watched in horror as they dragged him away, flinching when the cellblock door finally slammed shut. Still huddled on the floor, she clutched David’s half of the chocolate bar to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She lost track of time in the hours that followed, frozen in place by pure terror at what might happen to him.
When she finally found the strength to move, she forced herself to her feet and paced. She tried to comfort herself by reliving every moment of their time together. She replayed their many conversations through her mind, but the haunting sounds of prison life, the cries of prisoners being tortured and the sound of rifle shots, served to terrorize her emotions even more.
By mid-afternoon Emma feared she might never see David again. Bowing her head as she leaned against the cell wall, she summoned what remained of her strength and prayed that the man well on his way to capturing her heart would return to her. She also made a silent vow that she would employ her wits and all that David had taught her in order to assure her own survival. And if he never came back, she knew he would remain in her thoughts and in her heart for the rest of her life.
Wrapped in her cape, Emma finally collapsed across her pallet shortly after dark. She slept poorly for almost five hours, the series of nightmares she experienced punctuation marks on the horrific events of that day.
