The Last Stand of Charlotte Dodd: Fun, Action Chick Lit Spy Saga

by Holly Kerr

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “But did I ever say anything about him?” I press.

  “Do you normally discuss people and your feelings about them?”

  I scrunch my nose. “Fair enough. So you have no idea what I felt about this guy, if anything.”

  “I do not.”

  I do not like it when Ham gets all freaky formal. It usually means something is bothering him. It doesn’t take secret agent skills to figure out what’s bothering him is Bryton Raak—both his whereabouts and his past with me.

  I finish my toast in silence. When I slip the plate into the dishwasher, making sure my back is to Ham, I take a deep breath. “I danced with him,” I say quietly. “I remember dancing.”

  Ham’s quick intake swings me around. “It could be just a dance,” I insist.

  “But it wasn’t.”

  The memory is vividly real. I can still feel the warmth of hands on my waist, fingers stroking my arms, my back. I smell the spicy scent of his cologne.

  “I don’t know,” I confess.

  He gives a nod of his head. “It’s no matter. It was a long time ago. We weren’t together at the time, and you were free to follow your heart. I know you had other relationships—”

  “Other than Luke?” Luke had been my first love, and what a painful, unrequited love mess that had been. He was the reason I had my memories erased.

  Luke had been a trust fund baby, looking for fun and a way to veer off from his family’s fortune; I was a naïve teenager hopelessly in love with her brother’s best friend. It was never going to last.

  It wasn’t until years after our breakup that I discovered Luke’s pursuit of fun had gotten him mixed up with some bad guys. I had needed a way to eliminate the threat of the Mielson organization and Luke had been my way in. The theory behind removing my memories was that it would be easier to pretend to be in love with Luke if I didn’t remember how he had crushed my heart.

  It was complicated and didn’t work as well as planned, thanks to Benjy.

  “Well, no,” Ham admits. “Not that I know of.”

  “Did you have other relationships?” The question slips out and I hold up my hand before he has time to react. “Don’t answer that. I know you must have and I don’t want to know about it.”

  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  So there had been other women. Who? How many? “Maybe someday,” I say, even though my little voice is stamping her foot and muttering Hell no.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” I mutter, hearing Ham chuckle as I head back to the bedroom to get dressed. “Ham?” I pause in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Charlotte.”

  “Have you ever danced with me? Before, when I can’t remember?”

  “Why do you want to know? We’ve danced—at our wedding and at Declan and Pippa’s.”

  “That was formal, fancy dancing. Not the same.”

  “I liked it,” he says stiffly.

  “Of course you did. I mean, the kind of dancing when you were a teenager and those dances when the guy’s hands would sneak onto the girl’s ass.”

  “I’m afraid I never went to those dances.”

  Now it was my turn to chuckle. “Of course you didn’t.”

  “Is that how you danced with Bryton?”

  “I think it might have been. I don’t know if he had his hands on my butt though.”

  He stands before me. “Would you like to dance with me?”

  I nod. Ham slips his arms around my waist and pulls me close. I lean my head on his chest. Somehow we drift into the living room, moving in slow circles beside the table, listening to music in our head.

  I don’t know about Ham, but in my head, I’m listening to Ed Sheeran's “Perfect.” I love that song. Ham probably has some classic classical music fueling his dance moves.

  When we danced at our wedding, Ham stayed ramrod straight with posture and a hold that would make the judges on Dancing with the Stars proud. If it weren’t for the ballroom dancing lessons I was told I’d taken, I would have really struggled to keep up with him.

  But this time his arms are wrapped around me, and he’s leaning over so his cheek rests on the top of my head. One of his hands rests low on the small of my back.

  I liked our wedding dance but I think I like this way of dancing better.

  “I don’t want that to be the only dance I remember,” I say, my voice muffled by his jacket. I don’t know if Ham hears me, but his arms tighten, and his hand slowly drifts onto my ass and gives me a squeeze.

  I laugh.

  Chapter Eight

  “Love is sharing your popcorn.”

  Charles Schultz

  I stop by Tenley’s café, Soup du Jour, on my way to Head Office. It’s not on the way, and I’m not much for drinking coffee, but I think it’s time to have a conversation with Tenley about some things.

  The bell above the door tinkles as I push it open, inhaling the warm smell of freshly baked bread. Soup du Jour only serves the breakfast and lunch crowd, so even though Tenley was running around Paramaribo with me a day ago, she’s back to being all smiles behind the counter this morning. It’s a warm and cheery place with a constant stream of traffic from those who work downtown and can’t get through the morning without a coffee.

  Tenley just celebrated a year with the Agency, brought aboard only because she had the misfortune to have my memories downloaded into her head during a particularly bad first date. Not only did she get the evidence of my life with NIIA but she also got my knowledge and skills of over ten years as an agent. Add in a brown belt in karate and almost perfect aim, she’s become a natural.

  Unlike me, Tenley has another life though—that of a mother and owner of her business. I always wonder how she does it all. Not only is she a secret agent, but Tenley is the closest thing to Superwoman that I know.

  Maybe Wonder Woman. It would be cool to be Wonder Woman.

  “I thought I might be seeing you today,” Tenley says with a rueful expression.

  “I waited as long as I could,” I admit. “Once I finally woke up.”

  Tenley nods. “Grab a table. I’ll bring us something over.”

  I chose the table away from the window and sit with my back to the wall. Two other tables are full; a young woman sits at the table next to me with a laptop and earphones, beyond her an older man reads a newspaper. The quiet is broken by the laughter of the cashier taking an order and the hiss of milk being steamed.

  Tenley carries a tray with a tea latte for me and a huge mug of coffee for herself, along with two blueberry scones. I breathe in the heady, fruity scent of the scone; smells good, but I prefer muffins.

  “I just took them out of the oven,” she says, passing me the tea. “You came in at a good time, right in between the early morning and lunch rush.”

  Because I’m still struggling to get my jacket off with one arm, Tenley leans over to help me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Almost as good as new.” If I keep saying that, maybe I’ll start to believe it.

  I’ve left my hair loose and unbraided and the static electricity sends it flying as I pull off my toque.

  Tenley leans forward so we can’t be overheard. “It’s so cold here compared to yesterday. The day before. I can’t get used to that.”

  “It takes a while.”

  Behind the counter, the door to the kitchen opens and to my surprise, my brother Seamus emerges with a tray of muffins and Tenley’s daughter Lucy behind him.

  “We all slept in this morning,” Tenley admits. “Seamus is going to take her to school for me.”

  “I don’t know how you do it all.”

  “Your brother helps quite a bit. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Tenley's cheeks flush pink, adding to her lopsided smile. It’s nice to see her happy; even nicer to see my brother with a good woman.

  I glance at the ring on her finger, platinum with an understated,
yet still impressive diamond. Just like Tenley. Seamus knows her well.

  Their wedding is planned for February first.

  Lucy runs over to our table, with a sheepish Seamus trailing behind. “She won’t be too late,” he says.

  “I called the school to let them know.” Tenley smiles at her daughter and opens her arms for a hug.

  “I don’t have to go at all,” Lucy cries, snuggled into Tenley. “I can stay and help you today. Or I can hang out with Lottie.” She grins hopefully at me, her smile hard to resist.

  But I still shake my head. “Not unless you grow more teeth. How can we eat movie popcorn if you have no teeth?”

  “I can still eat popcorn!”

  “Not as quick as me.”

  “You eat the whole bag before I even get a handful.” Lucy pouts and I grin.

  “Then you better grow more teeth so you can keep up with me. There’s some movie about an abominable snowman out and I need someone to watch it with.”

  “Me! Me!”

  “It’ll be a date—if you go to school.”

  Lucy grabs Seamus’ arm. “Let’s go, Seamus.”

  My brother meets my eyes with a brief nod. “Lottie.” He shifts his gaze to my sling. “How’s it going this morning?”

  I try to tell him with just my eyes that I’m okay, which is pretty much impossible to do. “Great.”

  He nods again, this time adding a frown so I know he doesn’t believe me. Seamus and I have always been close. Growing up, he was often the only one of my brothers to pay any attention to me. The years when he was supposedly in the military were tough; tougher still when I found out he had been lying to me about his service, working with MI-6 instead of the Canadian Armed Forces. But the worst was when I believed that he was working for the Mielson organization.

  I still defended him, even before I knew what was really going on.

  “So, Christmas,” Tenley cuts in. “Did you talk to Ham?”

  “I haven’t had a chance.”

  “Well, make sure you do. Everyone is in—Perry and Caleb, and Pippa and Declan.”

  “Gran’s in Florida or I’m sure she’d want to come,” Seamus says.

  “Don’t forget about Lance. Do you think he’s going to bring Minka?”

  “Lance and Minka?” Seamus shudders. “Tell me about it later. I’ve got to get the Little Miss to school.” He grabs Lucy by the back of her pink jacket. “Let’s get out of here, kid, before I get into even more trouble with the principal.”

  “Why would you get in trouble with Mr. Hunt?” Lucy demands as she allows herself to be dragged along.

  “It’s my fault you slept in. I made your mom—” Suddenly Seamus realizes what he’s about to imply. “Say bye to Mom and Lottie.”

  “Bye, bye. I thought Mommy said her alarm didn’t go off?” Lucy asks as Seamus hustles her out the door.

  I turn to a pink-cheeked Tenley and raise an eyebrow. “What?” She lifts her hands defensively. “We were talking. He was glad to see me home safely.”

  I grimace. “I’m glad at least one of you thinks I don’t need the dirty details. Pippa not working this morning?”

  Back before she was with the Agency, Pippa worked for the Irish Intelligence Party and had been tasked to get information on Tenley because she had my memories. After working at Soup du Jour for a few days as a way to get close to her, Pippa found she quite liked it. When she’s not at Head Office, Pippa hangs out here to help Tenley.

  “I didn’t think she could handle the early morning,” Tenley says with an affectionate smile. “Yesterday was intense. The day before. Everything is mixed up.”

  For an inexperienced agent, the trip into Suriname during the coup must have been exactly that. I know I’ve been in worse places; I’ve seen pictures, had flashes of memories. But it’s not the flames and gunfire that has me on edge this morning.

  “But you don’t want to talk about that.” Tenley leans back and sips at her coffee, her eyes studying my face. “What do you want to know?”

  “What’s the story with me and him? Is there a story?”

  Tenley pulls out a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. “I thought you’d be in this morning so I made some notes.”

  “Is this like a research project for you?”

  “Isn’t it for you?”

  I unfold the paper without answering. Tenley has written down in point-form the highlights of my history with Bryton Raak.

  met while on security duty for his mother, First Lady Rebecca Raak

  developed friendship; remained in friendzone for most of the time in Paramaribo due to feelings for Ham as well as distance and paths in life

  this changed at President’s Ball; Bryton acted on his feelings, you reciprocated

  left shortly after as First Lady did not feel the need of your services

  It sounds so dull when it’s set out with bullet points and written out in Tenley’s no-nonsense script. “That’s it?”

  “What else do you need?” Tenley asks when I raise my gaze from the paper.

  How can I ask her how I felt about him? What happened the night of the President’s Ball to make me change my feelings for him? What about Ham? Where did that leave him?

  “You weren’t with Ham at the time,” Tenley says gently, as if she’s reading my mind. “This was soon after you broke up with Luke. I doubt Ham thought you were ready for a relationship.”

  “But I was ready for one with Bryton?”

  “You were friends. Good friends. And then that night…” She trails off. “Do you remember any of it?”

  I reluctantly nod. “I’ve had flashes. I had a dream last night. There was dancing. I didn’t know when or where, but it adds up to what’s here.” I tap the sheet of paper.

  “So you know how you felt?”

  I sigh heavily. “I can guess the most of it.”

  “You fought it for as long as you could,” Tenley says gently. “From what I remember of him, Bryton is very charming and smart, and so much fun. You laughed so much with him. He made you relax, do things totally out of character. He challenged you, and you fell in love with him. Simple as that.”

  “So it was love.” I carefully fold the paper and push it across the table.

  “I don’t need it back. Yes, I think you loved him. It feels like you did.”

  Only two people with shared memories can understand how awkward it is to be told something like that.

  “But that was a long time ago,” she continues. “And no one can doubt your feelings for Ham.”

  “It’s not that.” I pull at the ends of my hair, unsure of how to explain. “Knowing that this happened, and I don’t remember it…It’s different than the missions. Half of that stuff I don’t want to know about. But this…I do. I missed out on this.”

  “I know. I don’t, but I can imagine. And I’m so grateful that I still have my memories.”

  I shrug. “I couldn’t do that. Not with Lucy, not with everything you’d lose.”

  “But you lost everything.”

  “It might have been different if Ham and I—if we…” I can’t finish this thought. The kid conversation from the other day is too uncertain, too new.

  “Do you think you’ll have kids?”

  I drop my chin to my chest as I laugh. “You need to stop doing that. Reading my mind like that. It’s pretty freaky.”

  “Sometimes it’s fun.” Tenley laughs. “Other times, I really don’t mean to. Like right then. It was so obvious what you were thinking about.”

  “Agents are supposed to hide their emotions.”

  “I think I’m a little different.” Tenley frowns. “I mean, I know you better than anyone.”

  “Better than I know myself?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe sometimes?”

  “Good to know.”

  She breaks off a corner of her scone and pops it into her mouth. “Eat your scone.” Her mother voice is firm and straightforward.

  “I’ve never b
een one for scones really. I’m more of a muffin person.”

  “I know. That’s why I brought you one. You need to try new things. Plus, they’re really good.”

  I smile as I pick up it up and take a bite. “It’s okay.”

  “That means so much to me,” she says sarcastically.

  I swallow and take a sip of my tea. “Ham and I have been talking,” I blurt. “About kids.”

  “And?”

  “I’m not sure how it would work. I’d have to give this up. Give up everything.”

  “Maybe not. I mean, you would for a bit. Pregnant agents aren’t a good thing. But we’d make do without you, and you could be at Head Office helping.”

  “Can you really see me with a desk job? As a Perry, or an Ida?”

  “I think you’re giving yourself too much credit if you’re comparing yourself to Ida.” Tenley laughs, the sound filling the nearly empty café. “As Pippa would say, she’s bloody brilliant.”

  I smile at her attempt to mimic Pippa’s accent, but my smile soon fades. “And I’m not.”

  “It doesn’t mean you’re not brilliant at other things. What about training? Working with Caleb? Or recruiting? You found us.” She spreads her hands. “And I have to say, we’re bloody brilliant, too.”

  “You’re okay,” I concede.

  “I think you’d make a great mom,” she says softly.

  I don’t know what to say to that.

  Chapter Nine

  “A friend is someone who overlooks your broken fence and admires the flowers in your garden.”

  Goodhousekeeping.com

  I tuck Tenley’s words close to my heart.

  Days pass without any word from Suriname. We hear nothing about Bryton’s whereabouts.

  I know Ham is working his contacts in South America and after peppering him with questions for the fourth time, I stop myself and start making my own list of contacts.

  Pippa and Lance leave for a quick mission in London; I prep with Ida for a bigger one in Barcelona. The agents in NIIA have been spread thin for the last year, and Ham spends quite a lot of his time with my brother Caleb working on recruitment scenarios.