Improvise

by Melanie Rachel

  For the second morning in a row, Elizabeth awoke to blaring music from her phone. She moaned and reached out for it, checking the display to see that it was only seven in the morning and the caller was Charlotte. She laughed into her pillow and turned the phone off, rolling over and returning to sleep.

  Around nine, she turned her cell back on and saw that Charlotte had left three messages. Between her feeling that justice had been served and her amazing date the night before, she felt almost giddy. She shoved her feet into some thick socks and padded into her kitchen to make breakfast, scrolling through the phone numbers. The dessert containers were still on the counter, and she swept them into the trash while noting that there were quite a few more voicemails than Charlotte’s. She sighed, wondering where the photo had wound up; she thought about checking online but decided against it. Presumably she’d see it sooner or later. Lydia and Kit read the gossip rags. They’d tell her if they saw anything. She set the phone up on speaker and let them all run.

  The first message had come in near midnight, just after Will left for home. I must have been in the shower, she thought with a grin and started to hum, remembering the kissing. It was so much better than at the restaurant where they’d had a table between them. At home, he’d pressed the side of his leg against hers, his hand moving to touch her face. He’d held her upper arms gently as they kissed, tentatively at first and then more urgently. One of his hands had slid around her back . . . she thought dreamily about how the other had plunged into her hair and how smooth his face was as her fingertips traced his jaw.

  Making out on my couch. She smiled. Now that’s something I definitely missed out on as a teenager. She stared out the window into the bare branches of an oak. His lips are so soft. Her attention was yanked back to the phone as Charlotte’s volume increased to a yell. “Harmonicas under the grill? Two hundred miles, Elizabeth Bennet. Two. Hundred. Miles. A little overkill, don’t you think? I thought my car was dying. I never pegged you as a sadist.”

  “Oh Char,” she chuckled, pulling out a saucepan and setting it on the stove. “That was such a tiny little baby prank. Who do you think you’re dealing with?”

  Her wistful state was reinstated with a brief message from Will, saying he’d arrived home safely and was “looking forward to getting dirty with you.” Such a sexy voice. She shook her head. Dirty. He has no idea.

  As she was measuring out her oatmeal, the other messages played. There were a few offers of work, a call from Jane asking to meet for coffee on her lunch hour, and surprisingly, a message from Kit asking her something about volunteering at the high school. Elizabeth made a “humph” sound and conceded that she might enjoy that, provided it didn’t involve putting on a sweaty mascot costume. She added milk to the oatmeal and stirred it, distracted.

  As she drew closer to the messages from the early morning hours, the tone began to change. A few reporters called to see whether she’d agree to an interview about dating Will Darcy. They were offering a lot of money. Disgusting. “Nope,” she said before she deleted each request.

  The oatmeal was ready, and she paused the messages while she poured it out into a bowl, adding slivered almonds and a handful of blueberries. She ate silently as her cheerfulness settled into a kind of wary anxiety. She needed a run to sort things through. Everything is falling into place, she reminded herself. Everything I’ve wanted. Why can’t I trust it? She turned off the ringer and shoved her phone into a pocket without bothering to listen to the rest of the messages.

  “Pick up your damn phone, Elizabeth,” Will ground out, jaw clenched, his elbow propped on the surface of his desk. With one hand, he held his cell to his ear. His head was resting in the other.

  He’d made it to work early this morning, planning to make up for the hours he’d missed the day before and to finish up any loose ends so he could take the vacation he’d been pondering. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee in the break room as the rest of the staff began arriving. As they passed by, he noticed some grins sent his way, a few raised eyebrows, and one wink. His stomach sank. He’d been afraid of this. A vacation was starting to look extremely appealing.

  His fears were confirmed when he returned to his office and Wanda, wearing long, gold bride and groom earrings and light green eyeshadow, slipped the New York Post under his nose. “Oh God,” he groaned. “Front page.” The headline screamed Brussels Hero Turned New Jersey Princess. He read the first few lines.

  Our favorite gorgeous former Marine Sgt. and terrorist fighter Elizabeth Bennet looked like a modern-day princess in a hot red dress and stilettos last night, but she sure isn’t kissing any frogs. Accompanying her to Montclair’s Laboratorio was none other than NYC’s own bachelor prince, billionaire Will Darcy, owner of Darcy Enterprises and CEO/Founder of FORGE, NYC’s cutting-edge venture capital company.

  “This isn’t happening,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. The photo was sharp and in full color. There they were, clearly kissing. It was probably all over the internet, too.

  “At least it’s below the fold,” replied Wanda, catching her bottom lip in her teeth and glancing up at him, trying to look optimistic. “You both look great,” she added after a moment, her lips turning up at the corners. “And it was a work night. Extra points.”

  “You’re the one who told me not to be boring,” he grumbled.

  “I didn’t say to advertise it to the entire city,” she responded, a bit sarcastically, arms crossing over her chest.

  “One date,” he said, “in New Jersey. I leave the state, and they still can’t let me just have one uninterrupted date.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ,” snorted Wanda. Will glared at her. “I know you have this happen from time to time, Mr. Darcy, but has anyone followed you out of the city before? A pap in Montclair, New Jersey? Boss, it wasn’t you this guy was following. It was her.” She paused. “I mean, from what you’ve said, the Gardiners don’t exactly hide that she’s their niece, and she’s still big news here. Any pap worth his salt. . . “

  Will’s eyes widened as that sank in. He’d had Jerry drive them right to her apartment, assuming the photographer was already on his way back to a New York office. Jerry hadn’t waited, but he’d returned later. Arrogant idiot, he told himself. You didn’t think.

  He’d led them right to her.

  Damn. He grabbed his phone and called her number, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried again. Voicemail. He didn’t have Ed’s number, and after a quick search, he realized it wasn’t listed.

  Will checked the time. 8:45 am. No chance he’d get to New Jersey in less than two hours with traffic. He tapped the edge of his phone lightly on the desk. Jane Bennet—Jane would know how to get in touch with her uncle, even if she couldn’t reach Elizabeth. Which hospital did Jane work for again? Newark? He quickly went online and scanned the names of the hospitals. University Hospital. That sounded right. He tapped the numbers into his phone.

  “Emergency Department, please,” he told the hospital operator. He waited, drumming his fingers on the desk until after what seemed an hour long wait and was probably about a minute, a nurse answered. He asked for Jane Bennet.

  “Is this hospital business?” a female voice asked.

  “No,” he replied tersely, palm to his forehead.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she responded mechanically. “I’m afraid she’s not available at the moment.”

  “Look, this is important. Can you please ask her to come to the phone? It’ll take less than a minute.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said again. “I can take your number and have her call back.”

  The hand holding his phone dropped from his ear and he came perilously close to throwing his cell against the wall. But that, he knew, would cause even more talk among his staff. Calm down, Will, he told himself. Doesn’t do anyone any good. He lifted his arm and forced himself to say, “Thank you.” He left his number and the message for Jane to call him back. He had a feeling it would be hours before Jane was flagged
down.

  “Wait!” he exclaimed. “Bingley!”

  Charles had flown into Philadelphia yesterday afternoon and spent the night with a friend in Old City. He might be making his way back now. Will hit the speed dial.

  “Bingley,” came Charles’s voice immediately. Will almost sagged with relief.

  “Charles,” he bit out, “not a moment too soon.”

  Elizabeth was about a mile into her run when she realized she’d picked up a tail. Her adrenaline soared. Who is that? He was in brand-new jogging clothes right down to his shoes. She thought about where she’d seen him before and realized it was at the very beginning of her run, near her apartment. Carefully, she changed direction, first taking a long left out of the park and then a winding right. He stayed about the same distance behind her. She picked up her pace a bit, and he matched it. Her arms erupted with goose bumps as she fled into the neighborhood, trying to keep her wits about her. He’s faster than you are with your gimp knee, Bennet. Focus. What’s at hand? As she ran, she opened her eyes and glanced around. It was garbage day, and cans lined the street. Excellent. She kept running, eyeing the plastic lids. C’mon, she chanted under her breath, c’mon . . .

  Finally, she spied the telltale glint of an old, rusty, beat-up metal can. There was a second man joining the first now, and they were closing the distance a bit. She grabbed the handle on the lid as she went by. It came off with a short tug, and she took another left onto Broughton Avenue, glancing quickly behind her as she turned. Better than nothing, she thought. As she passed an open can, its lid tossed back and hanging on hinges, she stuck her hand inside and came away with a white plastic kitchen bag of foul-smelling . . . she gagged. Diapers? Perfect.

  Once around the corner, she sprinted for her destination. Bloomfield’s VFW was just ahead.

  She slowed, listened for the footfall, and turned. For an instant, she was looking at two dark men in winter clothing, one wearing a backpack, both running at her and pointing guns. Her heart began to thrum like a hummingbird’s.

  Elizabeth pulled on the seam of the plastic to create a slit. She held it by the hole as she hefted the bag and raised the metal lid to her chest. She had just reached the lawn and turned back for a look when the two men stopped about ten feet away and lifted their hands simultaneously. She held the lid to shield her face, swinging the bag once, twice, and releasing it. A trail of dirty diapers arced in the sky, several hitting the men and exploding like little poop bombs, covering the lenses of their cameras. They cursed and jumped away.

  The sun reflected off glass, and Elizabeth’s vision cleared. Suddenly, they were just two guys in soiled running suits trying to take photos. Elizabeth heard them calling her name, pleading with her, as she burst through the door of the VFW building and shut it firmly behind her. Her hands were shaking, her chest hurt, and she was still clutching the metal lid. Have to return that later, she thought distractedly as she gazed down and willed herself to calm.

  She bent over at the waist, one hand over her chest where her heart was still hammering painfully. When she glanced up, five or six men from about sixty to eighty years of age were staring down at her. One man with a tattoo on each dark, burly forearm began to wag a finger at her as he said, “I know you. Bennet, right?”

  Here we go, she thought, but nodded slightly, her face ashen.

  He nodded his head more vigorously. “Yeah, yeah. You’re Ed Gardiner’s niece.” He looked approvingly at the logo on her sweats. “The Marine.” He jerked a thumb at his chest. “Lopez.”

  Elizabeth nodded again and barked out a laugh edged with hysteria. Ed Gardiner’s niece. That’s the nicest thing anyone could say to me right now. She gulped for air, put her back to the wall, and let herself slide to the ground, dropping the garbage can lid next to her with a clatter, laughing until she couldn’t stop, trying to choke out an explanation of what had happened. Three of the men stepped outside immediately, and she just wrapped her arms over her head and tried to breathe.

  There’s the other shoe, she thought grimly, her body shaking and her lungs burning. It always drops.

  She heard a round of cursing outside and turned her head to peek out the window. Lopez and two other vets who had to be in their seventies were confronting the photographers.

  “You don’t chase a veteran through the streets!” one of them hollered, poking the man in the shoulder. This was followed by another round of curses. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Her breath eased when the three men pointed at the scattered garbage and the younger men reluctantly bent to pick it all up. They trudged over to the cans on the street several times under the watchful gaze of the two older men. Lopez walked around the side of the building where she couldn’t see him.

  Suddenly, the two vets stepped away, and a powerful stream of water hit the photographers, including their cameras. They shouted and protested, but Lopez appeared around the front of the building. He was holding a hose and spraying them down.

  “You stink!” he yelled cheerfully. “Hit the showers!”

  Elizabeth dropped her phone between her feet and again buried her head in her arms. She wasn’t shaking anymore, and she could breathe again, but she just wanted to curl up and disappear for a while. Around her, the men went on with their activities, though as they passed by, she’d feel a rough pat on the shoulder or a hand resting briefly on her head. It felt good, to be somewhere she didn’t have to explain. She asked them not to call her uncle, and they agreed. She was a vet, and they respected her wishes. Lopez told her in a surprisingly soft tenor that she ought to think about confiding in him, though.

  “No one steadier than Ed,” he had said, and she nodded. She just needed a little time.

  You’re tougher than this, Bennet. Get it together.

  It was nearly two hours later, a bit past noon, before she felt able to call her uncle. When he arrived, he just offered her an arm up, which she took with relief, and they walked back to his car.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but there’s some friend of Will’s sitting in the living room. Will called him this morning as he was driving back to the city from Philly, and when you weren’t at your apartment, he drove around a bit looking for you. Wound up at our place when you called.” He checked his mirrors before pulling out onto the street. “Will’s been calling you all morning. He was hiding it well, but I think he was starting to panic when you didn’t call back. I told him I’d heard from you, but I think he’s still worried.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. “I’ll call him soon, Uncle Ed. I promise.” She felt drained, exhausted. “Just not right now.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes before Ed spoke again. “So,” he began, his lips twitching suspiciously and his voice full of pride, “diapers.”

  Elizabeth turned her head without raising it to look at her uncle. His head was bobbing slightly in amusement, and he was smiling from ear to ear.

  “Yeah,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Nasty, dirty ones.” She chuckled softly then, beginning to feel the smallest bit better. “And Lopez made them clean it up.”

  Ed Gardiner laughed all the way home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elizabeth gazed out her window as they drove past the maple trees lining Gracechurch Street. Sunlight filtered through the nearly bare branches, casting dappled shadows that reminded her of flickering celluloid film. The neighborhood was quiet this time of day, no kids on bikes or playing basketball, nobody shouting to call their kids to dinner or slamming front doors. As they approached the Gardiners’ house and pulled into the driveway, Ed opened the garage door and parked the car inside. It wasn’t lost on Elizabeth that her uncle usually left the car outside this time of year. She stared at the wall for a minute, willing the throbbing that was starting behind her left eye to ease before she released her seat belt and shuffled into the house. Behind her, the door rolled shut with a squeal.

  Maddy was
waiting inside to hug her niece. She pulled Elizabeth’s head down to kiss her on the cheek before pushing her back to look her straight in the eyes. Elizabeth shook her head.

  “I’m fine, Aunt Maddy. More embarrassed than anything.”

  Maddy placed her hands on either side of Elizabeth’s face and held it there. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. Those men should know better than to try to chase you in the streets. They’re just lucky I wasn’t there. I’d have ripped them limb from limb.”

  Elizabeth looked down at her diminutive aunt and grinned. “That would have been something.”

  “I’d have done it,” Maddy growled, shaking her fist. “Taken them out right at the knees.”

  Elizabeth laughed quietly and gave her a squeeze. “Thanks.”

  Maddy gave her another quick, hard hug, and then grabbed her niece’s hand. “Come meet Charles.”

  “Who?” Elizabeth rubbed one eye tiredly.

  “Will’s friend,” said Maddy, bustling back into the kitchen and grabbing a tray with sandwiches and carrot sticks. “Didn’t your uncle tell you?”

  Elizabeth tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ears. “Oh, right. I didn’t get a name.” Charles, she wondered. Not Charlie? Chuck? Chaz?

  She rolled her head from one side to the other, shook out her shoulders, and then followed her aunt to the living room. Sitting on one of the couches with a photo album in front of him on the coffee table was a man, dirty blond hair just below his collar, light blue eyes, about Jane’s age. He was handsome in a soft kind of way, though he was certainly fit. No, there was just something easygoing, almost lax about him. Not like Will. He sat comfortably, dressed in chinos, a blue button-down shirt, and a dark gray sports jacket, left ankle resting on his right knee displaying an expensive-looking black leather shoe polished to a high gleam. As soon as they entered the room, he stood and moved to take the tray from Maddy. Not as tall as Will.