Bombshell - Jane Harvey-Berrick

by Harvey-Berrick, Jane

“James, I owe you an enormous apology. I made such a mess of things and I’m sorry I didn’t explain it to you properly. But I had to learn to stand up to my father by myself. If I’d let you do it for me, I could never have looked at myself in the mirror, let alone face you. Please tell me you understand?”

  I sighed and looked away.

  “Yeah, I do. It took me a while—and Clay was definitely batting for you. I just didn’t want to hear it—all I could hear, all I could feel was that you’d gone.”

  Bel nodded slowly.

  “Zada was rather annoyed with me, to say the least. She told me that I didn’t deserve you, and she was right. And I know that the way I left, how it looked … you thought I’d left you. James, I didn’t want to. But … I’ll never be as brave as you, but I had to try and be a little bit brave.”

  I gave her a small grin.

  “From what Clay says, you took on the British Army, the British government and the American government.”

  “You bet your sweet arse I did!” she said, bristling instantly. “How dare the British Army treat you like that? It was an appalling breach of their duty of care. It’s not the way to treat a hero. And I will keep on fighting and petitioning for you to be accorded the respect you deserve. If I have to get the Americans onside first, so be it.” Her anger evaporated as quickly as it had come. “But your spy friend Smith was a complete darling and expedited the paperwork for me. Such a sweetheart. I must remember to send him a thank-you note. I’ve never met him, you know. But I’d like to.”

  A reluctant smile spread across my face.

  “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  “Well,” she said carefully. “You could say thank you…”

  “Thank you, Bel.”

  “And you can tell me how adorable I look in red.”

  I shook my head. She was so much more than adorable. She was brave and clever and beautiful.

  “You’re breathtaking.”

  She smiled, her red lips parting to show those perfectly even white teeth.

  “Thank you. And I meant every word, James, you’re a hero. But more than that, you taught me so much. It was because of you that I was finally able to stand up to my father. So I thank you for that, too.”

  I looked at her quizzically.

  “From what it said in the newspapers, your dad has been very vocal about his support for former members of the armed services.”

  She gave a catlike smile.

  “Dear old Dad. Yes, he has rather made a stand, hasn’t he? It’s done wonders for his reputation, which, to be honest, was a trifle tattered. He’s made you a cause célèbre and made himself a lot of new friends in useful places. I may have had to give him a little nudge towards doing the right thing for a change.”

  I shook my head in amazement.

  “You really are incredible.”

  Her smile dimmed.

  “No, I’ve simply learned to be as devious and manipulative as him, my father.” Her smile was wistful. “But I promise to use my newfound powers only for good.” She rested her hand on my arm. “You, James. You’re incredible. You’re brave and loyal, and you save lives. You are a good man, James Spears. I’m honoured to have known you.”

  My stomach lurched uncomfortably.

  “Then why does that sound like goodbye?”

  “Oh, you’ll see me around as long as we both work for the Halo Trust,” she smiled tightly, removing her arm from mine. “But I promised myself not to bother you … in that way … and I won’t. I know you’ll only ever love Amira. And I do have some pride after all. Who knew?”

  She took a step away from me and it was already too far.

  Yes, I’d loved Amira with all my heart, but Amira was gone. She wasn’t ever coming back. Life goes on, that’s what they say. And I found that my broken heart was in two separate pieces. One half loved Amira, and always would. But the other half had found another broken soul. Someone in this life, in this world, who cared about me.

  Unlikely as it seemed, the disgraceful Lady and the disgraced soldier had found peace with each other.

  “Bel, wait,” I said urgently as I spotted the Chief of Staff coming towards me with a determined look on his face. “Bel, don’t disappear. Wait for me? Please?”

  “What am I waiting for, James?” she asked softly.

  “A chance,” I answered, ignoring the liaison people who were trying to urge me away from her and toward the President. “Give me a chance, please?”

  She blinked rapidly.

  “Haven’t we said everything to each other already?”

  “No!” I said fiercely. “I never said that I love you!”

  Silence spilled out around us, and even the President paused with his hand outstretched towards Clay.

  “You love Amira,” she said carefully.

  “Yes, but I love you, as well. Very much. I want to live, and I want my life to be with you. I’ve been a fucking fool to wait so long to say it.”

  Her blue eyes swam with tears.

  “I’ll wait for you, James.”

  “That’s all I need to hear.”

  I was ushered away, staring over my shoulder as I saw her wipe under eyes.

  “Wait for me!” I yelled.

  She smiled through her tears and nodded.

  I was distracted all through the ceremony, even when the President tied the ribbon for the Bronze Star with Valor around my neck and shook my hand.

  “Thank you for your service, Sergeant,” he said.

  I almost corrected him that I was a Staff Sergeant, then remembered that I’d been kicked out of the British Army and didn’t give a shit.

  “Thank you, sir,” I murmured as he squeezed my shoulder in a fatherly way that would play well with the Press.

  Clay received his Bronze Star, smiling and chatting with the Leader of the Free World like they were old buddies. He even pulled up his trouser leg to show his prosthetic, and the photographers went into a frenzy.

  I had to smile. The guy was a natural when it came to working the crowd. Clay even broke protocol to introduce Zada to the President.

  I could see the Chief of Staff shaking his head, but he was smiling, too. It was hard to be angry with Clay.

  But even with all this going on and the Press Conference that followed, my eyes were on the bombshell in the red dress standing at the back of the room. She standing next to Zada and they were both smiling. Then Bel glanced towards me and our eyes met. When I saw her smile at me, I thought that maybe the world wasn’t such a shitty place. For once, all the radio chatter in my head was silenced.

  After the President made a speech, praising me and Clay for our bravery and service to his country, they showed the film footage of those grim minutes in Times Square. I remembered that it had been technically challenging, but mostly I remembered the fear on Amira’s face, even as she begged me and Clay to save ourselves.

  I remembered the fear I felt for her, the determination that this wasn’t going to be how our story ended—a story that had barely started. And I remembered Clay telling her to pray with him. I remembered every painful second, the tick tock in my head as the time counted down.

  I looked away when the camera zoomed in on Amira’s terrified face. Instead, I fixed my gaze on Bel. Amira was my past and would always have a place in my heart, but Bel was my future. I hoped.

  The footage tactfully left out the part where Clay’s leg was blown off, but briefly showed the aftermath, where me and Amira had huddled over him as paramedics ran towards us.

  There was a short, respectful silence, then the President let the journalists loose with their questions.

  A woman in the front row, specially chosen to ask the first question, stood up and looked at me. Her hair was a perfect brunette helmet, her makeup a careful mask.

  “Sergeant Spears, when you defused the suicide vest of Amira Soliman, were you scared?”

  I stared back, careful and begrudging with my words.

  “You don’t have
time to be scared. You focus on the job. Emotions have no place … emotions will get you killed.”

  She blinked, surprised and not very pleased with my answer, but I’d already turned away from her to the next questioner.

  “James, is it true that you and Amira were more than friends?”

  An older woman in a sharp-looking suit had asked the question, her microphone stretched out in front of her as she leaned forward.

  I focused on her intently. I had to be very careful. As far as the public were concerned, Amira had been working undercover, but Clay and I were simply caught up in the crisis, accidental bystanders. The official line was that I was on leave in New York, and that Clay also just happened to be passing. Whether people really believed that or not was irrelevant.

  “Amira Soliman was one of the bravest women I ever knew,” I said, speaking slowly and clearly as the room stilled and silenced. “When it looked like time was running out and that I wouldn’t neutralize the device, she begged me and Master Sergeant Williams to leave her to save ourselves. She begged us to go, knowing that she’d die but that we might live. That … connection between all of us that day was special, intense, deeper than friendship. So yes, we were more than friends.”

  And that was all they were getting from me about Amira.

  When someone tried to ask about my so-called ‘administrative discharge’ from the Army, the White House Press Officer answered with some platitude and led the questions to the work in Nagorno and Angola.

  The woman in the sharp suit raised her hand again.

  “Is it true that you’re in a relationship with Lady Arabella Forsythe from the Halo Trust?”

  I gave my first smile of the whole Press Conference.

  “A guy would have to be pretty lucky for that to happen, but I guess dreams are free.”

  Laughter met my non-answer, and shortly after that, Clay was given the stage.

  He charmed his audience and had them eating out of his hand. He made an impassioned plea for more to be done to support veterans, and talked about how their military training could contribute and be adapted to the civilian workforce and the economy.

  He spoke seriously, eloquently and movingly.

  “I only have one leg but that sacrifice was for my country, for a cause I believe in. We all want the world to live in peace. I’d love to see the day when guys like me aren’t needed. But until that day, no matter how many legs I have or don’t have, I will serve and protect my country. And I’ll also use my skills and knowledge to continue the work of the Halo Trust.” He paused. “You know, it shouldn’t have taken the support of the late Princess Diana to bring the work of demining former war zones to the public’s attention.” And then he glanced at me. “It shouldn’t take the act of heroism of men like James Spears or women like Amira Soliman to bring the work of bomb disposal to the public arena, but I guess it does. With our skills and training, I believe we have a duty to give our help where it is needed, anywhere in the world it’s needed.” He paused, his expression serious. “All the de-miners who work around the world are heroes. James Spears trained for seven years to become a high threat operator, and was in the British Army for 11 years. He still risks his life every day—he’s my idea of a true hero.”

  Bastard.

  I scowled at him as he grinned at me and threw a mock salute. I almost returned him a two-fingered salute, but remembered at the last moment that the White House probably wasn’t the place to do that.

  “Aw,” Clay laughed, grinning at me. “He’s shy,” and the crowd of journalists laughed with him.

  Yep, definitely going to make him regret that.

  Finally, the torture was over, and after a shaking a lot of hands of people I didn’t know, I was allowed to leave.

  Bel walked towards me, a small smile on her face.

  “So, do you feel lucky?” she asked, her smile widening.

  I answered with more emotion than was safe to feel.

  “Bel, I’m probably not a good bet in life. I do a crappy job for crappy wages, I’m a miserable bastard at the best of times, but,” and I took a shaky breath, “if you take a chance on me, I promise that I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how lucky I feel right now.”

  Her lips turned down and tears swam in her blue eyes.

  “Don’t cry,” I whispered. “I’m not worth it.”

  “You’re wrong,” she cried softly. “And I don’t see it as taking a chance, James. I really don’t.”

  She leaned her head on my shoulder, her arms looping around my neck, lightly stroking the ribbon that held my new medal.

  “Then trust me, Bel, I won’t let you fall.”

  My hands rested gently on her waist and we stood there as the people around us ebbed and flowed unseen.

  “I’m not sure I can make you happy. But I’m damn sure that no one else will get the chance to try.”

  “Then let’s make it forever, James. Not one day less.”

  Her words echoed through me. ‘Forever’ sometimes meant a few shared moments and the long, echoing silence of death. After that truth, I’d believed that the secret to existing was to not want what you couldn’t, or shouldn’t have.

  But now, I believed in more. And I was going to do everything in my power to give Bel the world.

  “Forever,” I agreed quietly.

  Arabella

  “ARE YOU SURE you want me to come with you?” I asked.

  James turned to me, his expression grave.

  “Bel, I’ll always want you next to me. But is this too much to ask? Because I’ll understand if it is.”

  My heart twisted with love, then cracked open a little wider for this brave, broken man. With each word and gesture, he became more necessary to me, more a part of me.

  “I would be honoured to stand next to you,” I said, and I meant it. “If it’s okay with Zada.”

  Zada smiled sadly, holding Clay’s hand more firmly.

  “My sister would have liked you,” she said. “You remind me of her in some ways—except for, you know, being white.” Her smile wobbled. “You’re both a little crazy but you’re both brave. And you both love James.” I felt him start as she said his name, and it made me sad that he’d never been sure of Amira’s love for him. I was certain that she’d loved him—how could she not?

  Zada gave me a weak smile, her lips trembling.

  “You are worthy, Harry, you are. I’m so sorry that I ever doubted you.”

  I squeezed her hand quickly, completely unable to reply.

  The limousine moved slowly through the rows and rows of white headstones at Arlington Cemetery. I’d never been here before but I knew that James had—with Amira. I was glad I could be with him to support him in this today.

  Eventually, the car came to a halt and we all clambered out, our breath misting in the crisp air as leaves swirled by our feet.

  It was heart-breaking to see the rows and rows and rows of white grave markers stretching across the rolling hills, a light dusting of frost covering the grass.

  We stepped from the path, moving towards our final destination.

  Two white headstones lay side by side, together but separate from the others.

  Brian Edward Larson

  Master Sergeant, US Marines

  Iraq, Afghanistan

  A small flag, the Stars and Stripes, fluttered beside it, between the two headstones. I turned to read the second as Zada knelt down, sobbing softly as Clay rested his hand on her shoulder.

  Amira Soliman

  Meritorious Service Medal

  For service to a grateful nation.

  I felt James’s hand slide into mine, his fingers rough, his skin warm despite the chilly temperatures.

  “Hello, Larson,” he said quietly. “It’s been a while. I brought you a couple of beers. I can’t drink them myself, ‘cause, you know, recovering alcoholic and all that, but I thought you’d like them.”

  He let go of my hand, popped the ring-pull on two cans and poured them o
ver the grave.

  “Thanks for doing what you did,” he said. “You were a tough bastard.”

  Then he turned to the second headstone where Zada still cried quietly and knelt down next to her.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  He spoke to the silent grave, and my heart squeezed painfully.

  “Sorry I missed your funeral. I was kind of in prison at the time, a shithole at Colchester Barracks. But I wish I could have been here. I wish I could have … said goodbye.” Then he stood up and reached for my hand. “This is Bel. She’s special to me. Well, I love her. I wanted you to meet her. That sounds weird, but I know you’ll understand.”

  Tears formed in my eyes as he bowed his head, praying alone, a final goodbye to the woman he’d loved so much, the woman he’d have died for.

  I heard someone step up behind me, and turned to see a handsome older man with salt and pepper hair curling at the collar of a beaten-up leather jacket, wearing jeans and aviator sunglasses. I knew who he was immediately, not really surprised to see him here.

  James turned abruptly, then gave a small smile.

  “Smith, you bastard. Should have known you’d show up. This is Bel, Arabella Forsythe. Bel, this is Smith, our favourite spook.”

  Smith smiled and took my hand, kissing the back of it while James rolled his eyes.

  “It’s good to meet you at last, Lady Arabella,” said Smith, grinning at me. Then he turned to Clay and Zada. “Good to see you both, as well. Glad to see you’re looking after each other.” He paused. “Your sister was a brave woman, Zada. Clay says that you’re a lot like her.”

  Zada looked up, her face tear-stained, imprinted with the signs of a long-held grief.

  “I’d like to think so,” she said, wiping her face with her fingers.

  There was a short silence as Smith paid his respects to Amira and his friend, Larson. Then we walked back to the waiting limousine together.

  “So, you and Obama?” asked Clay.

  A slow smile formed on Smith’s face as he grinned.

  “Saw the photo, huh? Impressed?”

  “Not even a little bit,” Clay lied. “So, what’s he like?”