Her father, giving her advice of the heart. It was unbelievable. It was more than she’d ever hoped possible.
“I’d hurt my ankle again about a week before, and I was finally strong enough to travel. I was going to leave Ste.-Hélène, cross the line, get back to the Fifty-fifth. Joe was going to take me as far as he could.
“I didn’t say good-bye to Cybele. I think I probably knew if I’d so much as spoken to her, I would’ve admitted how much I loved her. I was afraid of making her promises I wouldn’t be able to keep when sanity somehow returned.” Charles smiled sadly at Kelly. “I fully expected sanity to return, but it never did. Never.
“So we left Ste.-Hélène, Joe and I, just after dark. It was a clear night, a warm night, and we headed north and west along a trail through the woods both Joe and Cybele often used. Each step of the way, I remember thinking, how could I leave? How could I have gone without saying something? How could I return to Baldwin’s Bridge without gazing at least once more upon her face? And I realized then that I must’ve somehow known. I must’ve done it on purpose, left without saying good-bye—so that I’d have to return to Ste.-Hélène before I went back to the United States for good. I would see Cybele again. And I knew right then, at the lightness and joy in my heart at the thought of going back, that I loved her beyond all else. The house in Baldwin’s Bridge—this house—that I’d spoken of and longed to return to so often throughout my ordeal in France, my fortune, my family, my wife, my life. It all meant nothing to me compared to the love I’d found with Cybele.”
He was silent then, his eyes closed, and as much as Kelly wanted him to sleep, she found herself hoping he was only resting.
“What happened?” she whispered. “Why didn’t you stay in France, Daddy?”
The pills he’d taken were working now, and working well. As he opened his eyes to look up at her, he seemed to look right through her, as if he could see all those years into his own past.
“We hadn’t gone more than seven miles, Joe and I, when Cybele caught up with us. She’d been running all that way after us, but she still had the energy to slap me, hard, across the face, when she found us. I, of course, kissed her. She was so angry, but I kissed her, and I told her all that I’d realized. That I was coming back to Ste.-Hélène after the war. That I loved her. That I would do anything for her. Even die.”
Her father laughed softly, his eyes still so distant, and Kelly knew he saw her—his Cybele.
“She cried, and told me that was something she never wanted—for me to die for her. She would not allow that. Not ever.” He shook his head. “Poor Joe. It must’ve been torture for him to stand there and listen to us declare our love—he loved her just as much as I did. Probably even more.
“But then Cybele told us why she’d followed. It wasn’t to slap me across the face, although she’d been happy to get a chance to do that. She told us of a coming German counter-offensive. She had papers she’d been given, papers that spelled out the attack, that needed to get into Allied hands before dawn.
“So we went. The three of us. There were Germans everywhere as we moved toward the line. It was impossibly dangerous—I’ve never been that afraid.”
His voice shook. “Then Joe was wounded, and things went from bad to worse. He slowed us down, but we couldn’t leave him. How could we leave him? We were moving through a town—I never even knew its name, but the houses were all rubble, the streets impossible to pass through.
“We were trapped there,” he said flatly. “We were hiding in the debris, hiding from a patrol of Germans. They were coming straight toward us. It was over. I knew it was over. But I had my gun drawn. I was going to take out as many of them as I possibly could, and dammit, at that moment, I could have done it. I could have killed them all, and we could have gotten away. The hell with the fact they had machine guns, and I had only that little Luger. But I didn’t get a chance to try because Cybele, she handed me those papers and her gun, her Walther PPK. I didn’t understand. God, I was so stupid.”
There were tears in his eyes, and Kelly’s heart was in her throat.
“She kissed me,” he whispered. “She looked into my eyes, and she said, ‘I love you.’ And then, before I could stop her, she ran. Back the way we’d come, as fast as she could—and she was fast.”
His lip trembled and a single tear escaped, rolling down his gray cheek. “The Germans chased her. They opened fire. I saw their bullets hit her, I saw her fall. I knew she was dead, just like that, she was dead! But I also knew that unless I moved fast, I wouldn’t get those papers and Joe to safety. She’d died so I could do that, so somehow I did. To this day, I don’t know how I managed it—to evade the Germans and carry Joe across the line. I left him where he would be found, made sure those papers got into the right hands. Then I grabbed a gun and joined the fighting. I think I probably tried to die, but I didn’t. God knows I wanted to. It wasn’t until the war was over that Joe managed to find me. He knew he hadn’t crossed that line on his own, but when they came to talk to me about that Medal of Honor, I denied being there. I didn’t want it. I didn’t deserve it.”
He was silent for a moment, and Kelly was, too. There was nothing she could say.
“For a long time I hated Joe—for having been wounded, for keeping us from moving quickly and being trapped in the first place. I’ve never forgiven him for that. I’ve never forgiven Cybele, either.”
“How about yourself?” Kelly asked softly. “Have you forgiven yourself?”
He shook his head. “Look what I did with this life that Cybele gave me. Fifty-six years, and I failed to live up to what she expected from me. I was her hero. Yet I went home and couldn’t even keep my marriage to Jenny together after little Charlie died. Two more marriages, both total flops. Some hero—sitting on the deck drinking himself to death, lazy son of a bitch.
“Cybele gave me the most precious gift of all, the gift of life. And here I am, lying in this bed, looking at the single good thing I ever did—and it happened by accident. You happened by accident. You’re an amazing woman, Kelly, and I’m deeply proud of you, but who you are is no thanks to me.”
Kelly couldn’t speak, could barely see through the tears in her eyes.
“I love you,” Charles told her. “You and Cybele. All my life. You know, if she’d lived, I would’ve given up my future to be with her. I would have dealt with Jenny’s pain and anger. I would have handled my father’s shame. I would have done anything. I would have faced my biggest fears.
“You can’t choose who you love, Kelly, but you can waste it. Why on earth would anyone want to waste it?”
His eyes closed.
His breathing was slow and steady. He was free from pain—physical pain—at least for now.
Twenty-one
14 August
THE TRAFFIC WAS crazy.
Kelly pulled into the parking lot by the movie theater, planning to walk the rest of the way to the drugstore to pick up her father’s newest prescription.
Baldwin’s Bridge was bursting with the usual summer tourists as well as all the people flocking into town for the Fifty-fifth celebration tomorrow.
The marina was crowded, too. There were lots of people coming in via sailboat and pleasure yacht. Even more people were taking advantage of the beautiful weather and going out for day trips, resulting in an overabundance of little boats on both sides of the stone breakers at the harbor’s entrance.
Over by the hotel, she could see containers of folding chairs ready to be set up on the lawn first thing in the morning. Workmen were constructing a portable stage for the dignitaries. And there, off to the side, parked on the street, was the SEAL mobile. The van with tinted windows that Tom and his friends had outfitted with high-tech surveillance equipment.
So this was where they all were.
Kelly had awakened this morning to a silent and empty house. Even Charles, who’d had such a tough night, had been gone by the time she went downstairs.
She’d been disappo
inted.
She’d hoped to see Tom. She’d wanted to see Tom.
But his makeshift office had been empty.
Just as empty as his bedroom had been last night when she’d crept into the cottage, hoping to find him, hoping to tell him . . . what? She still didn’t know.
All she knew was that she wanted to be with him. She wanted to be near him.
And right now she wanted to help him. In any way that she could.
She headed for the van, knocked on the back door.
She sensed some kind of movement behind the darkly tinted glass, but the door didn’t open. Nothing moved.
She knocked again.
“It’s Dr. Ashton.” Mallory’s voice came in loud and clear over Tom’s headset.
Kelly. “What does she want?” he asked.
Charles’s voice came over the radio from his lookout position on the harbormaster’s deck. “If she’s smart, she’s looking for you. If she’s not so smart, she’s looking for me.”
“Let’s keep radio chatter down to a minimum, people,” Jazz’s voice cut in.
“I don’t know what she wants,” Mallory reported. “Should I let her in?”
“Yes.” Tom tried to keep his impatience and frustration from ringing in his voice. Yes, let her in, because forcing Kelly to stand outside the parked van and knock on the windows is only drawing attention to you. “Get her in there quickly. And shut the door behind her.”
He heard the sound of the door opening, heard Kelly’s voice. “Hey, Mallory. What are you doing here?”
“David and I are helping Tommy.”
“Oh, hi, David. How are you? Hey, I like your haircut.”
“Thanks. Mal did it.”
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah, Tom says to get in. Quick.”
Tom looked at Starrett and rolled his eyes as he finally heard the door close. “Mal, can you put me on over the speakers so Kelly can hear me?”
“The van’s speakers aren’t working really well,” David replied, “but we’ve got an extra wired headset here that she can use.”
“Great,” Tom said. “Can you give it to her?”
“Tom?” Kelly’s voice said. David was a little more on the ball. He’d already gotten the headset to her.
“What’s up, Kelly?” He tried to make his voice matter-of-fact. Casual. As if she hadn’t absolutely shredded the last of his hope by running and hiding after he’d told her he loved her. As if he hadn’t particularly noticed that she’d stayed far, far away from him all day yesterday. I love you, too—not. “Something you need?”
“Where are you? You sound so close.”
“I am so close. I’m in the hotel.”
“Locke’s watching room 104 from the Congregational church tower,” Mallory told Kelly. “Jazz and Sam are helping Tommy do a room-by-room search, looking for a bomb.”
Mallory made it sound easy. As if they could simply knock on every door, explain that there might be a bomb in the room, would it be too much trouble to ask if they could take a look? . . .
No, they had to do this covertly. With Starrett dressed in a billion-dollar suit, hair swept back in a leather ponytail holder, pinky ring on his finger, pretending to be the rather effeminate “Mr. Sam” of the hotel staff, and Jazz impressively dressed in his summer uniform—posing as preliminary security for tomorrow’s event. Lt. (jg) Jazz Jacquette had even introduced himself to the desk clerks on his way in.
Tom wore surfer shorts with a big overshirt to hide the small arsenal Jazz had scrounged up from God knows where. His job this morning was to search the rooms in which no one was home.
So far so good. They were on the third floor—two more to go. And the higher they got, the less likely they were to find a bomb. Someone with the Merchant’s experience and knowledge would know that a bomb on the fourth floor would do far less damage to a building than one on the first floor.
But Tom had realized last night that while they had a photo of the Merchant checking into the hotel with a cartful of luggage, room 104 contained only one small suitcase. Where was the rest of his stuff if not in one of these other rooms?
Tom signaled for Jazz and Starrett to go on up to the fourth floor as he let himself into the last room at the end of the hall.
“I thought the chances of there being a bomb in the hotel itself are slim.” Kelly’s voice sounded as if she were right there, whispering into his ear. “I thought this guy’s MO was a car bomb.”
The room looked as if it were being occupied by a family with a small child. Baby toys were everywhere. But that didn’t mean Tom didn’t search it thoroughly. If he were a terrorist planting a bomb, he’d scatter a Bite Me Elmo doll and bright-colored blocks on the floor, too.
“Today we search the hotel,” Tom told her as he moved efficiently through the room. “Tonight and tomorrow, we’ll be out in the parking lots.”
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
“Not a lot,” he said flatly. “If you want, you can hang with Mal and David—help them man the van. But like I told them, I don’t want you inside this hotel, not under any circumstances.”
“I was kind of hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you,” Kelly told him. “When are you going to take a break?”
“Wednesday.” She wanted to talk to him. Great. She wanted to tell him it was probably best if they kept their distance from each other until he left at the end of the month. She didn’t want to hurt him and . . .
“Are you serious?” she said. “You’re not going to take a single break between now and—”
“No.” He let himself out of the hotel room, making sure the door was locked behind him. Room 375 was clean. He made a little checkmark on his list, stuck it back into his pocket.
“You’re not even going to go to the bathroom?” she asked. “There’s not even a time when I can come in and talk to you while you pee?”
“Kelly, I’m a little busy now,” he said tightly. “Do you mind saving the humor for another time?”
“I don’t want to wait until Wednesday to tell you that I was wrong from the start.” She lowered her voice. “What we’ve got between us is more than just sex. But I was scared, Tom. I’m still scared, but after last night, when I looked for you and you weren’t there, now I’m more scared about losing you.”
“Um, Kelly—”
She lowered her voice even more. “I miss you. I miss the time we spent together. I miss talking to you. Believe it or not, I love talking to you as much as I love—”
Tom quickly cut her off. “Yeah, I know what you love. And now that the entire team—including your father—has heard it—”
“What?”
“Everyone’s listening,” he told her, unable to keep from laughing. Jesus. Of all the things she might’ve said to him, he hadn’t been expecting this. And despite the fact that she was going to be very embarrassed, he was glad. It wasn’t “I love you, too,” but it was good enough for now. “This is a very open channel.”
Kelly laughed, too. “Oh, my God. It is?”
“Please don’t stop,” Starrett’s voice drawled. “Personally, I’m finding this a million times better than The Young and the Restless.”
“Thanks,” Tom said dryly, “but I think she’s probably done.”
“I’m not,” Kelly said. “Because I still have to tell you that I love you.”
“See?” Starrett said. “She’s not done.”
“I didn’t want to have to wait till Wednesday to say that,” Kelly added.
“Although, on Wednesday, you wouldn’t’ve had to make it a public service announcement,” Tom pointed out. She loved him. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or scared to death.
“I don’t care who hears,” she told him fiercely. “I love you, and it’s a good thing.”
She sounded as if she were still trying to convince herself of that fact. Tom knew exactly how she felt.
“I mean,” she faltered, “as long as you still love me, too . . .”
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Silence. There was dead silence.
Kelly flashed hot and then cold and then hot again as she waited an eternity for Tom to reply.
“How about we plan to take a break in about an hour and a half?” he finally said. “When we’re through with the fourth floor?”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I’m not embarrassed. I just want to continue this more privately, that’s all.”
“Okay,” she said. “So in about an hour and a half—”
“Tom, we’ve got a small commercial helo approaching the hotel roof,” Locke’s cool voice cut in. “Is there some kind of landing pad up there?”
“Anyone know?” Tom asked, his voice instantly that of a team commander.
“Yes,” David said. “The hotel has facilities for rooftop pickups and drop-offs of guests.”
“This one’s coming in with only a pilot,” Locke reported. “Probably a pickup.”
“Activity in hallway,” Starrett said quietly. “Tom, stay out of sight. Jazz’s in room 415, dark-haired man coming out of room 435, carrying a small overnight bag, looks like . . . Tango, tango—I’ve got visual, team, it’s our man.”
Tom took the stairs three at a time as he heard Starrett say, “Excuse me, Mr. Rakowski—”
“Shit, no, Sam,” he said. “You just gave yourself away.”
He didn’t see it, but he heard it. Three gunshots. It didn’t take much to picture what had happened. Starrett called the Merchant Mr. Rakowski, the name he’d used to check into that decoy room down on the first floor, and the man turned around with his weapon already out and firing.
“Jazz, report!”
“Starrett’s down,” the XO’s deep voice said. “We need medical assistance—he’s bleeding pretty badly. The Merchant’s in the far stairwell, and yes, sir, we’ve got a bomb in room 435. Holy Mother of God, it must’ve been rigged to the door opening because the timer’s just switched from oh-nine-thirty tomorrow to twenty minutes from now. It’s homemade, L.T., but it’s a big motherfucker. Our man definitely knew what he was doing. Someone better start evacuating this building. I’m not sure I can get past all these booby traps in time to keep this thing from blowing.”
The Unsung Hero Page 39
