“Who recognized me?” he asked, a nervousness tickling his stomach.
“We’ll get back to that in a minute,” she said, turning to sit on the sofa, sipping on her glass of wine.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”
Jude sighed loudly.
“Come on, babe. Is that really a question?” he demanded with annoyance. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you?”
Norah leered openly at him.
“The usual reasons, I assume,” she agreed. “But you’re married to such an interesting person. It would have made such good post-sex conversation.”
She cannot talk to me about Marseille or I will punch her, he thought, an overpowering anger growing in him.
“Listen, obviously I made a mistake – “
“Made a mistake marrying your friend’s widow?” Norah asked sweetly. “Or made a mistake by not telling me about Marseille?”
Jude was sure his face was turning purple, and his resolve to sit still was fading away.
Hearing his wife’s name on his mistress’ lips was vile and what she was suggesting, more disgusting.
“In times of war, it is very common for friends to console the widows of their comrades. You don’t need to make it sound so dirty. Marseille and I fell in love. It happens every day.”
Norah chuckled, and Jude was growing tired of hearing her fake laughs.
“Norah, what do you hope to accomplish by dredging this up? If me being married is proving to be too much –“
“No, my dear Jude. The wife isn’t the delicious part at all,” Norah interrupted. “I met one of your old army friends.”
This time, Jude felt his spine lock in place.
“Who?”
“Captain Jeremy Briscoe. Do you remember him?”
Jude gulped back the rock in his throat and nodded slowly.
“Of course I remember him,” he answered slowly. “Where did you meet Briscoe?”
“He’s a regular at the bar,” Norah replied, twirling a short strand of white-blonde hair between her fingers. “He asked me if I was seeing anyone these days and I happened to have your picture on my phone. He recognized you right away.”
Jude was finding it difficult to breathe.
“How is he doing?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but his voice cracked.
“He’s good. Still in the military. He was wondering about how you were doing though. Seemed very concerned for your well-being.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep. Told me that you might have had some issues –“
“He shouldn’t be talking to you about classified information,” Jude snapped hotly. “He could be brought up on sanctions for doing something so stupid and gossiping with a civilian.”
“A civilian?” Norah asked, her face a pretend mask of hurt. “And I thought I was the woman you loved. That’s what you said the other day when I was throat deep with your cock, wasn’t it?”
“Of course I love you,” he said quickly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
You better check yourself, little girl. You’re playing with fire, he thought furiously.
“Good!” Norah announced, clapping her hands together as she sounded pleased. “You’re going to tell Marseille about us.”
Jude stared at her, his mouth agape.
“No, I will not be doing anything like that,” he retorted, rising. “Because there’s nothing to tell. I am ending this today. Right now.”
Norah’s face was no longer pleasant and welcoming.
“I had a sneaking suspicion you would be so cruel. I tried to tell myself that I just imagined the worst but here you are, trying to break my heart after how understanding I’ve been.”
“I’m sorry, Norah, but I love my wife. I shouldn’t have stepped out on her, to begin with, and I regret my actions. We’ve had our fun but let’s not make this ugly,” Jude said, rushing on as he recognized sheer fury in her eyes.
“You’re not going anywhere, Jude because I am pregnant.”
Jude’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at her. He began to laugh.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Norah.”
She whirled and opened the desk drawer, hurling two ultrasound pictures at him.
They were dated the previous week, and the name was hers undeniably.
“How far along are you?” he demanded when he could speak again.
“Thirteen weeks,” she said. “And don’t you dare even suggest an abortion or I will stab you.”
The words died on his lips before he could utter them.
His eyes narrowed into slits.
“You have no proof that this kid is even mine.”
Norah exhaled in annoyance.
“You’re kind of predictable, Jude. If I didn’t love you so much, I would kick you to the curb for being a little bit boring actually. A DNA test will prove that in six months. That should give you plenty of time to file for a divorce and get your things in order.”
Jude rose from the sofa, his hands in fists at his side.
“I am not leaving Marseille for you, Norah. We can continue to see each other and once the baby is born, provided it’s mine, I will make sure it’s taken care of, but I will not leave my wife. And if you ask me again, you will regret it.”
There was a note of malicious finality in his voice and Jude expected Norah to back down, perhaps see a glimmer of fear in her eyes.
Instead, she resembled the Cheshire cat, her long, even teeth gleaming brightly as she grinned almost maniacally.
“You can leave her nicely, on your own terms, looking like a good guy who’s had enough of a loveless marriage or I will arrange for Marseille to leave you, knowing that you are the worst person in the world.”
“You don’t know Marseille. Our bond is bigger than this fling between us,” he spat, his fury mounting. “She can be very forgiving, a concept you could learn a thing or two about.”
Norah nodded.
“Yes, that may be,” she agreed. “But that’s because she doesn’t know what you did, does she?”
Blood drained from his face, and suddenly his fury became terror. Norah did not need to explain herself further.
Briscoe. Briscoe told her. I have to hunt down that son of a bitch…
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he retorted. Norah giggled.
“I think you do, Jude. What would make your very forgiving wife want to set you on fire? Hmm?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jude gasped.
“What’s it going to be, babe? You and me with our love child forever or is your wife going to find out exactly who she married?”
Jude knew then that he was going to need to take care of Norah too.
Chapter Seven: Fort Jackson, North Carolina – 2008
Come on, where the hell is it? He thought, his hands working furiously. There was a slight shuffle behind him, and he jerked his head up to look behind him, but there was no one there.
If I don’t hurry up, there will be someone here soon, he thought grimly.
Exhaling quickly, he continued to dig through the duffle bag.
Come on, come on, he thought, sweat appearing on his brow. Finally, his hands closed around the book, and he yanked it out.
“Ishmael” by Daniel Quinn.
Glancing back again, he rifled through the pages and found what he was looking for.
Unmistakable sounds of army boots walking toward the barracks forced him to grab it and dive onto his cot, closing his eyes.
“How are you feeling, Galvin?”
He pretended to stir from sleep, and he glanced at Cortez, slightly bleary-eyed.
“Damn migraines,” he grumbled. “I thought I was over them, but I guess the lack of sleep…”
“Are the meds working?” River asked.
“Yeah, they seem to be kicking in now.”
“Okay, buddy. I just wanted to check up on you, see if you wanted any grub fr
om the mess hall.”
“No, I’m good,” Jude replied, waving River away. “Thanks.”
Through half-closed lids, he watched Cortez disappear out of the barracks, leaving Jude alone with his new find.
When he was certain he would not be disturbed again, he pulled the photograph out from under his pillow and licked his lips.
Hello, Marseille, he told the auburn-haired beauty in the picture silently. We haven’t met yet but we will. We will soon, I promise.
He slipped a hand down the front of his fatigues and began to stroke his member silently, biting on his lip as he envisioned himself between Marseille’s legs. He wondered if she was as sweet as Corey had been.
“I got you a room at a motel in town,” Marseille told River as they drove. “It’s a little place, not a lot of traffic so you can lay low.”
“Marce…”
She turned and looked at him, her face taut with worry.
“Thank you,” he breathed. “I know this is not easy for you.”
She managed a small smile.
“Well it’s not every day that your husband comes back from the dead,” she replied lightly.
“Why can’t anyone know you’re here, River? What did you do?”
He shook his head.
“As far as the government is concerned, River Cortez is dead,” he told her seriously. “You cannot tell anyone I am here and alive.”
“What will happen if it comes out?” Marseille insisted. “We can’t keep this a secret forever! My family will know who you are, River.”
“You’re thinking of leaving Jude, then? Bringing me around Joel and Pat to say hello?”
The question hung in the air like lead and Marseille continued to focus her gaze steadily across the street.
“Please, don’t make me decide something like this right now, River.”
“Of course,” he replied, but she could hear the disappointment in his voice.
He has come across the world to find you again, and you can’t even give him what he wants – you.
Marseille had snuck back up to the master bedroom after leaving River the previous night, shame and disloyalty flooding her body.
How could you have slept with River when your husband is directly upstairs?
She reminded herself that River was her husband.
I would never have ever married Jude if River was here. Even Jude knows that.
She needed to talk to Dr. Rainier desperately, but she remembered River’s words.
I can’t even talk to my shrink about this because River did something too awful to discuss. What did he do?
Her River would never have done anything so terrible he would need to remain in hiding for eternity. Had he changed so much? Was he the same man?
Am I the same girl he married?
The questions played over and over in her mind, but she had no answers. And no one with whom to discuss them.
They pulled into the motel, and Marseille handed him a key to the room.
“Come inside with me,” he urged, but she shook her head.
“No,” she said firmly. “I have to get back to work. Here’s my credit card. Order whatever you want to eat, and I will stop on the way home from work to check on you.”
“No, I don’t need your credit –“
“Just take it,” she insisted. “Jude isn’t an account holder on this Visa.”
Marseille pretended not to see the slight smirk on his face, but he did not comment as he opened the door to the car.
“Leave me your cell number so I can call you,” he told her, but she shook her head again.
“No. I will call you from other places. I don’t want Jude to get suspicious.”
He stared at her for a long minute, and Marseille was sure he was going to say something, but he seemed to change his mind.
“Okay, babe. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she responded, and as the words left her lips, she knew she meant them.
There is no question here. I have to tell Jude it’s over but how can I do that to him? He has been so good to me.
Sighing heavily, Marseille backed the blue Kia out of the parking lot and drove to her next appointment.
She had waited for Jude to leave the house before circling back to pick up River. She had forgotten that her husband had the day off and it had foiled her plans for the day.
Marseille had called Clarissa to cite car troubles as a reason for canceling her morning appointments and bode her time, staking out Jude.
She had almost been ready to call him and send him out of the house when Jude had exited the property, a grim expression on his face.
Marseille had idly wondered where he was going looking so agitated, but she had enough to worry about without thinking about Jude’s state of mind that morning.
I shouldn’t have let River stay last night. I am not thinking clearly, but I better get my act together. If Jude learns about this, he will be devastated. But Jude can never know about River. There are so many secrets to keep suddenly. Will I be able to keep them straight?
Her brain was foggy with everything which had happened in the past day.
Maybe I am just dreaming, she thought.
Suddenly, she was overwhelmed, and tears began to slip down her peaches and cream cheeks.
Marseille knew she couldn’t go to work in such a state and she called Clarissa on her blue tooth.
“Hi, Marseille. How’s the car?”
Choking back the emotion in her voice, Marseille tried to sound cheerfully agitated.
“I just got it back, but it’s making a terrible sound. I have to take it back in,” she lied. “I have no idea if they’ll be able to squeeze me in. So sorry about this, Clarissa. I’ll be at all my appointments tomorrow for sure.”
“No problem, Marseille. Hope it gets sorted out.”
Yeah, she thought mournfully. Me too.
“Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow.”
She disconnected the call and wiped the tears from her face, doing a U-turn and heading back toward Interstate 93.
She needed her dad.
“Marseille! What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
Pat Hempsley rushed out of the front door toward her daughter and Marseille dissolved into a puddle of misery in her mother’s arms.
“Joel!” Pat screamed. “Joel get out here!”
In minutes, Marseille was sitting in her parents’ living room, hot tea in her hands.
“What happened? What did Jude do to you?” Pat demanded. Marseille caught her breath and looked at her mother, perplexed.
“He didn’t do anything to me, mom. Why do you hate him so much?”
Pat clamped her lips together and shot her husband a look as she folded her arms across her chest.
“What happened, sweetheart?” Joel asked. “Why are you so upset?”
Marseille opened her mouth to respond, but she realized she could not speak a word of any of it to them.
Why did I come here? This was a mistake. Now I’m going to leave here having them worried and thinking that Jude has something to do with this.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, suddenly feeling very foolish. “I think I just needed a place to have a good cry.”
Joel’s dark eyebrow shot up, but he didn’t comment. Marseille could see he didn’t believe she was simply having an emotional day, and she frantically wracked her brain for an excuse, but nothing immediately surfaced.
“You weren’t working today, honey?” Pat asked suddenly and again; Marseille was reduced to a blubbering mess of tears.
“I had to take a day to myself,” she gasped in between sobs. “I’m in over my head.”
Joel gave his wife a meaningful look and Pat quietly left the room, leaving father and daughter alone. Patricia knew that Marseille was a daddy’s girl at heart. Their bond had always superseded the one Marseille had shared with her mother.
“What are you so conflicted about, sweetheart? Is this about starting
a family?”
Marseille choked, her face growing ashen as she thought about how badly Jude wanted to start a family with her.
He wants to have a baby, and I want to leave him for the man he helped me get over. But he didn’t help me get over River. I am obviously not over him. I still love him…or I think I do.
“That’s part of it,” Marseille conceded. “I’m just not ready to have a baby.”
Joel patted her hand.
“I understand, honey. If it doesn’t feel right, then, of course, you shouldn’t do it. Jude doesn’t want to hear it though, does he?”
Marseille shook her head.
“I thought I could do it but…”
“But you still miss River,” Joel finished, and Marseille looked at him sharply.
“Is it that obvious? Jude said the same thing to me yesterday.”
Joel embraced his daughter and stroked her hair lovingly.
“What you had with River was very special, honey. You never had a chance to know if it was real or simply the magic of young love because he was taken from you. It’s only natural for you to wonder what would have happened with you and River. I imagine you feel guilty sometimes about moving on.”
You can say that again, Marseille thought, gritting her teeth.
“But you have to know that River loved you very much and would have wanted you to move on with your life and be happy.”
Marseille began to laugh, and Joel stared at her.
“What’s so funny about that?” he asked. “You don’t think that River would have wanted you to be happy?”
She nodded, her face twisted into a mad smile.
“Of course he wants me to be happy,” she replied, sighing through her grin. “He wouldn’t want me to move on.”
Joel frowned.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he said slowly. “I’m sure River would not want you going through life second-guessing yourself.”
She chuckled.
“There is absolutely no way that will happen,” she said cryptically.
Joel cleared his throat.
“Honey, why don’t you tell me what this is all about,” he said. “I can help you if you tell me what’s wrong.”
Marseille looked him in the eye and spoke the words before she could stop herself.
The Lost Seal: A Seal Romance Page 7
