“Whatever words get said in the heat of anger, or cold fear, or even calm conversation, it is your choice to believe them, and your choice to give them meaning. Because you know what? They are just words, and the only power words have over us is the power we give them.” Sandra’s voice soothed the jagged edges of my heart, and her tone was comfortable and straightforward, like what she said was real and true and just common sense.
“Honestly, sometimes people are so strange,” she continued. “We have trouble believing the good things people say – how smart, or interesting, or remarkable we are – but we have no trouble totally owning the bad stuff. If I’m going to give words any power at all, I’m going to make damn sure it’s the ones that light me up like a sunrise, you know?”
That elicited a huff of laughter from me, and I could finally look up and meet her eyes. “How’s this for sunshine? You’re a kind and generous person, clearly excellent at your job, and you have the kind of presence that brightens any room you walk into. The only thing that makes you human at all is your questionable taste in husbands.”
She laughed out loud and kissed my cheek. “He would be delighted that you agree with him. On all counts.”
Sparky was bent over a circuit board when I stepped out of the freight elevator into his loft. He looked up at me and blinked. “How’d the dive leg work?”
“Like a dream. My favorite part was the waterproof container inside the shaft.”
“Did you get your bad guy?”
“Yeah.”
He wore an odd expression as he studied me. “You lost something,” he finally said. “You’re like Rocket after Groot died, like your spark dimmed.”
I tried for a smirk that may have come out more like a grimace. “I’ve never been sparky – that’s you.”
“Not true,” he said, focusing his eyes, but not his attention, back on the circuit board. “You spark like a fricking transformer around your hunky partner.”
I scoffed. “He’d be flattered to know you think he’s hunky.”
Sparky’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “I wear hot pink Crocs and I cry at happy endings. I’m not afraid to admit when guys are hunky.”
“Well, he’s not my partner anymore, because it was a one-time consulting gig.”
Sparky sat up and put down his tools. He regarded me for a long moment before he finally spoke. “You know how Gamora is all badass and shut down because Thanos tortured her and used his affection and attention as a weapon?”
“Guardians of the Galaxy?” I asked.
“Yeah. And you know how Star-Lord doesn’t let her put him off – he just wears her down by sticking by her, no matter how thick her emotional walls are?”
“What’s your point, Spark?”
“Dude, you’re Gamora. And that hunky bastard is your Star-Lord, whether you admit it or not. And here’s the deal. Star-Lord is the only one who can save Gamora from herself, because without him making her laugh and sticking by her no matter how tough and crusty she gets, she’d be a bitter assassin with no life and no fun.”
“You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?” I said, not really kidding.
“If by jerk you mean I love you enough to call you on your crap, then yeah, I’ll own that.”
He bent over his circuit board again, but then straightened to meet my eyes before I could turn to leave. “Here’s the thing. Characters who don’t change and grow with each life experience turn into caricatures. They’re cardboard cutouts of people who eventually become boring because they’re predictable. But to grow you need to take risks, and this thing with the hunkster was the first real risk I’ve seen you take in a long time. Gamora takes risks, no matter how scared she is, and that’s what makes her interesting. Be Gamora, Shane. Take the risk.”
It was a long time before I could lift my eyes to meet his, and thankfully, he’d gone back to work on the circuit board when I did.
“We’re going to need to schedule a photo shoot for all the legs you want me to model. I didn’t have time to take any shots while I was working,” I finally said.
“You know I’m going to dress you up and put you in action poses like the Bionic Woman, right?” Sparky actually said that with a straight face.
“I’m told I look more like Jaclyn Smith than Lindsay Wagner,” I said carefully.
At that, my friend looked up with a grin of pure glee. “Yes! I can totally see a whole photo series of you dressed as 1970s action heroines! All of Charlie’s Angels, the Bionic Woman, and oh yeah, definitely Wonder Woman too.” Sparky started posing with his hands on his hips, in a semi-crouch with an imaginary gun in the air, and in a slow-motion run, complete with a Bionic Woman sound effect.
The laughter inspired by my ridiculous friend splintered another fragment of the hard shell in which I’d encased myself, and I reminded myself how very lucky I was.
48
Gabriel
“Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes.” – Fiona Archer
The drive back to Chicago with Fiona was enlightening.
By the time I dropped her off at the apartment she shared with her husband and three kids, I felt like I’d just been adopted by an older sister. She invited me up to meet her husband, Greg, who was sprawled on the sofa watching YouTube videos about string theory with their toddler. The two older kids were at school, but evidence of their brilliance was all around the apartment, from the handwritten music on the piano to the drawings of fantastical weapons I was told were designed for the family’s various D&D characters.
At his daughter’s demand, Greg handed the little girl with dandelion hair to her mother, who promptly whisked her away for a hand and face wash.
“You’re the blighter Fi found in Nigeria,” he said in an accent that spoke of means, a good school, and lots of travel.
I smiled at that and held out my hand. “I’m that blighter. It’s nice to finally meet you, Greg. You’re a bit of a legend among the Cipher crew.”
He winced. “I shudder to think.” He hit the button on the electric tea kettle. “Coffee or tea?”
“Actually, I need to get in to the office.”
“Why? They’ll have called in a report.” Greg spooned Earl Grey into an Alice in Wonderland teapot and arranged three mugs on a tray. He dropped two sugar cubes in one mug, four in another, and then looked up at me questioningly.
I shook my head. “I have unfinished business.”
Fiona re-entered the kitchen. “There’s groveling to be done.” She kissed her husband with enthusiasm, and he held her tightly, uncaring that they had an audience.
Greg spoke between her kisses. “Whatever groveling must be done, my love, I’ll do on my knees in front of you, worshipping your body as befits the goddess you are.”
Fiona laughed. “I’m sure I’ll find something for you to grovel about, but I was talking about Gabriel.”
Greg shot me a scowl. “He’s not allowed to grovel to you unless he does it from across the room.”
Fiona poked him, and he leapt back in protest. She poured the boiling water into the teapot with a smirk. “Like many males of the species, his inner caveman has no concept of how condescending and infuriating his words may have sounded to the capable woman he loves.”
Greg shot me a sympathetic look full of “uh oh,” and I winced back.
“So,” she continued, “I took it upon myself to translate his words into something he could understand.”
“Something properly mortifying and painful, no doubt.” Greg had clearly been on the receiving end of such a conversation.
“Shockingly so,” I agreed. I still felt hollow with regret at the words I barely remembered saying, but which Fiona had recounted for me with horrifying detail.
“And did she also educate you in the finer points of a successful grovel?” Greg asked as he wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist and nuzzled her hair.
“My mother and grandmother made sure my education in proper apologies was complete, though my
sister would tell you I’m out of practice.”
“You’ve been alone too long. Apologies are what inevitably happen when you allow people to matter to you.” Greg nibbled Fiona’s ear. “Consequently, I am masterful at them.” He grinned and murmured into her neck. “Hmm, what transgression can I make up to you today?”
Fiona shook her head playfully. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“Ah well, Gabriel had best get to work then,” Greg said as he kissed her collarbones. She pulled away with a laugh.
“We’re not sending him away without tea,” she said, even as he drew her back into his arms.
“He doesn’t want any. He’s inspired by our perfect relationship to go repair his own,” Greg murmured.
“Actually, he’s not wrong. Fiona, thank you for setting me straight, and I look forward to working together again. Greg, it’s good to finally meet the legend in person, and see that your reputation is totally undeserved.”
Greg barked a laugh and sent me off with a wave. They were engaged in a tickle fight when I left the apartment, and it wasn’t until I was back in my car that the smile on my face finally faded.
O’Malley informed me that Shane had come and gone, but suggested that I do a proper debrief with himself and Sullivan before they sent me home for the day. I did as he suggested, despite my every instinct demanding to see Shane as soon as possible, and it was lunchtime when I finally left the Cipher building.
I texted Shane’s mobile several times and called twice, but I received no answer to any of my attempts to reach her. I even stopped at her apartment on my way to my own, but there was no answer to my knock and no barking dog to warn me away. I thought she might be out running, so the park was my next stop as soon as I changed my shoes.
I was surprised to find my apartment unlocked, and then delighted to find a giant hairy beast barreling toward me as I entered the sitting room.
I braced myself for impact and then dropped to one knee to ruffle Oscar’s fur while looking around the room for his mistress. There was no sign of her.
I gave Oscar another enthusiastic scratch and then set off to find her. She was not in my bed, sadly, though that would likely have been far too easy. Instead, she was sitting on the sill of the open window that overlooked the central courtyard from the bedroom. Her eyes were closed as the sun shone on her face, and I was forcibly reminded that this was a California girl who transplanted herself to a city known more for its cold wind than warm sunshine.
Her eyes opened and found mine as I knelt by her knee and took her hand. “I am so sorry. I said unforgivable things to you, and I am appalled that those words came out of my mouth.”
Her expression didn’t change, but she touched my face gently. “I need to tell you a story,” she said finally. My breath caught. Was this the part where she tells me she’s finished, or was there a chance her natural instinct to leave difficult situations could be overridden?
She inhaled, as though bracing herself, and I tried not to expect the worst. “My name is Samantha Hane,” she said quietly.
I could feel how much it cost her to say the name out loud, but I allowed myself a glimmer of hope. She wouldn’t trust me with her real name if she were planning to leave me, would she? I settled myself next to her on the window sill, but I didn’t relinquish her hand, and she let me trace the outline of her knuckles with a light touch.
“My dad used to call me Sam, which fit better than Samantha ever did. And after he died—” Her voice caught in her throat, and I lifted her hand to kiss the back of it. She inhaled, and her voice got stronger.
“I had just started dating Mitch when my dad and brother died, so he and I got pretty close in that way tragedies force people to. My mom was a wreck, and there were a lot of nights Mitch and I made dinner for her, did laundry, wrote checks for bills that she’d forgotten to pay, and things like that. I basically became a grown-up, and to his credit, Mitch stood next to me for a lot of that time.”
Shane’s voice had a faraway quality to it, as if she were outside herself watching the film version of her past. Her eyes had drifted back out to the view from the window.
“When I got into college in Santa Barbara, I wanted to leave everything behind me, including Mitch, and go back to being eighteen instead of the adult I’d had to be for my mom. I wanted to go to parties and dance clubs, and flirt with guys, and giggle with girlfriends, but Mitch didn’t want to break up. He convinced me that we could stay together, even if we only saw each other on breaks and during the summer. I agreed because I didn’t have a really compelling reason not to.”
I studied Shane as she spoke. Her face was devoid of make-up, and her hair was tied back in some sort of messy knot. Freckles dotted the skin on her cheekbones and across her nose, and tiny gold hoop earrings glinted at her earlobes. Her eyes looked tired, and her posture almost seemed resigned, as though there was an inevitable outcome to the story.
Then her voice lost whatever spark it had held. “The summer after my freshman year in college, I was nineteen and full of plans to backpack around Europe with some friends from school. I went home for two weeks to earn a little traveling cash at my old waitressing job, and one night Mitch picked me up after work in a 1966 Mustang he’d bought to restore. He didn’t want me to go on my trip and was trying to talk me into staying home and spending the summer with him. I was adamant that I was going, which pissed him off, so when the engine sputtered to a stop, he told me to get out and push while he steered it off the road to a dirt lot.”
I was indignant on her behalf but didn’t say so out loud because her voice sounded so flat, as if every word cost something to say. I was afraid to break the momentum.
“I heard the car come up behind us, but we were already heading down into the lot, and the Mustang was starting to pick up a little speed on the slope. I ran behind it and was just going to veer off to let it go when the other car rear-ended the Mustang and sandwiched me between the two bumpers. Mitch must have hit the brakes reflexively, because my right leg was crushed instantly. The other driver was drunk, and the cops had been right behind him. One of the officers was a trained medic, which is why I didn’t bleed out on the trunk of Mitch’s car, but all of them – the cops, the drunk, and Mitch – were so full of guilt about what happened …” Her voice trailed off, and a shudder went up her spine at a memory she didn’t want to relive.
“Guilt is why Mitch asked me to marry him when I was still in the hospital recovering. I didn’t want to say yes, but he’d been so good to my mom, and she almost completely lost it when another drunk driver almost took out what was left of her family.” Shane scoffed without humor, and she finally met my eyes.
“It took six months of really hard work before I could go back to college, and everything I’ve done since then has been about proving I am more than just a missing limb, which was all I could see in Mitch’s eyes when he looked at me.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “Worse, though, was the expression on his face whenever he saw the stump of my leg.”
I wanted to kill the man for having made this extraordinary woman feel anything less than beautiful and whole. She must have seen something of my thoughts on my face, because she allowed a tiny smile. I kissed her knuckles and would have spoken, but she wasn’t finished.
“I need to tell you all of it, so you understand.”
My brain, which had foolishly begun to hope the revelations were a sign she had forgiven me, protested loudly. So I understood what? Why she was leaving me?
“The fact that I stayed with Mitch for six months after I walked in on him with another woman was partly because of something my mother said.” Shane’s voice shifted to parrot her mother. “Samantha, no one else will ever know what you were like before the accident. Mitch is the only man who will ever see you as the athletic girl in a bikini you used to be.”
There was disappointment and perhaps scorn in the voice she used to recall her mother’s words. No wonder she hated the name Samantha. Shane’s g
rip had tightened on my hand, but she was still deep in her memories of her mother as she continued speaking.
“She said I was stupid to leave Mitch because there’d never be anyone else who would understand what I’d gone through.” She met my appalled gaze. “I was stupid, she said. He said it too. Six months after I’d walked in on him with someone else, he accused me of having an affair with a guy I worked with. He said I was stupid if I thought the guy – his name was Todd, and he was a good friend of mine – would ever have sex with me with the lights on, because no guy could ever keep a hard-on with my stump staring him in the face.”
“Christ,” I whispered as I pulled Shane to my chest, as if I could shield her from the hateful words all those years ago.
I was shaking with the kind of protective rage that had gotten me in trouble with her in the first place. I took several deep breaths to calm down and order my thoughts. Shane let me hold her while I did so, and the feeling of her against my heartbeat grounded me.
I spoke into her hair. “If he were standing here right now, he’d be dead.”
I could feel her smile. “I would have castrated him already, so he’d beg you to kill him.”
I pulled back so I could see her face, and I searched her eyes for the depth of pain in them. “Why didn’t you punish him then? Why did you take all those horrific words with you when you left?”
She inhaled deeply as she thought about her answer. “Sandra said something today that unpacked it for me. She said that when my mother called me stupid, I either had to believe her or break. I was always too strong to break – I didn’t when my dad and brother died, and I didn’t when I lost my leg. But believing her meant I couldn’t write him off as an asshole, because by her words, he was my only shot at happiness.”
I closed my eyes against the truth that hit me. “I used the word ‘stupid,’ didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” She looked away, and I cupped her face in my hands so she would meet my eyes.
Code of Conduct (Cipher Security Book 1) Page 30
