Gage, Ronna - Paradise Mine (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Ronna Gage

  Landy and his assigned guide walked out into the afternoon air. The breeze caught him by surprise. Six months in hell and he missed the heat. The light air lifted his moods. “Maybe this will turn out to be a good day after all.” They walked across the street to the rehab hospital. I have one thing to be thankful for…my sight is intact.

  Landy took off his patch, and then walked through the double doors of the rec room. “Laurent!”

  The loud bark of his name startled him. “Here!” Landy stood tall and waited to clearly focus on the man in his visual range.

  “Mail call,” the young Private First Class said.

  He carried a box in his hands and a small mailbag on his shoulder. With his tall, lanky frame, he walked with confidence. His pimpled face came into view. He can’t be much older or younger than me. He smiled at him with big gums and small teeth.

  “Here is your back mail. Looks like it finally caught up with yous.” The heavy Brooklyn accent surprised Landy. For a small man, he was vocally loud.

  Landy read the name on the man’s tag. “Thanks, Private Divers.” The name was so similar to Dick’s that Landy felt a pang of sorrow for his comrade and friend. He watched the young man make the round of the ward. He smiled for everyone. There wasn’t an unfriendly gesture to anyone. A positive attitude always helps.

  Landy looked down at the loot in his hands. He held up the familiar package on top. “Grandpa Joseph. You’re the best.” He shook it. “Aw, I bet it’s the usual. Gum, candy, mints, magazines, toothpaste, mouthwash, and deodorant and stamps. That’s Grandpa Joseph for you.” His grandfather didn’t believe such things were available in Iraq. He viewed it as a primitive place in the Third World. But Iraq was vastly rich. The wealth just wasn’t shared with everyone in the country.

  Setting the box aside, he laid the letters on the table. That is what he wanted the most right now. He counted them out—fifteen letters from Rae Anne. Landy couldn’t wait to tear into them, but he found control to savor them for a moment while he put the postmarks in order. It was just like Rae Anne to number the letters as she wrote them. The postmarks were right with her numbering system. He picked up the first one and sniffed the envelope. The scent of her perfume drifted through. He closed his eyes and took another whiff. Her fragrance was so poignant that he almost tasted her on his tongue. He read the first letter on the stack, and the weight of her loneliness almost crushed him. The distance between home and Corpus Christi took its toll. She felt lost without her family, friends, and her own familiar hangouts. Hang in there, babe. Your semester is almost complete. The marine biologist–to-be was alone, just like he was here in that godforsaken country. He set the first letter aside and opened the second.

  Happy Thanksgiving.

  Your loving, Rae Anne.

  Her letters didn’t last long, but he expected them and grew almost dependant on at least one every other day. By the tenth letter, she counted down the days until their reunion.

  We have 200 days before we see one another.

  I’m going home for Christmas holidays. Daddy has all but commanded my appearance. I plan to continue writing.

  I miss you so much,

  Your Loving, Rae Anne

  Suddenly, he noticed her letters became increasingly longer, and sad.

  What happened to you, Landy? I sit and wonder that a million times. What have they done to you? I pray they haven’t hurt you and you are being treated well. Why did you have to go? I need you here with me. So much has changed since you’ve been gone. You will be surprised by the news I have. Oh Landy, why do you always have to be the hero? Landy, hurry home. I want you to know that you have something worth fighting for here at home. I will pray for your safe return every day. I will always love you.

  Your Loving, Rae Anne

  Her sudden change in demeanor and writing confused him. He reread the letters. She would pray for me every day? She would love me always? What is that about? Landy searched the mailbag for missing letters.

  He pulled out a long manila envelope, the last thing in the mailbag. He took it out and looked at it. Although the address was for him, it wasn’t in Rae Anne’s handwriting. Who sent this? He opened the envelope and dumped out its contents. Pictures of Rae Anne and the actor Thomas Howard fell out. Anger, confusion, and jealousy burned in Landy. The celebrity figure had a reputation for his involvement with rich and famous women of North America. The picture showed him kissing Rae Anne’s hand. She smiled for the cameras. A second photo of the two showed them on a carpet, surrounded by people with cameras around a roped off section.

  Is that a movie premier? A newspaper clipping sat on the top of the next picture.

  Tom Howard’s new gal pal, Rae Anne Jamison, stood by his side at the premier of his latest film. Sources close to the couple reveal that their friendship status could suddenly change.

  Landy tossed the article down on top of the last picture and looked at the next one. The third picture showed her and another man, Shain Sherman—according to the nameplate in front of him. The man wore an NFL jersey. He must be the new hotshot quarterback with the Dallas Cowboys. Along with the picture came a letter on Senator Robert Jamison’s stationary.

  Rae Anne has found someone new to occupy her time.

  I suggest you leave it be.

  A poor rancher like you really never was good enough for her.

  Rae Anne couldn’t take the separation anymore.

  The pictures answered one question. She had chosen to go on with her life—without him. Landy felt his anger rush to the top of his emotions. He went numb with the chilling of his heart. At that point, he didn’t care if he lived or died, felt pain or eased his recovery. He had a mission to complete.

  That Dear John letter is just a setback.

  Landy reached out and embraced his pain and the heat of his anger.

  Chapter Twelve

  January 1992

  Robert Jamison’s senatorial duties pulled Rae Anne in three directions. She traveled from one coast to another at least once a month to fill in at some position or another. The latest duty had nothing to do with his professional life, but his personal life—the celebration of his marriage to Samantha Madison-Folsom.

  Samantha, Sarah’s mother, and Robert had announced their engagement in the spring. Rae Anne figured Daddy found the perfect bride for his civic duties. The reasons for the union didn’t matter to her. At least he found a use or excuse to share his life with someone. These days, love to Rae Anne was a myth for romantics. She did agree that Samantha did have certain qualities Robert held precious in a politician’s wife. Once she passed muster with Robert, the opinion polls breezed in and she passed with flying colors. Washington liked her as a match for him. And the woman always looked at Robert with adoring eyes. Rae Anne smiled at the show of admiration.

  “This White House dinner is important to our campaign,” Robert commented to both Rae Anne and Samantha. “We can lend our support to the president and present ourselves as a family in the same evening.

  “I agree, honey. Looks are everything in this arena,” Samantha pointed out.

  Robert kissed her hand. “You are so right.”

  The planned formal dinner was to welcome a visiting dignitary from Somalia, or some other country Rae Anne couldn’t remember. But that was just the catalyst for the hectic week ahead of her.

  “Rae Anne, you and I will fly out on Friday morning to officially meet and greet well-wishers and family in Texas,” Samantha said to her. “Finally, we will have a church ceremony on Saturday in Dallas.”

  “I have it all organized for us,” Sarah added.

  “I feel overwhelmed by this whirlwind of events. Daddy, Samantha, why don’t you two elope and get it over with?” Rae Anne teased.

  Three stunned faces looked back at her.

  Rae Anne snickered. “Guys, hello, I’m just kidding.” She wished she could take it back to ease their tensions, but deep down, weddings saddened her.

  “That is not funny yo
ung lady,” her father scolded.

  Rae Anne let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I wanted to give humor to this stressful week. We could all use some laughter.” She looked out the window. This isn’t the time or the people to let out stress—too much parental control.

  * * * *

  Robert looked up in time to see Rae Anne descend the staircase. He met her at the bottom step. “You look beautiful, princess.” The strapless cranberry red, cocktail dress flattered her weight loss. The blonde ponytail adorned by a red clasp, lay down her back. “You’re a vision of your mother.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  He offered his arm to her and walked with her to the bar.

  “You are so like her in many ways. Gloria Anne was not only my biggest supporter, but she also knew every detail of my political needs, views, and wishes.”

  “Please tell more.” Samantha said beside him.

  Robert hesitated.

  “Go on, I’m not one to get jealous too easily.”

  “Gloria stood beside me at every party, smiling and waving, as any good wife should.”

  “Of course,” Samantha said, making a silent point that she believed it to be this way.

  He looked down at her and then to Rae Anne. “But what the public didn’t know, she more than participated behind the scenes. She saw to every detail of my daily schedule, from what I ate in the morning to what I read at night. She just about ran everything. Just like you two.”

  “Oh, Daddy, thank you.” Rae Anne hugged his neck.

  “Gloria was the lacking part of you,” Samantha surmised. “She made it seem so easy to embrace the life of a politician, and she was keenly aware of what others thought of her and her family,” she added.

  How do you know so much about my mother, Samantha?”

  “I read up on her.”

  “I know you were devastated by her death.” Rae Anne commented to her father.

  Robert nodded. “An aneurysm.”

  “What happened?” Samantha asked.

  He didn’t reply.

  “It’s okay. Remember, I’m not the jealous type.”

  “The night she died, we watched a few minutes of a movie together, said good night, and kissed one another. She rolled over, told me good night again, Then, the next morning, I got out of bed early, took a shower, and when I returned to the room, she was still in bed. I remember teasing her, asking if she planned to sleep the day away. I bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and found her cold. Immediately, I checked her pulse, but she was gone. She had died sometime in the night in her sleep.”

  He looked down at Rae Anne. “I can still see the sadness in your eyes. I understand how you felt when Landy died.”

  She bowed her head.

  “But, honey, it’s time to get involved again.” The sadness in her eyes wrenched his gut and he could barely look at her. What could I do to ease her troubles? Who did I need to pay to help her?

  “Miss Jamison, I would be honored if you would let me be the first to say you look lovely this evening,” Marcus Carmichael said.

  She blushed prettily at his compliment.

  Did a sparkle flicker in her eyes? Robert saw the doting way Marcus handled Rae Anne. He gently took her hand in his and folded it over the crook of his arm.

  “I have reserved the best table for you, me, your father, Samantha, and his guests,” Marcus informed her while escorting her to the front door.

  Marcus Carmichael would be the perfect match for her. Marcus is everything that we need to succeed. And, most important, he’s not Landon Laurent.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What formula?” Rae Anne questioned her math book. “Which one do you want me to use?” The added stress of academics triggered a small, dull, headache and the idea of quitting when she was so close to catching up motivated her to press on and ignore the pain. Taking a deep breath, she settled back and reread the formula charts and applications on the notes for her class.

  An unexpected knock on the door interrupted the study hour. “Ah, man!” She didn’t appreciate the disruption of her thoughts. She faced a semester final in two days and barely got the notes organized to study. Giving up, she shut the textbook. “I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

  She peeked through the peephole. Marcus Carmichael? She opened the door. “Marcus! What are you doing here?”

  Since her father’s wedding two months ago, Marcus Carmichael had become her unofficial escort when she and the family attended the different gatherings in Washington. To see him outside her door raised the proverbial red flags.

  “Straight to the point aren’t you?” He chuckled.

  “Is something wrong?” she jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

  “If you let me in, I will tell you what’s up.”

  Rae Anne shook head to refocus her attention and bring forth her manners. “Yes, please come in.”

  He stepped inside and took a couple steps into the entryway. “Nice place.”

  Rae Anne shut the door. “Thanks.”

  “I came to scope out a potential business avenue for your father. He said I should pop in and check on you.”

  She detested her father sending Marcus to check in on her. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” she snapped.

  Marcus grinned. “I almost used that very argument on your father this morning when he insisted, but to be honest”—Marcus looked around the empty room and then spoke in a whisper—“I’m hoping you’ll rescue me and have lunch with me. It’ll be my treat.”

  Rae Anne looked at him. His smile flashed a sparkle in his eyes. “I don’t know…”

  He clasped his hands together in a mimic of prayer. “Please!” he dropped his hands slowly. “I hate to eat alone. We can go anywhere you want.”

  That sounded enticing. “Anywhere I want, huh?”

  “Yes,” Marcus pulled out his wallet. “As long as it doesn’t cost more than fifty dollars.”

  Rae Anne raised one eyebrow. “I see my father needs to give you more money.”

  He stuffed the wallet back into his pocket. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me.”

  Rae Anne laughed. “All I have time for is a quick burger and fries.”

  The disappointed expression on his face did touch her deeply, sort of, but it didn’t dissuade from the fact that other pressing matters needed attending “You sure?”

  “Yes. I have to study for a final before I can come back to Washington.”

  “That works. Lucky for me, with Corpus Christi prices, that maybe all I can afford.”

  Rae Anne sniggered. It was the first time she let herself go enough to laugh at another man’s jokes since Landy’s death.

  * * * *

  Marcus and she dined at a small, quick grill, burger joint down the road from her apartment complex. Outdoor tables topped with umbrellas provided alfresco dining.

  Marcus found a table and dusted off the seat. “This is quaint.”

  Rae Anne giggled at his joking personality. It was time for humor in her life. It beat the hell out of depression and anger, which still made an appearance from time to time. She took an assessing look at him: immaculately styled sandy blond hair, dark brown eyes, perfectly white teeth, bright smile. All in all, he is a handsome man, if she had to be honest.

  The two sat down, sorted out the wrapped burgers, and ate their lunch.

  “My father says you come from a political family in Virginia,” she stated after her first bite of burger.

  “Yes,” he said after he swallowed.

  She took another small bite. The flavor pleased her taste buds. “Have you always been interested in politics?”

  “I have. I guess you could say I’ve dreamed of being in the snake pit.”

  “Daddy says you inspire to be a Congressman.”

  He nodded. “That’s right. I think almost as much as your father wants to be the United States Senator.”

  “Yes. And then some.”

  “I have a ways to go. Good t
hing I’m still young enough to wait for the next election year.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine. Working for your father is a time of grooming for my political career.”

  “I wish you the best of luck.”

  “Thank you. Maybe you can help me get elected.”

  Rae Anne smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

  Marcus lifted his Styrofoam cup of soda. “Here’s to a successful career in politics.”

  “Be careful of what you wish for. Politics is a fickle bedfellow.”

  “What an image.”

  They toasted to his success anyway.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rae Anne looked out the limousine window and watched the buildings as each one slowly passed by. Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “How are things with you and Marcus? I hope all is going well.”

  The limousine eased into freeway traffic.

  “I don’t know why they call it pre–rush hour traffic in Washington. It shows little difference to the actual hour.”

  “The best that can be said for it is no gridlock, Mom,” Sarah answered.

  There are entirely too many people living in Washington, DC, these days. “Marcus and I have decided to have dinner tonight.”

  The announcement didn’t get the reaction she had hoped for from her father. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to get out of him, but his usual stoicism irritated her.

  “That’s so exciting. He comes from old money you know,” Samantha gushed. “How did that decision come about?” She was almost bursting at the seams to know details about the date.

  “He asked me out, and I said yes.”

  “That’s nice, princess.” Robert turned to her. Gently, he took her hand. “I’m glad to see you going out again.”

  “I go out, Daddy.”

  Rae Anne tried to pull her hand back, but Robert wouldn’t let it go. She knew where this conversation would lead—where it always led—and she didn’t like the outcome.