Pillow Chase

by Jeanie London

  A red flag started waving, and he kept skimming the posts, looking for any mention of get-togethers with friends off base. He found the occasional mention of wives’ club meetings, students she corresponded with through her online Web design classes and her trainer at the fitness center.

  No mention of shopping with girlfriends or weekday luncheons or anything to suggest she’d been making friends in their new home.

  Sitting back in the chair, Troy rubbed his neck to ease the tension. Why didn’t she mention who she spent time with while he was away?

  Was there anyone to mention?

  He frowned. They’d been stationed in San Diego for almost a year now, plenty of time to settle into their life.

  He thought back on his own childhood, the moves from base to base, so many through the years that most blurred together. The orders arrived on the military’s timetable, and sometimes that timing worked, sometimes it didn’t.

  He remembered the year his dad’s tour took him overseas. The family got to accompany him that time, but Troy had been barely two months away from graduating middle school and had been training hard with his hockey team.

  The solution had been for his grandmother to live with him in their big house, newly furnished with rental furniture, until he wrapped up the year and graduated. She’d dragged him to every practice and sat through each game until his team had won the play-offs.

  Sure those moves had turned out to be an adventure that he’d eventually learned to appreciate. He had five siblings who were a constant through every relocation and by necessity he’d learned to settle in and make new friends fast. He’d had a lifetime to hone his skills, and when he thought of Miranda’s upbringing…

  Troy had always believed that her family situation had prepared her for the unique demands of marriage to an officer, but she’d also grown up in one house and one town. They hadn’t celebrated their second anniversary yet and had already moved twice, this latest time clear across the country. Had she honestly had enough time to develop the knack of settling in fast?

  The pieces seemed to fall into a place that made too much sense, which left him wondering how he could have been so blind.

  If Miranda hadn’t settled in yet, she was likely feeling isolated and alone during his absences, which would certainly explain her withdrawal. It would also explain the perfect world she’d created online, a fantasy place where he could log on and be reassured that his wife and their life were right where he’d left them.

  But it didn’t explain why she wouldn’t just tell him there was a problem.

  So how could he find out who she was interacting with at home without letting her know he was looking?

  He needed reinforcements…well, one reinforcement who could help him get some information without being obvious, one who understood what life as his wife would entail better than anyone.

  Glancing at the computer clock, Troy calculated what time it would be in Nebraska, then reached for the phone.

  “Hello, Mom…”

  9

  “SO WHAT HAPPENED to you last night?” Miranda asked with a yawn when she left the bedroom to find Troy seated at the desk with a mug of steaming coffee by his side.

  Mmm, caffeine.

  She didn’t wait around for an answer but followed her nose into the kitchen where half a pot remained. Pouring a cup, she made her way back into the living room.

  Troy had spun the chair around and sat watching her, looking perfectly wide-awake and freshly showered. “I wondered if you were ever going to get up this morning.”

  “You put me into a coma with that massage. I had no idea you could do that.”

  “I usually try to arouse you, not put you to sleep.”

  If the muscles in her face had been awake, she might have laughed, but talking proved enough of an effort. “So I passed out, and you left.”

  “You relaxed, I got aroused. Since I couldn’t sleep, I got up to see what I could find on the senator. I figured I wasn’t going against his wishes since I researched him and not your grandmother.”

  “A technicality at best.” Sinking down onto the sofa, Miranda stretched out and sipped her coffee, sighing as the hot brew seared a path down her throat. This caffeine needed to kick in fast if she was going to wake up thinking about yesterday. “So, did you come up with anything?”

  He raked his gaze over her, a slight smile touching his lips, and she knew he was enjoying the sight of her rumpled and half-asleep. “Sure did. Turns out the senator was a BEL.”

  “What’s a bell?”

  “B-E-L, as in behind enemy lines. The Americans and British pooled resources to create a unit of special forces teams to send into occupied France and assist the French Resistance.”

  “I learned about all this in school, but I’ve never heard word one in regard to my grandfather.”

  “Classified.”

  “Can you get in trouble over this, Troy?”

  He shot her a look of bravado that didn’t reassure her one bit. “This information was classified during World War II, now it’s part of our military history. If one knows where to look.”

  “I honestly don’t know that you should look. My grandfather expressly told me to stop digging around.”

  “You weren’t digging around. Do you want me to tell you what the BELs did or do you want to discuss how to handle this situation now the cat’s out of the bag and we’ve got a problem?”

  “Boy, do we ever have a problem.” The lure of the sofa called, and she let her head sink back into the cushions and closed her eyes, her whole body sluggishly resisting the warm rush of caffeine. Here she thought her biggest problem would be keeping up the Tease and Torture game so she didn’t ruin the last week of their trip.

  Life was just full of surprises lately.

  “Why don’t we forget that we ever got involved with any of this insanity and head home early?” she suggested, not missing the irony of running back to the witchy wives when she’d tried to escape them on this vacation.

  “What about damage control?”

  “Oh, we’re off to a great start.” She didn’t bother opening her eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve made things a thousand times worse already.”

  “You couldn’t have known what Victoria had planned, so I don’t think it’s time to run and hide just yet.”

  Run and hide? She cracked an eyelid and tried to glare. “I don’t want to aggravate the situation, Troy. That’s different than running and hiding.”

  The man didn’t look even remotely remorseful. “What do you think the senator will do about the wedding? He doesn’t have the sort of power he had over Laura’s mother. I don’t think Victoria will care much one way or the other if he takes away her trust fund, do you?”

  “She’d probably think life without her trust would be an adventure. Not that Adam looks like he’s hurting for money.”

  “If the senator decides to break off with your sister, all he can really do is ask her to move out of the house and force you all into a situation where you’ll have to choose what to do about her wedding.” He held her gaze steadily. “Are you prepared to make that choice?”

  She nodded, supposing on some level she’d known this was coming. She just hadn’t been ready to deal with the truth yet, had hoped there’d be a way to save the day.

  Unfortunately she’d nixed that possibility when she’d walked into her grandfather’s study.

  She shouldn’t feel as if her loyalties were divided. Victoria started all this craziness, joining forces with Laura, and getting married to a man she’d met a few weeks ago.

  “So what will you do?” Troy asked.

  Forcing her eyes open, she sat up and took another fortifying sip of coffee. “I’ll do whatever’s best for the family.”

  “Any idea what that is?”

  “Not a clue. I only know what’s not best. Forcing my mother to choose between her daughter and her father.”

  “I don’t think it’ll do anything for Victoria
, either.” He folded his arms across his chest and asked bluntly, “If the senator makes a stand, will you let your sister go?”

  Her brain cells weren’t firing yet, because it took a moment to understand what Troy was asking, and when she did, the implication in his question rubbed her the wrong way.

  She didn’t want to make this choice, didn’t want any more ugly confrontations, and didn’t like how this made her feel—as if she wanted to…

  Run and hide.

  Troy’s words echoed in her head. Is that what he thought she was doing? Was she?

  “How can I let Victoria go when I don’t have her?” She felt as uncertain as she had yesterday in her grandfather’s study, as unable to deal with the situation. She hated the way that felt. “I’ve never had her. We’re not close like you and Marietta.”

  “Are you angry with her?”

  “I’m not exactly thrilled she’s got the whole family in an uproar again,” she said. “Why can’t she just make the effort to get along? Especially now. We’ll be going home next week, and if she goes through with this wedding, she’ll be leaving town sooner than any of us expected. The last thing my mother needs is trouble with Grandfather.”

  “I think that’s her point, Miranda. She wants to bring the family back together so your mother won’t be alone. That’s what Laura wants for her mother, too.”

  “Then why can’t she go about it like a normal person?”

  Troy laughed. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but there’s not a normal person in your family.”

  Miranda wouldn’t dignify that with a response and massaged her temples. A dull ache had started, and she hadn’t even brushed her teeth yet. Great.

  Dragging down another long gulp of coffee, she tried to decide if more coffee would do the trick or if she needed to get a jump on this headache with some geltabs. She hadn’t decided yet when a knock sounded on the door.

  Forgetting all about caffeine or geltabs, Miranda flung herself off the sofa and raced into the bedroom. “I don’t care who it is. I’m in the shower.”

  But she hadn’t made it into the bathroom before she heard her sister say, “Good, then she’ll be a captive audience.”

  Miranda barely had a chance to register the steel in Victoria’s voice before she appeared in the bedroom doorway. Slamming the door shut behind her, she cut off Troy, who clearly wasn’t invited. Then she bore down on Miranda, all dark scowl and wild red hair.

  “You narced on me.”

  A few of Miranda’s brain cells started working—enough to convince her there was no escape.

  “How could you tell grandfather what I was doing?” Victoria demanded, and Miranda took a deep breath, resolved not to get sucked into an angry confrontation.

  She had narced on Victoria. And it wasn’t her sister’s fault that she hadn’t had enough caffeine yet to offset the headache looming in her immediate future, either.

  Or that she hadn’t even brushed her teeth.

  No, Victoria wasn’t responsible for any of that, and one of them had to keep calm. But it wasn’t easy when her sister was one of those people who existed on adrenaline. Victoria could stay up late, wake up early or not sleep at all and appear to suffer no effects. Which meant she looked as fresh as if she’d been up and about for hours, while Miranda felt as though she could barely crawl on her hands and knees to get away.

  “I didn’t tell Grandfather what you were doing,” she said, pleased with how reasonable she sounded. “I told him we were researching our family history and had come across some questions about our grandmother.”

  “But why would you do that? Now he knows we’re digging around. He called me and laid on this whole guilt trip about how I was dividing ranks in the family and I needed to stop—”

  “I had an obligation. I understand what you’re trying to do and I agreed to participate. But, Victoria, regardless of how well intentioned you are, there are still potential consequences. Our grandmother changed her name, so there was a reason. Grandfather is the only person who knows what that reason is and whether or not it should stay hidden. You don’t want some ancient bomb to blow up in Mother’s face. I know you don’t.”

  “I heard all your objections the other night, Miranda. I was sitting in the room, remember? And you heard me promise to be careful. I said I wouldn’t do anything to invite questions.”

  “But you can’t guarantee that.”

  Victoria leaned back against the dresser and folded her arms across her chest, a defensive gesture if ever Miranda saw one. But it wasn’t until she gazed into her sister’s face that she realized defense wasn’t the issue at all.

  “No, you’re right.” The anger drained from Victoria’s voice. “I can’t guarantee that. Just like I can’t guarantee I’ll be alive in the morning. But I told you I would do everything in my power to cover my tracks. You didn’t trust me.”

  “It’s not about trust—”

  “No?” The word ached the way she said it. “What is it, then? You obviously don’t credit me with enough intelligence to do some research—which is my job, incidentally—without screwing up.”

  No, defense wasn’t the issue at all here—hurt was. And Miranda felt the weight of her power to hurt in that moment more than she’d ever felt it before.

  You’re the big sister, Miranda. It’s your job to keep an eye on Victoria, to protect her if she needs protecting, her mother’s words replayed in her memory from a long-ago childhood. That’s what big sisters do.

  She could hear that soft-spoken voice in her head, but all she could see was the hurt in Victoria’s face.

  “I’m sorry.” The apology fell flat between them, sounding inadequate and lame. “I wasn’t trying to get you into trouble.”

  “Don’t.” Victoria gestured a hand dismissively, and her expression faded, replaced by a steel that Miranda was much more familiar with.

  Much more comfortable with.

  “I knew this would be a stretch when I asked you to help,” Victoria said soberly. “I knew you didn’t like Laura, and I knew you didn’t have any faith in what’s happening around Falling Inn Bed. I asked you anyway. That was my choice. I thought I could convince you to give me a chance. I was sure I could get you past your everything-has-to-go-perfectly-according-to-plan attitude. I was wrong.”

  For a moment, Miranda could only stare. “What are you talking about? Just because you and I have different ways of going about things doesn’t mean—”

  “Miranda, please,” she said. “You don’t have to defend yourself. Especially to me. I gambled. I lost. No big deal.”

  But if it wasn’t a big deal then why did the look on her face make Miranda’s stomach knot up tight?

  “The only thing we have to decide is what to do now that Grandfather has issued his ultimatum,” Victoria said.

  “What ultimatum?”

  “If I continue ‘dividing the ranks’ as he puts it, he’ll boycott my wedding and expect you all to do the same.”

  Miranda sank onto the edge of the bed. “He said that?”

  Victoria nodded.

  She closed her eyes to block out the sight of that wounded expression on her sister’s face, but only exchanged it for the image of Victoria dressed in an exquisite white gown, standing beside Adam Grant in a ballroom filled with empty chairs. Maybe it was an aftereffect of spending the past few weeks immersed in all the wedding events of the Naughty Nuptials, but Miranda could see the picture as if it was 3-D.

  But even that image wasn’t as bad as the tone of resignation in her sister’s voice. They might not be especially close, but Miranda knew Victoria didn’t expect anyone in their family to support her.

  And she’d resolved to accept and make the best of it.

  An ability that connected them, marked them as members of a family that put on a smile no matter what.

  “Are you really so surprised?” Victoria’s voice caught softly, as if she felt bad because Miranda seemed so shocked. “You shouldn’t be. This has bee
n coming for a long time.”

  “Then why don’t you stop this craziness now? Or do you want no one to show up at your wedding?”

  “But someone will be coming, Miranda. That was going to be part of my surprise.”

  A Victoria surprise was enough to make her blood run cold. “We haven’t had enough surprises for now?”

  “A matter of opinion. I happen to like surprises.” She shrugged. “So what will you do if Grandfather boycotts me?”

  “What surprise?”

  “Laura and Dale are getting married with Adam and me. We’re having a double wedding.”

  Maybe dealing with the witchy wives and vanishing orgasms had worn her down. Maybe she was becoming unhinged from nearly three weeks at Falling Inn Bed, a hotel that had proven itself more asylum than romance resort, but at this moment Miranda wanted nothing more than to walk out that bedroom door, collect her husband and hop on a plane.

  And where was her husband? He’d obviously abandoned her because there was nowhere he could hide in this suite to avoid overhearing this exchange. He knew there was trouble, yet he’d chosen to stay away.

  “I can’t believe you’re all caught up in this insanity so much that you’d get married to hook readers. Marriage is a serious commitment, Victoria. I know. I’m married.”

  “I understand that, which is why I’ve been single.”

  “But you’re marrying a man you’ve only known a few weeks.”

  Victoria exhaled heavily. “You’re entitled to interpret that however you want. I won’t waste your time trying to change your mind. But I will say that just because it has taken me less time to decide what I want with Adam doesn’t invalidate my feelings, or make me reckless. I understand my history is working against me here, and I respect that. But things with Adam are different.”

  “If you really feel that way, then why don’t you slow down, have a reasonable engagement and set a date. Problem solved.”

  “Except that Adam’s leaving Niagara Falls to take a new job in Las Vegas.”