Tugging his hand, Dilya pointed suddenly at the sky.
Archie squinted up at the plane and waited for it to resolve from being a tiny black dot coming toward the runway. Four-engine turboprop. Hercules C-130. He squeezed her hand, hoping that this was it.
Dilya squared her shoulders and checked her clothes. She had adopted portions of American teen style, but made it her own. Her Muslim heritage had stuck in her modesty, and he could only hope that lasted. Leggings under khaki shorts. A loose blouse that hid her pre-teen curves and a stone-washed denim jacket despite the September warmth. A trio of light scarves braided into a multi-colored neon twist meant this was her fancy wear for special occasions—at least that’s how he was interpreting it.
He’d put on tan khakis and a black t-shirt without thinking about it—standard off-duty wear. Except he was way off duty.
There was a bright screech of tires as the plane touched down, followed immediately by the heavy roar of the four eight-bladed propellers reversing hard to dump speed. His nerves were climbing irrationally but he couldn’t stop them.
“I’d rather be facing a ZU-23,” a particularly lethal Russian-made anti-aircraft gun.
Dilya looked up at him strangely.
“Never mind.” Some things were unexplainable, even if she was getting the language. He concentrated on keeping his grasp on her hand light and calm.
The big plane rolled up, shut down, then lowered its rear ramp.
“Hey, Arch!” Big John strode down the ramp and came over to lock him in a bear hug while Tim thumped him hard on the back. Major Henderson strolled up and shook his hand hard enough that Archie could only hope that the doctors had reattached his shoulder as solidly as they said they had.
Emily walked up to him. Ten years they’d flown together. Ever since she’d picked him out of the crowd at West Point in a History of the Military Art course, they’d served side by side. She was so far out of his league, that there had never been anything between them. Or maybe the spark had simply never been there in the first place.
She reached out and rested her hand as lightly as a feather on his shoulder before looking directly at him.
He nodded. Yes, it was all okay, even if he could never fly beside her again.
Emily squeezed his shoulder lightly in acknowledgement. Between them there was no need for words.
Then, unexpectedly, she shifted her hand to his cheek and offered him a nod. “It’s all good, Archie.”
He tried to see what she meant, but couldn’t read the expression on her face. Finally, Emily offered one of her fleeting, all-knowing smiles. Then she nodded behind herself, where she couldn’t possibly see what was happening.
There, kneeling at the foot of the ramp, was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. Her arms were filled with Dilya who had a throttle-hold around Kee’s neck.
But even as her hands were reassuring the little girl, her dark eyes were watching him.
Archie didn’t even remember walking away from Emily and crossing to her. It was a short distance, one measured in barely noticed handshakes and hearty congratulations.
Two months since he’d seen her and Kee looked even more incredible than he’d remembered. Barely five-six, powerful curves, soldier strong, dark brown hair that fell straight to her jawline, and her trademark thin strip of golden blond. Her dark past was always with her.
She rose to her feet, holding Dilya lightly in her arms.
She didn’t open one arm to greet him in—it wasn’t her way. Didn’t even smile which was a little odd.
But when he wrapped his arms around both of them, she did bury her face against his new shoulder and breathe him in.
He kissed them both on top of the head and then prayed that he wouldn’t screw this up.
Chapter 5
“What do you think?” Kee did a little dance in front of the mirror. At the moment, she, Dilya, Emily, and Archie’s mom, Betty, had command of the little wedding dress shop. Outside the window, Italy was bustling by and she couldn’t wait to get out into the sunshine and play.
The dress landed dangerously high on the thigh—no sitting down in this one. The cleavage had been designed with someone like her in mind. Wedding lace of the purest white made her tan-dark skin stand out and the racing-strip red trim just screamed wild and sexy.
“This will just kill Archie. I know it will.”
A quick spin as she watched in the mirror convinced her of its awesomeness for liquifying men’s brains on first sight.
“Seriously, could it be any better?” She spun once more and stopped facing Dilya.
Dilya sat in the pink-and-white armchair with her head down on the knees she was pulling tight against her chest. The other arm was over the top of her head as if to make sure she didn’t accidentally look up.
“C’mon, kid. A little skin isn’t going to burn out your eyes.”
“What means burn out—” Dilya started to look up, saw Kee, yelped, and ducked her head back down.
Kee looked at the ceiling and sighed. “This isn’t happening.”
She looked helplessly over at the shop clerk who merely shrugged. Wedding dresses weren’t a big stock item at a forward operating base in a dark corner of northern Pakistan, so she’d had to wait for Italy to buy one.
Archie and the boys had been shooed off to Vernazza (about an hour train ride up the coast) for a bachelor’s party—or at least to visit a good taverna. Vernazza had been one of their favorite towns when they visited here before the fateful mission that had wounded Archie. It also had a harbor deep enough for the sailboat they’d be honeymooning on so that they could leave directly from the ceremony.
He’d looked an absolute wreck—a gorgeous one, but a wreck. His wavy brown hair had been lightened by the sun and his tan had been darkened, making him even more impossibly handsome. But it was his eyes that had gotten to her. She’d felt consumed by his wide, sky-blue eyes.
All through lunch he hadn’t stopped staring at her, and wouldn’t let go of her hand. He was being a little intense for her and it was kind of freaking her out. On the other hand, she’d missed him the moment he’d left for the train. Kee did her best to ignore that fact because it didn’t sound at all like her.
Meanwhile, the women had stayed in Pisa to do a little shopping, especially dress shopping.
“Oh my,” Betty looked Kee up and down as she came out of the racks, carrying a pretty Italian sundress covered with stylized sweet pea blossoms that would look great on such an elegant woman. “Well, that will surely get Archie’s attention. Although, I’m not sure if he’ll be able to say his vows if you are wearing that.”
“That’s what I like about it.”
Emily peeked over the barrier of one of the changing rooms. Kee could see the smile reach Emily’s eyes, though she didn’t say a word.
“Dilya doesn’t approve.”
The girl just squeaked, but didn’t raise her head.
“She may have a point,” Emily stepped through the swinging door that had masked her from eyes to knees. She looked amazing. Her slender form was perfectly outlined in a clinging sheath dress that was the same light topaz blue as her eyes.
“Well, if I had a figure like yours, I’d steal that dress right off your back. How is someone who looks like me supposed to look that beautiful? Skin is reliable—works every time.”
Emily, Betty, and the shop clerk began running her through different dresses. Kee didn’t let them take away the hot little number, though they tried several times.
By dress six—or maybe it was sixteen—her patience was wearing thin. Didn’t Italian women have breasts? They must all be as slender as the major or as elegant as Archie’s mom. The wedding dresses that were built for women with a full figure assumed they were far taller than she was. Or didn’t have hips to match. Or had the breasts and hips, but also the waist to go with them.
There was no time for alterations. Most of the team was on a three-day pass: a day to get here, the ceremony tomo
rrow, and a day to get back. She was pretty touched at how many of them had come. The only one missing was—
“Hey, where’s Connie? Did anyone think to invite her?”
Emily nodded. “She didn’t want to intrude.”
Huh! Not the cold bitch that Kee had first assumed—nor the chill soldier either. Hadn’t guessed at her being sensitive. Being shy wasn’t something Kee had a lot of experience with, but that would explain a lot. Made her actually like the woman. Definitely had to check her out more after the honeymoon.
“Well, I’m pretty much sunk here. Dilya will just have to suck it up and—”
But when she turned for the changing room, a dress hung on the door. It was really pretty, with a high neck, half sleeves, and a long skirt made of a few overlapping layers of lace beneath a sheer.
Emily stepped up beside her and after a long moment’s inspection made a considering “Hmmm” sound. Betty and the shop clerk were still rummaging through the racks.
Dilya was back in her armchair watching Kee intently.
Chapter 6
A cheer roared through the sports bar as a television showed the Italian soccer team scoring, then heartrending groans as a ref signaled a disallowed goal, made the sign for pushing, and tossed the ball to the French goalie to bring it back into play.
Archie leaned against the wall behind his chair. They’d shoved him into the back of the corner table then sandwiched him in to either side. Major Henderson, Big John, Tim, Dusty, Captain Richardson, and some of the Little Bird pilots as well.
Perhaps they were being friendly. Or perhaps they understood just how close he was to hitting the ground running and not stopping until he hit Kansas.
He let the conversation drift back and forth, mostly without him, only dipping into the air turbulence of the talk when he couldn’t avoid it.
Somehow they’d found a sports bar in Italy that was both Italian and so very not. Big screen TVs were mounted all around a room that had been built of stone around the time of Charlemagne, or maybe Caesar. But rather than the American fare of baseball, football, and boxing, they were serving out soccer, Formula 1 auto racing, and cricket. The bar was lined with taps that read: Peroni, Heineken Italia, Menabrea, Tarricone, and other beers he’d never heard of. There was a domed, wood-fired pizza oven, covered in black-and-white tiles patterned like a soccer ball.
There were other differences from American bars as well. Far more couples than single men, and kids too. And as often as not when there was a baby or toddler, it was the father tending to it rather than the mom. There was a lively, happy buzz, all of it in flowing Italian that sounded almost as beautiful as Spanish.
“Scares you spitless, doesn’t it?” Mark boomed out cheerfully from one side. To his other side, Big John had a liter glass wrapped in one of his big hands. Tim had dragged the others up to the bar where he was calling play by play on a rugby game that he clearly didn’t understand. The Italians at the bar were joining in the spirit of it and misdirecting him at every chance.
Archie weighed the odds of getting past Mark or Big John and decided that his chances were too slim.
Unable to speak, he could only nod.
Mark answered his nod sagely, still wearing his mirrored shades despite the bar’s dim interior. “Know the feeling. The day I stood at the head of that aisle with Emily walking toward me? That’s the day they should have awarded me the Medal of Honor for bravery far exceeding the call of duty.”
“Don’t sound so scary to me,” Big John knocked back a large swallow of beer.
“Just wait until it's your turn,” Mark scoffed. “How about that cute new girl on your team? What’s her name? Connie something?”
John flinched badly enough to shake the table.
Archie didn’t know who they were talking about. It felt strange to not know something about the company. As if he belonged even less than he’d thought he did, which wasn’t much any more.
“Not a chance. That woman is enough to drive a dude batshit.”
“Willing to bet a twenty on that?” Mark slapped a twenty-euro note on the table.
“No way, asshole,” John was shaking his head. “Makes me ill just thinking about it.”
“That’s Major Asshole to you,” Mark tried pushing his twenty across, but John wasn’t taking it.
“No argument from me on that one, boss.” John glared down at his beer.
Archie was fine with the conversation moving on without him. Maybe he could just fade away. Dilya seemed to do that sometimes, just suddenly—not be there. It was scary as hell when she did it unexpectedly. She’d even managed to slip aboard a black ops mission with them once with no one the wiser until it was too late to turn back. Turned out in the end that it was a good thing she had.
“You know…” John cricked his neck. “Don’t know if I should be saying this, but your bride is kinda wound up about this as well.”
“Kee?” Archie shook his head. “No, John. You’re reading that wrong. Kee always has her act together. Knows exactly what she wants.”
“Willing to bet a twenty on that?” Mark tried shoving the bill in his direction.
“Don’t, Archie,” Big John warned. “That’s a sure loss. Chick is freakin’.”
“But if she doesn’t want to marry me then…” Archie tapered off as John seemed to grow twice his already substantial size.
“I didn’t say that. Just said she was freaking. Time to man up, dude. You don’t put a ring on that gal’s finger tomorrow, you aren’t gonna be nothing but a bloody smear on the sidewalk. Don’t care what your rank is, sir. This is man to man.”
Archie studied his beer. It sounded as if Kee wanted out.
Or maybe not. She was here in Italy and out buying a dress. By nightfall, they’d be in the same hotel room. All through lunch he’d kept looking at her in surprise, trying to figure out how he could be lucky enough to marry her.
And there was no questioning the way that she’d held Dilya when she stepped off the plane.
And no questioning the way she’d let him hold the two of them. Just as Dilya had carved it in the sand. And when he’d seen the photo, he remembered how he’d felt, as if his heart couldn’t get any fuller.
Time to man up, dude. Good advice.
“Still a got a twenty on you and Connie, John,” Mark’s expression was inscrutable behind his mirrored shades. “What do you say? Want some easy money?”
Big John snarled, hauled out his wallet and slapped a pair of twenties on the table. “I’ll take that bet twice. Double no-way no-how.”
Henderson nodded happily and refreshed all of their glasses from the pitcher.
Chapter 7
Kee lay awake on the big bed.
Vernazza wasn’t that big a town. A small harbor, mostly filled with fishing skiffs behind a long breakwater. Behind the seawall, it was really just a single circle street with a lot of small branches to the sides. Tucked up against the cliffs of Liguria, it was one of the five towns that made up Cinque Terre.
So after arriving on the train and leaving their new dresses at the hotel, they had gone out for their own small gal celebration. Gelato then a sausage and pepper calzone—in that order. Pear gelato was in season and it wasn’t worth missing it. She and Dilya had split a second one after dinner, though Emily and Betty had declared one was sufficient.
They’d seen the bar where the men had ended up—it wasn’t hard to find as it had the rowdiest crowd anywhere in the tiny town. They’d stood outside in the falling darkness and looked in through the window. Archie and Tim facing off against a pair of Italian men at a foosball table with a big crowd gathered around them. Archie looked a little manic—cheering his own team, gasping in despair at each loss, and crowing with each victory.
It wasn’t like him, and Kee still lay awake contemplating the meaning of it all.
Dilya, originally set to sleep on the couch in their room, had slipped into bed with her and Kee had let her. Her nerves were calmer when the girl was w
ith her. Everything somehow made sense—which was ridiculous, because Kee was supposed to be dead.
She’d never expected to live this long—nearly hadn’t twice and she had the scars to prove it. Yet against all odds, she had. Not just survived, but tomorrow would become both wife and adoptive mother. That wasn’t on any life plan she’d ever had.
The door opened quietly.
Kee narrowed her eyes so that they wouldn’t catch the nightlight she’d left on.
Archie peeked in. Not the wild man she’d barely recognized at the foosball table. Instead, it was the man she’d known from the first day. He stood just inside the door: shoes in his hand, silent, watching.
Considerate, thoughtful. That was Archie.
But he kept standing there. Looking down at her and Dilya as a smile slowly grew on his face. He’d looked so serious at the airport, which had completely unnerved her. But now—even in the dim light—she could see the lopsided smile that she so loved settle over him. That was the man she was marrying.
He watched them for a few moments before going over to the couch. It wasn’t near long enough for a grown man, it was barely long enough for Dilya. But he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he simply curled up with that goofy smile on his face.
She fell asleep with him watching over his new family.
Chapter 8
Archie wasn’t sure if he’d eaten dinner, but he’d surely drunk it. Attempting to sleep off the aftereffects—while twisted up like a pretzel on the short couch—hadn’t worked.
Mark handed him several aspirin and a double espresso, then dug out his uniform and began ironing it for him. If there was one thing the Army taught you, it was how to have an immaculate uniform.
Kee and Dilya were gone of course.
He showered, dressed, and was fed more coffee before he truly regained consciousness. He came to stand at the altar.
Kee's Wedding Page 2
