Nancy Herkness

by Shower Of Stars

  “It’s okay. Major is living at Isabelle’s house. You’ve met her so you know how nice she is. He comes here every day while you’re in school.” Charlie sat on the bed. “Major understands. He doesn’t mind at all.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I’m glad you told me though. Now it’s sleepy time. Good night, sweetheart.”

  Charlie found Jack standing on the back porch, looking out at the channel and the lights of the next town up the shoreline. When she came out, he turned. “I’m going to head back to New York tonight.”

  “Is the couch that uncomfortable?”

  “I’ve got an early appointment.”

  Charlie studied his face in the light coming through the French doors. “You’re making a quick getaway.”

  He made an impatient gesture. “Face it, sweetheart, you and I are like matches and gasoline—a bad combination.”

  Charlie suddenly felt like living dangerously. “Why is it bad?” she prodded. “We’re adults, we’re unattached.” She laughed, “Actually, we’re married to each other. Why is it bad to admit the attraction?”

  He paced to the end of the porch and back. “You know as well as I do there’s more to sex than just the pleasure of the moment. It creates bonds that have to be dealt with.”

  “So you feel we’ve bonded?” Charlie was deliberately pushing him now.

  “Not yet.”

  “What if I don’t expect any bonds?”

  He laughed. “You’ve already saddled me with a dog, a daughter, and a trip to China. Now talk to me about no expectations.”

  Charlie waved that away. “Those have nothing to do with sex and you know it.”

  “Don’t they now?” He walked up to her and stood an inch away. His voice took on a husky, caressing quality. “Do you think I’d be standing here right now if you weren’t temptation personified?”

  “I’m not sure how to interpret that.”

  “Interpret it like this: you are beautiful, smart and sexy as hell. You are also a trap. You have a cozy house, a child, pets, a Volvo station wagon, and you look good even with all that baggage hanging on you.”

  “Have you run out of testosterone-saturated clichés yet?”

  His mouth tightened but he didn’t respond.

  “May I point out that you not only built this particular trap, you set it, walked into it and then persuaded me to join you!” Charlie said.

  “I’m just trying to escape before the jaws close and I have to gnaw my own leg off.”

  “And anyone who considers children ‘baggage’ has a warped view of the universe,” she continued.

  “You won’t get an argument from me on that.”

  “Oh, spare me the tortured soul routine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re an adult now—in fact, a fairly impressive one—”

  “Much obliged.”

  “—you need to stop letting this deep, dark secret in your past control your life. Nothing could be so bad that you can’t get through it.” Charlie glanced at him and stopped.

  He held himself so tightly coiled she thought he might blow up. She braced herself, then relaxed as he turned away to look out toward the black shimmer of the channel. In a voice as cold as the depths of space, he said, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She had never heard anyone sound so far beyond human sympathy, and she was instantly contrite. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry I said it.”

  They stood silent and still for a long minute.

  “I’ll see you at the party,” he finally said, and walked back through the French doors into the house.

  Charlie heard the jingle of car keys and two quiet clicks as the front door opened and closed. She stayed on the porch until the snarl of the Land Rover’s engine had faded into the night. Only then did she remember to breathe.

  Thirteen

  “Charlie, wake up!”

  Charlie reluctantly climbed out of the depths of the sleep she had welcomed after hours of tossing and turning. She pried her eyes open and saw Sallyanne standing by her bed fully dressed. “Morning, sweetheart,” she managed. “Did I sleep late?”

  “Yes.”

  Charlie squinted at the clock. Eight A.M. on a Saturday qualifies as late to a nine-year-old…

  “I want to go see Major.”

  “Sweetheart,” Charlie cleared her throat. Her voice had sounded like a croak. “You don’t have to worry about Major. He’s fine.”

  “No, I want to go see him. Right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Mama said you have to face your fears. So I promise I won’t be afraid of him.”

  “You know, you’re an extraordinarily brave girl. But you’ve faced enough—”

  Sallyanne’s chin set hard. “I want to see Major today.”

  “Do you want to go as soon as I get dressed?”

  The little girl nodded.

  Charlie wasn’t sure this expedition was a good idea, but she didn’t know how to dissuade the child, so she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and called Isabelle to let her know they were coming. Sallyanne held tightly to Charlie’s hand as they walked across the back lawn and knocked on the door.

  Isabelle answered and enveloped Sallyanne in a fringe-tangling hug. “Major’s in my bedroom, sleeping on his favorite rug so you can wait until you’re good and ready to meet him again. Why don’t we have some breakfast first?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am. I’d like to see Major now.”

  Isabelle raised her eyebrows at Charlie. “She’s a very determined young lady, isn’t she?”

  At the closed bedroom door, Charlie knelt down in front of Sallyanne. “I want to remind you that Major is a very sweet and gentle dog, but he’s also very big, one of the biggest dogs I’ve ever seen. And he’s very loving so he may try to lick you or rub his head against you. If you get at all scared, or even just nervous, tell me right away.”

  Sallyanne nodded.

  Isabelle opened the door, went in and knelt beside the big white dog curled up on the braided rug. When Major saw Charlie, his tail thumped and he started to get up. Isabelle said, “Down!” and held onto his collar. Major looked puzzled but subsided on the rug.

  Sallyanne took three steps toward the dog.

  He watched her, his ears cocked alertly, and his tail thumping. Five more steps and she was in front of him. She leaned forward to brush the top of his head with her fingertips. Major whined, and Sallyanne jumped backward.

  “He’s just saying hello,” Charlie explained. “He wants to get up and come see both of us, but he’s obeying Isabelle because he knows it’s the right thing to do.”

  “He’s a good dog,” Sallyanne said. “He’s a really good dog.”

  She stepped forward a little farther and this time gave his head a full pat. Major whined again, and although the girl started, she kept her hand on his head. “He’s not as soft as I thought he’d be,” she whispered, patting him again.

  “The outside of his fur is coarse but the underneath layer is like lamb’s wool,” Isabelle commented. She buried her fingers in the dog’s thick fur and showed Sallyanne the soft undercoat. Sallyanne dropped down to the floor to bury her own fingers in the white hair.

  “He must get awful hot in the summer.”

  “It’s sort of like insulation,” Charlie said, sitting cross-legged and letting Major lick her face as she hugged his neck. “It keeps him warm in the winter and cool in the summer.”

  “Do you like it when he licks you?” Sallyanne wanted to know.

  “Well, it’s kind of wet, but it’s his way of telling me he’s happy to see me so I guess I do.”

  “Will he lick me?”

  “If you get your face close to his tongue, he will.”

  Sallyanne inched over and sat between Charlie’s knees. Major immediately transferred his attention to her small face, lapping a doggy kiss right up her chin, across her lips and up her nose to her eyebrows. The little girl giggled. “Yuck!” Then she put
her face closer for another lick.

  Charlie felt the tension leave her shoulders as she watched Sallyanne very gingerly put her arms around Major’s neck the way she’d seen Charlie do it. The dog licked her ear, her neck and her arm, and Sallyanne giggled even more. Isabelle met her gaze and said, “It looks as though I won’t have Major for company anymore. I’ll miss him.”

  Charlie grinned. “You’re a peach.”

  “Can Major have breakfast with us?” Sallyanne asked.

  After Major was ceremoniously fed his kibble and the humans ate their corn muffins, they went out on Isabelle’s back porch so Sallyanne could throw a ball for him. Soon the girl and the dog were fast friends, and Isabelle and Charlie settled in two wicker chairs to watch them playing on the grass.

  “You look tired,” Isabelle said. “Is Sallyanne wearing you out?”

  “No, I just didn’t sleep well last night.” She smacked her forehead. “I completely forgot to tell you: Rhonda Brown approved my adoption!”

  “Oh, Charlie, that’s wonderful.” Isabelle leaned across the space between them to kiss her cheek. “Many, many congratulations! Not that I doubted for a moment it would happen. So excitement kept you awake last night?”

  “Ye-e-es.”

  Isabelle looked at her.

  “No. Yes and no. I was excited but I was also upset.”

  “The hunter?”

  “How do you always know?”

  Isabelle shrugged, making her fringe ripple.

  “He brushes off all questions about his life which only makes me more determined to find out what he’s really like.” Charlie sighed. “We had a bit of a fight. I regret some of the things I said, no matter how true they were.”

  Isabelle laughed. “Sounds as though he’s just like a member of your family.”

  “Well, maybe like a mysterious third cousin you see once every ten years.”

  “Is he a ‘kissing cousin’?”

  Charlie tilted her head back to stare at the wrought-iron lantern hanging from the porch ceiling. “Yes, he is.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Isabelle said, shaking her head. “Oh well, the heart has its reasons…”

  “The heart is not the body part that’s involved here,” Charlie snorted.

  “So you say. Well, you’d best call and apologize before you lose any more sleep.”

  “Not a chance.”

  That evening, Charlie picked up the telephone and dialed Jack’s apartment. When she heard the click of the connection, she almost lost her nerve and hung up.

  “Hello, this is Jack Lanett.”

  “Hi, it’s Charlie.”

  “Now how the hell did you find out already?”

  “What? Find out what?” Charlie held the phone an inch away from her ear to mute the roar of Jack’s usually mellifluous voice. Then she heard him take a deep breath.

  “Why are you calling?” he asked in a quieter tone.

  “Never mind. What did you think I found out?”

  He muttered a curse. “I suppose you’ll hear it sooner or later. Mauritania has laid claim to Sahara-Mars. I’ve spent the whole damned day in various diplomatic offices listening to more B.S. than you could muck out of a sheep shack.”

  Charlie stifled a laugh. He was sounding very deep woods Georgia all of a sudden. Stress must bring out his roots… “Why does Mauritania think they have any claim to ownership?” She could hear leather creak and guessed he had sat down.

  “They don’t, really. It’s a ploy. I don’t know how much of the region’s history you’re aware of, but both Morocco and Mauritania think they own Western Sahara. At the moment, the world recognizes Morocco as the governing nation. Western Sahara has some groups who are agitating for independence but that’s a long way away. However, I made sure to get export permits from both Morocco and Western Sahara, figuring that covered all bases.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me.”

  “Well, Mauritania decided to use the publicity surrounding Sahara-Mars to put their claim to sovereignty in front of the world. They refuse to recognize the paperwork from the other two countries. Of course, the irony of all this is that no one, including me, knows exactly where the meteorite was found.”

  “But you can make an educated guess.”

  “It’s only a guess though, and I’m not volunteering it at this point.”

  “You know, I covered the U.N. for several years, and I still have some sources in the diplomatic world. Maybe I can find out what’s going on behind the scenes, and put in a good word for you.”

  Silence. Charlie tried to figure out how she had offended him.

  “That’s the nicest offer I’ve had all day,” he finally said in an oddly constrained voice. “You don’t have to call anyone; I appreciate just knowing you would.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Why wouldn’t I call these people?”

  “Because you don’t owe me anything.”

  Charlie collapsed onto the couch in exasperation. “I’m not doing it out of a sense of obligation. I’m doing it because I…” How was she going to explain what Isabelle had guessed, that he was part of her makeshift family now whether he wanted to be or not. “I’m doing it because I like you.” Well, that was about as lame as an explanation could get. She braced herself for his ridicule.

  “Thanks. I like you too.”

  She was relieved to hear a smile in his voice although there was just the slightest bit of dry emphasis on the “like.”

  “All right, I’ll take you up on your offer,” he said. “Make your phone calls, but don’t abuse your connections on my account. I can take care of myself. This isn’t the first time I’ve had government problems.”

  True, Charlie thought, but it was the first time they had jeopardized a multi-million dollar sale. “I’ll keep you posted,” she promised.

  “Now tell me why you called.”

  “Just to hear your charming voice?”

  “I’ve had my fill of B.S. today.”

  “Oh, fine. I called to, well, to try and put us back on a friendlier footing after last night.” Charlie breathed deeply. “The first thing I learned as a reporter was never to write the story without all the pertinent facts. And I certainly did not have all the facts last night, so I had no business criticizing you. I want to apologize for that.”

  “Nicely said. I accept your apology and extend my own. I was insulting for no reason except I wanted to make love to you in the worst way and knew it was the wrong thing to do.”

  “Oh,” Charlie gasped. His blunt description of his thoughts took her breath away.

  “It was pure frustration and inexcusable.”

  “You’re excused. I mean, I accept. Oh, whatever. I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” Charlie hung up before Jack had a chance to say another word.

  She dropped her head back on the sofa cushion and tried to get her pulse rate back to normal. An image of Jack bracing her up against one of the columns on her porch and recreating their encounter in the woods flashed across her mind’s eye. That was not the best way to get her nervous system off red-alert.

  “I won’t sleep any better tonight than last night,” she said to Major, “but at least it’ll be for a different reason.”

  Jack looked at the phone in his hand.

  “She hung up on me.”

  Miguel sauntered into the kitchen. “I’m not surprised. First, you dump your Mauritania problem on her, and then you tell her you’re sexually frustrated. I’d hang up too.”

  “You were eavesdropping?”

  Miguel shrugged with patent unconcern.

  “She offered to use her connections at the U.N. to help us,” Jack said.

  “As would any good wife.”

  When Jack’s phone whizzed past his ear, Miguel just laughed.

  Fourteen

  Charlie hit the disconnect button and rubbed her temples.

  It was two o’clock on Sunday afternoon, and she felt as though the telephone headset were surgically attached to t
he top of her skull. While she worked her rolodex, Sallyanne was on the back porch with Major and Volume Five of the Chronicles of Narnia. Fortunately, Jack had assessed the situation correctly: Mauritania was just grabbing publicity. Every foreign service officer and attaché she had been able to reach assured her Morocco would mobilize its own counter-campaign.

  Unfortunately, going through diplomatic channels took time.

  Time they didn’t have; Jack’s preview party was in two days.

  She was about to autodial Jack’s number when the doorbell rang. Ripping off the headset, Charlie stood up and stretched briefly before heading for the door.

  Rhonda Brown stood on her front porch. “I have news,” she announced as Charlie let her in.

  “Good or bad?”

  “It depends. Where’s Sallyanne?”

  “On the porch reading,” Charlie said, starting toward the French doors.

  “I’ll say hello and come back inside. I don’t want her to hear this yet.”

  Charlie sat down at the kitchen table to wait. When Rhonda returned and sat down across from her, she said, “Okay, spill it.”

  “We found Sallyanne’s father.”

  “So I was right, he is alive! That’s great!” Charlie said, even as the pain of the inevitable separation tore at her. Something in Rhonda’s expression made her add, “Isn’t it?”

  “When you’ve been in this line of work as long as I have, you learn to trust your instincts. I talked with Don McGraw. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Did he say anything wrong?”

  “No,” Rhonda said, shaking her head. “He said everything he should have, and that’s why I don’t trust him. I told him to come up here and stay a week to make the transition easier. That way you and I and that husband of yours can look him over before we let him take her back to Tennessee.”

  “When does he plan to arrive?”

  “Late tonight. We’ll arrange for them to have lunch together tomorrow. Food always helps smooth over any rough spots in a first meeting.”