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An Unlikely Daddy

Page 16

by Rachel Lee


  She sniffed the air. “Do I smell pine?”

  “Ryker put up a Christmas tree.”

  Julie turned her attention on him. “For real? A real tree?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  Julie grinned hugely. “Fantastic! The last few years Marisa didn’t even bother to put up that fiber-optic tree of hers. As if it was too much trouble when Johnny wouldn’t be home. Now, that was sad.”

  Marisa watched something pass between the two of them. What was it? A warning? An understanding?

  “Well, this I’ve got to see,” Julie announced, bouncing up out of her chair and carrying her coffee to the living room.

  Marisa looked at Ryker almost apologetically, but he simply smiled and shrugged. Well, if he wasn’t disturbed by this intrusion, she certainly wasn’t. Julie had a habit of popping in at odd times, and ordinarily Marisa was glad to see her. It was just that this time...this time, what? She wanted to be alone with Ryker? Foolish hope.

  They followed Julie into the living room, and Ryker turned on the lights for her.

  “Awesome!” was Julie’s pronouncement. “And you finally got your blue spruce. I love it!”

  “Well,” she said, turning to Marisa, “a gang of over-hyper five-year-olds awaits me. Christmas turns them into demons, I swear. I envy their anticipation and excitement, but controlling it is a job for a whole army.”

  She gave Marisa a hug, set her coffee cup in the sink and vanished through the door.

  “Is she always such a whirlwind?” Ryker asked, sounding almost bemused.

  “No, but sometimes. I think she’s worrying about me.”

  “She doesn’t have anything to worry about,” he said with a firmness that surprised her.

  Now what the hell did that mean?

  But Ryker had returned to sphinx mode and left her wondering.

  * * *

  Three days later, Ryker was out in the cold hanging the lights Marisa had agreed to, along with a wreath for the front door. The day was bitter, and he ducked inside often for a cup of coffee and a few minutes to warm up. Marisa was calling her friends, inviting them over for coffee and cookies. As he watched her chat with them, smiling and looking content, he knew he was in trouble.

  He needed to start pulling away. She was showing signs of caring for him, like the way she always had hot coffee ready for him when he came inside. Other little things were mounting up, too.

  Nobody had ever cared for him this way, and it worried him. But every time he told himself to start forging some space between them, he discovered something that troubled him even more: he couldn’t make himself do it.

  As he stood on the ladder outside, receiving occasional help and advice from friendly neighbors, he took a long, hard look at himself. He had a weakness, a serious weakness, for Marisa Hayes, and the self-control that had marked his entire adult life vanished the instant he got close to her.

  Weakness of any kind was a dangerous thing, for himself and others. He hadn’t missed Julie’s significant look of warning the other morning. He was determined to heed it but kept failing. Apparently the only way he could separate himself from this woman was to leave, and he refused to do that until after the baby was safely born.

  Only then would he feel he’d kept his promise to John.

  But as for paying his penance...hell, this all felt too good to be penance. All of it, from standing at the foot of the ladder and talking to the guy next door, to going inside and seeing Marisa’s happy face.

  He just hoped she wasn’t still worried about betraying John. Too bad she’d probably be the one who felt betrayed after he left. Damn, he should never have given in to her, should never have taken her to bed, even though he’d known how his refusal would wound her.

  Talk about a rock and a hard place.

  He was standing at the foot of the ladder, the job nearly done, when Ray from next door came over for the second time. “It’s nice to see Marisa decorating,” he remarked. “Fiona likes it. So, you were Johnny’s friend, huh?”

  Some friend, thought Ryker. “Yeah.”

  “Good of you to come see her through this. I wonder if Johnny would have been here? He almost never was.” Then Ray shook his head. “Not my business, especially not now. Fiona would kill me for mentioning it.”

  Fiona would kill him? The thought amused Ryker, since he had gathered that Marisa thought Fiona was a huge gossip.

  Just then two kids tumbled out of the house next door, laughing and shrieking. School was out for the day. The holiday vacation began next week, he gathered.

  “My call,” said Ray. “Time to take them to the skating rink. See you around.”

  Ryker watching Ray round up excited children and pile them into the car. The sight both amused him and appealed to him. Maybe there were some complications in being a father, like kids who wanted to play tag when they needed to be getting into the car.

  When the car was gone, Ryker stepped back to survey his handiwork. It looked okay, actually. Spaced well, nothing hanging loose. Pleased, he took the ladder to the detached garage, then went in the side door.

  When he entered the kitchen, he knew immediately that something had changed. Shucking his outerwear, he dumped it over the kitchen chair and went hunting. He found Marisa standing in the living room, staring at the tree.

  “Marisa?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. Concerned, he walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Phone call,” she said in a thick voice.

  “What?” An extremely rare sense of panic began to fill him. “Did something bad happen?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not.” She shook herself a little, but he didn’t let go of her. “A man from the State Department is coming to see me on Saturday. He has a letter for me.”

  Ryker felt gut-punched. He’d gotten it for her, but he hadn’t expected it. He knew exactly what she was going to receive, and it didn’t offer much information that she didn’t already have. When it was over...when it was over, she was going to know the extent of his duplicity.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s the day of your party. Maybe you should postpone it.”

  “I tried to postpone him, but I couldn’t.” She turned, facing him. “Is it a letter from Johnny?” she asked, whispering.

  “If they had something like that, you’d have gotten it with the rest of his belongings.”

  “So, this official?” Her eyes seemed to have sunken, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “More information?”

  “I doubt there’ll be much.” Just the most damning information of all...for him.

  She placed a hand over her mouth, closing her eyes, swaying a bit until he steadied her. “I guess you rattled those bars pretty good,” she said weakly, then pulled away from him and went back to the kitchen.

  Standing alone in the living room, he hated himself. She’d wanted to know, he’d believed she deserved to know, but at that point he hadn’t considered all the possible ramifications. She was about to be wounded anew, and he might as well pack his bags and head back to the motel. After this she’d never be able to trust him.

  But he couldn’t leave her alone with this. Time for his atonement. All the lies he lived were about to come back to haunt him. He was going to pay big-time.

  But he deserved it. He absolutely deserved it.

  When he finally went out to the kitchen again, Marisa was back on the phone, telling all her friends that something had come up and she needed to postpone the party. Promising to reschedule.

  But what he heard in her voice was the rending grief he’d heard when he first arrived. The escape from reality was over.

  They were both about to revisit hell.

  * * *

&
nbsp; Marisa felt the change in Ryker from the instant she told him about the call. He knew what was coming, but wasn’t about to tell her. Damn these men and their secrets.

  Anger bubbled quietly in her as she thought about all the years lost to secrets. All the things that she would never know about her husband, about Ryker. And whatever was coming on Saturday, Ryker clearly felt it could be a problem.

  She hated secrets, most especially operational secrets. She half expected that what would come on Saturday was another pile of secrets, this time secrets that she would have to keep. God, she hated it. She wanted it over. She wanted the life she had just been starting to rebuild.

  Now some guy from State was going to come and destroy it all one way or another. Yes, she wanted to know more about what had happened to Johnny, but she’d begun to make peace with never knowing. Now they were going to sweep that away, and she’d have to start all over again.

  She’d begged for this, and Ryker had tried to give it to her, and now she was wishing she hadn’t asked and he hadn’t tried.

  That wasn’t fair to him. She knew it. But even as he was keeping his distance, she realized she was doing the same. They went to bed together at night, but no more lovemaking. She accepted him holding her, and yet she couldn’t let him any closer than that.

  He seemed to feel the same. He didn’t even try. She wanted to badger him, hoping for something to prepare her, but she could feel he would offer no answers. None. Maybe he didn’t have them. Maybe he was just giving her space because he knew this was going to reawaken her grief.

  How could it not?

  Saturday dragged toward them on leaden feet. Hours seemed to stretch endlessly. It seemed now that two strangers lived in this house, the way it had been when he’d first arrived. She hated it, but she skirted anything personal as assiduously as he did.

  God, she just wished Saturday would get here so she could deal with whatever it was. It might not be half as bad as she imagined, but from the way Ryker was acting, she doubted it. He knew something—damn him. Didn’t he at least owe it to her to prepare her?

  She’d have felt a whole lot better if he’d acted as if this visit were a meaningless formality. Instead, she couldn’t escape the sense that he knew something bad was on the way. Sometimes she could have hated him. He was part of the secrecy that had taken such a toll on her life. She’d accepted that once, but she refused to accept it again.

  Truth. God, she needed truth in her life.

  Maybe that was what was coming on Saturday. Truth.

  But even as she quailed and railed internally, she kept remembering making love with that man. That had been honest. Maybe the only truthful thing about him. Little enough.

  * * *

  When Saturday arrived, she pulled on the only maternity dress she had bothered to buy, a simple dark blue with white piping at the neck. For the first time in countless months she used makeup. She didn’t know what this guy from State was expecting, but he wasn’t going to find a washed-out hag...even if she felt like one.

  “I should be here,” Ryker said as she emerged from the bedroom. “I can stay out of the way if you want, but in case...”

  “In case what? I already got the worst news.”

  The bite of her own voice shocked her, and she watched Ryker’s face shutter. He might have pulled into himself, but she was driving him away.

  She drew a long breath, but she wasn’t about to apologize. “Keep your secrets,” she added bitterly, then marched into the living room and sat waiting.

  “I’ll get the door,” he said, remaining in the foyer.

  “Fine.”

  Why did she feel as if her life was about to end again? She was probably making too much of this, being unfair. But as she sat with her fists clenched, her baby stirring in her belly, she was through with making excuses for herself or anyone else.

  The doorbell rang, and she stiffened. She heard Ryker answer it. It even sounded as if they were exchanging credentials.

  Moments later a man in a dark suit entered the living room, carrying a slender portfolio. Behind him she could see Ryker hanging his overcoat on the hall tree.

  “Mrs. Hayes?”

  “Ms.”

  “I’m sorry. Ms. Hayes, I’m Dan Crandall. May I sit?”

  She waved him to the couch. He sat facing her. Ryker remained standing in the doorway.

  “First, I need to lay some groundwork. You were married to John Kenneth Hayes?”

  “Yes.”

  Crandall nodded. “All right. I’m going to show you a letter and a couple of photographs. They’re classified, so I won’t be able to leave them with you. Do you understand?”

  “Oh, I understand secrecy,” she said, reaching for pleasant and barely succeeding.

  Crandall gave a fleeting smile. “I imagine you do. I also have to tell you that you won’t be able to discuss this information with anyone. Your child can eventually know, but no one else. This information could endanger the lives of others.”

  For the first time she understood that there was more involved here than her own loss. She nodded, her mouth turning dry.

  “All right.” He opened his portfolio and passed her a photograph of a wall with black stars on it. “See the star circled in red? That’s your husband’s. His name will never appear on it.”

  She swallowed hard, staring at it.

  “In front of the wall in that case you see is a carefully guarded book with all the names of our fallen agents inscribed. The public can’t look. The only time families can is during our annual memorial service. Henceforth, you will be invited to attend. It’s up to you whether you come or not.”

  She drew a long breath, nodding as he took the photo back.

  “This,” he said, handing her another, “is a photo of your husband’s inscription in the book. I’m sorry we had to black out the other names, but I’m sure you understand.”

  She wasn’t sure she understood any of this. Stars without names? A book no one could see? But staring down at Johnny’s carefully inscribed name, she felt the pain pierce her all over again. At least others would never forget him or forget his sacrifice.

  When he took that photo back, he offered her a sheet of paper. As soon as she saw the letterhead, her world turned black.

  * * *

  When she came to, she was lying on her back with a worried Ryker over her.

  “Marisa?”

  “I’m okay.” Although she wasn’t sure of that at all. “Help me up.”

  He did so carefully, and soon had her seated in her rocker again. Crandall still sat on the couch, his previously expressionless face now displaying concern.

  “I’m sorry,” she said automatically.

  “You’re not the first person I’ve seen faint. I’m just glad you didn’t fall.”

  “Lovely job you have.”

  “You had the harder one,” he said frankly. “Do you want to see that letter again?”

  She nodded, accepting it. The blue CIA logo adorned the top, beneath it the words “Office of the Director.”

  Now that the shock had passed, she scanned the words below. Not very different from the first letter she’d received from the State Department. A true hero, died in the line of duty serving his country, a sacrifice that would never be forgotten, deep sympathy for her loss... Meaningless.

  She stared at it, the words coming in and out of focus. CIA. That was the shocker. It was also an amazing clarifier. She looked at Ryker. “You, too?”

  He hesitated, then finally gave her what she needed. “Yes.”

  “Why the lies?” she asked.

  Crandall answered. “State is a cover story. It protects lives, Ms. Hayes. More than you can imagine. Right now, your husband’s associates abroad are at risk. That’s why we have to ask you to
keep this secret. That’s why we don’t name the stars and why we keep the book so well guarded. A single identity could cause deadly ripples, costing the lives of men, women and children who knew him.”

  Again she nodded, barely absorbing this. “I need some water.” Ryker hurried out and returned swiftly with a glass. She drank half of it in one draft. “How much can I ask?”

  “As much as you want. But I’ll tell you right now, I know nothing beyond what I told you.” Gently, he reclaimed the letter and slipped it into his portfolio. “I’m sorry it took so long to get this to you, but I was assured there were unfolding events. Again, that’s the extent of my knowledge.” He gave her a half smile. “For obvious reasons, they keep me in the dark.”

  Another dead end for her. Truth, at last, but a dead end. Except for one thing: Ryker.

  Now she knew who he was and how he had lied to her, too.

  Rising, she left the room and headed for bed. She was done.

  * * *

  Secrets, Ryker thought as he watched Crandall drive away, were secrets. Omissions. Things not spoken of. To say he worked for State was an outright lie. His cover was blown, the lie revealed, and he wouldn’t blame Marisa if she never spoke another word to him.

  She had trusted him in so many ways, inviting him into her house and into her bed. He couldn’t imagine she would ever trust him again.

  He wanted to blow it off. He was used to the price his life exacted, but this was somehow different. He ached for a woman and a fatherless child, and thought that maybe some prices were too high.

  Too late now. He’d mucked this up big-time and couldn’t see a way back from it. When she’d asked him if he was CIA, too, he’d seen the betrayal in her gaze. Lies. More lies. A big lie from him.

  He had told her he wasn’t Johnny, but now she knew he was. A liar. A covert operative who couldn’t tell the truth about anything. A man who went into danger without telling those who loved them, who might leave them with nothing but an anonymous star and a condolence letter they couldn’t keep.

  He suspected that, except for his pushing, Marisa might never have received a letter at all. It had happened before. God, he hated it, and the hate was growing deeper by the day.

 

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