Danger Close (Contemporary Military Romance)

by Laura Day

  “Chicken shit.”

  “Yep, that’s me. Now, get your ass in the passenger seat.”

  She did as she was told, nonchalantly throwing her bag into the backseat as she did. It was really only then she thought to ask where Michael was, wondering if she would have hit him with the bag if he had been there. He was safe at a babysitter’s, she soon learned. With Michael away for a few hours, the two sisters could grab some lunch, and Angie could show her some of the city. It really was remarkable in places. Yep, it’s a brand new day, Sarah thought.

  The sights were great, and Sarah found the ocean to be the most incredible. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen it. She was 12, 13 maybe. Either way, it was a long damn time ago. They found a small restaurant at the end of one of the longer fishing piers and that had been the clincher as far as she was concerned. Small tables lined the eatery all around, and they were able to grab one nearest the end of the pier, offering an unobstructed view. She could definitely get used to this. Even the strong aroma from the sea water, while slightly resembling something other than pleasant, quickly grew on her, eventually adding to the wonder of it all.

  “This is off the chain, Sis. I mean really off the fucking chain,” she said, still staring out at the open water and soaking it all in. The raw beauty around her and the grandeur of it all was unbelievable to her.

  “Yeah,” Angie simply said, perhaps allowing Sarah the opportunity to see it all without interruption or perhaps even really seeing it again for herself. “I come down here a lot when Derrick’s away. I know it’s weird, but sometimes I think I can feel him looking back at me from wherever he is out there.”

  She hadn’t thought about that. Of course, she came out here and looked at the water. Of course, she did. As far as Angie actually feeling him looking back, she could dig that, too. It was beautiful, the kind of beauty she could only imagine. A love that strong was something she sometimes felt was all in her head. Its reality was reserved for someone else, but never her, not really. Suddenly, she felt the need to change the subject.

  “You do any writing out here?” she finally managed.

  “How could I not? Are you serious?” They both laughed. Each knew all too well the inspiration that could be found in the raw power of the air and the waves crashing against the beach below them.

  “Yea, that was silly. I’ll bet you two pretty much live down here.”

  “Not really,” Angie answered, looking away from the water and back at her sister again. “He doesn’t really like coming here when he is home. He spends most of his time on the water and all.”

  “That makes sense, I guess. Although I find it hard to believe that anyone could ever get tired of this,” she said, pointing out at the vast expanse almost in disbelief. But, maybe that was just them, her sister and her husband. Hell, maybe Angie only came here to feel closer to Derrick.

  Sarah thought how nice it must be to be so in tune with someone so far away that you could actually block all this out. Damn. She could feel that loneliness trying to creep in again. It was a longing for something more powerful than she had known and more beautiful that the sunsets undoubtedly were on this pier. Fuck me, she thought.

  They enjoyed their lunch, sandwiches and water, in more silence than not. Both were again lost in their own thoughts. Angie clearly missing Derrick, and Sarah was missing something she couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was a new day alright, but the same longing reminded her it had tagged along.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The days slowly faded into weeks, and Sarah grew more comfortable in her sister’s house. She was even more comfortable on the small pier she had found a few miles south of the one where she and Angie had eaten lunch on her first day in California. This one had no restaurant, and it also lacked the multiple sections which shot out to the sides along its length for fishing. It was just an older wooden pier with a few wooden benches. It was seldom frequented, as it lacked more of the aesthetic beauty the rest of the piers in San Diego boasted. Sarah had fallen in love with it and felt some odd connection to its emptiness, its loneliness. She could go for hours on the pier without seeing another person, and that appealed to her the most.

  Some of the nails stuck their heads above the wooden rails, threatening to snag a shoe. But all that was part of its forgotten charm. The pier’s subtle nuances, hidden within the guise of neglect, served as imperfect character traits, boldly mirroring those within her. But the recognition that her soul mate was, in fact, a forgotten pier on the outer rings of San Diego did little to dampen her newfound peace. In truth, it did quite the opposite. It opened a porthole to long buried emotions and insights. It allowed her the freedom to explore her own thoughts, the endless strands of ideals which had once eluded understanding.

  While she spent as much time as she could with Angie, going to the doctor appointments, hanging out, reminiscing, and reconnecting, she found herself drawn to the pier whenever possible. Many times, this meant coming at night after Angie had gone to sleep. The chilly night air coming off of the water often made a jacket a requirement for these trips, while the days could be enjoyed in shorts or a light skirt. Neither was more preferable to her than the other, their contrasts making them unique and equally rewarding in their own right. If asked if she liked the night or the day, he answer would be a simple yes.

  Angie came with her occasionally, but the majority of her trips to the pier were made alone. She had actually begged Angie to come with her at first, but in time came to realize that she preferred Angie’s company anywhere but the pier. Anywhere else they were like the sisters of old. Laughing and joking fits were separated by long conversations of more meaningful content. But, at the pier, Angie was almost a distraction. She seemed to draw her attention away from the beautiful emptiness and the chaotic bliss that were created by the crashing waves.

  Angie couldn’t feel the emptiness and chaos because she felt Derrick. However, Sarah felt Derrick, as well. She preferred to be alone when she felt him, so she wouldn’t have to worry if her sister knew what occasionally crossed her mind.

  She was fairly certain Angie had been the initial cause of it. Her energy was overbearingly strong, as she searched for him and longed for him. Sarah could feel it emanating from her, electrifying the air around them, igniting it before it raced across the Pacific. The feeling was as intense as anything she had felt. It wrapped around her, as she sat beside her sister, eventually linking to her, as well. Somehow, it seemed to work around its own agenda. It recognized the need inside her, the longing for something so powerful, so beautiful. And it answered that call.

  Alone, she would allow that feeling to flow through her, welcoming its borrowed implications. In time, she had been able to relieve herself of any guilt of the act, insisting it was the idea of Derrick she yearned for, not actually him. It worked more times than not, at least until she felt him yearning for her, too. That took all the naivety out of the equation completely, leaving her unable to fool even herself.

  “Fuck me,” she said into the charged air around her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I don’t remember you talking in your sleep when we were little.”

  The words hung in the air like a wet blanket, olive green, check. Sarah fumbled for her cigarettes, afraid it appeared that she was avoiding the question rather than the putting up the indifferent facade she intended. The two women had been on the balcony for more than hour, not really saying anything aside from the general morning greetings. The coffee pot on the small table between them was nearly empty already. The always present gentle breeze on the balcony had offered a middle ground where she could smoke in the mornings and Angie could join her without fearing any detrimental effects to the child inside her. It was nice in the mornings and had made the morning coffee somewhat of a ritual for the two. However, the air today had a different feel altogether.

  “I didn’t, I don’t think,” she said, a forced smile attempting to remap the direction she was afraid the conversatio
n was heading, the direction which led straight over a fucking cliff. Angie smiled back at her, genuine and soft, allowing Sarah some sense of relief. She really had no idea what she might have said in her sleep, only dreading what it might be. “Why? Was I babbling last night?”

  She didn’t want to ask. Dear God, she was afraid of the answer, but still she felt like the only way she could deny any guilt would be if she had no idea what was up. Christ, what a fucked up way to start the day. She braced herself for the undeniable possibility of being left with no alternative but to lie to her sister. Not just any sister either. Oh, hell no. This was the sister who was letting her stay in her house, eat her food, drive her car. Shit. Angie laughed.

  “No, you weren’t babbling. You were talking plain-as-hell.”

  Sarah took another sip of the coffee before lighting the cigarette she held between her fingers. Her mind was running rampant. Here it comes. Shit. Shit. Shit. Here it fucking comes. Why the hell are you dreaming about my husband? Why the hell are you moaning and groaning all night long, wishing my husband’s cock was inside you? What the fuck kind of sister are you, you fucking whore? She laughed, trying so hard to make it seem natural, to make it seem like she really had no idea what was going on.

  “What was I saying?” she asked, as innocently as she could.

  However, her mind wouldn’t let it go. Fuck’s sake, don’t tell me. Dear, sweet Jesus, don’t tell me I said anything about him. She thought for a second that she should just apologize now, tell Angie she had been having weird dreams and that they meant nothing at all. She wouldn’t have to actually hear her sister say the words at least. That would make it almost bearable, not to mention somewhat passable as a defense or sorts.

  Instead, Sarah simply added, “I don’t remember dreaming anything.”

  It had come out before she even knew it was coming, inspired by some unknown defense mechanism apparently only whore sisters had. This was torture, pure self-imposed tortured. Hell, she was surprised Angie hadn’t realized the longing which had somehow come up inside her before now. She never meant it, hell she really didn’t even know the man. It was the weirdest damn thing. It really was. It was as though she had no control over it, no say in the matter. However, it was there. There was no denying it.

  She was surprised Angie hadn’t felt it somehow, the way Sarah had felt it when it was only in Angie. Or maybe that was it. Since they really were emotions that were borrowed from her sister, maybe Angie never realized it was now coming from her, too. Was that possible? Was any of this possible? What the fuck did she say in her sleep?

  “Well…?”

  “It was really weird,” she finally began. “You kept apologizing to someone, saying you didn’t mean it, you never meant for it to happen. I almost woke you up. You sounded so hurt, so upset. You were crying the whole time, too. That was the worst part. You really don’t remember dreaming anything at all?”

  She really didn’t. There was no denying where it had come from. She was fully aware of the situation behind the dream, and the guilt inside her for something she hadn’t even done; but, she didn’t remember the dream at all. A part of her was glad she didn’t, especially if that was all it was. Luckily, there was nothing really incriminating, like names and such. Well, like one particular name anyway.

  “No, nothing at all,” she managed to say, no longer feeling a need to hide her trepidation at the subject. It was weird enough she could appear alarmed without really even trying. Of course, the uneasiness appeared to come from a lack of knowledge about the dream which actually did seem odd; but, it was more of a release of the alarm she had been trying not to reveal all along. “That’s really weird.”

  The startling realization that Sarah had not hurt her sister washed over her unabated, but she couldn’t help it. What the hell? Seriously, this weird ass daydreaming at the pier, and this longing for a man she didn’t even know, not to mention the fact he was her sister’s husband, was just insane.

  “You ok?”

  “Yea. No. Shit, I don’t know.”

  She didn’t know what to say. The dreaming was one thing, but now real tears were falling in broad daylight, and she couldn’t stop them. Worse yet, she couldn’t tell her sister why they were falling. So she just cried, not knowing anything else to do. Angie had to have figured it out to some degree, she reasoned. When she got up and went inside the apartment, Sarah figured she had gotten the rest of it. She wanted to run after her and apologize, but she couldn’t get up. She buried her face in her hands, trying to make it just go away, all of it; but, it wouldn’t, even though the tears eventually did stop.

  When Angie returned, standing behind for a moment not speaking, she feared the worst. She bent over her and took the half empty pack of Marlboros from the table, removing one before returning them to their former location. When she picked up the lighter, Sarah couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her own fears now replace by genuine concern.

  “Oh, I figure one won’t kill me,” she said, winking at her, “but don’t tell anyone.”

  “It’s not a good idea though. And if anyone knows bad ideas, you know it’s me.”

  “Maybe, but you don’t get to corner the market.”

  Angie sat back in her chair, lighting the cigarette and drawing in deeply. This was her fault too, Sarah reasoned. Dear God, she had sent her over the edge, she thought. She watched in disbelief as the cigarette quickly shrank, its telltale ashes finding their way over the railing before disappearing and taking their secrets with them. Shit, now she needed another one herself. But as she reached for the pack, Angie started talking again.

  “I’ve been having some pretty fucked up dreams myself,” she said, “but I happen to be misfortunate enough to remember them all too clearly.”

  “Like what?” she asked, no longer prepared to hide her secrets should they come out. Angie was scaring her a bit.

  “Well, here, see for yourself,” she said, handing her a folder Sarah hadn’t noticed before. “I’ve been writing them down sort of like stories. I know Derrick reads my stuff. I caught him once, but he didn’t know I did. So, I started writing them down like they were fiction, giving myself a new name so he wouldn’t know. I want you to read these. I’m going to head to the base to pick up Michael from his playdate with the others. When I get back, I need to ask a huge favor of you.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’ll understand when you read these, I promise. We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Lori sped down the interstate, weaving between the slower cars with precision. The traffic generally flowed a good 15 mph above the posted speed limit, but they all seemed like they were sitting still as she went by them. They were unaware of the darkness which was chasing her, the very limits of which even she couldn’t understand. Glances in the rearview mirror became increasingly disturbing as each revealed her fate to be closer than the last.

  Time slowed, only to speed up again, causing the buildings along the freeway to bend in the sunlight, leaning toward her as she drove ever faster. It was coming for her and she didn’t know why. She didn’t care. If it took overtook her, she would no longer resist, for at times, she almost welcomed its embrace. The only thing driving her onward was the question, the only question which mattered. Who would take care of William and little Johnny if it took her now? That was all that mattered.

  She glanced in the mirror again and saw…”

  Sarah pulled the typed paper away from the stack and put it behind the others. Then, she began reading the next story.

  “The water flowed over her toes, warm and foamy, as she stood on the beach, looking out into the darkness. Lori had been here before, many times before, and she knew she no longer had any choice. Whether it was here, on the pier or even in the shower, the darkness called to her like a lover in the night, whispering her name. Tonight was no different; it was coming and she knew it would take her away,
but she couldn’t run. If she ran, it would only follow her and catch her when she was with them. Then, it would take them all. She couldn’t let that happen. She would face the darkness alone, trusting someone would care for them and comfort them.

  It spoke her name on the wind, telling her not to fear. But she didn’t fear the darkness. She feared only their loneliness, their pain. The darkness had been with her too long. It was coming, always coming for her, always whispering. She dared not even look behind her, to offer even the slightest indication of where they might be. They had to be safe. They had to be comforted somehow, and she knew how. She had always known, even as a little girl, she had known. They would be safe. The darkness was only for her.”

  Sarah read through the stories, all of them the same, all of them talking about the darkness. All of them talking about…about Angie. Dear God. She was dreaming she was going to die. That must be horrific. How the hell could that even be safe in her condition, to be in that state of mind? The stress alone must be unbearable.