by Sharon Sala
The warmth of his body and the strength in his arms kept the bad dream at bay.
She was whispering now. “Um...Jack?”
“What, baby?”
“What did you shoot first?” she asked.
“His right foot. He yelped a little, then had the audacity to grin, so I shot his other foot. Changed his attitude pretty fast, but he still wasn’t motivated to tell me where you were. That’s when I shot his right knee. But it wasn’t until I stuck the gun barrel in his crotch that he remembered where you were.”
Shelly sighed. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For taking the monster out of my memories and leaving me with that image.”
Jack swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You’re welcome. Close your eyes now and try to get some rest. Monster killer at your service.”
* * *
The next morning a nurse was helping Shelly dress while Jack went down to the nurses’ station to sign release papers. He came back with an orderly pushing a wheelchair.
“We’re ready to go. Are you ready, honey?”
Shelly was sitting on the edge of the bed in a pair of blue Bermuda shorts and a button-up, blue plaid shirt. A pair of backless sandals were the final touch. Thanks to Barb’s thoughtful choices, it had all been easy to get on.
“I’m so ready,” she said, then winced. Her stitches pulled like heck when she talked.
“If you want, you can go ahead and drive the car up to the front entrance, then I’ll wheel her out,” the orderly said.
Jack eyed the anxious look on Shelly’s face and turned him down.
“Thanks, but the car is in valet parking and I’m going to walk down with her.”
The tension Shelly was feeling immediately eased, knowing she wouldn’t be going down in an elevator with a stranger, and she wondered if this fear of everything would ever pass.
They walked the hall in silence, then rode down the elevator without talking, but Jack was holding her hand. When they reached the lobby, Jack got the valet receipt from his pocket.
“Wow, it appears there is a breeze today,” Jack said. “Do you want to wait inside until they bring up the car?”
“I’ll wait with you,” she said.
“Then we’re all going out,” Jack said.
Within a few minutes Shelly was buckled into the front seat and Jack was rolling down the windows to blow the hot air out of the car.
“You okay? I didn’t think about the heat. Maybe I should have—”
“I’m fine,” Shelly said, and reached across the seat and clasped his arm. “The air conditioner is already blowing cold air in my face.”
Jack lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“I can’t remember the last time I was in a car with you.”
“It’s been a while,” Shelly said. “I’m going to enjoy having you home in the daytime, even if it’s only for a little while.”
Jack rolled all the windows back up and the journey home began.
Shelly took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Finally, they were together again, which at this point seemed like a miracle. She had fully expected to die tied to that cot.
Jack turned the radio on and then turned it down low. The constant swirl of traffic, the profile of her husband’s face, the bruises and skinned knuckles on his hands, the way his eyebrows always knitted when he encountered reckless drivers.
She didn’t know she was crying until she felt tears on the backs of her hands, then began scrambling for tissues.
Jack glanced over and saw she was crying.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“Most of the time I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m sorry.”
Those dark eyebrows knitted again, but this time at her.
“Don’t you ever apologize to me again. You damn well cry when you want to, when you need to, when you have to. It’s PTSD, sweetheart. You are entitled.”
“Women are taught at an early age to apologize, even when what’s wrong is someone else’s fault. It’s a kind of brainwashing, I think. Something left over from the old times to keep women under their thumbs.”
Jack grinned.
“You’re not under anyone’s thumb, but you have certainly wrapped yourself around my heart.”
Shelly sighed. Jack did have a way with words.
“How long do you get to stay home with me?” she asked.
“Actually, I’m not going back to work,” he said. “I gave Wainwright notice the night I found you. I’ll have to put it in writing, but I’m not setting foot back in that building again.”
Shelly was shocked and it showed.
“Is this because of me? Because of what happened? I don’t want to be the reason you quit a job that means so much to you.”
“You’re not, and that job doesn’t mean so much to me anymore. It nearly cost me my life, and it came close to killing you. I want to live my life with you, not for others.”
“I’m not going to pretend this isn’t good news. It’s hard loving someone who puts their life on the line day in and day out. But since this is your idea, it makes me happy...so happy.”
Right now, the weight of the world was off Jack’s shoulders. All he had to do was get her home.
By the time he finally drove into their neighborhood, Shelly was asleep. It was when he began moving at a slower speed that she woke, and then she saw where they were.
“Oh! We’re almost home! Look! One of those houses sold.”
Jack turned down their street. “The one by our house is still for sale,” he said, and then hit the remote to raise their garage door.
As it was going up, he saw Barb coming out of her house in the rearview mirror. She was carrying a covered dish, and then one by one, four more of their neighbors fell into step with her, carrying their dishes.
“Look!” Shelly said.
“I see them. Looks like Barb organized a little welcome home for you. I’ll make sure they don’t stay long.”
“It’s okay,” Shelly said. “It just shows me that they care.”
He killed the engine and then ran around to the other side to help her out as Barb stepped into the garage.
“We aren’t staying,” she said. “We just wanted to welcome you both home and deliver a warm meal, then we’ll be gone.”
Shelly was suddenly self-conscious of her appearance, but she needn’t have worried. The women followed her and Jack into the house, praising how brave she’d been, left their food on the kitchen counter and blew her kisses.
“We’re so glad you’re home,” they said, and then they were gone.
But Shelly stopped Barb’s exit. “I heard what you did,” Shelly said. “You went a long way in saving my life. I’m so... I’m forever grateful.”
Barb hugged her gently, then looked at Shelly’s face and dissolved into tears.
“I know you suffered terrible things and I’m so sorry. You are quite a warrior woman. Promise if you need anything that you’ll let me know.”
“Yes, I will, and thank you again, Barb. You’re pretty amazing yourself.”
Barb patted her arm and let herself out. The little swarm of neighbors had come and gone so fast Jack might have thought he’d imagined it but for the food on the counter.
Jack hugged her gently. “I love you, baby, and you need to be in bed. Do you want to lie down in the bedroom, or do you want me to make a bed for you in the living room?”
“The bedroom. There’s a TV in there if I want.”
“Then that’s where you’ll be,” he said, and picked her up in his arms and carried her all the way down the hall into their room.
She slid out of his arms and undressed, then put on one of his old T-shirts as he turned down the bed.
“In you go,” he said
, and tucked her in.
“Will you lay down with me for a bit?” Shelly asked.
“I want to shower first, but I’ll leave the bathroom door open so you can hear me.”
“Is the house locked?” Shelly asked.
“Yes, and I’ll set the security alarm, too. Okay?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, and pulled the covers up beneath her chin.
He stepped out in the hall to set the alarm there, then readjusted the thermostat so it would be cooler, before he ran to the kitchen to see if any of the food needed to be refrigerated.
He put a pasta salad into the fridge along with a casserole and left the bread and dessert on the counter and the pot of soup on the stove. By the time he got back she was already asleep, but he closed their door and locked it anyway, then stripped and headed for the shower.
When he came out later, the black beard was gone. Jack McCann was back. Then he looked at Shelly, asleep in their bed, and thought, Right where I belong.
* * *
Shelly woke abruptly, her heart pounding. The dream was already fading as she found herself in Jack’s arms. She stretched gingerly, then turned over to face him. She gasped, then cupped his cheek.
His eyes opened instantly, and then he saw her and relaxed.
“You’re back,” Shelly said, feeling his clean-shaven cheek.
“I’m sure I look better,” he said.
“You feel better, too,” she said, rubbing her hand against his skin.
Jack looked up, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Oh wow, it’s after one o’clock. We missed lunch. Do you feel like trying to eat something? Remember, the neighbors brought food. There’s a pot of vegetable soup, which should be easier for you to eat.”
“Yes, okay, but I want to sit in the kitchen, okay?”
He raised up on one elbow and kissed her forehead.
“Anything you want is okay with me,” he said, and threw back the covers. “Need help?”
“I can manage,” Shelly said. “I need some shorts, though. Something with elastic in the waist. Will you look for me?”
“Absolutely,” Jack said. He got up, then helped her scoot to the side of the bed.
She went into the bathroom, while he began going through the middle drawer in their dresser where she kept gym shorts and socks. He pulled out the pink ones from Victoria’s Secret, just because he loved the way they fit her backside when she walked.
She came out, pointed a finger at him as she shook her head.
“You just like the way my butt looks in these,” she said.
“Guilty,” Jack said, as he held them open for her.
She held on to his shoulders to brace herself, and when he bent over to pull them up, she saw the new pink scar from the bullet wound on his shoulder.
“Oh no!” Shelly said.
He straightened up with a jerk. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“Your shoulder! I just now saw where you were shot. In all the awful things that happened to me before I saw you, I completely forgot this had happened.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “I am so sorry. I can’t imagine what you went through. I don’t know anything and you have to tell me. It’s what we do, remember? No secrets.”
He gave her a gentle hug. “I remember. But we’ll talk about it later, okay?”
“I hate not being able to kiss you,” she said.
“Then I’ll kiss you,” he said, starting at her chin and kissing all the way down to the hollow at the base of her throat.
Shelly sighed as she ran her fingers through the short black spikes in his hair.
“Love you,” she whispered.
“Love you more,” he said, then took her hand. “Kitchen. With me.”
She clasped his hand, grateful in so many ways. He sat her at their kitchen table, and as he began heating up soup and getting things on their plates, he opened up about what had happened the night of the bust, from being made by a snitch, to being pulled out of the water by two random fishermen. He told her about the army medic who’d dug the bullet out of his back, the giant mastiff named Dwayne. How he wouldn’t tell them his name or what had happened to him, and they still didn’t care.
He told her about a man named Paul, who named him Dude and took him home to heal, and how, when the time was right and without knowing the reason, Paul took him back into Pasadena, let him out at a gas station without a question.
Shelly was stunned by the story, and so grateful to those men.
“I need to meet them,” she said.
“I promised them we’d meet again under better circumstances. When you’re better, we’ll make it happen.”
“I can’t wait to thank each of them in person for saving you.”
He grinned. “They’ll probably all fall in love with you, which is fine. Just remember, I have known and loved you longest.”
Then he carried a bowl of soup and a plate of food to the table for her and went back to get his.
“Sweet tea?” he asked.
She nodded.
As soon as they were both seated, Jack reached across the table and clasped her hand.
“We’re blessed, baby. I feel the need to bless the food, too.”
Tears welled as Shelly bowed her head, listening to the deep rumble of Jack’s voice all the way to Amen.
He looked up, saw her tears and then winked.
Her heart lifted as she reached for her soup spoon.
“Soup’s hot, don’t burn your mouth, and it needs salt.”
Shelly grinned. Even if the stitches pulled, she didn’t care. Jack was home.
Sixteen
Two days later, Ken Ito and his wife, Kaho, were exiting their plane and following the signs to luggage claim. Ken had traveled extensively in his life and thought nothing of all the protocol it took to get in and out of airports, but Kaho was overwhelmed. She’d traveled some, but never before to North America. There were so many rules in a language she didn’t always understand that she was getting frustrated.
“When we get our luggage, where do we go from here?” she asked.
Ken was grateful to have his wife talking to him again, and even more solicitous than normal.
“You do not worry, beloved. I have arranged everything. We’ll talk more after we get our bags and get to our hotel.”
Kaho stuck close to him. It wasn’t the crowds that bothered her. All places in Japan were crowded, but people behaved differently there. Here, there were rude people pushing past, cutting in front of them, treating them as if they weren’t even there. She was not pleased.
Once they reached their luggage claim, Ken hailed a redcap to help them and then pointed out the pieces as they came around the conveyor.
As soon as they’d all been claimed, they followed the redcap to where they could hail a cab, then unloaded their luggage. Ken tipped him generously and was then approached by another man who flagged a cab for them, which required yet another tip to reload luggage into the cab. Kaho didn’t miss a thing and complained quietly in their native language as they were seated inside the cab.
“It’s the way the world works now,” Ken said, and patted her hand. Then he gave the driver the address to their hotel, asked for the air-conditioning to be turned up and settled in for the long ride.
It was almost sundown when the driver finally pulled up to the Four Seasons Hotel.
Kaho rolled her eyes. “It’s about time,” she said, again in Japanese.
Ken chuckled, and then the flurry began of getting baggage out of the cab and getting it into the hotel, which involved paying off the cabdriver, tipping one man, then another, and then another before they finally got to their rooms with their luggage.
Kaho made a quick sally through the suite, then smiled at Ken as she came out of the bathroom.
“It is clean and well-appointed,” she said. “You have chosen well.”
“Thank you, beloved. We will rest now. We have dinner reservations for 9:00 p.m. Lie down. Take a quick nap if you wish. I have some calls to make, so I’ll watch the time for both of us.”
She nodded, slipped off her shoes and lay down on the edge of the massive bed.
Ken laughed out loud. “You are going to fall off the edge. There is plenty of room.”
She looked over her shoulder at the space, then giggled a little and scooted back from the edge. The bed was comfortable. Different from what they slept on, but comfortable, and she was tired. Her eyes closed, and within minutes she was dreaming of Sota and Yuki as boys, sitting on the grass beside the koi pond, feeding the fish.
* * *
The mood the next morning was anything but jovial. Today was about reclaiming Yuki’s body. His remains had been sealed within the shipping casket, too damaged for viewing, and unavailable for any of the normal rituals Kaho would have observed as was their custom. That alone was troubling to her heart. But she could dress in an appropriate color for grieving.
She was a tiny woman, so no matter what she wore, it was always tailor-made for her. This morning, she had chosen a black dress with a hem just below her knees. It had a V-neck, which she usually preferred, and in deference to the heat, one with short sleeves. She often wore heels to her husband’s formal gatherings, but today she chose flat slippers without any decoration. The single strand of white pearls she wore were even more accentuated by the black fabric of her dress.
Her hair was wound up on top of her head in a neat twist and fastened down with a mother-of-pearl clip. Had it not been for the gray strands in her hair, Ken Ito might have been forgiven for thinking she had never aged since the day he first saw her.
They had weathered many storms together, and just as many apart, fighting about why it was happening, but they were still together. Today she was sad. It was to be expected. One of their sons had killed the other—a story as old as time.
“You look beautiful,” Ken said, as he walked up behind Kaho and kissed the back of her neck.
She glanced up in the mirror at their reflections. Ken’s hair was completely gray, but at night in their bed, age did not show. She turned around and stroked the side of his cheek.
