by Pamela Clare
And it had been perfect.
The ceremony had been held amid palm trees and tropical flowers atop a cliff overlooking the ocean, far from the prying eyes of the media. Laura had felt at peace, a gentle breeze tugging on her veil as she and Javier had spoken their vows. She would never forget the look in his eyes as he’d slipped the wedding band on her finger—happiness, desire, and enough love to last a lifetime.
The reception had gone on through the night, with music, dancing, drinking, and singing. Laura and Javier had passed out capias—little tokens of the wedding that included the date and their names and were an old Puerto Rican tradition—and then sneaked away for a private celebration of their own.
Laura couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful wedding—or wedding night.
“You’re all greased.” Javier finished, handing Laura the sunscreen, and leaned back in his chair.
Laura tucked the tube back in her bag and settled in beside him.
Nearby, Grandma Inga and Mamá Andreína erupted into peals of laughter. They’d been inseparable since the wedding—a true odd couple. Laura’s grandmother was tall and spoke not a word of Spanish, and Mamá Andreína was petite and spoke no Swedish. The only thing they had in common was white hair and a tiny bit of conversational English—and the fact that their grandchildren had just gotten married.
“What do you think the two of them are talking about?”
“No clue. Can they even understand each other?”
“Have they been drinking again?”
“Your grandma is a bad influence on mine.”
Laura gave a laugh. “It’s the other way around. Look at the bottle they’ve tucked between their chairs. Isn’t that Mamá Andreína’s licor de chinas?”
Javier craned his neck. “What’s she doing with that? That shit is illegal, man.”
A homemade brew of rum and oranges, it was one of the most delicious liqueurs Laura had ever tasted, but it was strong.
And then Laura saw them.
Stella and Anette appeared first, bounding on foal-like legs across the sand, both wearing their red hair pulled back in ponytails. Klara ran after them on little legs that couldn’t quite keep up, the sight of her putting a bittersweet ache in Laura’s chest. She wore a little pink tankini, her dark hair drawn back in a long ponytail, a pink sun hat on her head, green plastic sunglasses covering her eyes. She was adorable.
Heidi called to the twins in Swedish, her hands full of beach toys. “Stella! Anette! Wait for your little sister!”
“She’s grown so much already.”
Javier rested his hand on Laura’s. “She’s going to be tall like her mother.”
Laura watched as the twins turned back for Klara, each of them taking her by one hand and leading her toward the water, Heidi behind them.
“Aw.” Javier grinned. “Now that was cute.
“Those girls really do love her.”
Javier chuckled. “Look at that poor bastard.”
Clearly the family’s beast of burden, Erik had appeared dragging a rolling cooler while carrying two beach bags and five folding beach chairs, two for adults and three little ones for the girls. Wearing a blue tropical shirt that he hadn’t bothered to button over a green pair of swim trunks, and a pair of loafers on his feet, he reminded Laura of every Swedish father she’d ever seen on the beach—indulgent of his family and not very fashionable.
Laura looked back toward the girls playing in the sand. Klara sat, legs splayed, digging with a plastic shovel and making dubious contributions to a sand castle that her two older sisters had begun. Heidi knelt beside them, a happy smile on her face. She looked up, saw Laura watching, and motioned for her to join them. “Would you girls like your aunt Laura to play with us?”
“Yes!” the twins answered, Stella looking over at Laura and waving.
“You go spend time with that sweet baby girl of yours.” Javier sat up, kissed Laura’s cheek, then called to Erik. “You look like a man who needs a hand.”
“Oh!” Erik laughed, two of the little beach chairs slipping from his fingers. “I suppose I do.”
Laura walked across the sand, her pulse picking up as she sat down beside Klara. “What are you all building?”
“A sand castle,” the twins answered.
Klara looked up at Laura with guileless blue eyes. Speaking in Swedish, she parroted Anette and Stella. “Sand castle.”
Laura met the gaze of the wonderful woman who was raising her child. “Thank you, Heidi, for letting me join in. Thank you for everything.”
Nineteen years later
Los Angeles, California
JAVIER STOOD AT the side of the stage, watching as Laura gave the commencement address at Klara’s college graduation at USC Annenberg’s School of Journalism. Earpiece discreetly in place, he listened as his men checked in with one another. Tower was directing this operation, but Javier had come strapped anyway, body armor and a concealed 9mm beneath his suit jacket. Although it was unlikely that anything would happen today, he wasn’t taking chances.
College officials had let slip that Laura would be addressing her goddaughter’s graduating class, and the media had picked up on that. One paper had even run a photograph of Klara. Though almost twenty years had gone by since Javier had carried Klara out of Pakistan, there was a possibility, however remote, that someone would put the pieces together. He, Tower, and a team from CIS were there to make sure no one got near her.
And then there was Laura’s safety to consider.
Her very presence here had caused a stir. As the face of the nation’s top prime-time news program—the network had fired Gary Chapin and brought her on board the moment they’d heard she was interested in returning to broadcast journalism—she was more of a celebrity than she’d ever been, her ordeal a matter of public knowledge. Although there hadn’t been a credible threat against her in a decade, the public nature of the event would give anyone who wanted to harm her an opportunity.
But so far, all had been quiet.
“It is true that reporters see both the best and the worst that human beings have to offer. Over time, it gets hard not to be cynical. It will take a lot of integrity on your part to keep your mind and heart open, to see beyond the brokenness and dysfunction of the people you meet, to be that voice for the voiceless.”
Javier knew Laura’s speech by heart. She’d been nervous about it and had asked him to listen as she’d read it a half dozen times. Javier knew the cause of her nerves wasn’t a lack of confidence in her own abilities, but the fact that Klara was in the audience. Their little angel was graduating summa cum laude with a degree in journalism. She’d been inspired by her aunt Laura, whom she looked up to and loved, and despite Laura’s suggestion that she follow a new and exciting path that was all her own, Klara had been determined. She wanted to become a reporter.
Journalism was clearly in the girl’s DNA. She had already lined up an internship with the L.A. Times-Sentinel, and she’d done it without Laura’s help. Her excitement for the job reminded him so much of Laura that it scared the shit out of him. So far she hadn’t talked about going overseas to work, and for that he was grateful.
He loved the girl, loved her like she was his own daughter.
“Remember that life is not just your career. A career is what you do. It’s not who you are. This was a lesson I had to learn the hard way. You’d be surprised how fast your priorities rearrange themselves when there’s a knife being held to your throat.”
Laura’s speech was almost done. Javier could see that her audience was transfixed. He knew what they saw when they looked up at her, because it was what he saw every day—a beautiful woman with a big heart, a courageous survivor, a person who’d been through the worst and had come out stronger and more determined to make a difference in her world.
They saw a hero.
“When you leave this ceremony today, you walk in the footsteps of a dozen generations of American journalists whose job it has been to shine a light
into the darkness. They made their mark on the history of our nation. Stand strong, think with your heart, and you will make yours. Congratulations, graduates of the class of 2033.”
The audience of students and parents rose as one to its feet, the applause deafening. Onstage, Laura shook the university president’s hand and those of several professors, a smile on her face. She took her seat, while the president asked the students to stand, invited them to move their tassels, and pronounced them graduates.
Cheers. Flying beach balls. Mortarboards in the air.
Laura came down the steps, the question in her eyes.
He answered before she could ask. “You nailed it. That was fantastic.”
“You think so?”
“Did you miss that standing ovation?”
She smiled. “I didn’t want to disappoint Klara.”
He saw Klara making her way toward them, a bright smile on her sweet face. “I don’t think you did.”
“Aunt Laura!” Klara ran up, dressed in her black robe, and threw her arms around Laura. “That was beautiful. I got tears in my eyes.”
“Congratulations, sweetheart! I’m so proud of you. We’re both so proud of you.”
Klara hugged Javier and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “You look so handsome, Uncle Javi. I’m not used to seeing you in a suit. But what’s this?”
She punched his body armor lightly, teasing him. She knew what he did for a living, had seen him in body armor more than once.
“That’s my toned and muscular body.” Javier flexed his bicep. “You think your beautiful aunt would hang around with just any guy?”
Klara laughed, her smile making her look even more like her mother. “Are you coming to dinner with us?”
“Of course!” Laura glanced at her watch. “I want to head back to the hotel and change, but we’ll meet you in the hotel lobby in an hour and go together.”
“Perfect!” Klara danced off through the crowd, beaming, her long, dark hair spilling down her back.
* * *
LAURA STRETCHED OUT beside Javier, bliss still singing through her. Sex was the best way she knew to release stress. “We may be old, but we’ve still got it.”
“Who’s old?” He drew her closer, kissed her cheek. “You’re a hot and sexy fifty-two, and I’m a badass fifty-eight. Fifty is the new twenty. You think any of those kids at today’s graduation has a sex life that comes anywhere near to ours? We’re just getting started, bella.”
Someone knocked on the door. “Aunt Laura? It’s Klara.”
“Carajo!”
Fighting not to laugh, Laura jumped up, grabbed her bathrobe, and slipped into it, while Javier grabbed his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. She called toward the door. “Wait just a moment.”
When Javier was safely in the bathroom, Laura unlocked and opened the door. She could tell immediately that something was wrong.
“Come in, Klara. What is it?” She instinctively switched to Swedish, but Klara, who was very proud of her fluency, continued in English.
“You did a wonderful job today.”
“Thank you.” Laura tucked a dark curl behind Klara’s ear. “Are you okay?”
Klara nodded, her gaze averted, her expression clearly troubled. She paced the length of the room. “I had a long talk with my parents just now.”
“Oh, I see.” Laura knew that Erik and Heidi wanted Klara to come home to Sweden rather than staying in the U.S. “Is this about the internship?”
Klara shook her head, her fingers fidgeting with her rings. “I made them promise that when I finished college they would tell me who my real parents were.”
Laura felt blood rush from her head, her heart pounding so deafeningly she didn’t know Javier had stepped out of the bathroom until she felt his hand against the small of her back. “What did they say?”
Klara met Laura’s gaze, tears in her eyes. “They told me you are my mother.”
The words sent a jolt through Laura, making it hard to breathe.
“Let’s all go sit down.” Javier guided her to one of the chairs on the other side of the hotel room. “You need anything—water, coffee, tea?”
Laura shook her head, her gaze fixed on the young woman who sat across from her—her daughter.
So the day had come.
She wished Erik and Heidi had warned her. Despite the selfish side of her that would have loved Klara to know, she hadn’t wanted her girl to be burdened with this. She didn’t know what to feel, happiness, worry, and grief tangling inside her.
“Yes, Klara. It’s true.” Laura reached out, took Klara’s hand in hers. “I am your biological mother. What else did they tell you?”
“Everything, I think.” Klara shared what Erik and Heidi had told her, and it was everything. “They said you gave me up for adoption because you were afraid that bastard Al-Nassar’s relatives might come to steal me back.”
“There was more to my decision than that.” Laura gave Klara’s hand a squeeze, fought not to give in to tears. “You were so precious and innocent. I didn’t want you to grow up knowing how you’d come into the world. I knew that if I returned to the U.S. with you, the media would figure it out. Not only would Al-Nassar’s family know where to find you, but you would grow up with that knowledge in your heart. I didn’t want that for you. I can’t imagine how painful it has been for you to hear all this now.”
Klara’s blue eyes were clouded with emotion. “I’ve hated that man since the day I found out what he’d done to you. It’s hard to imagine that he’s actually my father.”
“Ever since Javier rescued you, you have been surrounded by love. Erik and Heidi loved you so much that the moment I realized I couldn’t keep you, they offered to adopt you. Stella and Anette adore you. My mother, your aunt Birgitta, loves you, and although you might not remember much about her, my grandmother loved you, too.”
“I remember her.” Klara smiled. “She was fun. And Aunt Birgitta is really my grandmother. Wow.”
Then a look of realization came over Klara’s face. “I always thought all of the security we had when you came to visit was because of what had happened to you. I never understood that part of it was for me. It was, wasn’t it?”
Laura nodded. “We all worked as hard as we could to keep your relationship with me and your location secret all these years.”
“That’s why you have to keep this to yourself.” Javier explained the risks to Klara, told her what she could and couldn’t do, her eyes wide by the time he finished.
“How do you feel?” Laura asked her.
“I’ve always loved you and admired you. I went into journalism because of you.” Klara’s chin quivered. “I’m proud to be your daughter.”
She stood, reached for Laura.
And Laura took her daughter into her arms, unable to hold back her tears. “Oh, Klara, min älskling.”
Years of fear, grief, heartache seemed to pass through Laura at the pure joy of this moment. She felt Javier behind them, felt his strong hand on her shoulder as he did his best to support them both.
Klara gave a little sniff. “I hate knowing how much you suffered, and that I was a part of that.”
Laura drew back, wiped Klara’s tears away. “You were never to blame. You were a victim of it the same as I was. From the first moment I saw you for the first time at your parents’ house, you’ve been nothing but a joy for me.”
“I’m glad I know.” Klara smiled. “I’ve always wondered why my mother left me. Mom and Dad always said she had given me up because she wanted what was best for me. I always wondered why she didn’t try harder to overcome her problems or whether there was something about me she just didn’t like. But now I understand. You never really wanted to give me up, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.” Laura wiped her eyes with a tissue. “But Erik and Heidi have been such wonderful parents. They love you deeply. They let me be a part of your life. They are your true mother and father. I am so grateful to them.”
Klara wrinkled her nose. “I hate Al-Nassar even more now.”
“He died long ago in a prison cell, alone and broken,” Javier said. “Forget him.”
Klara looked shyly up at Javier. “When I heard Laura was my mother, I’d hoped you were my father.”
Javier drew Klara into his arms and hugged her. “I held you all the way to Stockholm. I’d never seen anything as precious or sweet as you in my life. I’ve watched you sleep, watched you play, watched you grow up. If you want to believe I’m your bio-dad, hey, that’s fine with me.”
For a moment there was silence.
Klara looked at both of them, clearly uncertain what to do next. Her world had just shifted on its axis. “I should go back. Mom and Dad will be wondering.”
Laura tried to reassure her with a smile. “This must have been very hard for them. Go to them. We’ll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.”
Klara turned to go, then looked over her shoulder at them. “I want you both to know I love you.”
“We love you, too.”
Then she was gone.
Laura took a step, then sank onto the bed, a riot of emotion inside her. “Well . . . that was unexpected.”
“I’d say it went well.” Javier sat beside her, held her. “Everything turned out just fine in the end. My guess is that it only gets better from here.”
Laura looked up at the man she loved, the man who’d been her husband for nineteen wonderful years. “I couldn’t have gotten through any of this without you. Through all of it, you’ve been my support, my anchor. I don’t know how one man’s shoulders can possibly be so strong.”
He kissed her hair. “What is it your mother likes to say?”
“Kärleken gör oss starka. Love makes us strong.”
He tilted her face up to his. “With the love I feel for you, bella, I could lift up the world.”
