"Dinner is ready." Lillian chimed as she laid out the food on the porch table. "Just dive in. There's plenty here." Rusty added. The four of them sat at a round table on the porch and Lara noticed Hawk ate slowly at first, but filled up on the grilled chicken and potato salad and refused a beer. Instead, he sipped a ginger ale with Lara. Watching him eat, Lara wondered about the enigmatic man and wanted to interrogate him further. "Hawk, let's go sit by the water's edge and finish talking about the design." He seemed surprised by her offer, but insisted on helping with cleaning up the table first. Lillian and Rusty worked with Hawk to put all of the dishes in the kitchen sink and any leftover food in the fridge.
~ Grant Hawkins ~
Once his kitchen duty was finished, he turned his attention to Lara. Walking to the water's edge with her, Hawk noticed two chairs on the beach and they dragged them closer to the water. Hawk watched as Lara tossed her flip flops on the sandy beach and sunk her feet into the wet sand with the waves splashing around her ankles. "Go ahead. Kick those shoes off…give your dogs a break!" Lara laughed as she said it and Hawk complied. He felt as if he'd do anything she wanted at that moment. He pulled the sketch out of his waistband, unfolded it and went into more detail. Lara asked more questions, "What color would you put here?" Hawk answered, "Forget-me-nots. The blue color would stand out among the other plantings and they are perennial." Lara asked, "How would you plant the roses, in beds or random patches?" Hawk answered every question thoroughly and enjoyed Lara's full attention while he spoke. He loved the way her eyes lit up with excitement as he described every color and plant.
Without notice, Hawk was overcome with shyness as Lara posed a few personal questions. "Tell me more about you, Hawk." Completely caught off guard, he didn't know what to say. The silence was awkward and he ruminated for a moment before answering, "I'm alone. My wife passed away a couple of years ago. I've always loved plants and nature, in general, and I had a green thumb. The design business just sort of evolved." He hoped that was enough, but sensed she'd probe more. He watched as her green eyes danced and a smile played upon her perfect lips and Lara whispered, "Tell me about you, Hawk. What are the things you like and dislike? How did you grow up?"
Although Hawk felt uncomfortable with this gentle interrogation, he found himself telling Lara about his childhood in East Hartford Connecticut. "My father was an alcoholic and a gambler and lost everything the family had, which wasn't much. My mother divorced and brought me and my two older sisters to live with an aunt in Maine. I was ten years old at that time. When I turned eighteen, I was on my own and worked for a guy with a lawn-mowing business and worked at a gas station. I lived in an apartment in a seedy part of town and had two other guys for roommates." He noticed Lara's interest as she gently coaxed him, "Go on…I'm listening…" The two guys I lived with were rough around the edges. Well, actually it was worse than that. They were drug dealers…and they introduced me to something I wish I’d never seen…heroin."
He watched Lara's face for a reaction. She audibly sighed, "Oh God, Hawk." But he stoically continued, "Needless to say, the addictive drug put me into a very bad place and I ended up in jail. I agreed to an in-patient rehab. That's where I met Ellen. She was a counselor there and once I was clean, she helped me set up my landscaping business." He watched Lara's facial expression as she relaxed a bit. "We were married and shortly after she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. Ellen has been gone for two years exactly. I've been living my life one day at a time…very much alone…but I prefer it that way. I spend a lot of time working. But it’s not like work to me. I love what I’m doing." Letting out a long breath, Hawk felt he had told Lara way too much about himself. He hoped she would still feel comfortable around him, even though he had a checkered past, as many people put it. He didn't want to instill fear in her.
~ Lara ~
Lara's eyes met his and she said the one thing she sensed he so wanted to hear, "You deserve a second chance, Hawk." He no longer looked somber and she saw the tiniest hint of relaxation on his face. The cleft dimple in his chin was unique and he had a perfect smile. Lara instantly knew that Hawk had given her the encapsulated version of his life frankly and honestly. She compared his story to the information Ben had dug up and it matched. She never would have pegged him for a former drug addict or someone who grew up in poverty. His physical presence exuded tranquility. He did not seem to be a person who would be quick to anger. Sharp and witty, he had a terrific sense of humor. She also noticed he had perfectly white teeth, either good dental work or great genetics. For some reason, Lara felt the need to comfort him, not knowing why. "I'm sorry, Hawk, that all of those bad things happened to you. The loss of your father, the loss of your wife…" She couldn't find the right words. Momentarily, the look in his hazel eyes was one of anguish. Lara's hand automatically touched his and she felt her empathy was healing him somehow.
Her touch seemed to surprise Hawk. For the first time he looked into her eyes without the uncomfortable bashfulness. His gaze now had an intensity, "It's not that bad things happened to me. Bad things happen to a lot of people…it's how a person reacts that determines who they are. I reacted poorly to those challenges…I was weak. I don't feel badly about my past, but I have a sense of disappointment in myself. I could have done better. I should have had the good sense to kick those roommates to the curb. I look back on my life and wonder why I wasn't a stronger person. I just let things happen. I'm not like that anymore. I'm in control of everything I do and painfully aware of the consequences of every decision I make." Lara appreciated his maturity and introspection. "If you don't mind my asking, Hawk, how old are you?" His hazel eyes held hers, "I'm thirty, well – I will be next week." Lara felt herself turning away from his gaze for the first time, "You look younger than that." But deep down Lara knew Hawk was an old soul, battered with pain from loss and emotional abandonment. On some level, she related to his story. Her young life was filled with challenges and she carried invisible scars, too.
~ Grant Hawkins ~
He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with her…the woman he dreamed about at night when he was most lonely. He never imagined she'd have any interest in him as a person. But she was kind and considerate and fed him dinner. He felt like an unwanted puppy rescued from the pound. He hadn't spoken this way with anyone since the grief counselor. He figured no one was interested in his problems. Breaking the momentary silence, Hawk spoke softly, "Thank you so much for the dinner tonight. I'll have the design plan ready to e-mail to you by tomorrow. I'll give you a discount because you didn't take any off the top for the job you gave me at the purple Victorian." He noticed the hint of a smile on Lara's shimmery lips. "Thank you, Hawk. I appreciate that. When can you start?" He looked down at his phone, not wanting to take his eyes off her face…tapped his calendar and scrolled past the next few days. He planned to move another client out to accommodate her, but didn’t say that. "How about a week from today"…he asked tentatively. He loved the way her green eyes lit up when she became enthusiastic, "Yes! That would be perfect!"
Hawk said a polite thank you and goodbye to Rusty and Lillian for inviting him to dinner. As he climbed into his truck, he smiled and waved to Lara as she stood in the yard. He watched her in his rearview mirror as he drove up the long driveway. She didn't move. He wondered if she was thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her at that moment. Hawk played the conversation with Lara over in his mind several times while driving home. There was something so soft and gentle about her, yet she seemed to have a core of strength inside. One thing he knew for sure, she had no idea of the effect she had on him. It was much deeper than a simple physical attraction, although that lingered for hours after he was in her presence. He loved who she was. He sensed that she was shy and introverted, too. But even though she seemed guarded, she let her guard down with him. She was open, friendly and sweet. These were the same qualities that attracted him to Ellen. The voice in his head reminded him once again,
she's married.
~ Nadia ~
Tucked away in a quiet neighborhood in Newport Rhode Island, Nadia had never felt such freedom in her life. But along with the freedom came a nagging fear that someday she would be snatched up by her father's men and dragged back to him to be beaten and tortured. Her name was now Vanessa Jorgenson and she lived with a family that was kind to her. The man's name was Gus and his wife, Linda, was a former volleyball champion. Both of them were tall and blonde. Gus, a six-foot two former football player often played tennis with Nadia in the park. With his blonde hair shaved close to his head, Nadia thought he was handsome. He became her guardian and was her protector at all times. For the first time Nadia understood the definition of a gentleman. Gus was a gentle man. He ran a used car rental business and was gone a lot of the time, traveling for work. She imagined he attended auctions to buy used cars.
Nadia spent most of her time with Linda Jorgenson shopping, visiting school friends, and learning how to cook. Often Linda would invite Nadia's new found friends to the house for a sleepover. It was never a large crowd, only two or three of them at a time. Nadia loved her new life and attended temple every Saturday with Linda. The Jorgenson family was Jewish and the synagogue they attended was the oldest one in the United States, which fascinated Nadia. With great enthusiasm, Nadia absorbed all of the knowledge she could about the Jewish faith. She had been taught many lies by her father and now she was seeing the truth for the first time in her life. With Linda's help, she was also making her own decisions and living in an environment filled with love and security.
For her safety, Nadia had no contact on social media and used a cell phone sparingly with a parental lock on it. To remain in hiding this way in plain view was dangerous and she knew it. Gus had explained to her early on that she would need to be an escape artist. He trained her how to blend in with others. Nadia changed her dark hair to blonde and pretended she was the niece of Gus Jorgenson. She often wished she had been born into this life of normalcy, where she could speak freely, make friends, learn about other faiths, and simply eat food whenever she wanted to. Her body was now returning to a normal weight after months of starvation. And, her bruises and scars were healing enough so that no one noticed them if she wore clothing that covered her arms and legs.
As Nadia thought about what she wanted to do with her life, one calling stood out to her. She wanted to be a spokeswoman for women suffering the horrible repression in the culture of radical Islam. But to do so would put her life in grave danger. Linda Jorgenson suggested that Nadia finish her final year of high school; then decide what she wanted to do.
~ Ben ~
The first week of September was beautiful in Massachusetts. The days were warm and sunny and the evenings were getting cooler. Ben remembered meeting Lara in September and his thoughts immediately turned to her. She made him the happiest man in the world and he couldn't wait until this mission was over. His days at the compound had been filled with phony scientific experiments, depressing medical examinations and planning the anthrax drone attack. The nights were the worst. He lit the candles that bore the scent of Lara's perfume and laid in the dark for hours before falling asleep. He vowed not to take a mission like this one again that separated him from Lara for so long. Some nights he felt like he was dying inside.
In the meantime, Ben had taken care to forge a relationship with Rashida, the young cook in the main kitchen. At night after dinner, he would often visit her kitchen for a snack. She would serve him even though the kitchen was closed. The room in which she prepared the food did not have a security camera. Her living quarters were situated next to the kitchen, so she could start work early and end late in the day. He was only able to extract small details from Rashida early on. For the first week, in Arabic Ben chatted about his fictitious wife and three daughters back in Pakistan, hoping Rashida would open up to him -- and one night she did.
Unexpectedly, about ten days into his routine evening visit, Rashida spoke softly of her relatives in Egypt, “Most of my family members were killed during the Arab Spring and my two sisters escaped to Lebanon and Syria. But the violence had become worse there. They were kidnapped and killed. I was alone, living on the street and desperate. I was recruited by Ali Farouz's top man, Salim. He told me a cook was needed in America and he could get me in. I dreamed of America and having freedom, so I accepted his offer. Salim lives on this compound for six months of the year. When I first arrived, Salim raped me repeatedly. One night he came to the kitchen, right here, and tried to rape me. I finally got the courage to fight him with a knife. He has a large scar on his face as a reminder. But I was not strong enough. He held my face on the stove and burned me. I thought I was going to die.” Rashida wore a full burka and removed it for the first time. Ben tried not to wince when his eyes lingered on the hideous burns marring her young features.
Ben asked her what Salim did the other six months of the year. Rashida explained, “He escorts groups of Americans to Yemen, Palestine, and Syria for military training.” Ben made a mental note to have Salim eliminated the next time he set foot in the Middle East. Moshe and his men would draw a bead on him.
Despite his connections with Habib and Rashida, Ben felt himself periodically spiraling into a depressive state. The weeks at the compound dragged on. During quiet moments in the middle of the night he questioned everything he was doing. What difference would it make if he destroyed this Islam-berg? Fifty others were springing up all over the country. They were pouring into the southern border of the United States freely. But, in the end, the argument within him always ended the same way: I have to do this. No one else will. No one else is crazy enough. And, although he hated to admit it, in the end he loved the challenge. However, becoming a truly convincing actor wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. This wasn't anything like acting in a play or a movie. His very life depended upon the authenticity of his performance. And, he felt the pressure of that every minute twenty-four hours a day.
The living conditions on the compound were beyond deplorable. Even though Habib managed to obtain some decent food occasionally, Ben dreamed of a good hot meal. The sanitation at the compound left a lot to be desired. Recruited in prison, many of Farouz’s henchmen running the place were ex-convicts. He wondered why criminals who were getting a second chance would waste their lives this way. But he mingled with the men, as was the custom of the tribe. He ate their camel meat and drank the goat milk and bonded with his enemy. And, he even scolded women on occasion to make a good impression on the men. It killed him to do those things, but he had to see the mission to the end. He knew if he was made, he would end up beheaded in an unmarked grave.
The most difficult part of his mission was watching the innocent suffer. His heart broke daily as he watched the women and children dominated and abused on a regular basis by these sick, twisted men. Ben reminded himself the end game was to free the women and children from this horrific existence. Calling the guys running the compound "men" was too high a compliment; they were worse than animals. On a daily basis, he had to stop himself from intervening when he heard a woman screaming as she was being beaten. Even worse, he saw the children hiding from the men because they knew they were next. The beatings took place publicly and served to keep the others in line. Ben marveled at the so-called “war on women” constantly touted in the media. Those women who were complaining about a glass ceiling or how difficult it was to live in a world dominated by men should have been there filming what he was observing. This was the real war on women – and the media didn’t dare to touch the subject for fear they’d be considered insensitive to the culture of Islam. Politically correct hypocrites.
The children were treated worse than slaves. The men forced the young girls to wash their feet and often took them into a tent and raped them. Young boys were taught the methods of the tribe. They were shooting AK's by the time they were twelve years of age and taught to rape by the time they were fourteen. The one thing that kept Ben focused every day wa
s the look of utter desperation and fear he saw in the eyes of the innocents. Their souls seemed to be missing when he looked into their eyes. They had lost all hope. He had to do the right thing to protect them. There was no doubt in his mind that what he had to do was justifiable on so many levels.
On a trip into town with Habib, Ben called the university and was told the first class he was scheduled to teach would be September 15th; student orientation was the week prior. Perfect, he thought. He could not wait to be back in the normal world with Lara and Einstein. He'd fall asleep dreaming of walking on the beach and eating dinner and making love. Then, he'd awaken in the middle of the night grabbing for his weapon or roll off the bed silently onto the floor waiting for his attacker. His heart would pound and he’d sweat profusely. But no one came. He knew this mission was making his PTS worse, but he thought he could conquer it. Instead, night after night the demons returned and some days he was utterly exhausted from lack of sleep.
~ Lara ~
Toward the end of a hot and humid September day Lara was in the neighborhood and decided to stop home to take Einstein out for a quick walk. She had just finished a walk-through of Eliot Stone's project and everything in phase two was going smoothly, thanks to Tony. She had enough time to walk the dog before she drove to her last appointment of the day to meet with Hawk for a potential landscaping project in Portland. As she stood on the back porch, she tossed her leather sack over her shoulder and carefully typed the password into the newly installed alarm system and the green light blinked. Success on the first try; she silently congratulated herself. She opened the door to a very happy English Bull Terrier. Lara grabbed a bottle of water and Einstein's leash and walked up the long driveway and through the beautiful seaside neighborhood. The heat of the late summer day was waning and a refreshing sea breeze suddenly kicked up. Lara picked up the pace as she saw signs of a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon after walking a couple of miles.
Encountering Evil: Dark Horse Guardians Book Two Page 22
