Allie’s head popped out. “Can I help you?”
Maisy pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “I was wondering if you’d like these.”
Allie’s eyes grew wide. Her arms stretched out to take all of the dishes at once. Maisy carefully helped arrange everything in her tiny hands. Allie beamed and disappeared back into her hut.
“What do you say?” Chase called.
“Thank you, Maisy!”
Maisy laughed. So did Chase. He sat down on the blanket and leaned back against a log.
“She’s amazing,” Maisy said. She carefully put the lids back on the plastic containers and placed them back in her basket. “I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to—” Her hands rose to her lips, feeling herself catch the words before they flew out of her mouth.
I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be her mother.
“What were you going to say?” Chase asked.
“Never mind.” She knelt on the blanket and closed the picnic basket. “I was going to say something that’s really none of my business.”
“Maybe I want you in my business.” He leaned forward and grabbed her hands.
She slid her fingers from his grasp. “I will listen to anything you want to tell me, Chase. But I’m not going to pry.”
“Fair enough.” He sat back. “I was hoping you were going to ask me about Allie’s mother. Because I’ve been wanting to talk to you about her, but I’m not exactly good at opening up.”
She sat beside him and stretched her short legs out next to his long ones. “What happened?”
“I heard somewhere once that we only accept as much love from other people as we think we deserve,” he said. “I don’t know if that’s true. But I think I always knew on some level that there was something wrong with my relationship with Liz. It was as if she didn’t like the person I was, that if she nitpicked me enough she could turn me into the man she wanted me to be. But her criticisms made me shut down even more. Our marital problems drove me back to church, to my faith in God and to dedicating myself to being the kind of man God wanted me to be. But Liz went the other direction. We tried counseling and she very reluctantly agreed to try for a child, I think, because she was surprised to realize how strong my feelings were about being a father. She said it was the first thing she really believed I cared about.”
He glanced over to where Allie was happily playing in her makeshift house.
“She got pregnant when I was home on leave,” he said, “then while I was stationed back in Afghanistan, she fell in love with somebody else. The marriage was over before Allie was born and Liz hasn’t ever tried to see her since then. Her new husband didn’t want to help raise another man’s child, so I got full custody. I can’t regret my relationship with Liz, because if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have Allie. But I worry I’m not a good enough dad to her. Westley told me last night that if the mess my life is in doesn’t get cleared up soon, I might lose Queenie, and as much as I love my career, the worst part about it will be telling Allie. She’ll be devastated.”
Maisy grabbed his hand and squeezed it so tightly he blinked.
“You’re an amazing dad, Chase,” she said. “You have the biggest heart when it comes to her and it shines through your eyes. I don’t think love like that can be faked. I really don’t.”
She held his hand for one long heartbeat. Then she let go and leaned back again, her shoulder just barely brushing his.
“I don’t know what your father was like growing up,” Chase said. “But he reminded me a lot of my grandfather. Grandpa was former military intelligence and moved in with us when my father was stationed overseas. He was a firm believer in controlling your emotions and not letting anything get to you, ever. I broke my leg when I was four and he gave me this big stack of comics in the hospital. He told me that I was a hero like them and that heroes never cried.”
“Jesus cried at Lazarus’s tomb,” Maisy said. “I know my father cried when my mother died. He hid it from me, but I could tell. He’d go for long runs through the ravine alone and when he came back, his eyes would be red.”
“Maisy, you’ve got to believe me when I say I have no idea how your father’s cross turned up at my house,” Chase said. “I would never do anything to hurt your father. I would never knowingly hurt anyone. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”
Tears pricked at the edges of her eyelids. Her heart believed him, just like her heart was convinced that he’d never do anything that would risk hurting his child. But her brain just had too many unanswered questions.
If Chase was innocent, then why hadn’t Justin cleared his name? Was it possible that Boyd Sullivan was the “bad man” who haunted Allie’s nightmares? If so, who was the “hurt man” and how had Allie become so frightened?
“I’ve never told anybody this,” he added. “But when I was in junior high, I was on the school wrestling team and I accidentally broke a smaller guy’s fingers. Everyone knew it was an accident. But it was a wake-up call to me that I always had to be careful, because someone my size could hurt someone smaller without meaning to. I had a hard time forgiving myself and I never let myself forget that I had a responsibility to use my strength to help, not hurt.”
She nestled closer to him, until her shoulder, her arm and the back of her hand were all brushing against him. Then their fingers gently, slowly touched.
“Maisy,” Chase said softly. “I promise you, I will do everything in my power to protect you and keep you from ever being hurt, by me or anyone else, ever again.”
Tears welled suddenly at the edges of her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. All she knew was that all her life she’d waited to hear a man say something like that to her, and he was the first.
“My father was a good man,” Maisy said, “and I know he must’ve loved me. But he was walled off too, especially after my mother died. I have no memories of him hugging me or telling me he was proud of me. I never thought he liked who I was.”
Suddenly, the need for a hug was stronger than her need to hold back. Her arms slid around his neck. His arms wrapped around her back. He held her, tightly, hugging her to his chest.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered. His cheek brushed against the top of her head. “Trust me, Maisy. Your father loved you.”
“So everybody keeps telling me,” she said. She let her head fall against his shoulder. The scent of him filled her senses. “How can you possibly know?”
“Because I still remember the day I first laid eyes on you,” he said. He pulled back, just enough that she could look in his eyes. “I asked Frank Golosky who the beautiful blond dynamite girl was reading by the mess hall. He laughed and said you were Clint Lockwood’s daughter and that guys like me shouldn’t stare too long if we valued our hide, because your father would kill anyone who so much as looked at you funny. He said your father would’ve protected you over his own career if it came to that. So I needed to get in my head fast that the most gorgeous person I’d ever laid eyes on was off-limits to normal grunts like me.”
“Really?” Her eyes grew wide. “So that’s why no nice guys ever asked me out? Because they were afraid of my father?”
“Probably some of them,” he admitted. His hands tightened around her. “But the smart ones had to know they weren’t good enough for you. You deserve the best, Maisy. You really do. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve looked at you and wished I could be the kind of man you deserve.”
She leaned toward him. The gap between them closed. Then their lips touched, softly and gently, and she wasn’t sure if he kissed her or if she kissed him. It was like they’d just been swept toward each other by the same invisible current. But here she was, feeling Chase’s arms around her and his lips on hers.
His phone rang, loud and shrill in his pocket, with an urgency that demanded to be heard. They sprang apart. “H
ello. McLear here.”
He stood. So did she. Her eyes darted to the wooden shelter. Allie was still playing happily inside, babbling to herself.
Maisy breathed a sigh of relief. What had she been thinking? What if Allie had seen?
“Got it,” Chase said. “It’ll take me about an hour, but I’ll be there.” He hung up and turned to Maisy. “That was Master Sergeant James. He wants me to come to the K-9 training center immediately.”
* * *
The sun had started its descent in the afternoon sky as Chase pulled the truck back onto the base. Hiking back down had taken longer than he’d expected, thanks to Allie’s unwillingness to leave her new “tree home.” Then she’d fallen asleep in the back seat of the truck, leaving an odd, uncomfortable silence filling the front seat between him and Maisy, as if the memory of the kiss they’d shared had spread a field of invisible landmines between them.
Had that really happened? Had he really held Maisy Lockwood in his arms and kissed her? It felt like a dream, one that he was afraid to wake up from. He wondered if he should apologize, and yet she’d kissed him back. She’d clung to him just as tightly as he’d held her.
“I’ll drop you off at Sunny Seeds, so you can pick up your car,” he said. “Then I’ll head to the training center.”
“I’ll watch Allie,” Maisy said. “I’ll take her into Sunny Seeds with me. I told Imogene I’d drop back later in the day to pick up a few personal things and make sure I left Esther and the supply teacher some notes about the class.”
It was a plan that made sense and one for which he was grateful.
“Okay,” he said. He had no idea what Westley wanted, but he couldn’t shake the threat hanging over his head of losing Queenie. It was like the phone call had sucked all the hope from his heart and the oxygen from his lungs, leaving him with nothing but the nagging questions he didn’t begin to have answers to.
How was he ever going to find Ajay Joseph, barring flying to Afghanistan personally and searching the mountains for his village? If Ajay had been so concerned about possible theft in his crew, why had he just dropped the issue? Yes, he’d emailed to say he was mistaken and no crime had been committed. Plus, there’d been a family emergency. But he’d seemed so distraught about it when they’d talked. Captain Dennis’s email said that Ajay had left his job as a civilian liaison and Ajay hadn’t even called Chase to explain the mix-up and follow up about the files he’d emailed. None of it squared with how dedicated he knew Ajay was to his men. The thought of putting in another call to Captain Reardon or even popping by her office niggled at the back of his mind. She and Captain Dennis had always seemed close. Perhaps she could urge him to dig deeper? Yet, her warning that anyone who came too near Chase was at risk of having his or her reputation tarred gave him pause. What Maisy was going through was all too much evidence that she’d been right.
Then there was the matter of Preston’s personal vendetta against him, who the figure in the hood was who’d tried to kidnap Allie and why a respected captain like Justin Blackwood hadn’t yet figured out who the person was who’d framed him. Thoughts leaped in his brain like sizzling bacon fat and he couldn’t get anywhere close to finding answers without someone he cared about getting burned.
The lights were off and the parking lot was empty when he pulled up in front of Sunny Seeds. The crowd had moved on, for now.
“There’s a bed in a side room just off the main office,” Maisy said. “She can nap there.”
He cradled his sleeping daughter to his chest, carried Allie up to the preschool and waited while Maisy unlocked the doors. She led them through the darkened and silent preschool, into the small room he guessed was an infirmary. She gestured to a child-sized bed. “You can lay her down there.”
He eased his daughter from his arms, brushed a kiss on the top of her head and turned to Maisy.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what Westley wants, but I’m hoping I won’t be long.”
“Bad man! Hurt man! No!” Allie’s panicked wail shook the silence, tearing his heart in half.
He turned back. But Maisy was one step ahead of him.
“It’s okay, Allie, you’re safe.” Maisy dropped down to the bedside. She glanced up at Chase and waved a hand to indicate he could go. “It’s okay. She’s still asleep. It’s just a nightmare. I’ve got this.”
Didn’t she hear his daughter’s terrified wail? Didn’t she see the hidden pain shaking her little body? Maisy began to sing tenderly to his daughter, a simple little song about sowing the seeds of faith. Her fingers ran gently down Allie’s arms. As he watched, his little girl’s cries faded and she nestled into Maisy’s arms.
“It’s okay, Chase,” Maisy said again, her voice barely rising about a whisper. “You can go. I’ll take care of her.”
A lump formed in his throat as he watched Maisy cradle his daughter. It was like, for the first time, he was seeing something he’d always wanted but never thought he’d find. The longing of hundreds of lonely days and empty nights crashed over him.
He walked slowly out of the preschool, with Queenie at his heels, and drove home to get changed into his uniform. Two television news vans were parked in front of his house. He pulled into the driveway past a handful of people, who by the looks of things were both reporters and random gawkers waiting around, hoping for a show. He wondered if they’d left Sunny Seeds when they discovered Maisy had left on vacation or if they’d stuck around all day, until school ended and the last of the staff had left for the day.
He clipped Queenie’s lead on her harness, got out of the truck and shut the door so hard the vehicle shook. The anonymous blogger had spilled the can of worms that up to that point hadn’t spread too far beyond base gossip. After almost four months of deaths and fear, the blogger had finally given the world what it wanted—a prime suspect.
He walked through the gauntlet of people shouting questions and pointing cameras at his face, went into his home, got changed into his uniform and then repeated the same walk back to his truck, keeping his head high and his composure in place. Then he drove through the base to the K-9 training center. One of the news vans followed immediately. He wondered if the other one eventually would too or if they’d continue to stake out his house. A deep, sad sigh moved through his body.
He hated this whole mess and could only pray he’d eventually find a way out.
A dozen memories clashed inside him as he eased his truck into the familiar lot in front of the K-9 training center. He remembered what it had felt like the first time he’d driven there, for his initial interview with Westley to see about joining the team, and the hope that had filled his heart. He remembered the excitement and challenge of coming day after day for training, and those seemingly endless days after his training had been completed when he’d waited to find out if he’d been assigned a dog. Then the elating moment he’d gotten the call from Westley, telling him there was a little beagle named Queenie he wanted Chase to meet. He remembered the day he and Queenie had shown up to train, only to be sent back home again on suspension.
When the engine stopped, he rested his hands on the steering wheel and prayed, asking God for help as worries welled up inside him. Then he led Queenie across the parking lot before the reporters had made it out of their van. Queenie’s ears perked. Her footsteps quickened until he could tell she was fighting the urge to tug him toward the building. She loved her K-9 training so much; it would be unfair of him to stand in her way if she was able to get another trainer.
He texted Westley. The former head trainer came and met him by the door, with Dakota by his side. The two men exchanged greetings and salutes.
“Thank you for coming,” Westley said. Chase expected him to lead him into either the kennels or the offices. Instead, Westley turned and led him toward the veterinary building next door. “Who’s watching your daughter?”
“Maisy,” Chas
e said. “She and I went hiking with Allie today. I’m sorry for not being here sooner. It took me a lot longer to get back than I expected.”
Westley cut him a sideways glance and his eyebrows rose. Then they walked for another long minute, as if the K-9 trainer was weighing his words.
“Two more of the lost dogs, which Boyd Sullivan let out of the kennels in April, were found late last night,” he said, after a long moment. “We’ve suspected that the dogs that are still missing are either injured or have PTSD, because otherwise they would’ve returned to the base by now.”
He stopped in front of a glass window and pointed. Chase looked through. There, huddled together on a soft bed of blankets were two German shepherds. The larger of the two had been shaved on one side and dark stitches showed stark against the skin. The smaller dog had a cast on her leg and was shaking so hard Chase felt sympathy ricochet through his bones.
“Julius is the big one with the black fur and Penelope is the one who’s a mixture of brown and black,” Westley said, and Chase was surprised that he could keep his voice so level. “They’re both Afghanistan service dogs. Apparently, they stuck together. Penelope was a bomb-sniffing dog, who survived a shell attack on the field and had pretty bad PTSD as a result. Our head vet, Captain Kyle Roark, thinks she broke her leg during their escape from the kennels in April. Our best guess is that Julius looked out for her, protected her and brought her food. Not sure where he got the injuries, but they were pretty deep and seem to be from some kind of wild animal attack. Searchers found him first and he was unwilling to leave her. It was touch and go for a while if Penelope would have to lose her leg, but it looks like she came through surgery like a champ.”
Chase felt his hand ball into a fist.
These dogs were United States Air Force service members. They were partners. They saved the lives of men and women in uniform.
How could anyone believe he’d have anything to do with this?
Standing Fast Page 13
