Coda? (Mercenaries Book 4)

by Tony Lavely

  “I talked to Jimmy last night,” she said, “helping Willie in the debrief.”

  “Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “All by the book. He’s as happy was he was when Sam brought him over the first time. He’ll grow some fine apples. And if his girl’s still waiting, some good kids, too, I think.”

  “Wait, what? He’ll grow apples? And his girl friend is still waiting? He hasn’t been back for what, ten, twelve years.”

  “Well, not waiting per se. She got married but it didn’t work out, he said. So he thinks he might have a chance.”

  “I hope so, for his sake. He’s a nice guy.”

  “He is.” Elena smiled. “We don’t have any bad people, you know.”

  “Absolutely true.” She twisted her expression into one signaling a question, “So, that isn’t what you’re here to talk about.”

  “No. Pieter and I decided we need a break from each other.”

  Beckie almost dropped her coffee, but managed to avoid spilling. What’s that mean? Why’s she telling—

  “I’m joining a group in California, starting Monday.”

  Elena kept talking about something, but Beckie wasn’t listening. She flew back in time to Arizona. More than five years ago. Jean-Luc saying, “Mesdemoiselles, may I present Beckie Sverdupe? And Elena Rios?” Wearing Elena’s spare uniform instead of… instead of that rag she’d found in Werner’s “Rancho Paradisio.” All the help she’d received over the past five years from the woman. And she hoped she’d returned the favor, too, but now… I guess I didn’t do as good a job—

  “Beckie!” With a touch on Beckie’s arm, Elena’s words finally broke through the… Well be honest, Beck. Self-pity. Elena’s got every right to go, just like Jimmy does. But… “Are you okay?” Elena continued. “I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, but… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “It’s okay, Lena. But… why? What’d I screw up?”

  Elena’s dark complexion became a little darker and her eyes skittered around the lanai. She doesn’t want to tell me. What the hell—

  “You know the answer, Beckie. I don’t see any reason to tell you again, since you didn’t listen the first three times I told you. But I will say, when you assign a mentor, let them mentor. Close at hand.

  “Beth is about ready to fill my training role. Bring Sam back for a couple weeks to polish the rough edges; she’ll do fine.”

  Beckie stood and paced the length of the lanai. As she did, she wondered what Elena meant. Three times she told me? When she touched the railing, she faced the beach and said, “Training isn’t what I’ll miss when you’re gone, Lena.”

  “Maybe, but it’s something you’ll worry about eventually. She’s ready.”

  “And Pieter?”

  “Oh, he’s staying. He and I disagree on this, but not so much that we’ll break up, get a divorce. If permitted, I’ll come back randomly to see him. If you’d rather I didn’t, we’ll meet somewhere else.”

  “I don’t know about—” Shut your mouth, Beck, and think for a minute. You’ve been dressed down, hurt, and you’re about to let your anger and pain talk. After the third deep breath, Beckie turned to face the woman. “Of course you’ll be welcome here anytime you can make it. Where are you going? So I can throw some business their way, if the opportunity arises.”

  “I’ll leave all that stuff with Rou.”

  Beckie sighed again. “Okay. Let me talk to her first, please.”

  “Sure. I’ll wait til tomorrow morning. No holiday here.”

  Beckie forced herself to advise Rou, Shen and Boynton of Elena’s decision before she did anything else. Their reactions surprised her: she sensed more resignation than shock at hearing that a ten year veteran would up and resign, even for a job in La Jolla! At least, she thought none of them blamed her for Elena’s decision. No matter that she did. Even Pieter, when he called to reassure her, followed the line she’d led with: “It’s not to do with you, Beckie. Nor the team, believe me.”

  Did she tell him something different than she did me? “I didn’t get that impression, talking to her.”

  “Just talking, wanting to be doing the right thing, no matter what she thinks.”

  “Okay, Pieter, thanks for that. And sticking it out here.”

  “Don’t worry about that! I’ll be the last one here, even if the cay sinks.”

  “It’s the top of an old volcano, right? Not likely to slip away quietly.”

  “And neither should you, Mrs. Jamse.”

  The day had begun cloudy, but Beckie hadn’t taken it as an omen for anything but the rain that was starting to fall. “Surely not thinking anyone, let alone Elena, would be leaving,” she muttered to herself. She went to her room and swapped her shorts and short-sleeve polo for jeans and long sleeve denim shirt.

  “Gonna go over to Port and walk some,” she told Boynton as she passed the kitchen.

  On Port, she crossed the runway to the north side, and strode, first east then west. She found the exercise in the rain calmed her, but didn’t really resolve any of the issues in her mind.

  After thirty minutes, a sudden motion in the rocks at the water’s edge stopped her. Shen’s cameras would pick up anything bothersome, so since there’s no alert… but what is it?

  Almost before she finished the thought, Trillian appeared between two bushes. The cat was soaking wet; Beckie was sure she’d come up from the ocean. Why would she be doing that?

  She followed Trillian about five yards to a large untrimmed bougainvillea that was past flowering. The cat eased her way under the branches, then began purring and grooming her wet fur.

  Beckie looked up at the sky; this rain’ll last until evening. She found a smooth rock and took a seat. The location allowed her to reach Trillian’s head and ears; scratching was called for, she decided. Trillian’s grooming took another several minutes, during which she eased closer to Beckie.

  “Trillian, talk to me a minute, okay? Why is Lena leaving, really?” Trillian’s purring continued, but nothing else. “Yeah. What’d I expect? Seriously, Trill.” The cat raised her head, but Beckie knew it was to encourage more rubbing. “I screwed up, somehow, and it’s cost me Lena. First Ian, then almost Lisa, and now Lena. But…” She stared at the yellow eyes. “But I think they’re all different, too. That’s great, ‘cause now it’s a fucking multiple guess exam to fix it!” In spite of her vehemence, she kept her voice low, to avoid spooking Trillian.

  “Lena was the first one to sign on after Ian… after Ian died. She’s been a rock since I met her. How could I screw up so badly and drive her away?

  “I’m scared, Trillian. I want to do right by everyone, and still, I’m not. Am I gonna lose the team? The one thing Ian left… besides you, little one.” She patted her tummy and Trillian pushed her nose under her hand. “Yeah, I remember you’re here.”

  Her tears hadn’t really started when her phone sang Amy’s ring tone. Let it go to voice mail? No, Amy’ll kill me when she gets here. By the second ring, Trillian had stalked away.

  “Amy,” she began, pleased that her voice wasn’t breaking, yet. “What’s going on in…” Where are they? “… Chatham? Everything’s okay, right?”

  “Better here than there, according to Beth.”

  “Yeah.”

  After a long moment where Amy clearly expected more of a response than Beckie was ready to give, Amy said, “I knew Beth’s ready to take over the training, but I thought she’d kinda slide into it, not have it dumped on her. What happened?”

  “Did you guys talk to Elena?”

  “Sure. What about?”

  “You tell me, Amy.”

  The pause was nearly as pregnant as Beckie.

  “What did she say?” Amy asked.

  Beckie lay back under the bougainvillea, avoiding the thorns. “She said she wouldn’t tell me again what bothered her; she’d already said it three times, so she had no expectation that I’d listen this time either. Then she told me I
should allow mentors to mentor, close at hand. That sounded like you and Beth.”

  “It does. But we didn’t say anything like that to her specifically. Though if she listened…”

  “There’s that,” Beckie agreed.

  “As for the other… you can’t think what she meant?”

  Beckie shook her head, then remembered they weren’t using Skype. “Not a clue.”

  “Well… I think maybe your sparring technique…”

  A long pause while Beckie contemplated Amy’s words. “My sparring technique,” she finally repeated. As she did, Trillian padded back, then eventually lay down under the bush, her head on Beckie’s thigh. Absentmindedly, she began to pet the cat’s ears.

  “Yeah,” Amy replied. “Don’t you remember? It really upset Lena the time you beat up Kerry.”

  Beckie could only gasp as the memory of that day flooded back. “I guess I pissed off most everybody that day.”

  “Well, yeah, you did. And I thought we were all over it after you, you know, apologized. Maybe Lena…”

  “She gave no sign the whole Rose Creek job.”

  “She wouldn’t, would she? Professional.” A pause. “Want me to come back for a while?”

  “No! I want you guys to have a peaceful turkey dinner, and then head back to school. That’s your job.” A little squall line blew across, leaving Beckie’s face completely wet. “However…” She continued wiping her face while talking. “You do have those documents on the job we don’t know where it is, right? We’ll go over them next week, so read them at least.”

  “We have til January, don’t we?”

  “You been listening to Maurice? Yes, we have til January. And yes, we’re gonna make sure we know everything that Ian and the client have said so far. Especially since you’re part of the team going there.”

  “I know, I know. If you’re okay? I’m going to see if I can help with preparations ‘round here.”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks for calling. Either Maurice or I will send you an email when we schedule the review.”

  She smiled as she slid the phone back in her pocket, then used both hands to scratch Trillian’s neck.

  “So Trill, I maybe didn’t make Jimmy unhappy, but I have no one else to blame for Elena.” She wiped water from her eyes; it wasn’t all rain. “First Ian, then almost killing Lisa, and now driving Elena away. I’m doin’ a fucking fine job, aren’t I?”

  She lay for a few minutes longer, Trillian’s head now weighing down the baby bump. She was silent, though, well, except for the purring when Beckie’s fingers hit a good spot.

  Suddenly, another squall line blew over, and Beckie was again drenched. She tipped her head up to see that this one was going to persist. “I might as well swim back,” she muttered to the cat, but instead, gently moved Trillian’s head and stood beside the bougainvillea.

  Trillian made a rude sounding noise and crept further under the bush.

  “Okay, Trill. I’m headed back home. You can stay here if you want, but I’ve got things to think about.”

  As she crossed the runway in the rain, the sky lightened to the southwest. With water running down both her front and back, and her jeans squishing with every step, she gave the approaching tarmac a nasty glance, put her head down and continued toward the hangar and the dock.

  Okay, I know what I’ve done wrong. Now, I need to figure out why, at least enough to stop doing it on so regular a basis. I’m doing the same thing Rou accused Kerry of: acting without thinking. When I… caused Ian’s death, I didn’t think of the consequences beyond I can get these guys. When Lisa showed up, I ignored the possibilities I knew existed; it was easier to fold her into the operation. But I did that without admitting that operations don’t ever go the way you think, and we had no fall-back to protect her.

  The bailing pump was working just fine as Beckie stepped off the dock and into the skiff for the run back to Home Cay. Before casting off, she did a survey of the weather, deciding that the wind and chop would not slow her down; the six or seven minute trip wouldn’t be extended.

  While piloting the boat, she focused on the sparring with Amy, then Lisa and finally Kerry. And Elena’s reaction to each of those. Yeah, I think Amy’s right… again. Better not piss her off!

  Just inside the front door, she called to Boynton as she tried to remove her dripping garments. “Maurice, can you bring me a towel so I don’t have to run around naked, please?”

  Even quicker than she’d expected, she had a pile of fluffy towels on the table beside her, and Boynton had disappeared once again. She giggled as she finally dragged her last article of clothing off, wrapped herself in an oversized bath sheet and rolled the saturated clothes in a second towel to keep them from dribbling all the way to the laundry.

  In her room, she showered, then threw herself on the bed. She folded her hands over the baby. “I can talk to you as well as Trillian. Better; you’re here all the time… For now anyway. It’s not like either of you can actually do something. I’ve gotta be the one makes the change.”

  Knowing that didn’t make it all that much easier. The pain of losing Ian, renewed guilt over Lisa’s injuries, and now the team’s loss of Elena, never mind her personal sense of loss as the woman strolled away.

  My guilt. Was I actually trying to, what’s the word? Allay? Yeah, allay my guilt. Which, if I’m honest, little one… Why am I focused on my guilt? That’s the other thing Lena said, isn’t it? Hoping I’d get hurt, feel physical pain to go with the mental.

  But that makes it… I’m not focused on my guilt, I’m focused on me! Making all this shit about my feelings and wishes, making it about me!

  That’s not the right thing to do with Ian’s memory, is it? Or Kevin’s. Or the effort Lisa made to help out, irregardless of her safety.

  Fuck! I better get over that!

  Holidays

  MID-DECEMBER, BECKIE CONTACTED LISA about the plans for Christmas. She’d worried the plans might have been derailed by the Rose Creek action and Lisa’s injury, but her family decided two weeks in the Cottage on Home Cay beat their in-the-process-of-being-packed-up home.

  With that settled, she pulled Beth off for a stroll after her usual ten AM meeting with Willie.

  “What’s on your mind, Boss?”

  Beckie sheered off toward the packed sand of the strand, then said, “Not much information from Tjaart the past week or so. Have you gotten anything?”

  “Nothing you’ve not seen, I’m certain. He’s had his own work, too.”

  “Oh, that!” Beckie scoffed at the idea the South African policeman would ignore assigned tasks in favor of unpaid work from Beth. “So, do you think there’s actually no news at all?”

  “None he’s privy to. Why? What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, it’s been…” Beckie took out her phone and studied the display. “… three months, twenty-one days, twenty-two hours and…” More calculations; haven’t done this for almost a day “… fifteen minutes… since Ian died. Nearly four months.” She stopped and caught Beth’s arm, facing her friend. “This isn’t all bad… I’m hoping I can ask you to head home for Christmas… and—”

  “And while I’m there, get cozy with Tjaart and anyone else who might have particulars? Really Beckie, you can be so transparent when you want to!”

  Beckie smirked. “I guess that worked, then.” She pushed off along the beach again, tugging Beth to follow. As they strolled in the shallow waves, Beckie reviewed the training that Beth had been doing, to make sure everything could be rescheduled, and more importantly, confirming that Beth could be back by the twenty-sixth, so she could take over from Amy with Lisa before the girl returned to school in January.

  A couple days later, Beth had left and the Grove family arrived from San Diego to fill Beckie’s time. She discovered that following breakfast and a check-up with Amy’s mom, Lisa had grabbed Amy’s arm for a walk and swim. This became evident when Boynton led the pair to the lanai where Beckie was sitting, feeling fat
and sorry, except when the baby moved.

  Lisa had donned her ‘scraps of fabric’ swim suit again, and Amy apparently had chosen one modeled on it; Boynton showed them in with the quirky smile he and Willie shared when confronted with young ladies and vast amounts of their skin. That was Beckie’s interpretation, at least.

  “When are you and Dylan getting together?” she teased, and was gratified at the blush spreading over both her visitors, though Amy’s was a little brighter.

  “I think we might change, first,” Amy mumbled.

  Lisa laughed. “We’ll definitely change before Eric gets here! Wendy already had a stroke over my suit. She was so mad when I bought it, and brought Mom in to demand I never wear it in front of him.”

  “That’s funny. I didn’t think she had any self-confidence issues.”

  “She doesn’t really. About like Amy, actually, but she does believe that Eric’s… I don’t know, his feelings for me, maybe, that they’re closer to how he feels about her than they really are. Like, he’s head-over-heels, lay-his-coat-in-the-mud-for-her-to-walk-on-while-he’s-still-wearing-it in love with her.”

  Amy’s laughter had thrown her suit into disarray; she blushed again and straightened the top. “That’s why I’ll change before Dylan wakes up!”

  “Enough of your petty jealousy of our perfect bodies,” Lisa said, still smirking. “Get off your butt and at least walk with us even if you won’t put on a swim suit.”

  “But…” Beckie laughed. It was mid-morning and the temperature was closing on eighty. Why not? “Wait right here. I don’t have anything to compete with you two, but I’m not ashamed, either!”

  In her room, she changed into the two piece that fit her expanded body, covered it with a white overshirt and found her friends waiting on the beach south of the house.

  With little experience in pregnant bodies, they spent more time than Beckie thought necessary examining her own example. After they’d both laid their hands to feel the kicks from inside, she called time and with an arm around each of their waists, led them to the water.