Heart Stealers

by Patricia McLinn

  When Mitch sat back down, Som said, “Go on, Johnny.”

  Mitch noticed Johnny Battaglia held the last gift. He clutched a square, neatly wrapped package a little too tightly. When Johnny handed it to him, the boy said, “This was my idea.” Mitch heard Johnny’s silent I take responsibility for it.

  Ready to joke, Mitch looked up into Johnny’s face. Usually filled with cocky self-assurance, his expression was uneasy.

  “Nah, we all agreed,” Brenda told him. “We wanted to do this, too.”

  The hair on the back of Mitch’s neck prickled. He glanced over at Cassie. She must have caught the kids’ seriousness, because she shook her head, telling him she didn’t know what gift they’d chosen.

  Mitch tore the paper off and found a plush velvet box—the kind jewelry came in. Slowly, he raised the lid.

  His heart skidded to a halt. He closed his eyes briefly, struggling for control. He knew the kids would be hanging on to his reaction.

  Inside the box was a Purple Heart and a Silver Star. He swallowed hard as he studied them. He traced the gold rim of the heart and its purple interior with a fingertip, then touched the gold of George Washington’s profile mounted in the center. He brushed a thumb over the faded purple-and-white ribbon attached to it. His gaze zeroed in on the star. The outer gold part was a little tarnished, but the inner silver star sparkled off the lights above. Its red, white and blue ribbon had faded, too.

  Mitch looked up at the kids. They seemed to be holding their collective breath.

  His eyes locked on Johnny. “Where...?”

  “Your brother had them. That day when you made him throw them in the garbage, he fished them out after you left.”

  “I never knew.”

  “He said he hoped someday you’d heal enough to want them.”

  “How did he know you knew about them?” Mitch asked Johnny.

  “I brought it up.”

  “I see.”

  “Turn it over,” Johnny said hoarsely.

  Mitch did. On the back of the star, it read, “Sergeant Mitchell Lansing. 1973.” He pondered the inscription for a moment then cleared his throat. “This wasn’t engraved.”

  “I know,” Johnny confessed. “I had it done.”

  Still on the edge of control, Mitch stared at the reminders of the war...the personal, painful reminders.

  Nikki stepped forward next to Johnny. She knelt down in front of Mitch and touched his hand. “Captain Lansing?”

  Mitch raised his eyes to hers.

  “Tam would have wanted you to have these. To be proud of these.”

  Mitch felt his eyes sting but managed to maintain control. “You think so, Nikki?”

  “I know so, Captain.”

  “Well, okay then. I’ll keep them.”

  “And be proud of them,” Johnny said.

  Mitch looked at Johnny again. “And be proud of them,” Mitch repeated.

  * * *

  Cassie scanned the party house where the Bayview Heights High School Winter Ball was held annually and smiled with satisfaction. It had been one of her goals to get the At-Risk kids to attend this year, making them feel more a part of the regular school community. Nine out of twelve had shown up. Of course, DeFazio hadn’t come; he’d been in and out of school for the last three weeks and his parents had provided lame excuses about his absences. Seth had scheduled a support services meeting next week to discuss DeFazio’s problem.

  Amy Anderson was missing, too. She’d called just before Cassie had left to say her baby was sick and she couldn’t leave him. She’d sounded sad, and Cassie’s heart ached for the young mother. But it was Mike Youngblood’s absence that bothered Cassie the most. When she’d asked him why he wasn’t coming, he’d shuffled his feet as if he was embarrassed and would only say he didn’t want to. Deep down, Cassie suspected he didn’t have the appropriate clothing, but when she’d broached the subject, he’d been evasive. Most of the kids had scraped together some kind of jacket and tie or dress, but she thought Youngblood probably couldn’t find anything at the group home.

  “What’s the frown for, Teach?”

  Cassie turned to find Johnny—dressed in an immaculate dark suit and white shirt that set off his coloring—with a beautiful young girl on his arm.

  “Hi,” Cassie said, reaching out to touch his arm. Then she addressed his date. “I’m Cassie Smith.”

  “Hi, I’m—”

  Johnny cut her off with a grin and the words “Mary Margaret Mancini.”

  The girl shook her head. “I’m Meg. For some reason, Johnny prefers my whole embarrassing name.”

  “It’s a pretty name,” Cassie said “Nice to meet you.”

  “I love your dress,” Meg said.

  “Thanks.” Cassie looked down at her new purchase. It had been fun splurging on the peacock blue silk party dress. With cap sleeves, a narrow waist and just-above-the-knee length, it was modest enough to wear to a school event, yet sexy enough to make Mitch notice—if he ever got here.

  “Where’s the captain?” Johnny asked with a knowing look. Sometimes that kid seemed to read her mind.

  “He said he’d meet us here at nine.”

  “Hello.” She heard Mitch’s voice from behind. Just the sound of it made her knees weak.

  Cassie turned to find Mitch, dressed in a charcoal gray pin-striped suit that accented his linebacker’s shoulders. With it he wore the tie the kids had given him today. Cassie was about to comment on the tie when Mike Youngblood stepped out from behind Mitch.

  Wearing a three-piece navy blue suit, a light blue shirt and a tasteful striped tie, Youngblood grinned broadly at her. Even his shoes were spit-shined. The entire outfit was brand new.

  Austyn Jones had joined them and whistled when he saw Mike. “Hey, Youngblood. Where’d ya get those duds?”

  “Down at the Hub.”

  “Man, how you afford that store?”

  Mitch said smoothly, “I made him a loan. He’s working it off by painting the inside of my town house on weekends.”

  Cassie’s heart swelled when she realized what had happened. I’ll talk to Youngblood before I leave, Mitch had said today.

  “You look great, Mike.” Cassie gave Mitch a sideways glance.

  The music switched abruptly to an old Beatles tune, and several of the kids—including Johnny and Meg—hit the dance floor. The rest went in search of punch, leaving Mitch and Cassie alone.

  Cassie stared at Mitch knowingly, until he said, “What?”

  “Thanks. For what you did for Mike.”

  Mitch stuck his hands in his pockets and watched the dancers. “I didn’t do anything. I told you he’s working it off.”

  “Oh, sure. Painting the brand new walls in your town house.”

  “Builders use cheap paint. Besides, I’m thinking of doing my bedroom over and thought a couple of black walls might be an interesting change.”

  Cassie laughed.

  “You can give me your opinion later, when you see it.”

  Then he leaned over and whispered, “You’re gonna pay, lady, for wearing that dress.”

  Her breath hitched at his husky innuendo. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

  “It hugs that cute little behind of yours, Cassandra, and you know it.” He gave her a searing look. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

  “You’ll have to,” she said, laughing. “But I’ll make it worth the wait. After all, I never renege on my bribes.”

  They both chuckled at how she’d gotten him to attend the dance—by agreeing to spend the rest of the weekend at his house.

  Some payment, she thought.

  They watched the kids for a minute in contented silence.

  “Johnny’s great out there,” Mitch said.

  “Yes, I didn’t know he could dance like that.”

  “A skill all hunks should develop.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Cassie gave him a sexy up-and- down perusal. “I don’t see you out there.”

  Despite the fact
that they were in a crowded party house, in front of hundreds of students, Mitch slid his arm around her shoulders and briefly hugged her. “Trying to turn my head with compliments?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’d better stop flirting with me. That dress and that sparkle in your eyes is enough. Don’t stretch my control by turning on the charm, too.”

  “Okay, I’ll just resort to being my old, prickly self.”

  Again, he laughed. It was then that Cassie realized how unfamiliar his response was—she hadn’t heard him laugh this much since she met him.

  They socialized with the kids and several staff members for the next half hour.

  Then Tara Romig approached them. Dance star that she was, she’d been spinning around the floor since Cassie had arrived. The DJ had just begun “Rock-Around-the-Clock.” Tara said breathlessly, “Can you guys jitterbug?”

  All the kids joked and made wisecracks. When no one would dance with her, she shook her head. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Mitch stepped forward. “They’re all young punks, Tara. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

  Tara’s eyes lit up like twinkling stars. “Really, Captain?”

  “Really, Ms. Romig.” He held out his hand.

  Tara took it and they made their way to the dance floor.

  Cassie’s mouth fell open as she watched Mitch fall into step with the trained dancer. It was incredible.

  His feet moved fast and smoothly. He pulled Tara to him with both hands, then spun her around. As soon as she was sure of his rhythm, she went with him, giving an extra spin, sliding along his arm. Once, he dipped her. She gave herself to it then, reversing her hands so Mitch could spin. He did, then grabbed her around the waist and let her do a complicated turn.

  Cassie was so enthralled, she didn’t see the kids on the floor moving until they had circled Mitch and Tara. Her own students sidled in so they could see, and Cassie followed suit. For another few minutes, Mitch and Tara tore up the floor. Mitch’s cheeks were flushed but his eyes were shining with pleasure.

  When the song ended, the kids whistled and clapped. The DJ immediately played another jitterbug tune. Tara and Mitch danced again.

  Seth came up to Cassie in the midst of it. “He’s a man of many talents.”

  Unable to tear her eyes away, Cassie nodded. “He is.”

  Seth chuckled, but it turned into a frown when Macarena music came on. “Oh, no.”

  “What?” Cassie asked.

  “I told the student government if they got more than eighty per cent of the student body to attend, I’d let them teach me the Macarena.”

  Cassie giggled. “This I’ve got to see.”

  The president of the student government made the announcement that Mr. Taylor was going to dance, and asked everyone to join them. Lines formed as Cassie stepped back.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Mitch came forward and grabbing her hand. “Get out here.”

  Cassie retreated farther. “No, no, Mitch, I...”

  He was dragging her toward the floor. “Mitch, really.” She grabbed his arm. “Mitch!” He stopped. “I can’t dance.”

  “What?”

  “I said, I can’t dance. It’s one of those social things I never learned.”

  “You mean, my little volleyball jock can’t master a few steps?”

  She angled her chin.

  “My tough cookie who walked the streets of the Village alone is afraid of a little line dancing?”

  Her eyes flared. “Oh, shut up. All right, I’ll try.”

  Cassie reached the floor, gripping Mitch’s hand. Seth had pretty much mastered the few steps, and Tara took over with Cassie. Mitch, of course, fell right into line, effecting each turn, arm movement and shimmy of his body easily and fluidly.

  Damn it, Cassie wasn’t giving up.

  A long ten minutes later, Mitch pulled her close when an old Elvis Presley tune came on. “Think you can handle this one?” he teased.

  She glided into his arms but tried to keep a respectable distance. “I think I can.”

  “You did pretty good out there,” he said, his breath close to her ear.

  “I managed.” She looked up at him. He looked younger, more animated than she’d ever seen him. “Where’d you learn to dance like that?”

  “In Nam. Some of the guys in my squad said it was pitiful how white guys couldn’t dance. They taught us all their moves. Then a couple of the officers decided we all needed to learn the old stuff.”

  She grinned. “It’s sexy.”

  “Sexy, huh?” He ran his hand down her back, stopping at her waist. “You wanna see sexy, I’ll show you sexy—later.”

  Cassie settled into him and looked around the room. Johnny was glued to Meg, and they were barely moving. Jones was dancing with Tara, and several others had paired up. A few of her students stood on the sidelines, but they were smiling and joking with one another.

  Cassie felt a deep and abiding contentment as she rested her head on Mitch’s chest and heard his heart thud reassuringly beneath her ear.

  * * *

  No one inside saw the shadowed figure step back away from the window into the snow.

  No one inside heard him turn to his companion and say, “Yeah, he’s here. They’re all here.”

  * * *

  Mitch’s master bedroom didn't need painting. Huge, furnished in smooth, cool teak, it sported a king-size bed, built-in closets and a glossy wall unit holding books, a television, a DVD and stereo. Recessed lighting gave the room a soft, sensual glow.

  Donned in clingy teal silk pajamas, Cassie stepped out of the bathroom onto the plush, off-white carpeting. Mitch was sprawled on top of the bed, his hands linked behind his head. He’d undressed and the dark green top sheet was flipped over his lap. Matching pillows behind his head made his eyes forest green. She was drawn toward him. When she got to the bed, he reached for her. Slowly, she straddled him. Provocatively, she bent over and kissed his naked chest.

  “Payback time?” she murmured into his skin.

  He slid his hands inside the waistband of her pajamas and cupped her bottom. “No more teasing, love,” he told her. “I want you now.”

  But there were words after, as they cuddled under the heavy down comforter. Apparently, the earlier, easy camaraderie and then the closeness of sex had made him want to confide in her. About Vietnam.

  “I was so disillusioned when I got there,” he told her hoarsely. “They faked body counts to make it look like we were winning. And too many U.S. fatalities were friendly fire.”

  Lying on her side, Cassie crooked her arm, rested her head on her hand and combed the hair off his forehead. “That’s horrible.”

  “It was an atrocity.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

  His eyes hazy with hurt, he pulled her close and said, “Me, too.” They cuddled in spoon-like fashion, and there were no nightmares for Mitch as he held on to her as they slept.

  On Saturday afternoon, they lazed by the fire as light, fluffy snow drifted by the window. Mitch was distracting Cassie by tracing a tiny line of freckles from her shoulder to her chest, unbuttoning her sweater along the way. Her skin warmed beneath his fingers.

  Gazing at him, she asked, “I know you never married. But you never wanted any kids?”

  Mitch felt himself closing down—but her eyes stopped the reflexive action. There was so much trust in them.

  “I was too young to think about it before I went to Nam. Then after what I saw, what I did, I could never let anyone close enough. And I didn’t want to bring a child into this world.”

  “I used to feel that way, too,” she said, running her palms down his back. “But then I decided I could protect her, and help her in ways I never got helped.”

  “Her, huh?”

  “Yeah. Wouldn’t you like your own little bundle of sugar and spice to take care of?”

  Mitch hadn’t thought he would, but right then, gazing down in
to Cassie’s expressive face, he wanted things he’d never even considered before.

  She’d planned to leave Sunday afternoon, but he enticed her into showering with him. They’d soaped most of his body and half of hers when he braced her against the tile wall and took her. He felt full and firm and totally male against her, inside her. Cassie gasped for breath as the water turned cold on her fiery skin.

  She wanted to snuggle afterward in bed.

  Mitch held her close and kissed her hair. “You said there were things you’d never told anyone before.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me one.”

  She shook her head, burying her face in his chest.

  “Tell me.”

  Cassie drew in a deep breath. Dark secrets were meant to be hidden.

  “Just one,” he pleaded.

  She finally said, “One of my mother’s boyfriends seduced me when I was sixteen. He was a cop.”

  Mitch uttered a crude expletive. “That helps to explain your prejudice against the police.”

  “Uh-huh. But it wasn’t all his fault. I was willing. I’d been with boys before.” She sighed heavily. “When all the AIDS information came out, I got tested because of what I’d done. I was lucky to get a clean bill of health. I’ve been ashamed of all of it for a long time.”

  “You were a kid, Cass.”

  “Yeah. A really mixed-up kid.”

  He pulled her closer, entangling his legs with hers. “It’s why you’ve been careful in your adult life, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I respect myself more.”

  “I respect you, too.”

  Mitch kissed her goodbye at eight o’clock that night, telling her to drive carefully and call him when she got home. Happier than she’d ever been, she left him standing barefoot and sexily mussed in his doorway.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Late the next day, Cassie’s throat felt as if someone had stuffed a sock in it. Steeling herself as best she could, she surveyed her living room, focusing on the shambles in the middle of the floor. From behind her, Mitch rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

  “I’m so sorry, love,” he said.

  Biting her lip, Cassie breathed in deeply and swallowed hard. These were only material things, she told herself. All her life she’d resisted getting attached to “things.” Oh, she liked pretty clothes, comfortable furniture, a new car. But ultimately, she’d never let them matter too much to her. So this was okay, she repeated silently, she could handle it.