Matt shrugged, rallied, and gave Dara a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re good for my soul. I know you have things to do. Go ahead and get started. I’ll take the lei out to Alani. We need to start our security inspection of the grounds.”
*
Matt watched from the office across from the examination room late in the afternoon as Dara opened the door, holding a three-month-old baby girl in her arms. The mother was standing nearby, looking drawn. He’d moved into the opposite office to have a place to sit and gather his notes from the walk he’d taken around the charity earlier today with Alani. The exam room had no air-conditioning in it, so sometimes Dara would leave the door half open to get some fresh air into it for herself and her patients. The Madonna-like expression on Dara’s face anchored him, filling him with desire, with love and so much more for her. For the moment, the work in his hands was forgotten. She gently placed the baby on the soft blankets across the gurney.
Dara’s blond hair was drawn back into a ponytail, as it usually was when she was in doc mode. The baby had huge blue eyes and was kicking her tiny legs; she wore a pink, summery top and a diaper. She waved her arms as Dara leaned over, talking sweetly to her. Something tightened in his chest, a sensation of such powerful love for her that he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Matt felt like a thief stealing upon such a priceless, once-in-a-lifetime moment, privileged to glimpse it. Dara’s face had transformed, was radiant, her smile tender, eyes misty as she kissed the baby’s tiny head, her thin brown curls beneath her lips.
He couldn’t tell what Dara said as she turned her attention from the baby to the mother, but the mother looked relieved; he saw her shoulders drop, as if a huge burden had just been lifted away from her. Feeling as if he were interrupting a moment that should be shared between those two, he eased to his feet and quietly closed the door to the office, the look on Dara’s face forever branded into his heart and soul. He saw Stacy in the background, being the useful little helper she was to Dara. She seemed almost happy, but he wasn’t sure. His pride in Dara, in her being able to work with such wounded children, touched his soul. As he sat down, he pictured Dara with a similar look on her face as she held their son or daughter. His mind shifted and he spread the many notes he’d taken out in front of him. This morning, after rising and before breakfast, he’d sensed several different feelings around Dara.
One was worry, and Matt was fairly sure it was about his leaving once more for Afghanistan after they returned from this vacation. He could almost feel her trying to protect herself emotionally from the reality that he’d be gone for another two months in a land she knew was deadly and dangerous.
Another sensation he’d picked up on was excitement, entwined with strands of anxiety. It was as if she were moving up and down in an elevator, one moment euphoric and hopeful, the next, her hope dashed and a feeling of sadness and loss overwhelming her. Matt had no idea what that was about. He’d always regarded women as an enigma and men as simple in comparison. He supposed women were that way because their hormones were so much more complex than a man’s, since they were the ones who carried children and men did not. Still, it bothered him to feel her waffling emotionally like that, and it was something he wanted to address with her tonight.
This was the happiest yet that Matt had felt since meeting Dara at Bagram. Sure, some of it could have been that they were finally alone together, able to explore one another in depth. Matt sensed that their marriage would be like his mother and father’s: happy. It didn’t mean there wouldn’t be challenges, setbacks, or problems to work through. Life was never about being happy all the time. It was always about pain of some sort or another that had to be negotiated and worked through. He was glad his mother had prepared all of them at a young age in that regard, because he saw life as climbing up and down mountains. Right now, Matt considered himself in an “up” cycle. But he knew that soon enough—and he hoped it didn’t involve Afghanistan—he’d be sucked into a “down” cycle, where shit happened.
Frowning, he used the mission briefing form that Wyatt Lockwood, Tal’s fiancé, had created for Artemis to send in a security report. From there, Wyatt would have the information analyzed. His mother and their board would then be given a briefing. Lastly, decisions would be made, and if an Artemis contractor or team was needed, Tal would approve such an action. If, on the other hand, all that was needed was money to buy the necessary security equipment, the charity would quickly be given that money to keep all of them safer. It would all get sorted out, and Matt was sure that this charity would become safer for those who needed it.
Matt’s experience with Stacy bothered the hell out of him. His discussion with Dara last night after making love with her had been about how the young girl needed a positive male role model. In his report, he’d suggested creating a class about the positive father role model. He knew that his mother had created workshops for and given ongoing psychological help to abused and battered women. These abused children needed help to deal with their emotional wounds. Matt knew there were men who were damned good fathers, like his own, like Dara’s dad, who would never lift a hand against their wives, much less their children. He decided to push the idea at the yearly international meeting of Delos, which was held at the main headquarters in Alexandria, Virginia. He wanted to get everyone to think about how to bring positive male role models to Safe House children who had only seen the ugly, dark side of abusive men in their own life. Children like Stacy needed to know that positive, loving men were out there, too. Even though she’d been raised in a hellish environment of pain, punishment, and violence, her perspective could be broadened so that she would begin to realize there were good men in the world, too.
Matt fully admitted he was no psychologist. But he’d stumbled upon something he felt was important. All the employees of the Safe House Foundation were women, and he understood why. It wasn’t women who had harmed the mothers or their children. It was understandable that they didn’t want to have males on the property. But by not bringing in “safe” men who were healthy role models, Matt felt something was missing and left out of balance. He wasn’t sure how it could be corrected, but he wanted to try.
During the security inspection, Alani had told him that some of the children needed new shoes, but Safe House couldn’t cover the cost of them. He’d asked for a list of children’s names and their shoe sizes, and one of Alani’s assistants brought it to him. He’d asked her to fax it to his mother’s office in Alexandria with a note to please go to their immense warehouse of clothing donations and find new shoes for the boys and girls here who needed them. Matt knew his mother would get them boxed and sent via UPS to Alani, who could then distribute them to the children. Running a charity was always difficult. Even Delos, the most well-funded charity in the world because of the family’s billions, still had shortages. At least this one issue was an easy fix.
Matt became lost in his work, and only a light knock on his door snagged his attention. The door opened and Dara stuck her head inside.
“Hey, it’s six p.m. Are you ready to leave? I’m done for the day.” She opened the door fully, no longer wearing her white lab coat and stethoscope. Even nicer, she’d released her golden hair from that constricted ponytail and it was now a gold cape around her shoulders, emphasizing the clean lines of her face and those incredible, deep-blue eyes of hers.
“Yeah,” he grunted, pushing the chair back from the desk. “I got sucked into this intel,” he said apologetically.
She smiled, understanding. “Everyone is gone for the day. We’re the last to leave. I’m starving to death, Matt Culver. Why don’t you take me out to eat at a nice seafood restaurant? I’d love to put some lobster into melted butter and lemon.”
He grinned and gathered up his papers. “I think we can find something nearby.”
Matt picked up the sound of bare feet slapping against the tiles in the hall. Someone was running toward them.
Dara turned, looking in that direction down the passageway.
Frowning, he came around the desk.
Stacy ran up to them and came to a halt as Matt stood at the entrance to the office. She was breathing hard, her hair frizzy once more. In her hand was a bright-red hibiscus bloom.
“I-I wanted to give you this,” she told Matt solemnly, lifting it toward him in her small hands.
Stunned, Matt stared down at her and then over at Dara. She smiled a little but said nothing, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He turned, slowly moving into a crouch so he could look directly into the child’s eyes and not seem so threatening because he towered over her. Stacy was blushing furiously as she pushed the red bloom into his offered hand. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick and unsteady. Giving her a warm look, he said, “This is beautiful, Stacy. Thank you for giving it to me.”
“You can … umm … put it in a glass of water when you get home if you want. It will stay fresh for tonight. Did you know hibiscuses only bloom for one day and then they close up and fall off the bush after that?”
Matt shook his head. “No, I didn’t know that.” He smiled a little. “Where did you get this?” He’d seen no hibiscus bushes around the property when he’d walked it this morning with Alani.
“Oh”—Stacy moved restlessly from one bare foot to another—“well … don’t tell my mother, but I went behind the barracks and into that nice neighborhood behind us. There’s lots of pretty houses there. And the people who live in those homes take really good care of them. I love looking at all the flowers along that street. That’s why I knew where to get you a flower.”
Matt’s heart broke but he kept the smile on his face, the huge red blossom in his open palm. “Well, then I’d say this is a very special gift. Thank you, Stacy. It means a lot to me.”
“Or, you could, umm …” She pointed up at Dara. “You could put the blossom behind her left ear. It means that she’s taken, that she’s in love with you, and going to get married.”
Touched, Matt nodded. “I’ll do that right now.” He slowly rose, careful not to startle Stacy by moving too fast and making her feel threatened. Dara smiled and walked up to him, turning so that he could affix the bloom behind her left ear by pulling her blond hair aside. She helped him get it to stay where it belonged.
“What do you think?” Matt asked the child. “Did we do it right?”
Stacy clasped her hands to her chest beneath the muumuu. “Oh, yes! Red looks so good on you, Dr. McKinley!”
Dara laughed and said, “It’s my favorite color, Stacy. You must be psychic!” Dara touched the bloom gently and leaned down, kissing the top of Stacy’s head. “Thank you. That’s so sweet and thoughtful of you.”
Stacy colored fiercely and she hung her head, her gaze on her feet.
Matt swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. He felt helpless and frustrated that he could not reach out and hug her. But he was sure such a motion on his part would be badly misinterpreted by her. All he could do was rasp, “Thank you, Stacy …”
Without warning, she moved swiftly, opening her arms and throwing them around his waist, clinging to him as though if she released Matt, she’d be swept away forever. He hadn’t expected this and was momentarily stunned, but his arms automatically moved around her slender, thin shoulders. She pressed her face against his T-shirt across his belly, as if to hide. He held her tenderly, leaning over, grazing her unruly hair. There was so much he wanted to say, but he was so damned afraid of doing the wrong thing. Looking up at Dara for direction, he saw her gulping several times, trying not to cry. Hell, he was on the verge of tears himself.
Stacy was underweight for her age—he guessed she was malnourished, because she was twelve and yet had the height of a girl of maybe ten—and the fragility of her small form saddened him. He’d found out from Alani earlier she’d been molested all her young life by not only her father but her three uncles, as well. And her battered mother had stood aside, allowing it to happen, already beaten down with her husband’s fists so much that she couldn’t even protect her innocent daughter. That information had sickened him. It served to make his commitment to children like Stacy, to help them heal from their psychic, emotional, and physical wounds, even stronger.
Lifting his hand, Matt followed his heart, praying that as he grazed her hair, Stacy would know that it wasn’t a sexual advance on his part, but rather, he was trying to give her love … real love. He hoped she would absorb his heart, the care he felt for her. Her little shoulders began to shake and his T-shirt became suddenly damp. Oh, hell! It was then that Matt realized just how little he knew about child rearing and how to be a father. He hadn’t a clue. And right now, he wished he knew so much more. But Stacy wasn’t a normal child, anyway.
Always, as an operator out on a mission, Matt had followed his inner knowing at times when he couldn’t pin down a threat. And always, those internal, primal skills had led him to the right path and kept him alive. To hell with it; right or wrong, he was going to get down on one knee and simply hold Stacy and let her cry on his shoulder. Dara believed that tears were healing, and he thought that had never been more true than it was right now. Easing her hands from around his waist, he went down on one knee. Matt opened his arms enough to allow Stacy to come as close or as far away from him as she wanted. The moment he gave her that opportunity, she clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, as if she were going to die if she left any space between them. Her sobs got louder, more tears wetting the shoulder of his T-shirt. Enclosing her gently with his arms, Matt rocked her a little, whispering hoarsely that she was going to be all right. That better days were ahead for her. And he lost track of time, fully absorbed in the girl’s pain and the anguish tearing out of her contorted mouth, the tears seemingly never-ending.
Dara came over and crouched next to Matt, her hand in the center of Stacy’s back, and they knelt in the hall, becoming a protective, loving cradle of arms for the child. Tears came down Dara’s cheeks and she didn’t try to stop them. Matt’s face was hard, set, and he was struggling not to cry himself, but his gold-brown eyes were alive with anguish for Stacy, for her plight, for all the right reasons with this severely wounded child.
Dara’s heart went out to Matt, because he didn’t know how to handle this and wasn’t sure what to do. She could feel him floundering, wanting to fix something that couldn’t be fixed. She rubbed her hand tenderly across Stacy’s shoulders, whispering loving words near her ear, giving her the affection she so sorely needed. Who had ever held her? From what Dara had seen, in so many broken families like hers, it was the oldest child who became the adult. And the adult, usually the mother, was either so beaten down by the man who abused her or so caught up in simply enabling herself and her children to survive that she became like a child.
Finally, Stacy’s tears stopped and she started hiccupping, drawing away a little bit from the front of Matt’s damp T-shirt, wiping her reddened eyes with her trembling fingers.
“I-I wish you could both stay here,” she whispered brokenly, giving them a pleading look. “Y-you help so many of us,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes again.
Matt felt miserable, tongue-tied, unable to say anything of importance. It was Dara, with that compassionate look in her eyes, who wiped the last of Stacy’s tears from her small, wan face with a tissue she’d pulled from her pocket. All he could do was allow her to lean against him, his arms loose around her waist.
“Someday,” Dara whispered, kissing her damp cheek, “you will come out of this time in your life, Stacy. And there are good people everywhere. Mrs. Alani is helping you and so is your mom. Soon, you’ll feel better. You’re eating, from what she says. And look how grown-up you were today! You helped me out so much. I couldn’t have seen that many babies and children today without your being there.” She smoothed Stacy’s frizzy hair away from her face. “You are greatly loved. Don’t ever forget that. No matter how dark or bad it gets, there’s light to follow after those storms in your life, Stacy. Will you remember that for us? We lov
e you dearly. We think you’re a very beautiful young woman, and you’re destined for a wonderful life.”
Matt felt tears burn in his eyes and he struggled to keep them at bay. Stacy remained against him, and he could feel she needed that masculine love and support but didn’t know how to ask for it or receive it because of the abuse she’d suffered. He was grateful for Dara’s sincere words, her extension of love to Stacy, because he could see the girl lapping it up, starved for a little human nurturing when so much had already been stolen from her.
“When we leave, Matt and I will make sure to email Mrs. Alani every so often to see how you’re doing. You’re such a bright young lady, and we know you can be anything you dream of being. So keep in touch with us through her.” Dara looked tenderly into her reddened, tear-filled eyes. Stacy was so broken. So in need of so much. But so was her mother, who was even more fractured. She recognized now more than ever that Delos was a force for good, a shining light of hope for children and adults just like the ones here at Safe House. She leaned over, framing Stacy’s damp face with her hands, kissing her like a mother would kiss her beloved child. The fact that Stacy clung to Matt told her that some remaining healthy part of her trusted him even though he was a man. And that was a hopeful sign.
“O-okay, Dr. McKinley …” she whispered, trying to smile but failing. “I-I’m glad you like the flower. I-I wanted to thank Matt for what he did for me.” She gave Matt a miserable look. “I-I wanted that lei so bad, but I was afraid. I’m sorry …”
Tears jammed into his eyes. Matt reached out, caressing her cheek. “It’s okay, Stacy. I understood. You just keep getting better. Mrs. Alani and her staff will always be there to help you. And you’ll always be able to connect with us in the emails. This isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning. We will never forget you. We’ll be as close as you want us. Okay?”
Giving a jerky nod, she looked away for a moment and then turned, kissing his cheek swiftly. And then she pulled out of his arms, hugged Dara with all her child’s strength, and turned, running down the hall, her thin, ragged muumuu flying around her knees.
Never Enough: Delos Series, 3B1 Page 11
