Return to Tomorrow

by Marisa Carroll

  Micah’s black mood lightened abruptly. He couldn’t help but smile. A fax had arrived at the embassy three days earlier, addressed to him, in care of Simon. It was a copy of a bill from Micah’s family doctor for a routine pregnancy test performed on Carrie Granger McKendrick. The results were positive; the balance due. It was like Carrie to let him know such earthshaking news in such a lighthearted manner.

  “Rachel needs me here, she needs all of us.”

  Once more Simon changed the subject. “I think you might want to read these dispatches I brought back with me.” He indicated the pile of papers lying beside the pearls.

  “I’m not interested in that stuff.” It was growing darker. A car pulled into the driveway. Micah thought it might be Nog, returning from market, but then saw the old man drift into the garden like an arthritic shadow and begin to light the stone lanterns that bordered the walkways. The garden looked peaceful and serene; his thoughts were not.

  “Okay,” Simon continued, undeterred, “I’ll read them to you.”

  Micah turned to face his brother once more. “All right, you read them to me.” His tone was not encouraging. The only light in the room came from a lamp by Simon’s left elbow. Light from beneath its shade poured across the desktop, but his brother’s face remained in shadow. Micah couldn’t read his expression, only sense his excitement.

  “It says that a secret witness’s testimony before a grand jury in New York has led to the indictment of the Shan warlord, Khen Sa, on ten counts of attempting to smuggle heroin into the United States.”

  “He’ll probably never come to trial. It wasn’t worth the loss of Tiger’s life, and Lonnie Smalley’s, just to make it official.”

  “It might just be the encouragement someone needs to turn him in. Khen Sa made a lot of enemies when that heroin went up in smoke. Powerful, vengeful enemies. You still think it was all for nothing?”

  “Men were killed, including my friend. Our sister’s heart is broken and you sit there spouting the party line. That’s not like you. What the hell’s up?”

  “Take it easy, big brother.” Simon didn’t sound offended. He sounded happy. “Things aren’t always the way they seem.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Death is always the way it seems. It’s the goddamn end of everything.” Micah took an angry step away from the window.

  “Not necessarily,” a familiar male voice said.

  “Tiger?” Micah appeared rooted to the floor for a long minute, then strode across the room to grab his friend by the arm. He held on tight. “It’s really you, man?”

  “It’s me. Rumors of my death were slightly exaggerated.”

  “Simon.” Micah whirled on his brother. “You son of a bitch, how long have you known?”

  “Only since this morning, so don’t jump down my throat.” Simon rose from behind Brett’s desk to shake his hand. “For what it’s worth, I had no idea State was pulling this stunt. I guess once you walked down out of those hills and they realized they had a real, live eyewitness on their hands, they just couldn’t resist the cloak-and-dagger stuff.”

  Brett’s expression was grim. The left side of his face was still bruised and slightly swollen. He looked dangerous and very angry. “I never knew. They didn’t want me making phone calls but they swore all my messages went through. It wasn’t until we got back to Bangkok yesterday that Alf Singleton told me everyone thought I was dead.”

  “When Alf told me what was going on, I made a bet with myself that you’d be out of the palace in twelve hours or less.” Simon looked at his watch. “That was eleven hours and seventeen minutes ago. Congratulations. Sometimes those audiences with His Majesty go on for days.”

  “Not when the guest of honor goes AWOL.” Brett grinned but it did nothing to lighten the tension in his eyes, the stiffness in his back and shoulders.

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Micah growled. “For two weeks we’ve thought you were dead.”

  “I damn near was.” Brett flicked a glance at his left arm, resting in a sling, and the cane he had hooked over his wrist. “Where’s Billy?”

  “At the Lemongrass with Ahnle and the baby. He’ll be madder than hell that he missed your return from the dead.”

  “And Rachel?”

  “In the garden,” Simon answered.

  “Does she know yet?”

  “No. I didn’t tell her.”

  “I still haven’t got this figured out.” Micah released Brett’s hand abruptly when he saw him wince. “Do you mean the State Department has had you under wraps since the raid and never told anyone?”

  “It was for my own safety, they said.”

  “What happened?”

  Brett took a deep breath. It wasn’t hard to see his patience was stretched to the breaking point. But Micah wouldn’t let up till he had an answer.

  “Plain dumb luck is what happened. The explosion blew me out through the wall and halfway up the hill. I was out cold till after dark. I don’t know how Khen Sa’s soldiers missed finding me. When I stumbled in to the base camp the next day, the only men there were DEA and CIA. It’s the kind of setup they like, and I was too out of it to object, until it was too late. I’d never have gone along with testifying to the grand jury if I’d known they’d told all of you I was dead. Look, it’s a long story. Simon’ll tell you what’s been going on. I’ve got to see Rachel.”

  “Christ, I feel like Alice after she fell through the rabbit hole.” Micah raked his fingers through his hair. “You’ll fill me in later?”

  “Much later.” A twist of a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He limped out of the room, leaving an astonished Micah staring at the empty doorway.

  “I think we ought to be moving to a hotel.” Simon crossed to the bar and poured a whiskey, neat. “Give Brett and Rachel some privacy. What do you think?” He held the glass out to Micah, who downed it in a swallow, then gestured for a refill.

  “I think this means that Rachel won’t be coming home with us for sure,” Micah said, and broke into a grin.

  “I’d say that’s a safe bet.” Simon grinned, too. He looked around at the beautifully furnished, comfortable room, the tropical garden coming to life in the moonlight. “I could get used to spending a few weeks here every year. Say, sometime around the middle of January, or so?” One dark eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch.

  Micah got the message. “Great place for a winter holiday. I wonder if anyone bothered to tell old Tiger just what kind of globe-trotting family he’s marrying into?” He laughed and slapped his brother on the back.

  “If he has any sense, he’ll marry her tomorrow, before Mom gets wind of it and starts planning a wedding from seven thousand miles away.”

  The possibility of just such an eventuality wiped the grin from Micah’s face.

  “God, I never thought of that.” He held out his empty glass. “Pour me another drink.”

  Simon laughed and obliged. Micah lifted his whiskey in a toast.

  “To the McKendricks.”

  “One and all.”

  SHE WAS SITTING ON A BENCH near the spirit grotto pool, her arms curled around her legs, her chin resting on her knees. She was wearing a white blouse and a full white skirt. She shimmered like moonbeams in the shadows cast by the lantern light.

  “Rachel,” he said very softly. He didn’t want to frighten her, yet he had no idea how to avoid doing so.

  “Brett?” She didn’t turn around. He leaned forward slightly to see her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut. There were tears on her cheeks. She’d been crying. For herself? For him? She was still crying. His heart began to beat with a slow, heavy urgency in his chest.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “I…I thought I heard you talking a few moments ago. It frightened me. Are you a ghost?” Her voice broke on the last word and it came out in a breathy whisper.

  “No. I’m not a ghost.”

  “Then I’m dreaming.”

  “Your eyes are closed,” he pointe
d out.

  “But I’m awake.”

  He took a step forward, held out his hand. “Touch me.”

  She shook her head, still not looking at him. “I can’t,” she whispered a little desperately. “I couldn’t bear it if you’re a figment of my imagination. If I reach out and touch you and you evaporate like smoke in the wind, I couldn’t stand the disappointment. I’m trying to be brave, for the others, for myself, but it’s so hard.”

  “I’m real, Rachel, alive and whole,” he smiled ruefully. “Almost.”

  Her eyes flew open. She whirled around on the bench.

  “Now do you believe me? No self-respecting ghost wears his arm in a sling.”

  She stood up in a swirl of white cotton and pressed herself against him. “Oh, God, you are hurt. How badly? Tell me.”

  “I’m fine,” he murmured against her hair, his eyes tight shut against the unfamiliar sting of tears. “I’m fine.”

  “Where have you been? Who’s been taking care of you? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?”

  The last was a cry from the very depths of her soul.

  “Believe me, Rachel. I would have told you, but I didn’t know they’d lied to you. I’m sorry, angel, so sorry.”

  She was crying so hard he thought she would come apart in his arms. He pulled her close, held her as tightly as he dared. He didn’t want to talk, to relate the miracle that had kept him from being blown to kingdom come with Khen Sa’s heroin; he didn’t want to explain the machinations of diplomats and spies and military hotshots that had kept him incommunicado since he’d walked out of the jungle in a daze. He only wanted to feel her in his arms, touch her, hold her, love her.

  “Shhh, don’t cry.” He kissed her tearstained cheeks, her eyelids, her lips, over and over again, as if to reassure himself, as well as her, that he was truly among the living.

  “I wanted to die, myself, when they told me you and Lonnie were dead.” She looked into his eyes in wonder. “What happened, Brett? How did you escape? The fire, the smoke…” Her voice trailed off. She wrapped her arms around him so tightly his bruised and battered ribs protested, but he didn’t make a sound. The pain was more than countered by the pleasure of holding her in his arms once more.

  “Who told you about the fire?” he asked, half-drunk with happiness, high on the scent of her hair and skin, the honey of her lips, the feel of her breasts pressed tight against him.

  She moved a little away from him so that she could see his face, touch the bruises, the jagged new scar at his temple. “No one told me about it. I was there.”

  “Oh, God.” He pulled her close. “I told you to stay put, remember? I would have given anything to spare you that.”

  “They told me they identified your body.” Her voice broke. “I stayed at Khen Sa’s camp as long as they would let me.” He felt her take a deep breath against his chest. “Billy said it was you…and Lonnie….”

  “Lonnie is dead, Rachel. The other body must have belonged to one of Khen Sa’s men.”

  “But the cigarette lighter?”

  “Lonnie had it in his hand.” She shuddered and he felt new tears wet the front of his shirt. He stroked her hair, soothing her. “He’d been shot, Rachel. He was dying. But he blew up the heroin. He saved my life, and Billy’s and the others. At the end, when it counted most, he was the man he was meant to be.”

  “I’m glad. He was trying so hard to stay straight this time. He wanted to turn his life around.”

  “Maybe he would have made it all the way back this time.”

  “I’d like to believe that.” She lifted her hands to cradle his face between her fingers. “Oh, Brett, I never believed in miracles, not until now, today. Father Dolph is right, they do happen, once in a great while, if you pray hard enough and your need is great enough.” Rachel let her hands slide down over his chest. She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him, softly, sweetly, a butterfly caress, over in a heartbeat. “Promise me you’ll never leave me again.”

  “I promise.” His kiss sealed his pledge. It was a long time before his mouth left hers, before his breathing slowed enough for speech, before time began to move forward again. “You’ll have to promise me something in return.”

  “Anything.” She smiled through her tears. Diamond bright, they sparkled on her lashes, made her eyes dark reflecting pools in the moonlight. Brett felt his heart jerk to a stop, then slam against his chest in slow, heavy strokes.

  “Marry me, as soon as possible.”

  “Brett…”

  “I love you. I wasn’t free to tell you that before. I am now.”

  “I love you, more than anything else in life.” She closed her eyes for the space of a heartbeat. “Almost more than life itself…” He felt her hesitancy.

  “The past is truly over and gone, Rachel,” he said, reading her thoughts.

  She smiled and there was only a hint of old sadness left to darken her eyes. “I know that. That’s what I wanted to say. I’ve learned so much these past three years, Brett. Simon taught me to face my fears head-on. Micah has shown me that you can let go of the past and move on with your life. And you. You’ve given me the most precious gift of all. You’ve taught me to love again, freely, completely. Even—” her voice faltered a moment, then went on “—even when I thought I’d lost you forever, I didn’t give in to darkness. You taught me how to reach my inner strength. You helped me banish the terror of remembering, forever. I will be very proud and happy to be your wife.”

  “It’s not going to be easy for a while. We might have to leave Thailand for a few months, maybe spend some time traveling, let things settle down. The restaurant will be fine with Billy and Ponchoo running it. Would you like to go someplace quiet and secluded for a start?”

  “Or we could go back to the States. It’s been a long time since you’ve been home, hasn’t it, Brett?”

  “A long time.”

  “I don’t care where we go, as long as I’m with you. Haven’t I proven that these last months, chasing you back and forth through the jungle?”

  “Funny, I was under the impression I was chasing you.”

  She smiled with a hint of mischief. “Perhaps you were, part of the time.” Her hands slipped over his chest, caressing him lightly, arousing, tantalizing. “I want you, wherever we are, wherever we go.” She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him again. This time there was no hesitancy, no holding back, only hunger and need and desire that threatened to flame out of control.

  “I suppose we should go inside. The others will want to see you, too.” She sighed and again he had no trouble reading her thoughts.

  “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about spending a lot of time with the others tonight.” He turned her slightly to face the house. It was dark. “We’re alone.”

  “Truly?” She whirled back to him. “I want you, Brett. I want to hold you close. I want you with me.” She took a breath, let it out on a sigh. “I want you inside me, loving me so that I can truly believe you’re here with me and not just a wonderful dream.”

  “I want you, too, love.” He wanted her in his bed. He ached to make love to her, fill her, satisfy her, complete her and himself, but he held back. “Rachel. There’s one more thing you have to know. You can’t go back to Camp Six. At least, not until Khen Sa’s no longer a threat. It’s just too dangerous.”

  “I understand.”

  “You’ll have to wait until it’s safe.”

  “I can wait. I’ve learned something about patience, I think.” She tugged on his hand, started walking. Just outside his bedroom, she paused. “There are other places here that I can be of use.”

  “More of them than you can count, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll find them, if you’ll help me.”

  “You are a most remarkable woman, Rachel Phillips.”

  “You are a most remarkable man, Brett Jackson. There’s one other thing I think you should know.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, as she looped her arms round his
neck for a long, drugging kiss that left them both breathless and on fire.

  “I’ve been using your bedroom. I…I felt closer to you there. Do you mind?”

  “Not a bit. Come inside, love.”

  “Why?” she asked, holding back, teasing just a little.

  He smiled down at her. “I promised you new memories to replace the old ones. This is where we begin.” He stepped away from her, over the threshold. “Come with me, Rachel. Turn your back on yesterday, reach with me toward tomorrow.” He held out his hand.

  She rested her fingers on his palm. He folded his hand over hers. She stepped toward him. “New memories,” she said, and smiled, “for tomorrow and all the days to come.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6522-0

  RETURN TO TOMORROW

  Copyright © 1990 by Carol I. Wagner and Marian F. Scharf

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