by James, Sandy
Listening as his shoes hit the floor, followed quickly by his jeans, Joy smiled when Lucas tugged her into his arms. Curling up against her back, he whispered, “Sleep, Sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her head. “Just sleep.”
With a contented sigh, she did.
As her breathing grew slow and deep, Lucas thought about what was to come, trying not to fret like some nervous ninny. The diamond ring remained hidden deep in the suitcase. It amazed him that she hadn’t found it, but he was glad. This needed to be a surprise for everyone, not just Bela and Illona.
Lucas scolded himself for the plans he’d made. “A little ridiculous, isn’t it?” he whispered. A sneak attack. After Andras’s wedding, he would propose. In front of her whole family, he would declare his feelings for Joy and ask her to marry him, hoping against hope the family would see how much he loved her, how much she loved him in return, and simply...give in.
Janos would be on his side. The women were sure to love the romantic gesture. Illona had already warmed toward him. The only real obstacle would be Joy’s father. With Lucas down on one knee, promising to love and care for Joy, how could the man not see how great they would be together?
Such a simple plan, with no chance for catastrophe.
Just like the Titanic.
Chapter 24
The ceiling was white, the room dark. A bed. He was in a soft bed, one with clean smelling sheets. No aroma of gun powder. No smell of blood. No lingering body odor.
He wasn’t with his unit. He had no back up. Where the hell had Brad gone? How had he lost Brad?
Come on, Lucas. Think, damn it.
The fog of sleep was slow to clear his mind. This place didn’t look at all familiar. Just another bedroom in another house in Fallujah. Just another insurgent or two or ten to smoke out. Just another small problem to squelch before it became a big problem. A deadly problem.
This room looked a little larger than most of the bedrooms in the Iraqi residences he’d been inside. It almost looked like home, like any typical bedroom back in good ole Indiana. But just like the uncertainty a cop faced on any domestic disturbance call, these routine patrols could quickly turn deadly. One bomb. One improvised explosive device. One insurgent. That’s all it would take to end a life. His life. The life of one of his comrades. How had he fallen asleep on patrol?
Lucas couldn’t figure out why he was in a bed. Nothing made any sense. If he was supposed to be on patrol, why didn’t he have his equipment? Why didn’t he have his helmet? Or a radio? My weapon. Where in the hell is my weapon?
Someone else was in the room. In the same bed. Had he been taken hostage? Had he been drugged? Was the person beside him a friend or an enemy? A comrade in arms or a damned terrorist? His training gave him no choice. He would have to protect himself. He would have to protect his friends. The element of surprise was on his side.
With one quick movement, he had the suspect on his back. Planting one knee firmly on his chest, the other on the man’s right arm, Lucas held his hand over the Iraqi’s mouth and grabbed his left wrist before his suspect had a chance to fight back.
Too late he realized the he was a she. But a woman could be just as deadly as any man and could cause just as much trouble if a soldier underestimated her. She had put up a brief, weak struggle, but Lucas quickly decided she hadn’t been trying to do him harm. She had simply been surprised when he’d moved to hold her down.
Lucas took a couple of steadying breaths, trying to find some calm and slow the frantic pounding of his heart. Perspiration damped his skin, betraying his fright. The feel of the sweat trickling down his back made him shiver, as did the fear. “Quiet,” he whispered. “Understand?”
She gave him a quick nod. Those dark eyes, that dark hair. An Arab woman. But not covered by chador nor covered by burqa.
She was frightened, but after another weak attempt at thrashing against his hold, she’d stopped fighting back. Asleep. She had obviously been asleep. Now she stared back at him wide-eyed. Her breath teased his hand as her nostrils flared with each exhale. Her fear glowed on her face like an aura. He couldn’t let his guard down, especially not because he felt sorry for her. She could still be dangerous.
Lucas let up the pressure on her chest by shifting his weight so he knelt on the mattress, his hand still covering her mouth. The woman took a deep, nasal breath, and he felt a little guilty wondering if he had hurt her.
No. No guilt. Women can kill too.
“You speak English?”
She gave him a slight nod.
“Okay, then. I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth, but you’re going to be quiet. Understand?”
She nodded, still looking like some beautiful wild doe.
“Where am I? Is this Fallujah? Baghdad? Where am I?” He moved his hand from her mouth to hold down her shoulder.
She took a couple of deep breaths with her open mouth. “Erie. You’re in...in Erie, Lucas.”
His head snapped up at the familiarity. “How do you know my name? Are you Sunni? Shiite? Why was I taken?” None of this made any sense. Where the hell is my weapon?
God, he was sick of Iraq. He was tired of the fear, tired of the anger, and tired of seeing danger everywhere he looked. Even in this beautiful woman’s brown eyes. “Am I a hostage?”
A tear spilled from the corner of her eye. “You’re not a hostage, Szivem. You’re with me. We’re in Erie for my brother’s wedding. Please wake up, Lucas.”
Lucidity came back in a flood. His mind swam and his senses reeled. A motel room. He was in a motel room in Erie. With Joy. He released her and began to run his hands over her body, hoping he hadn’t hurt her. “Oh, dear God. Sweetheart, I’m so...so sorry. Did I... I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Joy took a deep, steadying breath. She hadn’t been afraid of him, just surprised. There had been concern for the terror she saw in his eyes, but she knew Lucas wouldn’t hurt her. Even in the throes of a nightmare, she instinctively knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
Sleeping side by side, she thought she’d gotten used to his nocturnal chatter and his frantic movements. Did Lucas know he talked in his sleep? Did he know he couldn’t make it through a night without waking her up with his constant flipping and thrashing? Did he know how much she had learned from listening to his dreams? But he’d never acted out his nightmares before, and although she wasn’t afraid of him, Joy was still concerned.
Thinking back to the information she’d gleaned about veterans and PTS, she tried to talk to him, hoping to help him realize this wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t hurt her.
Lucas moved to sit on the side of the bed, hung his head, and ran his hands through the tangle of his damp hair. “I’m so sorry, Jozsa.”
She quickly crawled over, pressed her chest to his back, and wrapped her arms around him. Raining kisses on his neck, his shoulders, she tried to reassure him. “I’m fine. You wouldn’t hurt me. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I could have. I thought you were...” Pushing her hands away, he got to his feet, marched into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
Joy tried to hold back the tears, not knowing how she could possibly make this any easier on him. The nightmare was just a reaction to the stress, especially the stress of facing her family again. Her research told her as much. Afraid to let him stew in what she knew were misplaced feelings of guilt, Joy hurried to the bathroom. The door was locked.
She knocked. “Lucas? Please open the door.”
Silence was her answer.
Leaning her forehead against the cool wood, she sighed, feeling entirely helpless. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. It was just a nightmare, Szivem. That’s all. Just a nightmare.”
“I could have... What if I hurt you?”
“I don’t want to talk through a door. Please let me in.” She only had to wait a few moments before she heard the click of the lock and the door opened with a flood of light. She rushed into his arms. “I’m all right, Lucas. I’m fine.”
; Lucas ran his hand down her head and buried his fingers in that long, soft hair. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed the top of her head and breathed in her wonderful, comforting scent. “I’m sorry. I really am.” Dear Lord, he might have hurt her. What if... He couldn’t even finish the horrifying thought.
She nodded against his chest. He was reluctant to let her go. But he did.
“Why don’t we get something to eat?” she asked, obviously trying to break the tension. “I could use some coffee.” Her beautiful smile helped ease his concern. He hadn’t hurt her.
Joy excused herself to use the bathroom, and Lucas dug some clothes out of the suitcase. Then he fished out the ring. Opening the black velvet box, he stared at the gold band with its tiny diamond. She deserved better. Much better.
He worried that what had just happened could happen again.
No. He was going to get help. As soon as they got back to Indiana, he was going to see a counselor. He owed her that much. And he couldn’t lose her. He’d never survive the loss.
Closing the box, he shoved the ring into the pocket of his clean pants.
Lucas got dressed, hoping the rest of the day would unfold in a much more positive manner than the morning had begun.
* * * *
Joy didn’t want any kind of animosity to mar Andras’s wedding, preferring to remain almost hidden from view. Unfortunately, Tamas was standing right inside the front door.
“Why is he here?” Tamas demanded as Joy walked into the small church, holding Lucas’s hand. His infuriated voice echoed through the quiet sanctuary, causing her entire family to turn and gape at them. Not that she hadn’t expected that reaction, and not just from Tamas. Her family was going to have to get past their surprise and their stubborn anger.
“Lucas is here with me. Get over it.” Joy pulled Lucas toward where Janos and her older brothers’ wives had taken a seat in the front pew. She would have preferred to hide in the back, but now that everyone knew they were here, she saw no reason to cower. She would hold her head high, proud of Lucas and proud of her life.
Sliding into the second row, Joy leaned forward to talk to Janos. When he put his hand over hers as it rested against the back of his pew, she could feel his compassion and his support. She squeezed his hand.
Nodding to her three brothers and their wives, Joy said, “Good to see you all.” Six pairs of dark eyes seemed to drill holes right through her. “This is Lucas Mitchell.” Turning back to Lucas, she introduced her family. “Lucas, this is my oldest brother, Stefanos and his wife Izabella. And this is my next brother, Jakab and his wife Marishka. Stefanos and Jakab share the restaurant in Chicago. And this is Nicolae and his wife Beata. They set up their restaurant here in Erie. Andras and Rebekkah will share it with them.”
Lucas offered his hand to each of the people as he asked about the children who were seated across the aisle with several of Joy’s cousins and gypsy friends. Her brothers and their wives didn’t snub him entirely as they shook his hand, but Joy could see the coldness in their eyes. She felt horribly selfish putting Lucas through this ordeal.
Lucas should have stayed in Indiana. Her family was never going to accept him. Simply having him here at the ceremony caused friction. At the first opportunity, all of her family had already turned their backs to her and Lucas. She wanted to slap them. So haughty. So self-righteous. As if they all had that right because they were gypsies who had married gypsies. Suddenly, everyone turned to the front of the church.
Bela and Illona led Andras from the anteroom to stand by the altar. A robed minister followed in their wake and took his place to officiate the ceremony. Joy nodded to her mother, who inclined her head in response. Then Joy locked gazes with her father.
She suddenly wanted to run, wanted to escape the naked condemnation in his stare. He was furious. She had seen that look too many times to not recognize it.
Then she realized her expression had to be similar because she was growing angrier with each passing second. This was her life, her chance at happiness. Her family had no right. They wanted to force her to marry a man she didn’t love, to accept a man who tried to force himself on her as her husband.
The sound of soft piano music caused Joy to turn with the rest of the family and friends.
Rebekkah’s mother and father walked slowly up the aisle with the beautiful bride. Her long dark hair hung down her back in a long braid. A stab of envy ripped through Joy, but she stubbornly swept it aside.
She would marry Lucas, or she would marry no one. Even if her parents wouldn’t be at her side.
When the bride reached the altar, Andras reached out for Rebekkah’s hand. Joy felt her own being encased in Lucas’s warm fingers. She turned to offer him a weak smile.
Lucas could feel her anger as if it flowed from her to him through their joined hands, and he understood it. But he also knew he needed to calm Joy before they went to the family celebration. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. When she stared at him with curious eyes, he leaned in and whispered, “Szeretet, Jozsa.”
“Szeretet. I love you too.”
* * * *
“We can just go home.” Joy planted her feet and tugged on Lucas’s hand.
He jerked to a stop and whirled around to face her. He’d practically been dragging her across the parking lot to the restaurant, and now he was afraid he would have to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. “We need to do this. You know we do. We have to show them we’re together.”
Joy nodded, but she still didn’t start walking. “This isn’t fair to you. I should’ve come on my own.”
“I’m here because I want to be. I want to help you through this,” Lucas said, hoping she wouldn’t realize how nervous he was over the plans he had made. Not that he was afraid of asking her to marry him, but after the cold shoulder Joy’s family had given him at the wedding, he didn’t think things would thaw much at the reception.
The ring was burning a hole in his pocket. Lucas knew he’d follow through with the proposal. He wasn’t about to let the Kovacs clan get to him or let them keep him from declaring his intentions for a future with Joy. He was going full steam ahead. He loved her, and they were going to be together.
Mitchells are a stubborn lot too.
Joy swallowed then nodded. Lucas gave her hand a squeeze, and they resumed the trek to Gypsy. Her hand fell away, so he let his own drop to his side.
The outside of the restaurant had been strung with colored lights. To Lucas, the place appeared ready for Christmas. He held the door open for Joy as she took a big gulp of air before taking a step inside. Reaching for her hand, she gave him a quick shake of her head. He nervously tucked his fingers in his pocket, a little hurt at her refusal.
“Jozsa! Lucas!” Janos yelled from across the big dining room. “Come sit with me.” He nodded toward two empty chairs at his table.
“Come on,” she said with a nervous edge to her voice. “We’ll sit with Janos.”
At least there will be someone else who gives a damn about me. Someone who knows how much I love Joy. He shook Janos’s hand and pulled the chair out for Joy. She had no sooner taken a seat when the boisterous crowd grew quiet, their gazes focusing on the door.
The bride stood with her parents. The groom with his. The solemn group walked to a table decorated with flowers, loaves of bread, and bottles of wine.
“This is the abiav,” Joy whispered to Lucas. “The church was just a formality, a requirement of law. This is the real marriage ceremony.”
The bride and groom joined hands as a gray-haired man came to stand by them. They spoke in Hungarian, and Lucas wished he could understand. The words were melodious, trilling from their tongues as the couple smiled and nodded to each new phrase.
“They’re promising in front of an elder to stay faithful, to love one another, and to be together for the rest of their lives,” Joy whispered. “Now they’ll break the bread and put a drop of blood on a small piece.”
> Lucas watched Joy more than he watched the ceremony. Her face held a bittersweet smile, and he knew she wanted this for herself. If he could convince her family, they could marry. She could plan the ceremony just like this, with everyone watching. Family, friends. Gypsies and horsemen. He would learn the proper words to say, each and every syllable if it would make her happy.
The couple each pricked a finger with a small pin and squeezed a drop of blood onto a piece of bread before feeding it to their new mate. The ritual reminded Lucas of the cake Chris and Angie had fed each other before the fireworks had driven him from the reception.
The bride’s parents had tears in their eyes as they stood behind their daughter and unbraided her hair. Lucas noticed Joy getting a bit misty eyed, as were several of the women in the crowd. Once the bride’s hair was loose, Illona tied a scarf over the young bride’s head.
“A diklo,” Joy explained. “It shows she’s now a married woman. In older times, she would never take it off in public. Now it’s mostly symbolic.”
The ceremony ended and food began to arrive as waiters and waitresses moved among the crowd. The noise level rose considerably as music was piped through the restaurant.
“So what did you think?” Janos asked Lucas as he leaned his chair back on two legs and traded off his empty glass for a refill from a teenage waiter.
Lucas shrugged. “It was a wedding.”
Janos let out a hearty laugh. “Exactly. Doesn’t matter where or how. All that matters is that the poor guy just lost his freedom.” Leaning forward, the chair came back to rest on all four legs. “When do you lose your freedom?”
“Janos,” Joy scolded as Bela came to stand beside his daughter’s chair. He put a possessive hand on her shoulder and began to speak to her in Hungarian. She replied in kind.
Lucas figured the best thing he could do was be patient and wait for the right opportunity, but he suddenly feared it would never come. When Illona wandered to the table, Joy pushed her chair back and stood up to hug her mother.
