The Baby Race

by Tara Wylde

  “How about we don’t talk about anybody else for a while?” he asks as I stroke his arm with my nails.

  “Fine by me,” I say. “What would you rather talk about?”

  “How about nothing?” he says, turning over on his side and cupping my cheek in his palm.

  He winces as he moves and my heart jumps. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m better than okay,” he sighs as he brings his face to mine. “I’m pretty much perfect.”

  His lips touch mine and suddenly all the crazy shit from today is gone, replaced by his tongue touching mine, and the feel of his breath on my skin. All the pain, all the doubt, washed away like storm water down a drain. This is the truth right here. The only truth I ever need.

  Suddenly the door swings open and a young woman in scrubs dashes in.

  “Mr. Talbot, your heart monitor suddenly jumped – are you…?”

  He looks at her with a sheepish grin. “Sorry,” he says. “She tends to have that effect on me.”

  His eyes turn to mine. “She always has.”

  119

  82. CHANCE

  “Stupid ties,” I grumble, tugging on the knot at my throat. “I swear, if an attacker gets the upper hand because of this thing, I’m going to go down screaming: ‘I fucking told you so!’”

  Tre shakes his head. “Yeah, someone’s going to attack you at a party with your family. And you still can’t figure out why Johnston came to me instead of you? No wonder I went to work for Pearce.”

  “Just be thankful I paid you for that time,” I say with a grin. “Traitorous motherfucker…”

  “All right, that’s it.”

  He puts up his fists and we trade mock body blows like a couple of MMA fighters shadowboxing. I notice that, aside from a little stiffness, my shoulder is back to normal. The rib will take a bit longer to heal, but it’s not slowing me down.

  “Hey!” Mrs. C’s warning voice carries from across the yard. “Don’t make me come over there and straighten you two out!”

  Agnes Sullivan grins beside her and wags a warning finger of her own.

  “What she said!” she calls. “You think you’re too old for an ass-paddling, you got another think coming!”

  The two giggle and clink their champagne flutes together.

  “Yes’m,” Tre and I drone in unison, scuffing our shoes against the grass like we’ve just been told to stop playing in the dirt.

  “So how much did you tell Moms about what happened?” I say in a low voice.

  “Just that you and I had an argument, and the rest was classified. She chewed on me pretty good for us scaring her like that, but you know her – she couldn’t carry a grudge in a bucket.”

  I grin and clap him on the shoulder. Maybe growing up the way I did wasn’t ideal, but at least I had them and Sara. Now I’ve got the Sullivans, too. And Grace. It took a while, but I finally got the family I always wanted. All I had to do was wait for them to find me.

  As if reading my mind, Grace appears at my side and grabs my arm and Tre’s hand.

  “Time to get into position,” she says. “The music is about to start.”

  “All right,” I sigh as she pulls us along. “Although I still don’t see the point of this.”

  “The point is you robbed me of my sister’s wedding,” she says evenly. “And unless you want me to give you the stink-eye for the rest of your life, you’re going to do it again in front of me.”

  Tre shrugs. “You’re lucky Moms didn’t whip your ass. Agnes, too.”

  I sigh. “All right, but this tie is gone as soon as it’s over.”

  “The videographers are going to be filming you two all day,” says Grace. “The tie stays on.”

  I’m already starting to understand why some couples elope. This day is about everyone else, not us.

  Then Sara walks out of the house onto the back patio, and my brain stops working.

  Her auburn hair is up, with two loose curls framing her face. The dress is ivory lace, open at the shoulders and bodice but with long gossamer sleeves that taper at her wrists. A train of tatted lace trails behind her, brilliant against the emerald of the late summer lawn.

  Her opal eyes catch mine and she bites her lip. I smile stupidly and wave, like a kid waiting for his prom date, and she giggles.

  The string quartet strikes up the opening strains of the wedding march as Kelsey, looking stunning in a plum-colored bridesmaid gown, takes Sara’s arm and leads her through the yard to the pergola where I’m standing with Tre. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grace, hands clasped in front of her, practically bouncing with glee.

  Tre leans in and whispers: “About time, brother.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “But better late than never.”

  I stare, transfixed, as she lets go of Kelsey and takes her place opposite me on the grass. Sara of the storeroom, the queen of my heart, takes my hand in hers and suddenly I get what this is all about. It’s a celebration of us. Of everything we went through to get to this moment. In spite of everything, we made it. We found our way back to each other and we won.

  The pastor Mrs. C invited talks about dearly beloved, and other things I barely hear. All I’m aware of are her eyes and her smile, until it’s time to say the words to each other again. I meant them the first time at the courthouse, but they have a whole new meaning to me now.

  And when we finally kiss, it’s like the very first time, all over again.

  120

  83. SARA

  “Do you see what I see?” I whisper.

  I subtly point to Tre and Grace, slow-dancing on the patio as Taylor Swift’s Wildest Dreams plays out of the DJ’s speakers. They sway like kids at the prom as the setting sun casts an orange glow around them.

  “Well, they have been spending a lot of time together working on bringing your company into the fold,” Chance says.

  I grin. “The feckless flake and the button-down business nerd.”

  “Stranger things have happened. We’re living proof.”

  “Amen to that,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder.

  Agnes appears at the table with a half-full bottle of champagne. Judging by her grin, she’s feeling no pain.

  “Aggie!” I say brightly. “Having fun?”

  “A riot!” she giggles, taking a seat beside us. “We really needed this after all that nonsense with Quentin Pearce.”

  “That we did,” says Chance. “Time to move on to the next chapter for the company.”

  Agnes leans in and pats the back of my hand.

  “We’re thrilled to have you on board with Atlas,” she says, her eyes misty. “And so happy that Chance found you. I sometimes wondered if we’d ever see the day when he found the one who made him whole.”

  She turns to Chance. “And you, you big lug. Patrick would be so proud of you right now. He’s here with us right now, I can feel him.”

  Her tears are flowing freely now; I’m fighting my own, too.

  “I never doubted you, Chance,” Agnes says. “I told Quentin Pearce that I didn’t believe him. That you were as much a member of the Sullivan family as any of us. I just wish he’d never stepped foot into the Atlas boardroom.”

  Chance smiles and shakes his head.

  “Actually,” he says, “I owe him a debt I can never repay.”

  Her eyes widen. “You’re joking. What could you possibly owe to that little cretin?”

  He looks at me, and in that look I see the boy inside the man. The hero’s heart that captured me all those years ago. This brave, smart, incredible man who risked everything for love and won. My heart has never felt so full as it does right now.

  “I wouldn’t have this lady back if it wasn’t for him,” he says. “And to me, that’s everything.”

  “Hey!” says a voice from my right. I turn to see Mrs. C sitting down next to me. “No crying without me! What are we crying about, anyway?”

  “Life,” I say, kissing her cheek.

  “That’ll do it every time,” sh
e says with a chuckle.

  “I wonder if everyone is still there.”

  Chance glances at his watch. “Probably. Chuck from next door sort of gave the party a second wind when he and Kathy showed up.”

  I can’t help but giggle. “It’s hilarious that he thanked you for stealing the car.”

  “Don’t tell his wife that. It was her car.”

  He finally strips his tie off with a theatrical flourish.

  “Free at last from the hangman’s noose,” he says, wasting no time stripping off his shirt as well.

  His naked, rippling torso suddenly makes me feel seriously overdressed.

  I raise my leg onto the bed. The hem of my dress falls to one side, giving him a glimpse of what’s underneath.

  “You already have my garter,” I purr. “How about the rest?”

  My heart skips a beat as he grins like a wolf and drops beside me on the bed. His hands are instantly behind my back, drawing my zipper down. As the shoulders drop, he grasps the wrists of both sleeves in his fingers and pulls.

  He kisses each bare breast as they pop free of the falling dress, sending a thrill straight to the junction of my thighs. He strips off the rest of the dress with an unceremonious tug, leaving me naked except for my stockings and panties.

  “Two can play at that game,” I say, grabbing his belt and yanking it down, along with his pants.

  He’s already rock hard under his boxers, igniting my fire even more. His eyes beg me to finish the job, so I pull them down and free his throbbing cock.

  As I do, I hear the old bed groan underneath our weight. Suddenly I feel even more heat between my legs. What is it about this place that just gets my motor revving so hard I can barely stand it?

  Chance pulls back the electric blue coverlet and lies down, his throbbing shaft standing at full attention, waiting for me.

  “This may be the Rest-All,” he says with a grin. “But you’re not getting any rest tonight, Mrs. Talbot.”

  I glide down on top of him, keeping my stockings on, until my slick opening is aligned with the tip of his rod. My body trembles as I guide him all the way in.

  “Neither are the neighbors,” I sigh.

  Later, when I’m a puddle of jelly after countless orgasms, I lie in Chance’s arms on the old bed, listening to the whine and clank of the decrepit air conditioner. I suppose the sound would be annoying to pretty much everyone else, but to me it’s the soundtrack to our crazy, passion-filled days on the run. Before the bad stuff started.

  I choose to remember just the good stuff. The excitement, and the love, and how good it felt just to be together, whether in the rec center storeroom or a tiki hut in Bora Bora or the Rest-All Motel.

  The shadows of the past are just that: shadows. Yes, they’re dark, but they’re illusions. There’s nothing to them.

  They can’t hurt us.

  “Mrs. Talbot,” Chance says sleepily.

  “That’s my name, don’t wear it out. Seriously. Every other part of me is worn out; my name is all I have left.”

  His chuckles are like music to me in the dark.

  “I’m never going to let you go again,” he whispers sleepily. “You know that, don’t you?”

  I snuggle in closer. “I know.”

  “Good.”

  As I fade into sleep, I see my mother’s face in my mind’s eye.

  She’s smiling. Finally.

  121

  EPILOGUE: SARA

  “Elafins!”

  Ava manages to see the herd from her perch on top of the bus before I do. She has her daddy’s pilot eyes.

  “That’s right, sweetie. And what does the elephant say?”

  She hangs a chubby arm from her face like a trunk and makes a trumpeting sound that’s utterly exceptional for an almost-three-year-old, if I do say so myself.

  Rambeau, our guide, points toward the herd.

  “Look close,” he says. “See? A baby!”

  Ava’s face lights up as she sees it bumbling alongside its mother.

  “Baby!” she wails. “Mommy, a baby!”

  Chance picks her up and holds her over his head so she can get a better view. The elephants are pretty much all there is to look at in this particular part of the park. There are a few trees and a watering hole, but for the most part it’s scrub and brown dust as far as the eye can see.

  “Make sure you tell Uncle Tre when we get back,” Chance says. “He and Auntie Grace are going to wish they’d come with us.”

  I imagine they had more pressing things to do, considering it’s been less than twenty-four hours since Tre popped the question. He thought the Nairobi sunset would be the perfect backdrop. I could have told him that Grace would have said yes if he’d put a Lifesaver on her finger in a bus station, but why ruin his fun?

  Chance’s satellite phone begins to warble on his hip. He glances at me with raised brows – sat phone almost always means work.

  “Talbot,” he says, extending the antenna.

  Ava’s eyes widen. “Gamma Bess? Daddy, I talk Gamma Bess?”

  I pick her up and plop her down on my knee.

  “Honey, Grandma Bess is sleeping, remember? It’s nighttime back home.”

  “Night time?”

  “All right, call Blake at the State Department. I need an AW101 ready to go as soon as possible. They should have at least two on standby at Moi Air Base.”

  I see the look in his eyes and sigh. Safari is over for now, at least.

  Chance kneels on the floor of the rooftop viewing area and plants a kiss on Ava’s cheek.

  “Sorry, honey, we’re going to have to say bye to the elephants. Mommy and I have to go to work.”

  She nods. Not even three yet and she’s already used to us dropping her with Grace and taking off. Sometimes I wonder if this is really the ideal life I picture a few years ago.

  Chance talks to Rambeau, who radios the driver. In less than a minute, we’re on our way back to the resort where Tre and Grace are holding down the fort.

  “What is it this time?” I ask as I strap Ava into her seat. “Something local, obviously. Or southern Europe? Please don’t say Middle East.”

  He shakes his head. “Northeast Tanzania. Localized earthquake just south of the border with Kenya.”

  “How much good can we do with a transport chopper?” I ask.

  “That’s just it – the quake is centered in a sparsely populated area. But it’s left a girls’ school collapsed and cut off by a chasm that opened up a few hundred yards away. They need a copter to get in and get them out ASAP.”

  “Why can’t the Tanzanians take care of it themselves?”

  Chance leans close to me so that Ava can’t hear.

  “It’s an all-girls school. In rural Tanzania.”

  Translation: they’re not a priority. I nod my understanding.

  “Goin’ to school?” Ava asks.

  “That’s right,” I say brightly. “Daddy and I are going to see some girls and say hello.”

  I just hope we can get there in time.

  Chance points to Mt. Longido in the distance.

  “It’s beautiful,” I shout into the microphone.

  The Leonardo AW101 is a huge helicopter, capable of transporting at least twenty-five people. But it’s incredibly loud and handles like a hippo on roller skates, judging by how Chance is handling it. But it’s the perfect tool for the job, and the Kenyan government was nice enough to loan it to us after some cajoling by a few State Department diplomats.

  Below us is the opposite of beautiful – a huge crack that’s opened along the fault line. The school is cut off on that side for miles in either direction. The other side backs onto a series of low forested hills.

  “Why can’t they evacuate there?” I shout, pointing to the hills.

  Chance is quiet for a little too long.

  “Chance?”

  “That might be a problem,” he bellows.

  “Why?”

  “There’ve been reports of rebels in t
he hills.”

  Oh, that’s just fucking great.

  “Why do I let you get me into this shit?” I yell.

  He grins. “Because you love me?”

  “All I know is it’s a good thing you’re rich.”

  A few minutes later, we’re over the school. The sound of our approach draws a group of girls out of the remains of the collapsed brick buildings into the courtyard. They wave their arms wide, which is a good sign. At least the injuries appear minor.

  Chance brings the bird down like a wounded goose and I slide the panel door open. I jog to where the girls are standing, hollering and crying. I show them the American flag patch on the shoulder of my Atlas flight suit.

  “We speak English!” a girl of about sixteen shouts.

  “Awesome,” I say. “How many of you are there?”

  “Twenty-three,” she says. “Our teacher is hurt, but the rest of us can walk.”

  She leads me into the most intact building and shows me her teacher. The woman, nursing what appears to be a broken arm, is probably only a few years older than her students.

  “We’ve come to get you out of here,” I say. “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.” The others help her to her feet. “Who are you?”

  “I’m with Atlas, ma’am,” I say. It always sparks a thrill of pride.

  “God bless you,” she says as we head for the door.

  Here’s hoping.

  Outside, Chance is herding the girls into the back of the chopper and trying to make them comfortable. He’s kept the rotors running.

  “Last ones,” I say with a nod.

  He nods back and gets the rest of them seated. As the teacher boards, she turns to face me.

  “I cannot thank you enough – ”

  Suddenly her eyes are saucers. I turn to see what she’s looking at.

  Behind us are three young men in camouflage fatigues and red berets, pointing assault rifles in our direction.

  Chance sweeps me behind him, shielding me with his body.

  “Get inside!” he barks.

  “You get inside! I’ll deal with these guys.”