Her phone chimed with a text from its place on the bathroom counter. She glanced at the screen, then smiled as she read the message.
You sure you want to do this? I didn’t know this was what your mom had in mind!
Caroline, her worrywart friend.
It pinged again.
I’m here if you change your mind. Well, I’m here if you don’t. What I’m trying to say is you’re the bravest woman I know, regardless of how tonight goes.
I’m fine. Thanks for checking. See you on the other side.
She should type a smiley face. It was something Emilie would do, but Jaime couldn’t. Her life wasn’t the kind that had an abundance of emoticons.
But tonight would be one more step in taking back her life on her terms.
She set her phone back on the counter, then braced herself against the counter and studied her expression. Her hair was swept into a fancy updo, with loose strands curling in tendrils around her face. You can do this. If you don’t now, you never will.
Her self-talk did nothing to ease the tightness around her eyes. No amount of makeup could hide it even if her mom had spent a small fortune pampering her into beauty. You’ve got this.
She blew her bangs from her face, then fingered them back in place.
“You look beautiful, honey.” Her mother was standing in the bathroom doorway. She squeezed Jaime’s arm, a look of love and pride filling the curves of her smile. “Let’s go before your father wears a path in the carpet.”
Her father whistled as they glided toward him. “I am the luckiest man in this city tonight.” He offered each of them an arm and then escorted them out of the room, down the elevator, and to the ballroom level.
Dark military blue carpet lined the hallway, with chandeliers soaring two stories overhead. Her father had timed their arrival so there was precisely half an hour left in the cocktail reception. He was nothing if not punctual. They followed other elegantly dressed women and men from the elevator into the expansive space outside the ballroom. The service member attendees like her father were in their best Dress A uniforms. Many of the spouses and dates like her mother wore floor-length gowns. Some wore tea length, but she saw nothing above the knee. The non-military men wore suits with bow ties and the occasional tuxedo. Taken together it created the illusion they had stepped into a fairy tale world strung with miles of tulle and white lights.
Jaime smoothed a hand down the silky fabric of her gown. Mother’s rose-colored, floor-length gown added blush to her cheeks, and she looked incredible with ringlets from her chignon falling around her face. It only took one look at her dad to note from his swelled chest to his cocky grin that he believed he escorted the most beautiful woman in the room.
At a roped off area, Dad handed their tickets to a young woman in dress blues.
“The cocktail hour ends in thirty minutes, Captain.”
“Thank you.” He guided her mother inside the roped cocktail space, then waited for Jaime to join them.
Jaime held her head high, trying to feel as confident as Wonder Woman had appeared as she entered the nest of Germans, then turned to her mom. “I never asked you, what is the ball for?”
“To raise awareness and support for the returning heroes and their families.”
“In many ways it will have the formality of a branch birthday ball.” Her father shrugged as he placed his hand over his wife’s. “Then when the brass leave, it’ll be time to let loose and dance till dawn.”
“You sound positively romantic.” Jaime smiled at her father. “I’m sure it will be fun.”
If nothing else, for a few hours she could pretend there was nothing more than this moment. Feeling like a princess, and no one knowing any different.
She followed her father and mother through the crush.
“What can I get you ladies?” Her father gave a gallant bow.
“A ginger ale for both of us, sir.” As her father headed toward the line snaking from the bar, Mom took Jaime’s hand and squeezed it. “How are you feeling?”
Jaime considered for a moment. “Good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Uniforms can sometimes have a negative connotation.”
“Well, not tonight.” Mom smiled so brightly any clouds would be forced to part. “Tonight we’re going to enjoy each other’s company while supporting a good cause.”
Jaime nodded, but her gaze skimmed the room. It wasn’t just Dane on her mind. Would a certain other officer make his way to the ball? She shoved the thought aside.
The doors leading to the ballroom opened, and the sounds of a string quartet warming up filtered out. In the lobby, wait staff circulated bearing trays laden with tiny hors d’oeuvres. She wasn’t sure she’d know what she was eating if she tasted some of the delicacies. Her mom had been a mac and cheese and frozen pizza kind of cook.
Her gaze scanned the crowd as she followed her mother between groups. Then she froze.
Dane was here. The man’s military bearing remained unchanged, the image seared in her memory like a twisted brand that coiled too tightly. She might never understand what had made him the man he was. Why had he looked at her one day and decided she was his?
She tore her gaze from him, determined he wouldn’t ruin her evening, but when she looked away she still sensed his presence. The thought was eerie, uncomfortable, like a second skin that didn’t fit. She could still escape before he saw her, but she fought the instinct. Today she was done being the scared little girl who begged not to go to her uncle’s house. The girl who turned to stone at his touch. The teen who panicked when she thought of him. Those chapters of her life were finished.
She leaned into her mother’s shoulder. “I’m going to circulate.”
Her mother’s gaze zipped to hers, concern laced through it, as her father stepped near. “Want us to come?”
“No. This is something I need to do. Go say hi to all your friends. I’ll be fine.” She let the flow of people swirl her away from her parents and closer to Dane. She knew her parents were watching, and her father would come in an instant if she needed him. She wasn’t going to live in fear. Maybe Dane had sent someone to track her last night, maybe he hadn’t, but today she would do the tracking. She would be the one who controlled their encounter.
She was not a little girl anymore.
He turned as she neared, and the smile he graced her with was almost warm, close enough to fool anyone who might observe them. “Jaime. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He was so precise. Controlled. Only the faintest tightening at the corner of his eyes gave an indication he felt . . . anything. Discomfort? Annoyance? The difference was one of degree.
“Dane.” She refused to grace him with the title uncle. He had forfeited it and any honor.
“I see you’re here to congratulate me.” He tipped his chin until he looked down at her.
“Congratulate you?”
“You’re looking at the next one-star.” He shrugged, the movement revealing the ripple of tight muscles that hadn’t sagged with time. “I’ve been told it’s done.”
“It won’t happen.”
“Your little game will fail, Jaime.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. The light will expose the truth.” She stared at him for another minute until he knew she wasn’t afraid, even if she felt a tremor inside. “Enjoy the ball,” she said. “It may be your last.” She eased away from him, in control.
Then his hand clamped on her arm, and he tugged her back until his mouth was almost on her ear. “You will not succeed, little girl.”
She shrugged from his grasp and returned her gaze to his. “You don’t scare me anymore. I’m not the child you took advantage of. I am strong enough to fight back, and I will.”
“Everything all right?” Her father was suddenly there at her elbow, and his words had a hard edge. She fought the desire to sag.
“We’re fine, aren’t we?” She reached for his arm as she shook free of Dane’s hold
. “Dad, would you dance with me?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He walked her toward the floor. “Sure you’re fine?”
“I am.” She settled into her father’s arms and felt a comfort and security she’d longed for as a child. As the string quartet’s music swirled around her, she relaxed in the moment.
As Dad swirled her closer to the door, she noticed two men, one in uniform and one in a tux, leaning casually against the wall. Something about the military guy arrested her attention.
Chandler. He had the build of a warrior, confident, sure of himself. But there was more to him than that.
Did he see her?
She stayed firmly in the protective circle of her father’s arms. Would Chandler come to her?
Did she want him to?
Oh, yes. Yes, she did. In a way that she hadn’t let herself feel before.
CHAPTER 28
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 12
The last place he wanted to be was in a crowded ballroom with a bunch of military and their dates. If it weren’t such a good cause, he would have stayed at home, but while he might not be full-time military anymore, he still carried a reserve commission, and with it came an expectation of supporting the branch. How long did he need to stay at one of these events anyway?
It was all about staying long enough to be seen by the higher-ups and then leaving the moment they exited the event.
Frankly, he’d have more fun Sunday with Tiffany at the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial than he anticipated now, wearing his dress blues uniform that he’d had to pull from the back of his closet.
Brandon Lancaster stood beside him, dressed in a tux that did nothing to hide his size as the two guys held up the wall. As a favor to a friend, Chandler had helped the former NFL linebacker find some resources as he recovered from a career-ending injury. Then, as Brandon had shared his vision for Almost Home, Chandler had found himself intrigued and wanting to help. Foster placements were an unfortunate reality for some deployed service members’ children. Knowing this man of integrity ran the home from a faith perspective and accepted sibling groups clinched the deal. Their friendship had grown to encompass more than the shared passion to help others.
Chandler shot his cuffs from beneath his jacket as he shifted his feet.
Then a woman caught his eye. She had the exotic look of a movie star with dark, loose curls and high cheekbones, but she also—
Jaime?
“You might want to stop drooling.” Brandon’s voice was droll as he stepped away from the wall. “I think she’s looking at me.”
“You wish.” There was no way he’d let his friend have an instant with his girl. His girl? What was he thinking? He couldn’t feel anything more than friendship between them. Not until he knew the state of her heart, something he’d have to move up the priority list ASAP, because in that moment he admitted it: his heart wanted nothing more than to dive into the abyss that was Jaime Nichols.
“I think you mean fine, as she is mighty fine.” Brandon took a tiny cracker with something unidentifiable topping it from a passing tray and tossed it into his mouth.
“Any good?” Best to ignore his friend’s statement about Jaime until Brandon was distracted and Chandler could chase her down. Who was she stopping to talk to now?
“Passable.”
“I’m surprised you had time to taste anything.”
“It’s a superpower of mine, taste every molecule as I gulp. Remind me why we’re here?”
“My boss said this was a good place to schmooze.” And had given him the tickets with strict orders to enjoy himself.
“That’s right.” Brandon brushed a hand across his mouth. “Well, don’t see we’re doing much of that standing here.”
The man was right. The last place Chandler really wanted to be was in this place at this moment. Getting his wisdom teeth pulled without Novocain sounded like a better experience . . . unless he could get time with Jaime. One dance with her . . .
He and Brandon placed a few bids on silent auction items along the edge of the room while he tried to keep tabs on Jaime. His name on the lists would serve as evidence he’d been to the event, in case his boss took the time to look that closely. It would be nice to erase monkey duty from his job description, but his boss insisted that civilians liked to see the dress uniforms. It helped open their pocket-books to provide the extra finances the Veterans Administration relied on to help returning servicemen and servicewomen reintegrate with their families and life after a tour of duty.
But right now he needed to see if Jaime was okay.
It was only two nights earlier she’d been terrorized.
It wouldn’t be hard for someone to do something similar here in such a mass of people.
There she was, still dancing with her dad. He smacked Brandon’s shoulder. “See you later, big guy. I have something to tend to.” He headed into the fray.
Jaime’s dress was a startlingly rich blue, like a sapphire, making it easy to follow in the sea of more muted colors. He caught up with them after they’d spun around the dance floor a few times. “Mr. Nichols, may I have this dance with your daughter?”
Her startled gaze collided with his, and he noted the strength there. She looked like she belonged in this place with all these people. A reminder of all that was beautiful in the world and what the soldiers fought for.
“Jaime?” Her father matched her intensity and then notched it up a few levels. The man was flat-out intimidating, so Chandler stood a little taller, a hint of “at ease” in his stance.
Jaime’s gaze bounced between the men. A slow smile grew across her face, making her even more lovely, something Chandler would have sworn wasn’t possible until he watched the transformation occur.
“I think I’d like that very much.”
He whisked her from her father’s side before the man could state an opinion. A moment later her mother joined him, and Mr. Nichols led her onto the floor.
“Should I be worried?”
“About what?” Jaime looked around and spotted the couple. “I’m glad he’s taking Mom out. She loves to dance, but he insists he has two left feet.”
“I don’t.” He spun her in a tight circle, and she laughed.
“No, you don’t.” She sighed and leaned against him as the music slid into a slow song. She fit . . . in a way that felt divinely unfair and perfect.
“Miss Jaime Nichols, you are incredible.” He side-stepped around another couple and kept them moving in smooth steps that put his academy education on display.
She leaned back. “You can say that knowing what you do about me?”
The question felt important, like so much depended on how he answered. “Everyone has a past.”
“Not all are as bleak as mine.”
He stopped in the middle of the floor, the string quartet continuing the song while he tipped her chin up so his eyes connected with hers. “It does not define you.”
“It always will.” The words whispered across his heart.
“God can redeem anything.”
She stiffened and her eyes widened as she glanced past his shoulder. She refocused slowly, and when she did it felt abrupt, like something broke between them.
“Not you too.” She slid from his arms and started looking at the couples swirling around them. “You can’t bring God into every conversation. Where are they?”
“Where are who?” How had a perfect moment so quickly degraded?
“My parents. I’m ready to leave.” And she walked away, leaving him alone in a sea of uniforms, wondering what had happened.
CHAPTER 29
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13
That feeling that spiders were walking over his skin pulled
Chandler from a nap in front of the TV, where a college football skirmish between Purdue and Nebraska played in the background.
He scrubbed his hands across his face.
He’d sworn he was done with that feeling when he left the Middle East and returned statesi
de for the final time. There was something about knowing anyone watching could be a hostile that put one on edge. He’d lived it during his deployments and tried to resolutely shove it aside back home, but it lingered like the memory of the friend left in a body bag after a routine supply run gone bad.
He’d worked hard, as he encouraged his clients to do, to thrust the guilt behind him. He’d also worked hard to invite God into the process. He didn’t want the process short-circuited and incomplete, but it wasn’t moving quickly.
There was no logical reason for this creepy-crawly sensation.
He glanced around.
He was right where he was supposed to be. His apartment, on a Saturday afternoon. Aslan at his side. The big oaf wouldn’t let anyone near him. He knew who provided his food. The dog’s training was excellent, unless a steak was involved.
Chandler stood and paced. Blood flow would help. He shook his head as he felt Aslan lean into his side, a firm force anchoring him in the here and now.
His work cell rang and Aslan’s ears perked. Chandler pulled it from his pocket and answered. “Bolton.”
“Hey.” It was a soft, feminine voice, but not the one he wanted to hear.
“Hi Madeline.”
“Are you free?”
He frowned at the words. “What do you need?”
“Tiffany is asking for Aslan.
“We’re getting together tomorrow,” he reminded her.
She sighed. “I know. But Tiffany’s had a hard day, and I thought time with Aslan might help. I rented a movie.”
The press of responsibility lowered his shoulders, and he relented. “What are you watching?”
“Moana.” Madeline chuckled, but it felt forced rather than joy-filled. “You’ll be saying ‘You’re welcome’ nonstop once you see it.”
“Huh?”
“It’s one of the songs.” She hesitated. “It would really help if you came.”
He heard Tiffany in the background. “Can Aslan come, Mom?”
Aslan’s ears perked up as if he’d heard his name, but Chandler hesitated. Aslan’s training hadn’t covered what to do when a client asked for more services. Was he creating a codependent relationship? The image of Tiffany curled into the corner of the interview room floated into his mind, and the internal conflict intensified. “Anyone else coming?”
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