Port in the Storm

by Mary Crawford

  “How do you feel about mushrooms?” I yell into the living room.

  “Knock yourself out,” Sam replies, “but I hate those bamboo things.”

  “You’re in luck, I hate them too. Pea pods?” I ask.

  “I have no opinion about pea pods,” he responds.

  “Okay, I’m adding them for your health — besides, every good stir-fry has pea pods.”

  After I finish the stir-fry, I dish it up on a couple plates and carry them into the living room. Poor Sam, he looks half-sacked out on the sofa, but when he sees me, he sits up and says, “You didn’t have to wait on me. Cooking dinner was more than enough.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Whenever I’m not deployed, I always eat in front of the TV. Unless I’m having company, my table usually is the place where my junk mail lives.”

  “I know this will sound like a stupid question, but are you gone a lot?”

  “It depends on the conflicts around the world. Sometimes I’m gone more than others. Why?”

  “You’ll probably think this is silly, but you know my dad was in the Navy and he seemed to be deployed all the time. My mom admitted once that my dad never dealt well with my disability. When I was growing up, I often wondered if my dad was gone so much as a coping mechanism of sorts. I’m not saying my logic is very sound, I just can’t help but wonder. I had other friends in high school whose parents were in the military. Their parents weren’t gone nearly as much as my dad. It was hard not to take it personally on some level.”

  “I understand. I take a lot of the decisions my parents made far too personally as well. Since I don’t know your father and I don’t know the circumstances under which he served, I can’t pinpoint an answer for you. Didn’t your dad serve during the major Gulf conflicts? I think the usual rules go out the window under those conditions. I’m sorry though, that must’ve sucked for you.”

  “It did, but I have to remember that it was a lot worse for other people. What do you guys do on the ship? Don’t you get bored in your downtime?”

  “Sure. There are a bunch of gym rats and a group of poets and writers who got together and published a book. There’s this one guy who really should work at Pixar Studios because he is a great cartoonist. He’s drawn so many caricatures of all of us he could probably do his own little mini movie. You just find something to do. I’m in a Trivial Pursuit league. I taught myself how to crochet with videos I found on the Internet. It isn’t gorgeous, but it keeps me busy. I read a lot and I happen to think the e-reader is the best invention ever, outside of the personal computer,” I answer, pointing to the case sticking out of my purse.

  “We should swap reading lists sometime, I read a lot too. Although, I would’ve never guessed that you’d be into Trivial Pursuit.”

  I grin. “I guess you could say I play a little. You’re looking at the second-place champion. I would have been in first place, but I had to back off because the current reigning champ is one of my superior officers and he wouldn’t take kindly to an enlisted chick dressing him down, even if it’s for fun and games, so I settled for second — although I would’ve had no trouble beating him.”

  Sam straightens his spine and rubs his neck, “I’ll tell you what. How about we play ourselves a little game? We’ll even let the game console keep score. You play as hard as you possibly can, no holding back to save my ego, promise? Although, I have to warn you, no one has beaten me at this game since I was nine.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “No one? Why haven’t you tried out for one of those game shows and made a ton of money?”

  “It’s weird. Casting directors get all bent out of shape when you can’t talk well. Having to repeat myself several times to be understood doesn’t play so well on TV.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, for this game, there is no clock. It’s just our skill against the game. If I win, I’ll act as your own personal masseuse and work on your sore neck and shoulders,” I announce.

  Sam is silent for a full minute before he turns to me and says, “Ditto.”

  I wink at him before I whisper softly, “Okay, Samuel Jonathan Taylor let the games begin.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SAM

  SHE BEAT ME. SHE flat out beat me — and it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Who knew nave plates and hubcaps were the same thing? Taylor thought that perhaps I took it easy on her so she could win, but I honestly didn’t know the answer. Even before she gave me the single best massage I’ve ever had in my lifetime, I can’t remember having so much fun with someone. I told her that after she worked so hard to beat me at the trivia game; she deserved a massage too.

  For a woman with extensive self-defense training, Taylor is remarkably ticklish. Every time I’d reach out toward her to give her massage, she would laugh which would cause me to have a spastic reaction. My reaction would cause her to flinch, which would make me flinch too which would make her laugh even harder. Finally, I did what any self-respecting man would do. I took off my glasses and kissed her. It wasn’t something I planned in advance; it just seemed to fit the moment. Usually, I get so nervous about this kind of stuff that I can’t relax and enjoy myself. But between the two of us, it was a natural extension of where our conversation and activities left off. There didn’t seem to be any dramatic buildup or expectation. It was as if one thing flowed into another.

  After one intense kissing session, where we both were struggling to catch our breath, she whispered, “I think the glasses are sexy, but I never realized how gorgeous your eyes are.”

  I’m not quite sure how to answer. It’s pretty unusual for women to notice me at all. I don’t recall anyone ever mentioning my eyes or any other body parts. I feel my face grow hot with embarrassment. “Thank you, I guess.”

  Taylor quirks the side of her mouth up. “Am I not supposed to think you’re handsome?”

  “It’ll take a little getting used to, but I suppose there are worse things.”

  Taylor brushes my hair back from my eyes. “Why are you so embarrassed? I think you’re handsome.”

  “If I told you, I’d be even more embarrassed,” I admit as I feel my face grow hot under her fingers.

  She traces a scar with her thumbnail. “What happened here?”

  I flinch at the memory. “When I was in the fourth grade, I lost my balance and bumped into the wall at my grandma’s house and a picture fell and the glass cut my face.”

  Taylor winces in sympathy. “That must’ve hurt. It makes you look rugged though.”

  “Thanks … I think. I’m not sure anybody’s ever noticed before.”

  “Really? None of your other girlfriends have said anything about your gorgeous eyes?”

  I close my eyes out of sheer embarrassment.

  “Honestly, I don’t do a lot of dating. I’m kind of a nerdy guy. I’m kind of the guy people go out with to scare off guys they’re not interested in. My friend, Jessica from work, used to hang out with me just for fun, but I was never her serious boyfriend or anything. So, all this is really strange territory for me.”

  “Huh…” Taylor says before she leans down and kisses me. “The girls you hang out with must be both blind and stupid. You are one of the coolest guys I’ve hung out with in a long time.”

  I gaze up at her beautiful smile and flashing dimples. “Okay, turnabout is fair play. It’s been a long time since you broke up with your creepy fiancé. Who have you been dating?”

  Taylor sighs. “Nobody much. Every once in a while somebody sets me up on a blind date. But most of the time I try to avoid dating like it’s a plague. You can’t blame me, my luck has been abysmal at best.”

  I snicker. “I can't disagree with you. If I'd gone through what you went through, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to find the strength to get out of bed.” I shift around and sit up so I can face her. It takes me much longer than I’m comfortable with — and there’s nothing graceful about it. I feel like a turtle who has been knocked over on his back in hot asphalt. There is defini
tely nothing sexy about my moves. Fortunately, Taylor doesn’t seem to even notice. She simply helps me sit up and waits for me to catch my breath so I can continue the conversation.

  Facing her, I ask, “So, what do you call what’s going on between us?”

  Taylor swallows hard. “Do we have to call it anything?”

  My heart pounds and blood rushes in my ears as I contemplate what her words might mean.

  “I suppose not,” I whisper in a hoarse voice, unable to keep my sadness from leaking through.

  Taylor watches my expression with alarm.

  “Oh no! I didn’t mean that the way I think you took it. I just meant this is like a dream. I never want to wake up. At some point I’ll have to go back to my real life — and for the first time ever I’d rather not.”

  As we wait for the waitress to bring back our check, I ask, “So, what did you think?”

  “I never would’ve thought to eat savory crêpes, but it was amazing,” Taylor answers.

  “I keep trying to tell you, there’s more to Portland than Voodoo Donuts. Le Happy is one of my go to places. I have to ask, if you liked it, why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”

  “You don’t understand. When I had to leave, I had to leave everything behind. Reid knew everybody. What’s to say he didn’t change the paperwork to say I never bought the ring? What if I can’t prove it and I’m out nine thousand dollars for the stupid piece of carbon which represented nothing but empty promises and pain?”

  “Taylor, with the way our records work within my company, something like that simply can’t happen. Our corporate folks won’t want an unhappy customer on their hands. They’ll likely work with you to help recover it. If they don’t, I know who will.”

  Clicking my phone case shut, I turn to Taylor, pulling her attention away from the bright Christmas displays in Pioneer Courthouse Square. “I know you were frustrated this morning when our folks at the jewelry store said they wouldn’t be able to do much except provide copies of your paperwork. To be honest, so was I — but, fortunately, it wasn’t my only plan of attack. Remember I told you about my friend Jessica from Florida? We used to work together — well, that’s not exactly right — she worked in the same mall and we used to take our lunches together. Anyway, she has more connections than God. Her fiancé, Mitch, works with some high-powered law enforcement guys. It turns out your ex is not unknown within law enforcement circles He’s been running sweetheart swindles for a while.”

  “You mean I wasn’t his first sucker?” Taylor asks sardonically.

  I pull her down onto my lap and kiss her before I answer, “No, but you’ll be the last.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TAYLOR

  I PAUSE AS I place silverware on the table. “How many people did you say are coming? Do they usually just show up out of the blue like this? It just seems weird to me,” I comment before I can stop the words from flying out of my mouth.

  Sam laughs when he sees the horrified expression on my face. “No, I totally agree. It’s bizarre. I still don’t know how Jessica gets used to that lifestyle. Her fiancé works for Tristan. I guess Tristan invented several kinds of famous software and he owns one of those Internet security firms which hunts down hackers and stuff like that. He married Rogue and her father-in-law is a legendary law enforcement guy with the feds.”

  “That’s all very fascinating, but it doesn’t explain why they’re coming the day after Christmas?”

  “Oh, that … Well, the official story line is they are coming because Jessica never got to say goodbye when she moved to Kansas and that she and Ivy — Rogue’s twin sister — were checking out where I live and decided they wanted to come see the zoo lights at Christmas time. I think there’s probably a lot more to the story, but we won’t know until they get here,” Sam answers carefully — a little too carefully. I spend my days around military types who need to keep secrets for a living, so I recognize cagey behavior when I see it — it doesn’t make me happy. Still, I don’t know what he’s been told.

  “We’re having nine people for dinner?” I ask, looking around his modest home trying to mentally map it out.

  “Actually, it’s ten, Rosa is coming — she’s Isaac’s wife.”

  “Great. I haven’t cooked in months and this is the first meal you throw at me? Nothing like a logistical challenge,” I reply as I pretend to snap him with the dishtowel.

  Sam blocks it with his forearm crutch and grins at me as he replies, “I’m not worried. I’ve had your cooking before, and it was delicious. If the smells coming out of the kitchen are anything to go by, it’ll be perfect.”

  I know it’s easy for me to forget how much military life has changed me, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been around civilians. I have to admit, if I ever had a sister, I would want her to be just like Jessica. She makes it impossible to feel excluded or out of place. She even has me half convinced to go see a classical music concert. I’m not exactly sure how she got me to do that.

  After Sam brings out the apple pie we made together this afternoon, Isaac addresses me, “You’ve been far more patient than I would ever be. As you may have guessed, we have more than one purpose here.”

  I can feel my heart rate speed up and a light sheen of sweat appears on my forehead as I hear those words. I have no idea what type of news he could be bringing. Before today, I’ve never even met these people.

  “Just tell me,” I answer robotically. I’m so used to soul shattering news about Reid Weber, I almost don’t have a reflex against it anymore.

  “From the look on your face, I don’t think our news is anything like what you’re expecting,” Jessica’s friend, Tristan comments as he leafs through a thick file. “Your would-be Casanova has a bit of history with the ladies and hasn’t bothered to hide his digital footprint very well. How he got hired by the county as a dispatching supervisor is beyond me.”

  “You actually know where the slime ball is?” Sam asks incredulously.

  “Actually, it was not hard to find him. He was still doing the same type of work; he was just over the county line in the next state.”

  I roll my eyes as I mutter, “Great, he’s got even more cops in his back pocket. No one will ever believe me now.”

  “Officer John, I don’t think that’ll be a problem. It seems your ex-fiancé had a little hobby of photographing his victims and sharing them on a website with a bunch of people who are just as sick as he is. Unfortunately for him, he forgot to wipe the metadata off of his photos first. My FBI buddies were able to match the photos online to a camera in his possession.”

  My eyes widen and I gasp a little as I ask, “Have you already confronted him?”

  Isaac chuckles a little as he responds, “To be honest, we didn’t get very many words in, he was too busy spouting off. In a manner of speaking, we did speak to him. Mitch happened to have his search and rescue dog, Hope, with him when he and Jessica came to Gainesville. He’s been cross training her on some narcotics tasks, so we brought her along with us. Let’s just say she took an instant dislike to your ex and was looking especially menacing.”

  Glancing over at Sam, who is using the tip of his crutch to give the German Shepherd a belly rub, I look back at Mitch and comment, “Somehow I have a hard time reconciling the word menacing and this puddle of furry love.”

  Jessica giggles and responds in a stage whisper, “Sometime when the guys aren’t around for their egos to be crushed, remind me to tell you about the day that I met my fiancé.”

  Much to my shock, Mitch sticks his tongue out at Jessica and then looks at me and continues, “Anyway, as I was saying, your ex-fiancé wet his pants a little and turned over some cocaine. After we explained why we were there, he handed over the diamond.”

  “That jerk had it all along? Reid told me he gave it back! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have made a fool out of myself at all those pawnshops trying to sell my ring. Now what happens?” I ask, barely able to keep the rage out of my voice.
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  “With the holidays, he won’t be arraigned until Monday, but they'll do it via closed-circuit television. I’ve made arrangements with the FBI for you to make a visual I.D. just to confirm what we know from the DNA. The truth is, that boy has bigger problems than stealing your ring from you — but your testimony will be important too. More than likely, he’ll go back to jail on the probation violation from his attempted murder charge out of Wisconsin.”

  “His what?” I hiss, as the horror of his words sink in.

  “The routine he pulled with you was not new, but the victim before you was not quite as lucky and she’s still recovering from a traumatic brain injury courtesy of your ex. He fled from Wisconsin and got a job with the county before they were finished investigating the crime. Unfortunately, she didn’t regain consciousness for several weeks after the incident and even after that, she lost her memory for a while. By the time the law enforcement agency could reconstruct the crime, your fiancé had simply moved to another state and was lying low. When he felt it was safe, he found another job using a different name. Since he still used all the same websites and social media settings, all the money he used to pay off people to hide became meaningless.”

  “What about his rich family? Couldn’t they bail him out?”

  “As fake as his good, upstanding morals, I’m afraid,” Isaac confirms.

  I collapse against the back of the chair in a fit of hysterical giggles. “I was a couple of months away from marrying a total psychopath. What does that say about me?”