Authors: Kate Aster
Was that hurt she had seen in Vi’s eyes? Lacey
pressed her lips together. Well, it serves her right if it was, she decided as
she stared into the fridge.
Truth was, she couldn’t bear to hurt her
sister.
She gave herself a shake. “Snap out of it,
Lacey,” she said to herself quietly. Vi was using her. That was what it was. Every
year, Vi would happily deposit a check from her parents equivalent to the cost
of the pizza, the cake, and whatever other expenses Vi had observed at Lacey’s
birthday party from the month before. She inventoried it all, everything from
the party hats to balloons, hovering over the festivities like some sort of
deranged accountant.
Then she’d eat Lacey’s cake, sing “Happy
Birthday” with her friends, and have the time of her life. All at Lacey’s
expense.
Literally.
Well, Lacey was almost thirteen now. Practically
a teenager. She wasn’t going to be the pushover she had been in earlier years. Vi
might complain to their parents that she wasn’t invited to her own sister’s
party, but Lacey knew they’d let her invite whomever she wanted.
Or
didn’t
want.
They might even respect Lacey for laying
down the law to her sister. For standing her ground. Wouldn’t that be refreshing?
Looking sullen, Vi stepped into the
kitchen. “You’re right, Lacey.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. I’ll skip your party this year, if
that’s what you want.” Vi’s lip trembled just a bit. Or was that in Lacey’s
imagination?
“It’s not what I want. It’s just what’s
fair,” Lacey said.
“Absolutely,” Vi agreed.
Lacey wasn’t expecting this. She sighed,
watching her visibly deflated sister unwrap a Hoho and pop half of it into her
mouth as solace.
Frowning, Lacey took the other half from
her sister’s hand. “Well, so long as we agree that it’s not fair, then I guess
you can come.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Lacey cracked a smile. “But you better
get me a really good gift.”
“Deal.”
Today
Baby Abigail stared up at Lacey, a perfect
cherub, eyes locked on hers as her tiny bow of a mouth sucked happily on her
bottle.
In silent awe, Lacey gazed down at the
tiny miracle nestled on her lap. It seemed as though Abigail had nearly doubled
in size the past month. The darker hair she had at birth had fallen out, and a crop
of fiery red hair was popping up. Just like her momma, Lacey thought as she
glanced at Bess.
Holding little Abigail, Lacey’s worries
melted down to a more manageable size. Over a month had passed since Jack had told
her that Mick had been recalled on a black ops mission. Bess was still in the
hospital at the time, but Maeve had sat with her on the couch that day, holding
her hand as Jack confirmed what they had learned from Bess’s new West Point
friend. Jack had promised to do all he could to find out details, but “no news
is good news,” he assured her, when it came to SEAL missions.
There were still so many unanswered
questions between Lacey and Mick. For all she knew, he was still fuming about
the deception she had allowed from the first day they met, and patting himself
on the back for being rid of her. Oddly, even that thought comforted her,
because it would mean that Mick was still alive. She gently stroked Abigail’s
forehead, the feel of the baby’s soft skin somehow comforting her.
“You get completely lost in her, don’t
you?” Maeve’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Lacey glanced up. “That’s it. That’s
exactly it. She makes life simpler somehow. If she’s okay, then everything’s
okay.”
Bess looked at the clock. “Shouldn’t you be
getting ready for your appointment? I can take over from here.”
Lacey didn’t lift her eyes from the baby. “There’s
nothing more important in my day than this. Carolyn Miron can wait, waterfront
property or not.” Lacey had no idea why Carolyn had asked her to meet for
coffee. She had learned last week from the district attorney that Carolyn’s son
had changed his plea to guilty for two counts of breaking and entering. Lacey
had thought that bizarre chapter in her life was closed now.
Maeve’s forehead creased with worry. “Are
you sure you want to go? Maybe one of us should go with you.”
“She’s harmless, Maeve. Maybe she
just needs to talk.” Lacey smiled at her protective friend. “I promise I’ll
call as soon as I’m done.”
Jack burst in from the baby’s room. “What
is this?” he demanded holding a tiny shirt that had “Go Army! Beat Navy!”
printed boldly across the front.
Maeve looked up. “Watch your tone around
the baby, Jack.”
He held up his hands in defense. “Okay, my
bad. But who gave her this?”
“Tyler sent it for Abigail when he got
back to West Point,” Bess said without compunction.
“That cadet?” His eyes flared. “It’s bad
enough he was the first guy to get to hold the baby. But then this?” He waved
the shirt in the air.
Bess rose to quickly snatch it out of his
hand. “It was sweet. I promise I won’t have her wear it on Army-Navy game day.”
“Football,” Lacey explained in a whisper
to the baby, “brings out the worst in men.”
As Jack moved to sit beside Abigail, Lacey
saw him do a double take at something on his sleeve. It was brown and she’d bet
it wasn’t chocolate.
“Crap,” he muttered. “That’s the last time
I’ll change a diaper in uniform.”
“Shh,” Lacey said quietly. “I think she’s
dozing.” Abigail smacked her lips a little, contented. Her tiny blue eyes
flickered shut.
Under the warm spring sun as the new
leaves waved happily in the breeze, Maeve’s little home seemed complete with
this new life inside of it, even while another life was so uncertain.
***
Carolyn Miron stirred the creamer in her
cup. “I want to thank you for meeting me like this. I feel horribly for all
that my family put you through these past months.”
Lacey felt immediately relieved by the
tone of the conversation. “Carolyn, I was just so sorry to have to hand over
those personal belongings to the police.”
“You had no choice.” Carolyn shook
her head. “I have to admit, I always knew that my husband was up to something,
though I never would have suspected he was blackmailing someone. Lou—”
she sighed, “—was not a good man. But my son?” Her hand trembling
slightly, she raised her cup to her lips. “After he decided to take the plea
bargain last week, Jeffrey confessed to me that he was heavily in debt from
gambling. His father had told him about the photographs a few years ago—probably
bragging about it, knowing Lou. So when Lou died, my son thought it might be an
easy way to make money.”
Setting the cup down, the older woman
stared emptily out the café’s window. Her voice was hollow. “I never would have
thought he would turn out to be so much like his father. Or maybe I just didn’t
want to see it.”
Lacey wished she knew the right thing to
say. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through.”
Carolyn waved her hand dismissively. “At
any rate, I’ve decided to move up north to be with my daughter and her family. I
need the support right now.”
“That sounds like a good plan.”
“And now that the police have confirmed
that Lou died of natural causes, they’ve taken the police tape down from the
house.” She took an uneasy breath. “So I was wondering if there’s any chance
you might relist the property for me.”
Lacey felt conflicted, with all the
trouble the Miron listing had already caused her. “I—”
Carolyn interrupted. “I give you my word that
I’ll take the first reasonable offer that comes this time. And if it’s
appropriate, I’d be comfortable in offering you a higher commission.”
Cha-ching!
The tug of profit prodded Lacey to jump at the offer
just as her cell phone vibrated. Glancing into the depths of her purse, she saw
Jack’s number light up the screen. Jack calling in the middle of a workday was
a rarity. Suddenly trembling, she grasped her phone. “Carolyn, this may be
important. Would you mind if I took this outside?”
“Of course not. Take your time.”
Lacey darted out the café’s entrance, her
pulse racing. “Jack? What is it?”
“Lacey.” Jack’s guarded tone did nothing
to soothe Lacey’s nerves. “I have some information on Mick’s team. It’s not
good, but I’ll tell you straight off that I don’t have the complete picture
yet.”
Lacey leaned against the wall to brace
herself.
“I heard from a contact at Bagram Air Base
that they treated a few SEALs about a week ago. They were in critical
condition, and flown to Landstuhl for more treatment.”
“Landstuhl?”
“In Germany. They patch you up best they
can in the field and then send you there if you’re still in bad shape.”
“I have to go there, Jack.”
“I don’t even know if Mick was one of them
yet. I’ve called, but they won’t release information to me. I know a few people
there, but haven’t heard back from them yet because of the time difference. I should
know something tomorrow.”
Lacey felt helpless. “I have to do
something, Jack.”
“They all may be fine now, or even headed
back here to the Naval Hospital in Bethesda by now. I don’t want you going
anywhere until I find out more. I probably should have waited to tell you, but
I knew you’d want to go to him if he is in Germany. I thought some extra time
to make arrangements might help.”
Lacey pressed her eyes shut, willing away
the tears. “You did the right thing by telling me. I’ll dig out my passport and
get someone at work to cover for me at my closing tomorrow if I need to fly out
before then.” There was a brief silence between them, enough time for panic to
grip her like a vise closing up on her heart. Control was slipping away. “I
have to go, Jack. Please, please call me the instant you know anything more.”
“You know I will.”
Snapping her phone shut, Lacey wiped a
tear from her cheek.
Her arms ached, desperate to hold Mick
again, to feel his warmth beside her. Oh, God, to turn back time to that last
night together and give her the chance to say how sorry she was, rather than
run away.
She shook her head. Suddenly, his
forgiveness—his understanding—wasn’t nearly as important to her. She
just wanted him alive.
She just wanted him
home
.
Anyone who ever complained about flying
coach should take a transatlantic flight on a C-17 military cargo jet.
Belted into his seat, the roar of the
engine shook Mick’s body like an industrial-sized paint mixer. Even with his
noise reduction headphones, he was still certain he’d be deaf before they
touched down at Andrews Air Force Base at 1700 hours.
Maybe that was for the best. If he were
deaf, he wouldn’t be able to hear Lacey when she told him to get lost. He could
imagine her now, standing at her front door, her lips forming the words as if
in a silent movie. “Take a hike, loser.” After the way he had treated her, he wouldn’t
blame her.
Of course, she wouldn’t be that callous,
he thought. Not Lacey. She was too caring. Too protective of other people’s
feelings. She’d say how happy she was that he was alive, and thank him kindly
for stopping by. Then she’d gently send his broken-hearted self on his way.
Sweet Lacey. Thoughtful, kind Lacey. Completely
opposite from how he viewed her that last time they were together.
What a judgmental bastard he had been. Okay,
maybe it was a little weird that she crashed funerals for a living. And he
wished that she had told him on her own. But they would have worked things out if
Captain Shey hadn’t shown up on his doorstep the next day. That’s what couples
did, right? They had arguments, and then they worked things out.
He nodded to himself, then winced when his
body jolted from turbulence.
There’s something about a fourteen-hour
flight home from a war zone that gave a man plenty of time to wish he had
someone waiting home for him. He had never felt that way before. It used to be
that after a deployment, all he had wanted was a soft bed, a change of clothes,
and about eighteen hours of solid channel flipping on his TV. And a steak. God,
yes. After nothing but freeze-dried MREs, a good prime rib would send him into
ecstasy right now.
Most of his deployments had lasted longer
than this one. He was lucky this time. He had lost a few days getting patched
up at Bagram, but didn’t have to go to Landstuhl.
He couldn’t say the same for the other
guys on his team. But they were stable now, and sounded in good spirits in
their last phone conversations with Mick. That was enough good news for Mick to
get the hell out of there.
And back to Lacey.
Now if he had only one ounce of luck left,
he would use it up standing in front of Lacey, begging for forgiveness.