CHAPTER 12
Suffolk, Virginia
STANDING alongside Eric and Grace at Cherilyn’s front door, Marcus started to wonder what he’d hoped to accomplish by this visit. Exactly. Did he have that much faith in “old time’s sake”? Was it enough to induce Cherilyn to welcome him with open arms, and after all this time?
Maybe. Maybe not.
But Marcus had to give it a shot. Sooner or later they were going to be playing a game of cat and mouse with someone, if they weren’t already, and he preferred to know
who
. Practically anybody could be involved.
There were only so many ways to find out who they were up against. And, as much as Marcus hated to admit it, he wasn’t that well-connected. Not when it came to shit like this. He knew one person, and one person only, who might be able to help. If Cherilyn turned her back on them, they were in big trouble.
Go figure. His only hope was a woman who’d run out on him in the past when things had gotten a little too tough.
Damned crappy luck.
Nerves, like thorny vines, knotted and twisted around the rock-hard fear anchored low in Marcus’s gut. He tried to lift his arm to knock on the door, but it felt like one of those boulders at Stonehenge, heavy and immovable.
This was a dumb idea. What made him think he was prepared to confront Cherilyn? He hadn’t prepped for that. He’d never played the “what if” game. There was no point. She wasn’t coming back. She’d made that clear when she left. Oh, she’d said it was for
his own good
, but that excuse offered little solace—then and now.
Marcus had accepted, years ago, that that part of his life—his marriage to Cherilyn—was over. The idea that he’d one day be standing at her door wasn’t a notion he’d ever entertained. The thought had never crossed his mind. He wasn’t one to spend a lot of wasted time on impossible dreams.
Never say never
.
Eric reached around Marcus and knocked on the door.
Oh, God...I don’t think I can do this
. Marcus needed more time to erase the pain his breakup with Cherilyn had inflicted. Yeah, but, how many years was that going to take? He’d thought, incorrectly, that he was past it. The regret threatening to rip his heart out of his chest suggested he was wrong.
The door swung open with a slow-motion affect. Marcus’s heart sank into his stomach and his gaze fell to the cobblestone steps. What if her husband answered the door?
Great. Now he’d fallen onto the “what if” wagon. God, he sure knew how to pull himself down into the depths of humiliation.
He gave himself a mental slap in the face, collected his scattered emotions and pulled his gaze up the length of the figure standing on the other side of the threshold.
Blue jeans adorned the long, slender legs of a woman and led up to a blue checkered blouse tied at the waist. Creamy-white skin peered out from behind the shirt’s top two unfastened buttons.
Cherilyn ran her fingers through her sandy-blonde hair. It was cropped short now, the style complimented her face in a flattering way. Her hazel eyes sparkled courteously as she searched the faces of her company.
She’d hit forty last year, in November, but he was still easily sucked in by the allure of her beauty.
“Hello, Cherilyn.” Marcus greeted her in a stifled breath, frightful that his splintered heart might finally inflict its wrath.
Seconds ticked by before Marcus’s shock of seeing her standing there wore off and gave him an overwhelming sense of peace. Something he couldn’t explain, even to himself.
If Cherilyn tried to conceal her surprise she wasn’t successful. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped opened. “Marcus...” She gasped softly, until finally her lips molded into a bittersweet smile.
The presence of Eric and Grace caught her attention, briefly, and her eyes darted between the three of them before settling back to Marcus, where they seemed to be asking,
what are you doing here
?
“I apologize for dropping by without calling.” Marcus figured his defense probably sounded apocryphal, but he had meant it with the utmost sincerity. Maybe he should’ve called first, if he’d bothered to take down her phone number. This might turn into an uncomfortable situation.
“It’s not a problem,” she said vaguely, but remained in the doorway. A human barrier between him and her new life inside.
He glanced past her with a stealthful glimpse, but saw nothing to give away the details of her current life. “I hope we’re not disturbing your family.”
Please don’t let there be kids
. Good God. Could Marcus handle her having children with another man?
Grace snickered, barely above her breath. Her amusement wasn’t targeted at Marcus so much as his predicament, and she didn’t want him to think otherwise. But that didn’t stop Eric from jabbing his elbow into her side.
Damn it. Why did he do stuff like that?
“There’s nothing to disturb here.” Cherilyn stepped aside. “Come on in.” She waved them inside with a reluctant gesture.
Grace usually had no trouble reading people, but Cherilyn was a closed book. She had no idea if Marcus’s ex’s display of reluctance was genuine.
Eric pushed Grace behind Marcus and she stumbled inside. She would’ve retaliated had it not been for the room and its atmosphere. Angels designed in porcelain, crystal, and ivory occupied every available spot on the shelves, tables and nooks in the living room.
Instantly, Grace caught a whiff of a pleasant scent floating on the air. What was it...lavender? Or maybe lilac. Oddly enough, she couldn’t decide if the ambiance was magical or spiritual.
“This is an unexpected surprise.” Cherilyn led them across the room toward two tan leather couches facing one another and separated by a cherry-planked coffee table.
Eric drove Grace toward one couch and Marcus followed Cherilyn to the other. Grace and Eric sat, while the other pair remained standing.
“Why are you here?” Cherilyn asked Marcus in a tone filled with just enough curiosity to come across as friendly.
There was no beating around the bush with Cherilyn. Grace appreciated that in a person.
“I like her,” Grace whispered to Eric. “She gets straight to the point.”
Eric rolled his eyes and shushed Grace.
“At least she remembers who he is,” Grace said just above a whisper.
Eric wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Would you please shut up?” He breathed the words through her hair, his breath tickling her skin. Or maybe that was reaction to his touch.
She passed on debating over it for long. Better to stifle her feelings than let her heart fall to her sleeve. Instead, she focused on Marcus and Cherilyn standing together, hands clasped and facing one another.
Man, why did they ever split up
? Clearly, they still loved each other.
“I need your help, Cher.” Marcus gestured toward Eric and Grace, but his gaze remained locked on his ex. “
We
need your help.”
Cherilyn looked at Grace and Eric, her lips parted but she abstained from speaking. Grace smiled, still trying to figure out how to read the woman. No luck. Cherilyn
whatever-her-last-name-was
was a complete enigma.
“Hello.” Cherilyn finally offered up a courteous greeting. She looked down at her hands, still encased in Marcus’s. Her cheeks turned a vivid scarlet and she grinned sheepishly. “Who are your friends?”
“This is Eric Wayne and Grace Hendricks.” Marcus began the introductions.
Grace snickered. And again, Eric elbowed her in the side, more forceful this time.
Geez, can’t a girl have a little fun
? When the hell had Eric turned into such a wet blanket?
“This is Cherilyn.” Marcus continued the introductions, dragging Grace away from her thoughts. He turned back to Cherilyn, his weary expression said he’d backed himself into an emotional corner. “Are you still...?”
“Yes,” she said, and cleared her throat. “I’m still Cherilyn Johnson.”
So, when they divorced she kept the name just not the man.
Poor Marcus.
For a second, he looked like he was weighing an objection to Cherilyn’s statement, and then it just seemed to fade away. “I...ah...” Marcus’s stature stiffened. “I came here because we really need your help.”
Cherilyn giggled. They still had their hands tangled together and she made the move to sit first, Marcus followed her, as if he didn’t want to let go. “You know I’ll do whatever I can for you,” she said, reinforcing the hold she had on him.
Their eyes locked in an engulfing, exciting sort of way, as if they were the only two people in the entire world.
Grace was filled with a sudden outburst of emotion. Seeing the way they looked at each other was touching, and depressing. Once upon a time, Eric had looked at her like that, but she hadn’t seen that from him since she returned to Cherry Point. And she missed it. She missed seeing love lighting his eyes. Now, all she saw was a cold, empty stare, one that told her he was here for her father and no other reason.
Cherilyn had intended to give Marcus and his friends her undivided attention as they told their story, but soon her mind wandered off to the glory of days gone by. The bittersweet reflections were all she’d had for nearly twenty years. Still, even though Marcus sat close enough to touch, she found solace in the familiarity of what had comforted her for so long. Her memories.
Inside her thoughts, it was easy to block out the bad and filter in only the good. Suppressing the reality and truth about what happened to Cherilyn and Marcus was the only thing keeping her sane.
Naively, they had bought into the rhetoric that “love conquers all”. Not so. She’d caught on before Marcus, and that’s why she’d been forced to play the bad guy. But the real culprit was society, and society had gotten away with a crime against love. So what if Marcus was black and she was white? They’d fought the reality of the situation for the longest time, but some things weren’t meant to be, no matter how much she wanted them.
Learning that things weren’t going to be different for her and Marcus was a hard lesson, but in the end she came to terms with it. They weren’t meant to beat the odds. People weren’t beyond the prejudices associated with skin color and that sort of thing.
She’d hoped for the best, that things could work in their favor, until that fateful day when the clouds cleared and the pieces fell into place. At least for Cherilyn. Marcus’s life was in increasing danger the longer they stayed married.
Cherilyn hated her selfish side, the one that had thoughtlessly laid Marcus’s life on the line, and all for the sake of satisfying her own wants and needs. Looking back, she found her actions sickening.
Marcus had come home that day, badly beaten and with a broken rib or two. He stumbled into the house and fell into her arms. She barely got him into the bedroom before he passed out. Thank God she’d had a friend who was a nurse. Cherilyn had beckoned her to see to Marcus’s injuries, and had sworn her to secrecy.
In the end, rather than watching him pay with his life for living with her, she left. Ending their marriage was the hardest thing Cherilyn had ever done and it broke her heart.
By the time she’d mentally filtered through the details of their short marriage, Marcus and his friends had finished their story.
“So what do you think?” Marcus waited, peering at her with those hopeful, yet desperate-looking eyes. “Can you help us?”
“Marcus...” Cherilyn could think of several reasons to say no, and just as many to concur. “I’d love to help you. But I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Was it her fault she hadn’t heard a word they’d said?
“Look, Cher,” Marcus’s words faded as he glanced at his friends. “Can we talk privately?” He was still looking at his buddies, but the inquiry, Cherilyn knew, was meant for her. When he turned back to her, bleak lines creased his forehead and his mouth stiffened.
In private
? She sensed fear in his words, his stance, his demeanor.
“Sure.” Cherilyn pushed back a wayward strand of her hair. “Your friends might be interested in taking a look at my rose garden out back.”
The time had come to get down to business and find out what trouble Marcus and his friends had brought to her door.
CHAPTER 13
CHERILYN had said go, and Eric grabbed Grace’s hand and heaved her to her feet, elevating her anxiety. Every time she wound up alone with Eric, fear, guilt, and shame twisted into tangled knots inside her gut.
Sooner or later, he was going to demand answers. Answers to those dreaded questions she’d been hiding from all these years.
Why she’d disappeared, abandoning him
? And,
where had she been all this time
?
Eric dragged her, less than willingly, toward the slider and swept the glass door open with one-handed ease. Instantly, the scent of roses, strong and sweet, filled the air.
Grace stood stunned, taking in the dreamlike beauty of dozens of rose bushes ambling around green hillocks, thwarted only by the cavalcade of Mulberry and Sycamore trees bordering the garden.
She sucked in a long, deep breath, letting the aroma soothe her senses and calm her worries, if only for a moment. “Get a load of this place, would you?”
“Yeah.” Eric’s biting laughter brought her back to Earth. “Looks like a damn postcard.” His sarcasm wrapped around Grace as if trying to suffocate her. “The picture’s great to look at, but it’s not much good for anything else.”
“That’s a pretty cynical outlook, Eric.” She studied his grim expression. He didn’t used to act like such an ass. Was this her fault?
“It is what it is, Gracie.” He released the stranglehold he had on her wrist and buried his fingertips in his front pockets.
Grace massaged her arm, trying to rub away the imprint of his grasp.
His gaze fell over her and then bounced back up to rest on her face. “Oh, sorry.” The cold void echo of his words shattered her courage and she turned away.
Searching the breathtaking garden, she found a snug retreat awaiting her at the end of a winding path. Grace wended her way down the redwood steps and onto the cobbled path, seeking safety in the gazebo ahead at the heart of the grove.
A woodsy smell mingled with the scent of roses as she approached the gazebo. Inside the structure, a swing tempted her to take a seat. She pivoted around and sat, and Eric, meandering up the path after her, caught her attention and didn’t let go.
His lean physique looked tough in his Levi’s and Marine Corps issued tee shirt. A detached, preoccupied expression revealed the concern and uncertainty he was probably trying to mask, but Grace had learned to read that face ages ago.
Eric stepped onto the porch and she pulled her drifting thoughts together. She patted the empty space beside her and nodded, inviting him to join her on the swing.
“So what do you think about this secret organization business?” she asked, routing the conversation to assure they wouldn’t wander onto subjects she’d rather not visit.
“Well, I’m not naïve enough to think I know everything our government’s doing.”
“So you think it’s possible?”
“Possible.” He agreed with a nod. “Not really probable...but it is possible.”
“Do you see daddy being involved in something like that?” She got sucked into the influence of his intense green eyes. She’d always loved their infinite depth. But they possessed something different now. Sadness.
“I wouldn’t have ever thought so.” He glanced over his shoulder, at the yellow climbing rose behind them. “But right now, I don’t know what to think.”
“Me either.” Grace thought about plucking a rosebud off the bush, but concern over Cherilyn’s reaction stopped her. Avoiding making the woman mad was a good idea. Who else were they going to turn to? “This is so far above my thought processes that it makes me feel kind of stupid.”
“You’re far from stupid, Gracie.” He snapped the stem on the rosebud she’d been eyeing, and offered it to her. “So don’t let it get you down.”
Grace took the flower and wafted it under her nose. She almost got sidetracked by the pretty smell. “You think we’re ever going to find out what happened to Daddy?”
“Somebody knows. And I’m going to find out who that is.” His smile reeked of pity even though his words presented hope.
But Grace saw through both. He was still looking for that logical explanation, only there wasn’t one. Even if the military records could’ve been chalked up to clerical error, how does somebody lose a grave?
A smile curled on Grace’s lips that said she had total faith and confidence in Eric. He’d seen that look more than once in the last couple of days. He wished he felt the same.
“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Her voice oozed intrigue as it threw him the loaded question.
How should he know, Eric didn’t have a clue. Them? The situation? Will she or won’t she help?
Take your pick
. His own ridiculing laughter scoffed at him, creeping out into the forefront of his mind where it managed to escape for all to hear.
“Your guess is good as mine.” He tried to drown out the lingering mockery with the sound of his own voice. When that didn’t happen, he shrugged it away and draped his arm along the back of the swing.
“I don’t have any guesses, Eric.” A strangely sad expression on her face told him that something inside her was broken. Maybe the General’s death—or was it his disappearance—had been one too many blows in a long line of misery. God knows, she hadn’t had the most advantageous luck during the course of her life. The constant abrasion of misfortune had taken its toll on Grace Hendricks.
And now here she sat, vulnerable as hell, and all Eric could think about was his own self-preservation. He should be mad as hell at her. But he wasn’t. Oh sure, seedlings of curiosity still had him wondering what happened back then, why she’d disappeared? No matter the reasoning, his conclusion would always be the same.
The truth began to flicker on the horizon of his mind. He would always be in danger of losing his heart to her. That worried him. At any point in time, Grace Hendricks could yank his heart from his chest, throw it on the ground and stomp all over it. Again.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, getting back on track and, at the same time, steering away from the subject of
them
. “But I promise you I’m going to find out. One way or another.”
“Do you think Marcus has enough influence with Cherilyn to get her to help us?” Grace knotted her hands in her lap.
Wagging his head slightly, Eric said, “I think Marcus is quite capable of persuading her to divulge any information he desires.”
“Hopefully, he has enough pull with her that she’ll at least point us in the right direction.” Her troubled voice reminded Eric that they sat on opposite ends of the spectrum. She was looking for an adversary while he was looking for a reasonable explanation.
What about this business with the General? Eric might be more worried about their safety if he thought there was something to this theory that the General’s disappearance had something to do with secret organizations and government cover-ups. But he just didn’t buy it. This kind of shit only happened in the movies.
So what...had they stepped onto the set of a James Bond film? Yeah, right. More like Candid Camera.
Eric had all but convinced himself that he was right and Grace was wrong when Marcus and Cherilyn appeared through the back door and headed up the path toward them. Damn. Now it was going to be three against one. Not good odds.
They joined Eric and Grace inside the gazebo and Marcus’s eyes sparkled with an almost hopeful glint. Eric heeded his internal voice that wondered what fueled this newfound optimism—Cherilyn’s presence or her knowledge. Either one was bad. Really bad.
Marcus didn’t need to surrender himself to the mercy of a woman who’d leave him at the first sign of trouble. Had it been so long that Marcus had forgotten what being deserted felt like?
But the alternative was her knowledge. If Cherilyn confirmed Marcus’s suspicions, then Eric had a whole lot of rethinking to do, a complete restructuring of his mindset. Neither option seemed particularly pleasant.
They stood over Eric and Grace, a sly smile spreading over Marcus’s face. “Eric. Gracie.” He buried one hand in his pants’ pocket and loosely tangled the other with Cherilyn’s. “It’s time that I introduced you properly to my wife, Cherilyn Johnson.”
“Huh?” The steel walls of Eric’s intellect held the idea in solitary confinement. No way. Couldn’t be. Marcus and Cherilyn were still married? Really?
After all these years, he’d naturally figured that somebody, at least one of them, had gone ahead and gotten the divorce. Then again, if he put some thought into it he should’ve known Marcus wouldn’t have been that somebody. Impossible.
“Your wife?” Grace’s disbelief blurted out in her somewhat amused voice. She probably found the notion
romantic
. “You hear that?” She looked at Eric with wide-eyed innocence, but he knew it was merely a smokescreen. “He introduced her as his wife.”
So she wanted to go there, huh? “Yeah,” he said coolly, “And as I recall, she’s still carrying his name. That’s what one would expect from a wife.”
“Maybe one day you’ll stop and actually take notice of what’s right in front of your face.” Grace’s eyelids slipped down over her eyes. He’d hurt her feelings. Great.
“Listen, you two, it’s a moot point.” Cherilyn broke into their quarrelling banter. “Marcus and I are no longer
legally
married,” she said, stressing the word “legally” over the others.
Everything went silent, even the wind rustling the rosebushes. The stillness gathered around them like a thick, suffocating vapor. Eric had to stop it, conquer the demon. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said as graciously as he could manage, and offered his hand as a gesture of friendship.
Cherilyn accepted his well-intended generosity and clutched his hand with a firm grip. “I’d like to welcome you all to my home.”
“Thank you.” Grace jumped on the bandwagon. “And may I say, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Their host’s smile did not indicate concurrence. If anything, it screamed displeasure. Not that Eric could blame her. They’d dropped in on her without notice, and brought with them a whopper of a story. In her shoes, he wouldn’t be just annoyed, he’d be pissed.
“Marcus has told me about your...” She paused, and her face fell into a more agreeable expression. “Situation.”
Well, that’s one way to put it. Eric shut down his mocking laughter to just a thought.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you in your quest.” Cherilyn’s immediate, and voluntary compliance, caught Eric off-guard. He wasn’t expecting her to be so easily persuaded.
But, she was Marcus’s ex, that had to count for something. It’s not like she had Eric’s excuse. He had a history with the General.
“Well,” Grace’s tone was layered in skepticism, “unless you’re privy to information, such as why someone would want to erase all traces of a man’s existence—” The doubt glazing her voice hardened. “I’m not really sure there’s anything you can do to help.”
“Let’s go inside,” Cherilyn suggested, way too serenely to suit Eric considering what Grace had just said, “and we’ll talk.”
Cherilyn led the party into the house, determined not to discuss a single solitary point until she’d served refreshments.
She left her guests in the living room with Marcus while she threw together a quick tray of cheeses, cold cuts, crackers and iced tea in the kitchen. As she worked, she wondered if Marcus still pampered his guests. She knew how intoxicating he could be. He’d had won her over, straight away.
Cherilyn made a couple of trips from the kitchen to the living room, laying everything out for her snacked feast in defined precision. The crackers—two types, Club and Ritz—had to be centered around the cheeses, American, Cheddar, and Swiss on one side and the meats, ham, turkey, and roast beef on the other. A pitcher of iced tea and four glasses on the opposite end of the coffee table, and to top things off, she dumped a bag of plain salted potato chips into a bowl and placed it in an open space on the table.
Satisfied that things were perfect, she sat down on the couch beside Marcus. She studied his friends snuggled together on the opposite sofa. Their demeanor suggested they were lovers, or at least in love.
Cherilyn envied them the opportunity laid at their feet. Hers had been yanked away long ago, like a too short blanket. She’d kept tugging at it, but fate and society had the stronger hold.
But Cherilyn couldn’t let herself go there, not when there was still a chance for her to grow whole again. And as long as she was breathing, that was an option.
Marcus squeezed her hand and eased into a smile, as if he knew her thoughts. Maybe she should get straight down to business, the only way to protect her heart.
“Well, let me just jump right on into the fire here.” A snorted chuckle rumbled up her throat. How else did one delve into this particular conversation? She turned to Marcus. “The rumors you’ve heard are true,” she said with a nod.
Marcus’s smile faded a little, his body arched into a stance of tension, like hearing it was different than suspecting it. “Which rumors?” he asked, raising one suspicious eyebrow. She knew the reaction well. The one Marcus displayed when he didn’t like what he was hearing.
Cherilyn had never talked about her work with anyone outside her affiliate contacts, but divulging the name of her organization, known only as
The Club
, was another matter. No one would ever hear those words slip from her lips. If they did, she’d kill the eavesdropper.
She’d never shared the story with anyone. Never told a soul how she came to be acquainted with The Club, an elusive and highly secretive organization, nearly twenty years ago. Back then, shortly after her split with Marcus, she’d traveled down a destructive path. She’d never jeopardized her military career, but she did put her life on the line more than once. As it happened, The Club sought out candidates with an apparent death wish.
How long the recruiters watched her before approaching her was anybody’s guess, but she figured it for several weeks, maybe months. She based her opinion on how it worked once she started recruiting. They’d monitored Cherilyn at her worst, when she had no scruples and was afraid of absolutely nothing—especially dying.