Eye Of The Storm - DK3 (29 page)

Andrew gently pulled her head over and tucked it against his chest, stroking the silver blonde hair in silent grief. “Ceci, I’m sorry,” he finally rasped. “I’da torn my guts out before I’d have done that to you.”

She huddled against him. “Then why did you?” she whispered.

Andrew closed his eyes. “That thing I had to go for wasn’t for what you thought it was. Wasn’t for what everybody knew.” He drew a breath in. “Was a place…had a squad of twenty two men stuck in it. Place I’d been to way back. Team I was with...I was the only one still kicking.”

Ceci lifted her head and looked at him. His face tensed in pain.

“Twenty two of ’em, Ceci,” his voice held a helpless, lost note, “came to me, and I…traded them twenty-two souls for mine.” He stopped for a long moment. “And I did, ’cept they caught on coming out and somebody had to hold ’em.” He blinked and an errant bit of water emerged. “And I 156
Melissa Good
thought,” the pitch dropped very low, “there weren’t nothing for me to go back to.”

Cecilia went still.

“So they got me.”

A soft moan.

“And they tried their damndest on me, but a man’s gotta care about somethin’ for you t’do that and I didn’t.” Andy’s whole face twitched. “I cursed ’em for not trying harder.” He paused. “Five and some damn years. ’Bout the only thing kept me half sane was thinking of you.” His voice softened. “Wishin’ things were different,” he whispered. “Hurtin’

that we parted mad.”

Cecilia gave a shuddering gasp. “Andy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Yeah. Me neither.” He sighed. “Anyhow, guess I was just too damn stubborn in the end. One day stuff got loud, next thing I knew, I was on a boat headed home.” There was an awkward pause. “They patched me up best they could…set me loose.”

She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “I told you I wouldn’t be there if you came back.”

He nodded silently.

“You believed me.”

Hesitantly, he blinked. “Didn’t have the guts to find out one way or t’other.” He stopped and closed his eyes. “Didn’t want to know if you hadn’t.”

“I was…just trying to get you to stay,” Ceci whispered. “I would have waited my whole life for you.” She buried her face in his sweatshirt.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Andrew let his chin rest against her soft hair. “Same here.”

They were quiet for a while, as the tension eased and the air cleared.

“Andy?” Cecilia murmured, after a bit.

“Mmm?”

“I’m…very tired…of hurting,” she said slowly. “And I can’t change what happened.”

“No.”

“Can we just start again?” She searched his face intently. “Please?”

His head tilted slightly as he thought, intense blue eyes drinking her in with characteristic seriousness. “I do think I’d like that,” he finally said, lacing his fingers in hers. “Let’s do it.”

So.
Ceci felt numb and a little nauseous from the stress, and she had a headache that would fell Picasso at forty paces.

It felt wonderful. But she was totally exhausted and she suspected Andy probably was too. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I stayed up this late,” she murmured, eyeing the clock on the mantel.

Andrew regarded her soberly. “Why doncha g’wan…” He nodded towards the bedroom. “I’ll be fine out here. I…um…” He stopped awkwardly. “Go on.”

Maybe it was best,
Ceci reflected.
They had time and it would take time to
Eye of the Storm
157

readjust to…everything. To each other. Andy was right not to push things.

She didn’t budge.

They eyed each other and suddenly, shy smiles appeared on both their faces. “You know something, Andy?”

“What?”

“Seven years is long enough to sleep alone. Come keep me company.” She squeezed the hand still tangled with hers. “Or I’ll be up and peeking out here all night to see if you’re still around.”

His lips twitched. “All right,” Andy drawled softly. “Hope I don’t move round too much on yer.”

Cecilia stood and very gently pulled at him. “I’m so tired you could do calisthenics and it probably wouldn’t bother me.”

“Not hardly,” he muttered, as he stood, lifted the bag Kerry had gotten him, and followed Ceci into the bedroom. He set the bag down and regarded it. “S’pose that green eyed gal remembered some jammies.” He glanced around at the almost painfully neat room with its austere fabric and crisply made bed.

Ceci tilted her head. “That’s not yours?”

“Didn’t have time to pack.” Andrew unlatched the bag, pulled the zipper open and poked inside curiously. “Lord.” He took out a pair of pale blue pajama shorts with a darker blue pattern.

“What…are…oh.” Ceci muffled a laugh. “They’re seals.” She fingered the fabric, which did, indeed, have little dark blue seals on it.

“Would that be Dar’s friend Kerry?”

He scowled a little. “Yeah. Got some kinda sense of humor, I’ll tell ya that.” He investigated further, finding a small shaving kit and other bathroom articles, a towel, several neatly folded sweatshirts, and two pairs of jeans.

And underwear. Andrew’s eyebrows lifted as he removed a pair of burgundy silk boxers. “Jesus H. Christ.”

Ceci clapped a hand over her mouth, as a burst of hysterical laughter threatened to escape. “Well, she’s got good taste.”

Andrew muttered something under his breath and pulled the pajamas out, then turned towards the bathroom, stopping when a hand touched his arm. “Yeah?”

“Since when are you shy?” Ceci tugged at the sweatshirt.

The low light in the bedroom turned his pale eyes a dim gray. He studied her for a long set of heartbeats. “Lotta marks on me. Aren’t real nice to look at,” he told her honestly.

“And your point would be what, exactly?” Cecilia inquired.

He was silent, then handed her the pajamas and pulled his sweatshirt off, which he folded with automatic precision and tucked it into the side pocked of the bag.

Cecilia bit the inside of her lip, but made no comment, looking with pained eyes at the burn marks and criss crossing scars that covered his chest. A jagged tear ran from the point of one shoulder down to his hip, so recently healed she could see the still visible marks of the suture scars.

158
Melissa Good
She handed him the pajama shirt, then ran her fingertips over his ribs.

He put the shirt on without comment, then finished undressing as she did the same, ending up face to face with her in front of the bed. They linked hands and pulled the blankets down together in comfortable silence, then crawled under them.

Ceci lay curled on her side watching the strong profile outlined in the faint light from the window, too tired even to cry anymore. There would be tomorrow for that, and the day after, and the day after. Until her mind readjusted to this wonderful new reality and the feeling of bleak emptiness she’d felt for so long became as distantly remembered as the sense of peaceful joy she now felt had been before tonight.

She closed her eyes, then opened them after a moment, to see him looking back at her. She squeezed his hand and smiled, and even in the dark, saw the movement as he smiled back. Ceci closed her eyes again and left them shut, finding herself in the unfamiliar position of looking forward to the morning.

“I DID NOT jinx you.” Kerry brought the bottle of medicine into the living room, lit with the first rosy tint of dawn. “So don’t you blame me.”

She sat down next to the grumpy, miserable figure on the couch, who was cradling her head in her hands. “It’s not like I wanted to see you sick, Dar.”

Dar sighed. “I know.” She swallowed, trying to tame a rebellious stomach that had kept her up all night, in bouts of nauseous spasms.

“God, I hate being sick.”

“Well, I don’t think many people enjoy it.” Kerry poured a spoonful of the medication and held it up. “C’mon.”

Dar gave her a pathetic look, then winced and accepted the offering, swallowing it with a grimace. “Jesus.”

Kerry pushed the dark, disheveled hair out of her lover’s eyes, then felt her forehead. “I don’t think you have a fever. It’s probably just a bug.” She’d woken to find Dar huddled miserably in the bathroom and tried to find a way to make the poor thing more comfortable. “You’re definitely staying home today.”

“C’mon. You know I can’t do that,” Dar muttered.

“Dar! You most certainly can,” Kerry protested. “Don’t be goofy.

You are not in any condition to go to work so just get over it.” She rubbed the terrycloth covered back. “Curl up here with Chino, and watch cartoons, okay?”

Dar briefly considered ignoring the suggestion, then held her breath as another spasm hit her.
Well, I could always go in and throw up all over
Ankow.
That might be satisfying, at least for the moment, but she knew Kerry was right. “You’ll have to sit in on the Marketing meeting for me.”

“Ew.” Kerry made a face. “Can I call in sick too? I’d rather hang out here and watch
Space Ghost
and take care of you.”

Dar looked at her.

Kerry sighed. “Okay, okay. It was just an idea.”

“I appreciate the thought.” The blue eyes flicked to her face and a bit of a grin appeared for a second. “Don’t stay too late, huh?”

That was better.
Kerry smiled. “I’ll see if I can get out of there after the meeting. I don’t have anything scheduled for later on.” She stood up and tugged her jacket straight, then she walked into the bedroom and pulled 160
Melissa Good
open a drawer. She removed a soft, fluffy blue blanket and brought it back with her. “Here,” she tucked the blanket around her sick friend,

“keep the phone by you, okay?”

Dar exhaled, then gave up and curled up on the couch on her side, bringing her knees up to ease the cramping in her guts. “Okay.” She glanced up to see Kerry gazing at her, the torn emotions very evident.

“What?”

Kerry scowled unhappily. “I think I hate you being sick more than you do,” she muttered. “I feel like such a turd for leaving you here.”

The cool leather felt good against her skin, as Dar rested her head on the couch arm. “It’s all right.” She felt absurdly contented with the reaction. “Go on. You’re going to hit traffic.”

“Mmph.” The blonde woman still wasn’t pleased. “Chino, you take care of mommy Dar, okay?” The puppy was curled up at Dar’s feet, her pale head resting on one bare foot, and she blinked at Kerry’s words.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure,” Dar agreed, biting the inside of her lip.

Reluctantly, Kerry retrieved her keys and briefcase and left, not without several aggravated backwards glances. She locked the door and headed down the steps, surprised at how much she had to force herself not to turn right around and go back. “Jesus, Kerry. Would you chill out?

She’s just got a stomach virus. Calm your butt down already.”

She got into the Mustang and started it, then leaned on the steering wheel and gazed at the condo. Long fingers drummed on the wheel, then she sighed, and put the car into gear and backed out of her parking spot, starting towards the ferry as she punched a number into her cell phone.

“Good Morning, Dar Roberts’ Office.”

“Morning, María.” Kerry smiled, as she realized she’d unconsciously modeled her tone after Dar’s.

“Aye.
Buenos días
, Kerrisita. How are you?”

“Well,” Kerry glanced in the rearview mirror, “I’m fine but Dar’s not going to make it in today.”

María’s voice took on a concerned tone immediately. “What is wrong? She is not feeling well?”

“No, some kind of stomach bug.” Kerry sighed. “She was up all night sick. Anyway, I’ve got to sit in a meeting for her this afternoon.

Could you call Eleanor’s admin and sniff out the chances of moving the meeting to this morning?” She knew María would have a better chance at that then her newly commissioned Mayte.

“
Sí
,
sí
.” María wrote something. “I will do that. Is there anything that Dar needs?”

A nanny?
Kerry swallowed the comment. “No. She’s just going to take it easy. I’m sure she’ll sign on from here later.”
True, knowing Dar.

“At least I hope so,” she added, wondering if there was enough medicine in the house.
Should she have some Dramamine sent? What about…

“Kerrisita?”

“Oh, sorry. Did you say something?” Kerry drove onto the ferry
Eye of the Storm
161

carefully, and put the Mustang into park for the short trip to the main-land.

“I was saying to drive carefully. There was terrible traffic this morning.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She hung up the phone and nibbled her fingernail. “Now what did we always take for an upset stomach? Pepto…Kaopectate…Dramamine…warm cola.” She dialed another number, and waited for it to be answered. “Hi. Yes, this is Kerry Stuart.

Oh, hi, Mrs. Eveans. Yes. Listen, can you have some stuff sent up to the apartment?” She spent a few minutes listing things, then hung up. “Okay.

I feel a little better now.” She drummed her fingers again. “Wonder if the marina store has those seasickness bands…maybe they’d help.” Tones sounded over the roar of the ferry’s engines.

KERRY PULLED INTO the parking lot and sat for a moment, leaning on the steering wheel and collecting her composure. “Jesus, that was close,” she muttered, clearing her mind of the driver bearing down on her from the wrong side of the street, whom she’d only just missed crashing into. She got out and grabbed her briefcase, then straightened her jacket with an automatic twitch and headed towards the building.

“Morning, Ms. Stuart,” the guard greeted her cheerfully.

“Good morning,” Kerry replied, suppressing a soft curse when she saw who was bearing down on her from across the lobby. “Then again, maybe not.” She arranged a neutral look on her face as David Ankow joined her.

“Well, you are the early bird, aren’t you?” he asked mildly.

“Best time of the day to get things done,” Kerry answered, shifting her briefcase. “Before all the distractions show up, I mean, crop up.” He wasn’t sure it was an insult, Kerry knew, but he suspected. She kept an open, inquiring look on her face just in case. “Something I can do for you?”