In Love and War (13 page)

Climbing to his feet, Dylan bent over his desk and jotted something down for her. “This is my satphone number. Cell coverage is spotty in some areas, non-existent in others. I don’t know the details of where I’ll be once I get there so I can’t make any guarantees, but I should be able to send an e-mail regardless. As long as I can lock onto a satellite signal. This number is for emergencies only. I have to conserve the battery, so it won’t be on unless I’m looking for a link.”

Then it was time to go. They took Dylan
’s car. He was clearly surprised when she asked him to park instead of pull along the loading and unloading curb.

“
You don’t have to come in with me,” he told her.

“
I know. But I want to.”

He gave her the keys as they walked inside together.

Ariela wondered how her world-record happiness had spun off course so fast. There was no way she was bringing Dylan down after their talk had supposedly settled everything, yet she couldn’t get her emotions under control.

One week, all he asked was one stinking week, and she felt like a woman in mourning. If she could be strong through this last assignment, she would prove to herself she wasn’t a mess of anxiety and show him she wasn’t going to be an obstacle in his career. She wanted to be supportive, but she’d rather see Dylan heading off to Washington for a few days instead of picturing him ducking bullets. Last time, last time, last time, she chanted in her head like a mantra. It helped her put on a sunny smile for his benefit.

She walked Dylan to the airport-security checkpoint, and they kissed good-bye outside the cordoned area. Ariela remained behind, watching as he worked his way forward in the line. Cleared through the metal detector, he grabbed the strap of his bag on the other side. Sliding his feet back into his shoes and his wallet into his pocket, he looked over and found her. She smiled when he nodded to her.

“I
’m shooting for Saturday, maybe Sunday,” he called. “I’ll get a message to you somehow and let you know if that changes. Watch for it so you’ll know when I’m due in. I expect you to pick me up. You have my car.”

They both laughed
—though hers was bittersweet.

“I’ll be here,” she promised.

He gave her a final wave before being swept away in a sea of travelers. Seeing no reason to linger, Ariela turned and made her way out. She opened her phone as she walked and dialed Jean.

“Hello?”

“Jean?” Ariela’s voice broke with emotion.

“Ariela?
My god, what’s wrong?”

“I’m in love and I’m flipping scared, that’s what’s wrong.” She broke into tears, ignoring the curious looks she was drawing as she walked out into the night.

“Come home.” Jean was balm on a burn.

“Okay,” Ariela mumbled then shut her phone with a sniffle.

***

Back at their apartment, Jean set a brand new box of tissues on the table between them and the friends clasped hands. Ariela felt lost in a jumble of emotion as Jean looked on
with sympathy.

“This has to do with your dad, doesn’t it?”

Ariela dabbed at her tears. “Probably. It’s all related now.”

“I think you
’re afraid of losing anyone else. I think you’re even more afraid to identify with your mom.”

Ariela shivered and remembered th
e blank stare of grief she’d come to associate with her mother before she took her own life. “I’m not my mom.”

“You’re right; you’re not. Remember that. And Dylan’s not your dad.”

“I couldn’t protect myself from him. I had a rule, but I guess I wanted
him
more. How stupid is that? Maybe if he’d told me there was a chance he’d wind up putting himself at risk again, I might have stood my ground. Oh, who am I kidding? Shit!” she pounded the table. “I would have done the same damn thing. I just…I just couldn’t seem to help myself.”

“And now you
’ve fallen in love with him.”

“I should have avoided Dylan like the plague.”

Jean dropped her cheek into her palm and sighed. “But even if he just sticks to flying all over the country and into Europe, are you telling me you’d be fine?”

Ariela nodded.

“Bull,” Jean said flatly. “You would have gotten all freaked out about airplane crashes or something else. You look for reasons to close yourself off, but honey,” she squeezed Ariela’s hand, “there are no guarantees in life, period. You just have to leap at chances when they come along, and savor every moment you can. You said yourself your parents were happy.”

“They were,” Ariela whispered.
“Very happy.”

“Maybe opening yourself up to what your parents had wouldn’t be such a bad thing. That kind of happiness is a rare and precious gift.”

“Need I remind you my mom killed herself after my dad was shot? She took pills and left me too, barely two months later. I lost both parents! What if I find out I can’t cope, either? What if I grow to love Dylan so much I can’t face life without him?”

Jean looked her in the eye, steady as a rock. “You’ve already coped with loss, and you survived. Would you rather not have known your parents at all?”

Ariela blotted her eyes and sniffled. “No, I loved them.”

Her mind drifted back to that tragic morning again. Her dad
’s arms were wrapped around her mom as she rinsed their dishes in the sink. He swayed with her from side to side, kissing her neck until she laughed. Ariela could still hear it, her mother’s very last laugh. She’d been a byproduct of all the love they’d felt for each other. There was so much of it that it spilled over onto her. She’d never felt shortchanged.

Ariela came back to herself when Jean reached out and hooked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “Are you okay? You were a million miles away just now.”

Ariela sighed miserably. “I wish I wasn’t behaving like this. At least Dylan didn’t see it. I’d be so ashamed.”

“
Have you told him any of this so he’ll understand?”

“
Yes. A lot of good that did me.”

Jean smiled despite the mood. “He deserved to know.
”

Ariela nodded, sulking.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Jean asked.

“At his place.
Max is waiting for me. I just wish it was Dylan instead.”

*
**

Dylan walked through the Queen Alia International Airport, searching for a familiar face. He almost missed his friend because Jim’s features were hidden behind a pita sandwich, which appeared to be getting away from him. Dylan smiled and walked over to him.

“Halley,” he said with a chuckle. “Eating again, I see.”

“I’ve got
ta do something to keep weight on down here. It’s supposed to be lamb, but I beg to differ. This is definitely mutton,” said his Aussie friend.

“You hope. You’re about to lose a tomato there.” Dylan pointed to a sliding globule.

Jim shot out his tongue to catch it. “Messy as hell.” Creamy cucumber sauce leaked over and between his fingers. Only a quick flip of his hand and an emergency lick kept the sauce from spilling onto his white shirt. Dylan patted his pockets, searching for something Jim could wipe with. He found a napkin in his jacket.

“
Here.” Dylan thrust it at his friend and watched the comical motions ensue as Jim tried not to lose what control he had over his shawarma. It was hopeless.

“Oh, fuck it
. I’m done here.” Disgusted, Jim strode over to the nearest canister. “I need the men’s room. I’ll be right back.”

Dylan waited while his surprisingly lanky partner wandered off in search of a sink. He wondered whether it was genes, the ability to stretch the calories throughout his frame, or simply hollow legs that allowed Jim to eat like he did
, yet still appear starvation thin.

Jim seemed cheerier by the time he strolled back from the restroom.
“So, you sorry to be back so soon?”

Dylan shrugged.
“Mixed emotions. I’ve always loved this city.”

“I’ll second that.”

They strolled out of the building and into the night. There was no waiting for a taxi.

The car pulled up in front of the small hotel where Jim had spent the last three nights.
They climbed the stairs to his room. When the door swung open, Dylan raised his eyebrows as he took in the only bed, undersized and sagging in the center, covered by an obnoxious, pea green spread.

“Screw you,” Jim said, chafing at Dylan’s silence. “It’s clean and cheap. I don’t get reimbursed as fast as you do.”

Dylan grinned and held up his hand, forestalling further argument. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah
, yeah.”

Jim’s surly manner didn’t bother Dylan. He’d known him long enough to understand Jim was all piss, no shit. It was a persona he’d developed to come across tougher than he actually was—a survival technique. Dylan just happened to be in on it.

He swung his bag off of his shoulder, set it down on the small table, and pulled out his computer. Jim flopped backwards onto the bed.

“
Bitch about the room all you want, but you owe me a little thanks for insisting on a south facing window for your damn satphone. Remember that when you’re finally online.”

Dylan
placed the satphone on the sill and connected it to his computer. Then he turned back with a little grin. “Thank you.”

“
Don’t mention it.” Their eyes connected and they both chuckled.

Since he had to wait for everything to boot up anyway, Dylan grabbed his toiletry kit and headed for the bathroom.

“How’s the water?” he asked.

“
Use the bottled when you brush your teeth, otherwise you’ll swear you just ate bloody pussy.”

Dylan stopped mid-stride and shot a disgusted look at Jim.
“Do you have to be so crude when we’re alone? Christ.”

“
Sorry. Bottled water is on the back of the commode. Hey, it’s not the Grand Hyatt or the Radisson, but there’s no chance in hell anyone’s gonna bomb this place next.”

It was hard to deny his friend
’s logic.

Jim rolled over and saw Ariela
’s picture staring back at him from the computer screen. He craned his neck to get a better look then called to Dylan. He didn’t catch it.

Stepping into the open doorway with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, Dylan gave his friend a questioning look. Jim pointed at the computer. “Is that
your Sleeping Beauty?” he repeated.

“Ye
p.” Dylan’s mouth stretched into a big smile, despite the toothbrush. “That’s Ariela.”

“She looks sweet. Pretty.” Jim rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling.
“Very girl-next-door.”

Dylan chuckled and turned back to the sink.

“Looks like you’re connected,” called Jim.

Dylan gave one more swish and spit, turning on the faucet to rinse the sink. He could smell the iron in the water.

Going right for the table, Dylan pulled the chair up behind him and sat in front of the screen.

“So, what’s she like?” Jim asked, his head resting on his arm, his ankles comfortably crossed, but extending over the end of the bed.

“She’s just right.”

“You’re leaving a lot to the imagination here.”

Dylan ignored him.

Jim grinned. “Yep, I might just have to swing by, check her out myself. I’ll give her a dose of the old Halley charm.”

That turned Dylan’s head, but he was grinning. “I can't imagine you’d remember where you left it. Now, be quiet; I’m sending her a message.”

“Can I read it?”

“Absolutely not.”

Jim laughed and kicked off his shoes.

TO:  arielap@

SUBJECT:  Checking in

MESSAGE:  Well I made it without any hassles. I’ll be spending the next few hours on what looks like the world’s most uncomfortable mattress beside an over-sized blanket hog with sharp elbows and even sharper toenails. The only thing Jim has going for him from where I’ll be is fresh breath. Everyone’s obsessive about something, I guess.

Good news. We'll be able to catch the flight to Baghdad tomorrow. Ali will pick us up at the airport, so that's working out. We won't be staying at the
Hamra Hotel right away. Ali found us a safe house close to where we'll be meeting with Hanna, early the following morning. Considering I don’t know what might crop up over the next couple of days, my messages will probably be sporadic at best. Electricity is going to be a factor, but I’ll make sure I keep you posted on the important stuff.

You don’t know how incredibly hard it was to walk away and leave you in the airport. We need to replace that memory with a better one. You waiting for me should do the trick. Pet Max for me—hell, pet yourself for me while you’re at it. I’ll imagine it from here. I’ll be in touch. I miss you alread
y—Dylan