In Love and War (14 page)

Chapter 12

Ariela was tempted to bring Max to work with her, but she didn’t know what to expect from him around the office
, and their yard wasn’t fenced. She opted to leave him at home with his toys and his couch. At least it would be familiar.

Hours later, she realized she should have taken him to work. He’d been in the garbage and now it was strewn all over the apartment. Max had taken the choicest morsels up on the couch and worked on them there, making a serious mess. Only now did Ariela fully appreciate the merits of the hideous blanket Dylan had covering the sofa cushions.

Banishing Max to the yard, she went looking for a broom and dustpan, then set to work, sweeping up most of the loose debris first. Once the large stuff was out of the way she was ready to vacuum the little bits out of the rug. Ariela hoped she could get the coffee grounds up without staining, but she had her doubts. Unfortunately, after a lengthy search, she was forced to conclude Dylan didn’t own a vacuum.

Ariela grabbed the basket of dirty clothes from the bedroom and dropped the used bathroom towels on top. Even though the mere sight of the dog’s blanket practically set off her gag reflex, she nabbed it on her way out anyway. It had to be washed.

She opened the door that led to the shared front entry and threw open the basement door, leaving it wide open. Ariela hated this basement, but she didn’t want to haul the laundry over to her place and put this disgusting blanket in her machine. Clopping downstairs, the damp, earthy smell made her skin crawl almost as much as the rough, irregular walls. It reminded her of a dungeon. The inadequate lighting made it even worse. She avoided looking around so she wouldn’t see any mice scurrying around in the shadows or spy anything dead in one of the traps Dylan had set out. Yuck.

He might not own a vacuum, but at least his washer and dryer were relatively new and pretty nice. A large, commercial-style florescent fixture hung from the bare rafters above them. She flew to the nearby switch, and voila, there was light. She looked around again, anxiously trying to spot, well, hoping not to spot actually, anything scary or disgusting down there with her. She didn
’t want to step on anything.

A well-stocked shelf stood next to the washer. The detergent and other related sundries might belong to the upstairs tenant, but Ariela wasn’t going to sweat that little detail. She wanted to get the load started and hightail it back upstairs before she had a close encounter of the eight-legged
kind

She might have broken a speed record, fastest laundress in the west, well, technically the east. Forget separating colors from whites. Who cares if there are shirts and socks inside out? In
it all went, in one irregular dump. She smoothed it out because she had to, not because she wanted to. It beat the heck out of running down here to deal with an unbalanced washer later.

Max was stretched out on the grass, gnawing on a large dirty bone, when Ariela pulled the kitchen door closed behind her. There was no way she was leaving him alone in the house again without the blanket back on the sofa. She’d seen what he was capable of.

“Come on,” she called to him, resigned. He hurried over, and she clipped on his leash and worked him over to the car. He was extremely pleased about taking a ride.

When they got to her house, she had to shove Max back when she got out because there was no way she wanted to wrestle him and a vacuum
cleaner into the car at the same time.

“No, just me.
You wait here.”

Jean was following her step-aerobics video when Ariela walked in.

She looked up, breathing hard. “What’s up?”

“I need our vacuum. Dylan doesn’t have one, and the dog made a huge mess today.” She dragged the machine out of the closet and shut the door. “I don’t have this pet thing down yet, but I’m learning.”

Jean laughed as the door closed. “See ya.”

Max seemed disappointed when they didn’t actually go for a walk, but he was ready enough to get over it when she unclipped his leash and let him have the yard to himself again.

Ten minutes later, the carpet looked much better, not great, but much better. She wound the cord and ran down to throw the wash into the dryer, then sprinted back upstairs with her heart pumping.

Feeling guilty for banishing the dog outside all this time, Ariela grabbed one of Dylan’s books off the packed shelf and took it outside to read in the sun. So much had happened between her and Dylan since she first sat in this lawn chair on that fateful Saturday. She’d given him her heart and received so much in return. Yes, she was worried about him. Dylan was heading back into danger, but she had to trust him, trust that he knew how to protect himself, and trust that he would come back to her again. Anything else was just too terrifying to contemplate. They still had so much ahead of them.

Only after the ugly quilt came out of the dryer, clean and relatively free of dog hair, was Max allowed back inside. He eyed the vacuum warily, hating it on sight as it sat by the door. He growled and shot it suspicious looks. Ariela found it highly amusing—until he sniffed and raised his leg. She put the vacuum back in the car.

When she returned, Ariela checked to see if there was an e-mail from Dylan yet. To her relief, he
’d made it to Amman. A wave of loneliness and longing swept through her as she pictured him turning in for the night with Jim, the blanket hog. She couldn’t catch her laugh when it escaped. She really missed him. The man brought her up, he brought her down. Was there anything more bizarre or emotionally charged than suddenly finding you’re in a relationship? She pulled the keyboard toward her.

TO: 
dylanbond@

SUBJECT:

MESSAGE:  I’m lending comfort and aid to my enemy. Translation—I’m learning how to deal with Max. I didn’t realize he could be so destructive, but don’t worry, it was only the garbage. I’m onto him now. I’m going to lock the trash in the bathroom before I leave. I watered your plants, did the laundry, and noticed you don’t have a vacuum. You didn’t tell me if Max is allowed on your bed. I wasn’t going to let him up there, but I think we’re both missing you a lot so, well, you’ve been temporarily replaced. Let me know if this isn’t okay. I can shut the door.

I can’t get over how much I miss you. So much
, I’m sleeping in your shirt. It’s the one thing I intentionally didn’t wash. Keep your head down, help Hanna, and hurry back. If you die over there, I'll kill you. Ariela

**
*

Ali Hadad was twenty-four, a handsome kid, whose college education had been cut short first by the American’s drive into Baghdad, then again when it got too dangerous for the professors to hold classes and the students to reach the university to attend them. Just having a book on the bus
was a deadly gamble.

Ali’s father was part of the university faculty, a professor of mathematics, but he’d been forced to flee when several of his peers were rounded up and taken away. A few were found executed
. The others simply vanished, leaving a gaping hole in their households. Professor Hadad had taken refuge in Canada, where he worked to bring his family, one by one, to safety. In the meantime, Ali sought any means available to help support his remaining family, which meant working for the occupying forces and offering his services to journalists as an interpreter.

The kid was a natural at the job. Competent, smart, and resourceful, he was careful to keep his involvement with the Westerners a secret.

Jim and Dylan both climbed into the back of their young driver’s car. The kid had a pistol on the seat next to him, just in case. Dylan lifted the blanket off the floor so Jim could shift his long legs and a second gun dropped out of it. Dylan reached down to pick it up.

“
Loaded?” Jim asked.

Dylan checked.
“Yep.”

“
I only shoot pictures. That thing’s your responsibility.”

“
I figured.”

They both hunkered down so they wouldn
’t be seen from the outside. Kidnappings were a very real threat. Westerners were specifically targeted, so it was extremely risky to venture out without good cause.

“
Remind me to stop and pick up some perfume for Ariela when we get back to Jordan.”

Only
after he said that did it strike Dylan as comical, considering he was holding a gun in his lap at the time.

Now all they had to worry about was getting through the clogged streets of Baghdad without incident.

Ali shifted his mirror, looking to catch Dylan’s eyes. As soon as he had his attention, he turned it back. “I will be coming for you in a police vehicle tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed.”

Dylan’s eyebrows shot up. “How did you arrange that?”

He gave his head an imperceptible shake. “I can’t say, but we’ll only have a short time to use it, if we aren’t going to get caught. Trust me, it is the best way.” Dylan didn’t doubt it for a second.

**
*

Debris littered the street in this neighborhood and a huge crater remained from an earlier bomb blast. They cut wide around the shell of the burned-out car. Even though they didn
’t see a soul outside, that didn’t mean there weren’t eyes watching. They had to be very careful.

A radio under Ali
’s leg broke the tense silence. He asked a question and quietly acknowledged the reply. Speaking to Dylan and Jim in an undertone, he asked, “Are you ready? We’re almost there. I’ll let you out as close as I can, but you must hurry inside because I can’t delay or we’ll be noticed. The front door is unlocked. Take the gun.”

Dylan slid his shoulder strap up his arm and saw Jim doing the same thing.

Ali alerted them right before he stopped and Jim dove out the door first, immediately followed by Dylan. He carefully pressed the door closed behind him, just enough so it would latch, then hurried inside. Their driver was already pulling away.

They knew there was food and water waiting in the abandoned house. Ali had warned them, vigorously, to be quiet and stay hidden. From the little he saw on his way in, Dylan hated to
think of Hanna forced to take refuge in a neighborhood like this. He wanted to get her out, now more than ever. Was it possible?

The house was easily seen from the street, so they made their silent way to a back room, away from windows, to camp out fo
r the night. It would be safest. Jim stretched out on the hard floor and used his duffle bag for a pillow while Dylan settled his back against the wall, every sense he had on alert. He had the gun—first watch fell to him.

Chapter 13

Waking up alone was unsettling, given the circumstances. Dylan looked around the cold, vacant room and rotated his aching shoulder. He
’d slept with his arm pinned beneath him and had cut off the circulation to both. Turning onto his back, he squeezed his arm all the way down, trying to bring it back to life.

It was time to go in search of his photog
rapher.

Jim was sitting on the floor in the empty front room, out of the line-of-sight from the outside, his back to the wall, a game of solitaire set out in front of him. The gun was on his right. Dylan
was proud of him.

“Better light in here,” Jim said quietly, answering the question before it was asked. He nodded toward the empty window sill and the broken glass beneath it.

“This place has seen better days,” Dylan whispered, avoiding chunks of concrete as he made his way over, dust clinging to his shoes. The house had clearly been abandoned. Or so he thought. More likely, it had been stripped.

Jim placed a card then looked up, keeping his voice low. “Keep to this side of the room, so you aren’t seen through the window.”

Dylan was picking his way over the concrete rubble, trying to make as little noise as possible, when he suddenly drew back from the wall and hissed, “What the hell is that?”

“You know what it is,” said Jim without looking up. “I’ve been trying to ignore th
e damn wall for over an hour. I’ve almost reached the indifferent stage so don’t screw with me.”

Dylan eased away from the brown-stained, bullet-riddled wall, then dropped to the floor beside his friend and watched him place another card.
“Well, now we know why the house is empty.”

Jim grunted and shifted a card.

“I think I prefer the Sheraton,” Dylan muttered.

“I
know
I prefer the Sheraton.” Jim sorted through his remaining cards, gave up with a muted curse, swept all of them back into a pile again, and started shuffling.

“Where are the facilities?” Dylan looked around.

“Back the way you came in. It’s not much, but you’ll be more comfortable afterwards. Oh, and the only water is what Ali left with us.”

“I figured.”

Dylan worked himself stiffly back up and turned away from the wall of violence as he went out. After answering the pressing call of nature, he went searching through the metal footlocker Ali had left in the room where they’d spent the night. He’d included a large jug of bottled water. Dylan poured a little over his fingers to wash, but was forced to dry his hands on his pants. Thirsty, he tipped the bottle back and took a swig. It soothed his parched throat.

His most pressing needs met, now he was ready to rummage through the box for breakfast. There were two apples, two oranges, dates, pistachio nuts, and pita bread, with the popular white, feta-like cheese called Jibneh Arabieh. Dylan used the bottom of his shirt as an improvised sling and loaded it up with an assortment of food, then caught the handle of the water jug on his way out.

Jim glanced up, apparently knowing intuitively food that was coming. The man was as bad as Max. “Excellent, what do you have there?”

Dylan crossed his ankles and sank down beside him
and spread what he brought out on his lap.

Jim frowned. “No jerky?”

“There’s jerky?”

“Ye
s. For all I know, it might be seasoned goat, but who cares? It’s pretty tasty. Heavy on the cumin, but I can deal with it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t see it. Do you have your knife on you?”

“Always.”

“How about cutting up this apple? There’s only two, so we might want to save the other one.”

“Sure.” Jim pulled out his knife and folded the blade out, putting it to work.

Dylan peeled the orange and began sectioning his half, eating the first of his succulent segments.

“Here’s your apple.” Jim dropped the rough-cut fruit on his lap. “I’ll take a few of those dates.”

Dylan passed him a handful along with a little bread as well. They ate in silence, the jug of water between them.

“You know,” Jim finally said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after taking a good, long swig of water. “I’m thinking of making a change too. I’ve gotta get out of here. It’s too damn hot. I’m thinking Helsinki.”

“Helsinki? Yeah, that’d be a big change, but it’s pretty expensive. I don’t think you could afford it, doing what you’re doing, without sacrificing your autonomy.” Dylan popped his last date into his mouth. “I know you. I don’t think you can work inside the system.”

Jim dropped his head against the wall and rocked it back and forth, his Adam’s apple thrust out. “Damn it. You’re right. Money might be sporadic, but at least when I get it, I can make it stretch farther here. Unfortunately I have to
be
here to spend it.” He glanced over and asked, “Do you know what I can’t stop thinking about lately, what I miss most?”

“What’s that?”

“Short skirts and long legs,” he murmured dreamily. “I’ve been away so bloody long I’ve almost forgotten what a pair of heels can do for a nice ankle and a shapely calf. That’s a shame, it really is, a goddamned, crying shame. I’m a man in my prime.” Jim struck himself in the chest. “I shouldn’t be surviving on memories already.”

“You need to get out more.”

“I need to get home more.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Dylan sighed. “I’m hoping we can wrap this up by tomorrow—Friday at the latest.” He took a drink and set the water between them again. “Ariela didn’t take the news I was heading back here very well. I don’t blame her. She told me from the start she wouldn’t get involved with me if I kept putting my neck on the line. Now I know her reasons. The thing is, I never even blinked when I said I was done. I believed it at the time. Now I look like a liar. This article will be the last one I write on Iraq, at least from here, anyway.”

Jim snorted skeptically.
“Right. You said that the last time.”

“No, I mean it. I won’t be sucked back again. There’s no way I’m going to sacrifice my shot at a personal life with Ariela by making the wrong professional choice. That’s what this is Jim, a choice. I’ve done my tour of duty, willingly, I might add, but now I’m ready to settle in at home. I’m going crazy just thinking about the woman I care about sleeping alone in my bed.”

“You’ve almost convinced me.” Jim grunted as he worked his way up to a stand. “My feet are going to sleep. I need to walk it off.”

Dylan smirked as his partner tiptoe
d miserably into the next room.

Jim
turned back and said under his breath, “I’m gonna get some of that jerky. Do you want some?”

“No thanks.” Dylan pulled his telephone out of his pocket and checked the battery level. It was down and he’d grabbed the wrong charger, not that he could have charged here anyway, or
made a phone call for that matter. It was time to conserve what he had for emergencies. He looked at his pictures of Ariela one last time before he shut off the phone and snapped it closed.

Dylan was just tucking it away when Jim came back, tearing a stick of dried meat with his teeth.

“What time is it, anyway?” he asked Dylan.

Dylan checked his watch, converting the numbers to local time. “It’s twenty to nine.”

“What time did the kid say he’d be here?”

“Early.
”

“
Then where the hell is he?”

“
I wish I knew. Something is definitely off.”

**
*

Ariela was just turning on the copier when Jean strolled into the office, stifling a big yawn.

“You’re here early. Anything wrong?” Jean asked.

“Max needed to go out.” Ariela dropped
into her chair and rolled up to her desk, reaching to turn on the computer. She glanced up from logging in. “You know something? Having to deal with a pet really impresses on a person how much more work a kid would be. I don’t think I’ll be rushing into that anytime soon. I like my life as it is, especially when Dylan’s around to share it with me.”

Jean looked over the top of her computer screen. “Have you heard from him again?”

Ariela held up her hand, signaling Jean to give her a second. “No.” She sagged back with a disappointed sigh. “Nothing since he got to Amman.”

Jean squeezed Ariela
’s shoulder on her way to her own desk. “Well, he did warn you.”

“
I know.” Ariela reread the old message, needing to feel their connection.

“
Can I see it?”

“Sure.”

Jean came around Ariela’s desk to take a peek, leaning over her shoulder while she read. When she finished, she returned the mouse and straightened up. She was unusually quiet as she switched on her desk lamp and turned off the answering machine.

“
Is something wrong?” Ariela asked.

Turning back, Jean
gave a listless shrug, her attempt at a smile failing. “Nothing’s wrong per se. I just envy you a little right now.” Seeing Ariela’s confusion, she explained. “My relationship with Ron isn’t like yours. Sure, we love each other, we talk, we hang out and fool around, but he’s never once written me. It’s another layer of intimacy I might like to have, that’s all. He gives me cards for my birthday and Valentine’s Day, but all he does is sign them. A personal message might be nice once in a while.”

Ariela closed out of her e-mail and went to unlock the door and turn
on their open sign. Coming back, she asked, “Do you think Ron’s the one? Can you see yourself married to him?”

Jean gave her a bashful smile and looked away. “I’ve been paging through bridal
magazines when I’m shopping, but I don’t have the nerve to buy one.” Then her eyes returned to Ariela’s and she nodded. “Yes, I’d marry him, if he asked.”

Ariela
was glad to hear it. “He’ll ask. Ron loves you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just getting impatient. It’s been three years
now.”

“I think a heart-to-heart is overdue between the two of you. Maybe you should fix him a nice dinner and speak to him. This week would be perfect since I’m out of the way. As scary as it sounds, you need to let Ron know what you want
. Tell him where you’d like to see this relationship go and when.”

“Terrifying.”

“No one said emotional exposure is easy.”

Jean looked up in surprise. “When did you become the relationship expert?”

Ariela snorted. “Hardly an expert, but I think I understand both of you. This is the next logical step. To be honest, I’ve been expecting it for a while. Some guys just need a little prodding to get the ball rolling.”

Jean rubbed her temple
s and groaned. “Everyone’s an expert when it comes to someone else’s love life.” She held up her hands in surrender. “You just happen to be right in this case.”

**
*

Mrs. Corley phoned later that morning, actually giving Ariela the first good news she’d ever delivered to her. She’d made her final decisions for her kitchen and accepted Ariela’s enthusiastic flattery for her wonderful taste with delight. As far as Ariela was concerned, laying it on a little thick was worth it if it kept the woman from second-guessing herself.

For the balance of the day, Ariela was on the phone ordering cabinets, tile, fixtures, flooring, wallpaper, lining up contractors, and trying to schedule the jobs in order of priority.

With her work finally cleared away, she double checked her messages.
Nothing. If only she knew something. Where was he? She’d memorized his earlier messages so she knew them by heart, but that didn’t tame the wild anxiety she felt when there was no word at all. Even a two word message would be appreciated right about now—a simple,
I’m okay
. Was that too much to ask?

**
*

Dylan sat on the bare floor of the abandoned house with his back against the wall and his spiral notebook resting on his knee as he made notes to himself, recording impressions of his trip the old-fashioned way. Satisfied so far, he rapped the pad with his pen a couple of times before flipping the tablet closed. He set it aside then shifted so he could reach into his pocket. Knowing he shouldn’t didn’t stop him from pulling out his phone and thumbing it open. Moments later, he brought up his photos of Ariela again. Resting his wrist on his knee, he studied her image, a tender smile on his face. He scrolled to the second photo and brought it closer, trying to see her in more detail.

His smile deepened as he gazed at Ariela’s playful expression, her pose reminiscent of a pin-up girl from the forties, except she was nude, freshly tumbled, and luxuriously displayed on his sheets. Dylan loved the curve of her hip and the sweep of sexy thigh. To him, she was exquisite, inside and out. Just looking at Ariela’s picture was making him hard. He tapped his head against the wall several times before shutting off the phone to conserve power.

When Ali
didn’t appear by eleven a.m., Dylan and Jim began to pace like caged animals. Something was wrong. They tossed disastrous scenarios back and forth, which only made their mounting anxiety worse.