Sooner or Later (25 page)

Letty’s eyes drifted closed with supreme gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Hey, I owe Murphy big time.”

“So do I.” But she didn’t elaborate.

Jack couldn’t help wondering exactly what had happened between those two in that jungle.

Letty left, and not five minutes passed before Marcie arrived.

“Hello, Jack,” she said softly.

He looped his arms about her waist and dragged her inside the apartment, ready to kiss her good and proper, show her how crazy he was about her. He would have, too, if she hadn’t turned her head aside at the last minute.

“Baby?”

Not until then did he notice that her eyes were bright with tears. “Marcie, what is it?”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry?”

She clenched her hands together and lowered her head. “I can’t marry you, Jack.”

He almost laughed. The woman had to be joking. Marriage was what she’d said she’d wanted. He’d gone out and purchased a diamond. Something was very wrong with this picture, and he had yet to figure out what it was.

“Not going to marry me?”

“I decided,” she said, her voice low and breathy, “to accept Clifford’s proposal, if he’ll have me.”

Marcie closed her eyes
briefly in an effort to calm herself before she rang Clifford’s doorbell. She’d been to his house only one other time, and that had been for a short visit.

He lived in a two-story house close to Olathe, a suburb of Kansas City, in a house that had once belonged to his parents. He’d moved in after he’d been forced to put his father into a nursing home. It was a solid old house with flower beds out front and space for a small garden in the back.

No one answered, and Marcie had begun to fear she’d made the trip for nothing when the door abruptly opened.

To say that Clifford was surprised to see her would be an understatement. He stared at her as if seeing a ghost.

“Marcie, what are you doing here?”

Good question. “I thought we should talk.”

He held open the screen door for her. “Sure.”

The house was dark and cool on the inside. The furniture was large and bulky, sturdy, like the man himself. An old upright piano that probably hadn’t been played in years stood against one wall. Framed photographs were arranged across the top.

It caught Marcie’s attention because she’d always wanted to learn how to play the piano as a girl. There’d never been money for that sort of thing. Her father tended to drink up more than he contributed to the family’s income. By the time she was thirteen her parents had divorced and she’d seen her father only intermittently since.

“You want something to drink? I got a pot of coffee on, if you’re interested.”

She was nervous enough as it was without having to hold on to a coffee cup. “No thanks.”

Clifford gestured toward the overstuffed sofa. He was still in his work clothes but had removed his boots. His white socks were a stark contrast with his black short-sleeved shirt and jeans.

Marcie figured he must have come home, started reading the newspaper, and fallen asleep on his chair. That was what probably had taken him so long to answer the door.

“I figure I know why you’re here,” he said, sitting across from her. He sat close to the edge of the chair and leaned forward. Something on his hands demanded his attention because he couldn’t seem to make himself look at her.

Clifford knew? Marcie sincerely doubted that.

“I apologize about the other day. I should never have dropped by the shop, but I was anxious for your answer,” he murmured sadly.

Marcie almost smiled. “Is it the ring that’s bothering you or the marriage proposal?”

“Both, I suspect. In retrospect, I imagine that little diamond isn’t much of an incentive for you to marry a guy like me. Forgive me, Marcie, I gave it to you for all the wrong reasons.”

“I hope that’s not true. I came here to tell you something,” she said, hurrying her words in an effort to say what she must.

“I know you were with that other guy, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

Marcie shifted uncomfortably. “You’re right, I was.” She couldn’t lie. Not to Clifford, who’d only been kind and honest with her.

“I could see when I came that I’d arrived at an inconvenient moment.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Marcie inhaled deeply, regret tightening her voice. She clenched her hands nervously. Having him find her with Jack made everything she had to say so much more difficult. “We didn’t make love. I swear to you, Clifford, we didn’t.”

“But you were tempted.”

“Yes.” Her voice was small and wobbly.

Clifford leaped off the sofa with a dexterity that surprised her. He walked over to the window and rammed five fingers through his hair. “That seems to be answer enough for me. You can keep the diamond, Marcie. I bought it for you. I don’t know how this other guy will feel about you keeping it, but I hope you will.”

“He won’t like it.”

Clifford’s shoulders tensed. “No, I don’t suspect he will. I sure as hell wouldn’t want my wife wearing a ring another man gave her.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, I fully intend to wear that diamond ring.”

One shoulder lifted in a jerky laugh. “You always were a stubborn woman.” He turned to face her, and his eyes held hers for a long moment, as though he intended to memorize her features. “I love you, Marcie. I knew from the first that I was probably going to lose you. You’re too good for me. You loving this other guy doesn’t come as any shock.”

“It doesn’t come as any great shock?” she repeated softly. Marcie hadn’t expected to cry. When the tears clustered in her eyes and dribbled onto her cheeks, she was taken by complete surprise.

“Marcie?”

“You’re an idiot, Clifford Cramden,” she shouted, “an idiot. Don’t you know the kind of woman I am? Men don’t give women like me diamond rings.”

He looked like a man in shock.

She was on her feet and not sure why. She didn’t want to leave, so she started pacing in front of the old upright piano. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re not good enough for me. It’s the other way around.” Her arms cradled her middle. “There’ve been more men in my life than I can count. I made love with so many men that eventually I stopped loving myself.”

Wordlessly, Clifford continued to stare at her.

“For years I was convinced that all men really
needed to change was the love of a good woman. Only I wasn’t smart enough to realize that when I dove into the ocean to save a drowning man, I risked going down with him.” She sniffled and angled her head toward the ceiling. She rubbed the moisture from her cheeks and sat on the piano bench, curving her hands over the smooth polished-wood edge.

“It took me a long time to realize that when a man slapped me around, then claimed he didn’t know why I put up with him, that he knew what he was talking about.”

“A man beat you?”

“Men, sweetie, more than one. I’m a slow learner.”

“This guy you were with tonight? Has he ever laid a hand on you?” he demanded, his fists clenched.

“Jack? No, never.”

Clifford relaxed. “Good.”

“Don’t you see, Clifford?” she cried, having trouble keeping her emotions in check.

“See what? What type of person you are? I saw that right off, Marcie.”

She stared at him, uncertain she understood what he was saying.

“You’re a warm, generous, loving woman.”

She sniffled. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? I have a history with men, Clifford. An endless, boring history with a number of users.”

“Yeah, well, we all have a history, don’t we? I knew about yours a long time ago.”

“You did?”

He glanced away from her and lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “There were any number of so-called
friends who felt it was their duty to let me know you had something of a reputation.”

Marcie closed her eyes at the sick feeling that attacked the pit of her stomach. “Other than that one time, you never once tried to get me to bed.”

“Do you know why, Marcie? Because with me you were always a lady. You never gave me reason to suspect anything else. I was proud to be with you. You’re warm and funny, and you made me laugh. Some of the best times of my life are the ones I’ve shared with you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“For loving you? Hardly. It means a great deal that you’d come here to personally tell me you were going with this other guy. I don’t blame you. He can give you a hell of a lot more than I ever could.”

She couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“You see, loving you means that I want whatever you do.”

“Clifford Cramden, I love you. It’s you I want to marry, not Jack Keller. You.”

“Me?” He narrowed his gaze, as if he weren’t sure he should believe her. “You came here because you want to tell me you’re marrying me?”

She walked over and stood directly in front of him and leveled a threatening look directly at him. “Don’t even think about changing your mind.”

“Changing my mind. I…you’re sure?”

“I’m more positive about this than I’ve been about anything else in my life.”

“But—”

“Don’t be making up excuses to talk yourself out of it, either. Understand?”

“Yes, but—” His eyes lit up like lampposts.

“I’ve been waiting all my life for a man as good as you.”

With an infectious grin on his lips, he pulled her down and into his lap. “I’m crazy about you, Marcie. You don’t have a clue how damned difficult it’s been not to make love to you.”

“We’ve got plenty of time for that,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck.

“A lifetime,” he said, kissing her with a hunger that left her breathless and clinging.

She smiled up at him and knew they were both going to be very, very happy.

The week that passed
was the longest one of Letty’s life. She sat by the phone, leaped on it the minute it rang, waited breathless for word about Murphy. She didn’t care who delivered it. Jack Keller. Father Alfaro. Even Captain Norte himself.

Not knowing was driving her mad. She didn’t sleep, and she had absolutely no appetite. No news wasn’t good news; it was no news—and she was desperate to learn Murphy’s fate.

When she couldn’t bear the silence any longer, she took matters into her own hands. This time she went directly to where she was sure to get information: the Central Intelligence Agency in Washington, D.C.

It took her the better part of two days to work her way through the bureaucracy. She had to shout before anyone heard her; now she suspected they would tell her everything just to get her off their backs. On the
third morning she was ushered into the office of Agent Ken Kemper.

“Ms. Madden.” He escorted her into his office, moved behind his desk, and gestured for her to take a seat.

Sitting down himself, he reached for a file. “You’re inquiring about Reverend Luke Madden and a mercenary by the name of Shaun Murphy.”

“That’s correct.” She clasped her hands together and waited. Early on, she’d learned that the less information she volunteered, the better.

“Reverend Madden is your brother?”

“Yes.”

“A missionary in Zarcero?”

“That’s correct.”

“What is the basis of your interest in Mr. Murphy?”

“He’s the man I hired to find my brother,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“I see.”

His mouth thinned with evident disapproval. Letty said nothing. She made no excuses for hiring Murphy. The federal government had given her no choice. She’d done everything within her power to get some kind of government intervention. Her pleas had been ignored, so she’d had to take matters into her own hands.

“Was hiring Mr. Murphy wise?”

“What else was I to do?” she cried, losing her patience. “I begged and screamed for our government to help me find Luke.”

“Surely you understand that would have been impossible.”

“So I was repeatedly told. That’s the reason I hired Mr. Murphy.” She angled her chin proudly, refusing to give one inch.

“Then you located your brother?”

Letty’s throat was in danger of closing up on her. “I’m fairly confident he was killed.” Just saying the words was difficult. “I don’t have any solid proof of that, but nevertheless I’m afraid there’s no hope for Luke.”

The agent lowered his gaze. “It’s our understanding as well that your brother was murdered.”

She didn’t speak until the emotion dissolved in her throat. “Since you have information regarding my brother’s fate, then you must also know what’s happened to Mr. Murphy. You people have ways of learning the truth, of finding out what you want to know.” She tightened her jaw. “You have my word that if you don’t tell me, I’ll make the biggest pest of myself you’ve ever seen.”

“Bigger than you have already this week?”

“Yes,” she returned furiously. “I don’t know if you’re aware that I’m a federal postal employee.”

“I believe that was in the letter you wrote.”

Letty, who rarely raised her voice, did so now in frustration and anger. “Don’t you know it’s a dangerous thing to irritate a disgruntled postal employee?”

“Ah…”

“Tell me what you know about Murphy!” she shouted.

A stark silence fell between them. “If you’ll excuse me a moment…”

“No. Tell me.”

He hesitated, then pushed a button on his intercom. “Send in Agent Moser.”

Within five minutes a second agent arrived. He walked into the room, shook hands with Letty, and sat on the chair next to hers.

“What we’re about to tell you can never leave this room,” Agent Kemper said in warning.

“It would put innocent people’s lives in danger,” Agent Moser added. “Is that understood?”

Letty nodded.

The two men exchanged looks, as if they were deciding which one would deliver the information.

“We had word about your mercenary friend.”

“Yes,” she whispered. Her throat went dry with anticipation.

“I’m afraid it isn’t good.” The second man pushed up the glasses that had scooted down the bridge of his nose.

She hadn’t expected it would be. She would have heard from him otherwise. “Is he dead?” she asked starkly. “That’s all I want to know.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Letty closed her eyes, and it felt as though her heart had stopped completely.

“We’re very sorry, Ms. Madden,” Kemper said gently.

“Apparently he was captured on an airfield?” Agent Moser made the statement a question.

She nodded. So that part had been real and not some fever-induced dream.

“He was taken prisoner and executed the following day. I believe he was hanged.”