“We got lucky there.” The lieutenant smiled. “She’s Roger Stuart’s daughter.”
Their eyes met. “No shit?” The commander’s eyebrows lifted.
“No shit, no, sir,” Perkins said. “I thought you’d be glad to hear that.”
Albert leaned back in his chair, and laced his fingers behind his head. “I guess we don’t need to worry about her, then. I don’t think she’s coming back here anyway.” He exhaled. “But that might be the leverage I need. I’ll have to call Scrooge. He’ll know if we can use it.”
SHE WAS EARLY. The guard let her in without comment this time, and Dar drove slowly through the base, allowing her memories to surface without interruption this time. She parked at the far end of the lot and got out, locking the doors to the Lexus with a negligent flick, then turned around and leaned against the side of the car, just letting her gaze travel across the scene.
Damn. It looked different, but in some ways, the same. The 80 Melissa Good buildings had been altered, new construction changing the outlines subtly, and everything had fresh coats of paint on it. But as she stood there and looked, older images floated before her eyes; and without much conscious thought, she started walking toward the neatly trimmed pathway that wound its way around the base.
Of course, there was activity. Unlike most of the rest of the city, the day here started before dawn, and she listened to the familiar chants as groups of men and women jogged by her, some sparing a curious glance as they moved past. Dar regarded their backs thoughtfully and wondered for the hundredth time if she’d have ever had the internal fortitude to get through training if she’d chosen to join the Navy after all.
Physically, she knew she could have. She’d been all whipcord and iron back then, strong and tough and more than up to whatever demands the Navy would have chosen to dump on her shoulders. Even now—Dar glanced down and considered her tall form with a touch of conceit—even after all the years of desk-bound work and a plush lifestyle she’d never imagined back then, even now if she really pushed, she could probably force herself through the basic course.
On sheer stubbornness, if nothing else, she wryly conceded.
Mentally, though? Dar sighed, pausing and leaning against the fence to peer at the tiny houses just beyond it. She had the self-discipline, but she hadn’t had the ability to accept taking orders from anyone just because they had a stripe on their arm or a collar insignia. Not then, and, her lips pursed into a slight smile, certainly not now.
Her eyes found that one small house, third one on the fourth block.
She examined the neatly painted outside, then she circled the fence and walked down the sidewalk, stopping as she came even with the front door. It appeared vacant, and she walked up the small driveway into the carport, putting out a hand and touching the cement brick surface. It felt rough under her fingertips, and a familiar scent of dust and sun-warmed tar filled her nose as the breeze puffed through the enclosure.
Home.
She walked through and out the back into the yard, over to a ficus tree still firmly entrenched near the side of the house. Her eyes lifted and found the old, rotting bits of wood held by rusty nails that once, long ago, might have been the outlines of a tree house. She looked between the branches into a blank window, seeing the faint outlines of a plain, small room inside that had once been hers.
It felt very strange. Dar leaned against the tree and tried to remember what it was like being a small child looking out of that window. She found she couldn’t. Too much time had passed, and she was too different a person now to feel a link here.
Hell. Her face tensed into a scowl. She hadn’t even wanted to bring Kerry here to see this. Not that her lover would have laughed; in fact, Kerry would have been interested, as she was in everything Dar had to Red Sky At Morning 81
tell her about her childhood. She wasn’t ashamed of the house, either. It was just that it was so unremarkable a place, and she could no longer feel any kind of connection to it.
With a sigh, Dar pushed back from the tree, then she glanced up and craned her neck, shifting a hand to part a thick branch full of leaves.
Her eyes fell on her own initials carved into the bark of the tree, and even after all these years, plainly visible.
Then her brow furrowed, and she leaned forward, blinking as her eyes tried to make sense of the freshly cut markings right next to her old ones.
Kerry’s initials. Dar’s jaw dropped in open shock. When in the hell had she... Then Dar recalled the long stretch of time her lover had been gone on one of their breaks from the endless data gathering. She’d returned, cheerfully claiming a walk to clear her head. Dar remembered the smell of warm skin as Kerry had brushed against her, and now knew where it had come from. A silly smile appeared on her face as she gazed up at the letters.
Friday’s date, with a plus sign joining the old and the new, all carved into the gray bark in slightly awkward, but competent letters.
Without looking, she fished her cell phone from its holder clipped to her belt and speed-dialed a number. She waited for a voice to answer, then she closed her eyes. “You are the most incredible person I’ve ever known.” She heard the slight intake of breath. “I love you.”
Then she closed the phone and tucked it back into its holder and walked away from the house, headed back toward her waiting job, humming softly.
Kerry glanced at the roomful of marketing executives, all intently focused on her, and folded her phone back up. “That was a...um...a status report.” She smiled weakly, knowing her face was as red as a boiled beet. “I’m sorry, what were you saying about fourth-quarter projections?”
Eleanor cleared her throat. “We were talking about the emerging South American IT market.”
“Right.” Kerry rubbed her face. “Sorry. Go on.”
“AH, BOY.” KERRY put her cup down and filled it with hot water, waiting for her tea to steep. The break room was quiet, and she leaned against the counter reading the message board with idle curiosity.
She decided she liked the board in Operations better. It usually had good Dilbert cartoons posted on it.
“Well, hello.”
Kerry turned, to find Clarice entering the room. “Hello,” she responded cordially. “Getting settled in?”
The slim, black woman poured herself a cup of coffee in a bright pink mug. “Yes, I certainly am. It’s nice to be back home,” she replied.
82 Melissa Good
“Thanks for making it so easy for me.”
Kerry smiled. “No problem.”
“In fact, I think I have a much better handle on things in Chicago now that I can see the whole picture,” Clarice continued. “I’m working with Paul to try and get things settled.”
Kerry stirred her tea and turned, leaning against the counter. “I’m glad to hear it. I know it was kind of a rough week, but I’m sure you can get it all worked out. I heard from the account manager out there this morning—he feels a lot better about the client relationship now.”
Clarice leaned on the counter as well, studying Kerry. “Well, sometimes things just do happen for a reason, don’t they? Who’d have guessed a little winter storm could end up causing all these changes.”
A hint of a smile crossed Kerry’s face. “Storms sometimes do that,”
she agreed. “Excuse me,” she went on politely. “I’ve got a conference call I’m late for.”
“Oh, please, don’t mind me!” Clarice said. “Work comes first, and we sure don’t want to mix work and pleasure, now do we?” She gave Kerry a big smile and eased out ahead of her, strolling down the hallway and not looking back.