Come Back To Me (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Tess fished through her closet looking for just the right outfit. Her bed was already covered with cast-offs—a little black v-neck dress? Too revealing. Black slacks and a blouse? The pants would never fit around her expanding waist. A blue sheath? Too matronly. The phone rang. She instantly regretted not checking her frustration before saying hello.

“Uh-oh,” Louie said. “Something’s got you tied in knots.”

If you only knew,
Tess thought. “No, I’m just…finishing some last-minute work,” she lied.

“So we’re still on? Eight o’clock?”

Tess nervously bit her lip, “Mm-hmm.” Tess made arrangements to meet him at the movie theater in case she chickened out of what she knew was coming. The relationship was developing into something more, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to stop it.

They sat in the dark theater, their forearms pressing against one another’s on the arm rest. Tess felt like a high schooler in a pair of jeans, a low-cut blouse that showed off her newfound cleavage, and heels that would even make Shrek feel sexy. Despite her best efforts to ignore her desires, the simple act of crossing her legs when wearing heels suddenly seemed to hold a sensual connotation—the way her foot arched, her leg appeared longer, sleeker. What had she been thinking? Concentrating on the movie was out of the question. She had all she could do to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest. She felt more than saw Louie glance at her—
damn him, all relaxed and confident.

He laid his hand on hers, and heat rose to her neck. She hadn’t felt that way since…Beau. Beau! What was she doing? She took a deep breath and shook her head.
Oh, my God, I’m a slut
.  She slipped her hand out of his and set it in her lap.

When the movie ended, Louie stood and stretched. Trying to quell her inner turmoil, Tess fumbled with her phone, concentrating on turning it back on, having turned it off for the movie. It vibrated immediately. She answered as they made their way to the exit.

Kevin’s panic-stricken voice made her heart race. “Tess? Where the hell are you? Get to Sibley Hospital as soon as you can. It’s Alice.”

Tess pushed through the emergency room doors and made a beeline for the receptionist. “Alice Workm—”

“Tess! This way.” Tess followed Kevin through a set of electric doors. The worry in his eyes told Tess this was no minor injury. They rushed down the sterile hallway, overwhelmed by the smell of antiseptic, dodging white-clad nurses.

“What’s happened?” she asked.

The look Kevin gave her sent a chill up her spine. He stopped in front of a curtain.

Tess tried to push past him. He grabbed her arm, “Tess,” he swallowed hard. “It’s not pretty. She’s holding up okay, but—”

“What happened?” she pushed past him, opening the curtain and stopped dead in her tracks. Gauze covered Alice’s left eye, her chin was deep red and swollen. The ends of her hair were matted with blood.

“Oh, my God,” Tess shrank into a cold metal chair next to the bed feeling as though she’d been kicked in the gut. She reached under the sheet for Alice’s hand. Thick bandages covered her wrist. Tess dropped her eyes to Alice’s other wrist, also covered in a thick bandage. “What happened?” 

Alice opened her mouth slowly, her voice a whisper, “He…” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks.

Tess gently wrapped her arms around Alice’s trembling body. “Never mind, don’t try to talk.”

“You warned me,” Alice said to Tess.

“Oh, honey, no. This isn’t your fault,” Tess said.

Alice nodded. “You asked if I worried, and I blew you off. I was scared. I was scared with every man I brought home,” she sobbed.

Kevin turned away.

“It’s true!” she said to Kevin. “I’m pathetic,” she cried. “A fool.”

Kevin turned back toward her.

“You are not pathetic, Alice,” Tess said. She glared at Kevin.

Kevin’s clenched jaw muscles twitched.

“Whoever did this, he’s pathetic,” Tess hissed. She held Alice until she calmed down.

A nurse came in and read Alice’s chart. “How’re you doing, honey? I see that you refused a sedative earlier. Are you ready for one now?” Her sweet tone didn’t fit her bleached-white skin and pitch black hair.

Tess lifted an eyebrow at the piercing in the young nurse’s eyebrow.

Alice reached for the pill with trembling fingers. She put it on her tongue and gulped it down with a quick shot of water, wincing at the pain as it slid down her throat.

“Al, I’m going to talk to the doctor, will you be okay for a minute?”

Alice clenched the sheet in her fist, nodded.

“I’ll just be a sec,” Tess said and grabbed Kevin as she walked through the curtain. “What the fuck happened? Who did this to her?” she seethed. Tess paced outside the curtain, her insides boiling with rage.

“I found her in her condo. I stopped by on my way to the movies, and as I got off the elevator, I saw the back of some guy running toward the stairs and caught her door before it could close.” He turned away, shaking his head.

“What?” Tess demanded.

“She was tied up, Tess, naked. The fucker beat the shit out of her.” Kevin slammed the side of his fist against the doorjamb.

“Easy,” a nurse said as she walked by.

“Jesus, who would do this to her? Did you call the police? Did they get him?”

He nodded. “They came and took a report, but I only saw him from the back. She knows him, Tess. He’s one of her…”

Tess felt nauseous. “Oh, my God. But she was just at my house this morning.”

“He was waiting for her when she got home—inside.”

Tess bit her lower lip. “Poor Alice.”

“She’s not talking. She won’t tell them who he is.”

“She has to! He’ll do this to some other woman,” she said.

“She knows that. The police have gone over everything.” He gave Tess a look of apology. “She called you.”

“What? When?” Tess’s mind ran a mile a minute. The movies, her phone had been off. She pulled her phone out of her purse—one voice mail message. “Oh no. Oh God.” She chewed her fingernail while listening to the frantic message: “Help!” Alice’s voice piercing; indecipherable struggling noises; Alice screaming; an angry male voice, snarling, “My turn, bitch!” The sound of flesh pounding flesh cracked through the line, followed by Alice’s shriek. The line went dead.

Tess slid down to the cold linoleum floor, her back against the wall, face buried in her hands.

For the first time ever, Tess walked tentatively into her home, wondering who, or what, might be waiting for her behind the closed doors. He was out there somewhere—Alice’s attacker.  A chill ran down Tess’s back. Tess couldn’t help but think that Alice must have known this could happen, and just as quickly hated herself for thinking it. She ran from room to room, closing curtains and opening closet doors. She checked to be sure all the doors were locked, and finally fell, exhausted, into a hot bath.

Tess lay on the bed, staring at the empty closet. She could feel Beau everywhere. Her body ached for him, for closure, and at the same time, she hoped never to receive closure because that would mean he was truly never coming back. Yet, no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t dismiss her growing desire for Louie’s touch. It had been so long since Tess had felt the heat of another, smelled the lingering aroma of sex. She wrapped her arms around her burgeoning waist and rolled over onto Beau’s side of the bed, burying her head in his pillow. “Oh, Beau,” she whispered, “you promised to come back.” Tess drifted into sleep, and finally, into a dream.
She stood in the middle of the street in the pouring rain, shivering, wearing a drenched t-shirt and maternity jeans, her belly protruding like a mountain. In one direction was Beau, battered and bloody, his hand outstretched, his sunken eyes pleading, fading. In the other direction, Louie beckoned, life emitting from his very being.

Chapter Sixteen

Samira clung to Suha’s lifeless, bloody body. How would she manage without her, without the woman who had rescued her from her abusive life and promised her a life without fear? She was riddled with trepidation—leaving the only country she’d ever known without a man to support her or Suha to guide her. Her stomach ached worse than when Safaa had beaten her. She watched her children, huddled together, their tear-streaked cheeks swollen and red. Suha’s death brought a broken look to Zeid. Paralyzed by the fear that prickled her limbs, she could not let go of Suha’s body. She could not go to her children, comfort them, when she herself could not accept Suha’s senseless death.

Beau pried Samira’s trembling fingers from Suha’s body. He pressed her against him, slowly guiding her to her children’s side. He laid Suha’s body in the back of the airplane, going through the motions without thought, and returned to Samira’s side. Samira laid her head against Beau’s shoulder. Athra climbed into her lap, her thumb jammed into her mouth. Edham inched his trembling body next to Beau. Zeid remained at a distance.

“She was a strong woman,” Abdul Hadi said.

Samira stared at the floor before her, feeling her heartbeat against Beau’s side, gathering what little strength she could from him.

“She accomplished her goal, Samira,” Abdul Hadi said. “She was a strong woman.”

“Her goal was never to die,” Samira whispered in Arabic.

“She saved you and the children. That was her goal,” he paused. “She was not afraid of death.”

Samira looked away, ashamed. She’d been the cause of Suha’s death.

Zeid’s high-pitched voice broke through the thick curtain of grief. “It’s his fault!” He pointed to Beau with a look of disdain.

“Hush, Zeid,” Samira demanded, no louder than a whisper.

“He did it! We should never have left Iraq. I hate him! I hate you!”

Abdul Hadi turned stern eyes in the boy’s direction. “Your father would be ashamed, boy! Suha saved your life. She gave you what many children of the war will never have—safety. She gave her life for you, child, not for him. She gave her life for your brother and sister, for your mother. Do not disrespect your mother or Suha again in my presence.”

Zeid shrunk back, jaw clenched, his eyes shooting darts.

Beau could not understand many of the words he spoke, but he understood the looks he received from the terrified boy, and he did not blame Zeid for his hatred. Instead, Beau wanted to try harder to ease the child’s pain.

The flight went on for many hours. The pilot’s deep voice rattled on and on as he spoke into the radio.

As Abdul Hadi translated, he methodically washed the blood from Samira’s cheeks and hands, as if he’d done it a hundred times before. He used the bottles of drinking water and scrubbed the floor of the airplane where Suha’s body had left its mark, then he covered her body with blankets so the children would not be forced to bear witness any longer.

Beau watched Abdul Hadi, embarrassed by his inability to help Abdul Hadi. His head dripped perspiration. The rumbling of the engine made his stomach queasy. 

“He’s warning the airbase that we’re coming in on a private plane,” Abdul Hadi explained. “He’s begging them not to shoot us down.”

Beau pulled Edham close, memories of the helicopter crash careening through his mind.

When the small plane had rumbled and tipped, Beau saw flashes in his mind of the men he’d traveled with in the helicopter: Gary Marks, the lanky young reporter who rued being away from his family but who was indebted to Mr. Fulan for giving him a job ten years earlier without education or experience. Gary had sat across from Beau, his head back, eyes closed.

“Hey, man,” Beau had said. “It’ll be okay. We’re almost done.” Beau could see the terror in his eyes.

Gary didn’t respond.

“Is it the flying?” Beau asked.

He nodded.

“Shit, that’s the easy part. Getting these people to trust us, that’s the hard part.”

Gary didn’t say anything, his knuckles stark white against the green of the belt.

“He’s been flying for years,” Beau said reassuringly.

“It’s not him that I’m worried about,” Gary stared into the black night, listening to sand whip against the small window of the helicopter.

  The forty-something pilot, Joe, turned his pitted face and scruffy mane toward them and smiled, his deep voice boomed through the cabin. “We’re in the Green Zone, dude. Nothing to worry about,” he assured them.

“He just said the sandstorm threw him off course ten minutes ago,” Gary said under his breath. His bloodshot eyes teared up.

Beau tightened his seat belt and reached for the lump in his pants pocket, feeling mildly better.
I’ll come back to you.

The thick stench of sand heightened the tension in the close quarters.  A distant whistling sound suddenly became deafening, milliseconds before impact, ripping the men from their belts and tossing them like rag dolls within the aircraft’s fuselage. The helicopter had spun out of control. Screams of terror filled the fiery compartment. Beau’s eyes locked on Gary’s terrified stare. He’d grabbed hold of Gary’s arm. The second missile had hit the center of the helicopter, ripping Gary’s body backward, sending Beau, and Gary’s arm, slamming against the hard metal of what was left of the helicopter. Blood spewed through the air. Beau fought to stay conscious. A rapid succession of explosions lit up the sky, tearing the helicopter to bits and ravaging Beau’s body. His broken body sailed through the fiery sky. By the time he hit the Earth, a mile and a half from where they would later find the debris, he felt no pain.

It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d woken up in the makeshift shelter, Suha hovering over him. A lump formed in his throat as he thought of her nursing him back to health, teaching him Arabic as he taught her English. The thought made him long for his own mother. Beau covered his eyes, promising himself, once again, that he’d make it home. Samira sighed, and Beau looked into her vacant stare. He reached for her hand.

So strong was the urge to hold Samira, to make the children feel safe and loved, that it sent Beau’s mind into a tailspin, his loyalty divided. He loved his wife, he’d never questioned that love, and he wasn’t questioning it now, though at that very moment he knew that he loved Samira, Athra, Zeid, and Edham.
Edham
. The boy held a place within Beau’s heart that he could not imagine being filled by anyone else. Beau forced himself to look away. He took Tess’s picture from his pocket, smoothing it across his leg. What kind of man was he, he wondered, to love more than one woman? He battled the dilemma within the confines of his mind, desperately trying to convince himself that the feeling, the pull to protect, was driven by circumstance, not by desire.

The pilot’s voice boomed through the airplane, shouting orders in Arabic. Abdul Hadi was on his feet in seconds, answering the man and waking the children. “We are going to land,” he said, as he pushed the children and Samira toward the two tiny seats. Samira held Athra on her lap, Zeid and Edham huddled together on the other seat, their slender fingers working quickly to fasten the seatbelts.

“Will we be killed?” Zeid’s voice trembled.

Samira placed her hand on his leg.

“No. Now be silent,” Abdul Hadi commanded.

The plane hit the ground hard, sending Beau and Suha’s body tumbling toward the front of the small cabin. Samira clutched Athra, frantically reaching for Edham’s arm. Athra’s wail competed with the screeching tires of the plane. Beau scrambled back toward them, crouching in front of Samira and the children, reaching his arms around the four of them and grabbing the backs of their seats, securing them against him. The plane lurched forward, then rolled swiftly to a stop.

Beau’s heart pounded in his chest. His mind swam through the fear and the hope that swelled within him as he checked the children. The fear in Samira’s eyes was palpable.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her.

Zeid frantically tried to unlatch his seatbelt. Edham squirmed out from under the tether and climbed Beau as if he were a tree. Outside the plane, the tarmac was a flurry of movement. Armed vehicles rushed the plane. The pilot spoke fervently to Abdul Hadi, who had reached for a gun. Although Beau’s Arabic wasn’t perfect, he knew the command, “No weapons!”

Abdul Hadi released the weapon. He spoke above the children’s sobs, “Soldiers will come. Do not be scared.”

Zeid’s voice broke through his sobs in an accusatory, piercing scream, “American soldiers? Traitor!”

Abdul Hadi glared at him, rising to his full height, looming above the child. “Know who your enemies are, boy!”

Samira pulled Zeid against her side, silencing him.

The pilot yelled down to the tarmac, “I have clearance!” His hands were raised high above his head. “Authorization, we have authorization.” He moved cautiously to lower the stairs. American soldiers were up the stairs, firearms ready, before Beau could utter a word. They grabbed the pilot and Abdul Hadi roughly by the arms, herding them down to the tarmac. A soldier grabbed Beau’s arm, shoving him toward the stairs.

Beau shook himself free. “I’m an American photographer,” he explained, Edham in his arms, the boy’s gangly arms around his neck.

Zeid hid behind his mother’s leg, his tough demeanor of only days before quickly forgotten, leaving him vulnerable, exposed.

Samira’s body shook. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, holding Athra tightly against her chest. The soldier pushed them toward the exit. More American soldiers waited below, barking orders and asking questions too fast for Beau to respond. Beau tried to clarify the situation, but there was too much commotion.

Abdul Hadi and the pilot were whisked away in an armored vehicle. An officer stepped from a jeep. Beau lowered Edham to his side, pushing the boy behind his leg, his hand remaining on the boy’s trembling shoulder. Beau’s heart rammed against his ribcage. He took a deep breath, standing tall, thrusting his chest forward.

“What’s your name, son?” the officer asked.

Beau’s throat swelled, from fear or relief he couldn’t decipher. He spoke his full name for the first time in months, “Beau Johnson, sir, American photographer with
War Time Magazine.”

The officer’s shoes were spit shined, the fabric of his jacket pulled against the thickness of his arms.  He squinted, raising his eyebrow at Beau’s Iraqi attire, the blood on his shirt. He extended his hand and gave Beau a curt nod, “Colonel Larner, United States Army.”

Beau reached for his hand. A young thin soldier stood by Colonel Larner’s side and spoke in a hushed and hurried tone, his words muffled.

“Where did you say you were from, Mr. Johnson?”

“I…Maryland, sir. Bethesda, Maryland. I was sent to Iraq by Mr. Hakim Fulan, president of
War Time Magazine
, to photograph the changes in family life since the inception of the war.” Beau began to sweat under the stares of the soldiers. He pulled Edham into his arms and took a step back, aligning his body with Samira’s. “There was a helicopter crash—”

“Do you have identification, Mr. Johnson?”

Beau shifted his weight, moving Edham to the other hip, “It was destroyed, in the helicopter crash. Everything was lost,” he said, then quickly added, “I swear, I’m—”

Suddenly, Samira dashed toward the airplane screaming, “Suha!” Athra sobbed uncontrollably in her arms. In the space of a second, two large soldiers caught Samira by the arms. One of the soldiers ripped Athra from Samira’s arms.

The child’s arms shot out toward her mother, “
Ummi! Ummi!”

Samira reached for Athra, fighting against the soldier’s steadfast grips. She spat in Arabic, “Let me go! Suha! Suha!” She twisted her body, tears streaming down her cheeks. Zeid punched at the soldiers’ legs, yelling harsh words.

Beau snatched Athra from the soldier’s hands. “She’s trying to get to Suha, the dead woman!” he shook off the young soldier’s hand as they tried to restrain him.  He stared angrily at the soldiers that held Samira like a hostage.

“She needs to see her! She’s not a criminal!” he turned toward Colonel Larner, “Please, sir, she’s scared, she has no one.” Beau’s biceps were being squeezed by two large soldiers, who’d replaced the younger one’s efforts. Beau knew he had no identification, he was dressed like an Iraqi, they had no reason to believe his story any more than they had to believe that Samira wasn’t some sort of terrorist. 

Colonel Larner motioned for the soldiers to stand down.

Beau rushed to Samira’s side, grabbing Zeid’s gangly arm and pulling him away from pounding the soldier’s leg.

“Sweep the plane,” Colonel Larner ordered. The soldiers who had restrained Samira rushed into the plane, guns drawn.

“I swear, we’re not here to harm anyone. I am who I say I am. She’s just a mother, protecting her children.”

Minutes later, the soldiers disembarked. “All clear, sir,” the shorter of the two men said in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. “As the pilot reported, there is one deceased woman, multiple gunshot wounds, nothing else.”

Colonel Larner ordered three armed men to assist Beau, Samira, and her children back onto the plane.

Samira sobbed, “Suha! I will not leave her!”

With his arm around her shoulder, Beau leaned close to her and whispered, “Suha got us here.” Samira turned and looked at Beau, then collapsed into his strong embrace.

Maryland

Alice leaned across the white chaise lounge in her living room, motioning for Tess to come in close. “Want a drink?” she whispered. Before Tess could answer, Alice spoke over her shoulder. “Kev, could you bring us some ice water, please?”

Tess rose. Alice pulled her down with a conspiratorial smirk. “Watch,” she said. It had been a month since Alice’s attack, and when Tess wasn’t with her, Kevin was.

“You’re horrible,” Tess laughed.

Alice shrugged.

“You’re enjoying this!” Tess shook her head. “Aren’t you supposed to have some remorse over using him like this? Didn’t this…event…have any impact on you?”