The Officer and the Secret (26 page)

“Okay, Robertson, I’ve got a few minutes. Let’s talk.”

Suddenly, Dwayne wished he could make an invisible exit. Words weren’t his thing, and he certainly didn’t make a conscious plan to come in and talk things through. But the minute his mouth opened, his instinct took over. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The chaplain smiled. “Mind telling me what you’re thankful for?”

“Mostly listening. Being a neutral ear. Convincing me I wasn’t crazy.” He studied the toes of his boots. “We’re getting married.”

“Congratulations.” He paused. “I take it this is a happy thing?”

“It is. It really is.”

“No problems, questions, or concerns?”

Dwayne smiled. “All three. But we’ll figure it out.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Dwayne stood. “I hope I didn’t make you late.”

“Not at all. He’s a little early. But Captain, my door is always open if you need help weeding through any of the above.” Major Dunham stood up and extended a hand. “I have a feeling our impromptu get-togethers are coming to a close, don’t you? It was a pleasure meeting with you. And I hope you’ll keep me updated on things.”

“Yes, sir.” Dwayne stood and shook the chaplain’s hand. Odd to think he wouldn’t be walking through the doorway again feeling as broken as he had the first time through. And relieved, on top of that.

As he walked out, he saw Captain Beckett sitting on a chair in the outer office. “Hey, man. Did you need the chaplain? I think he’s got someone coming in, but—”

“That’d be me.” Beckett gave him an easy smile. “I’m his appointment. You just beat me to it this morning.”

“Oh, wow, sorry.” He ran a hand over his hair. “So before, when I thought you were running errands, you were…”

“Coming here for counseling? Yup.” Beckett shrugged, fresh-washed cammies rustling in the quiet of the office. “No big.”

“Right. No big.” He glanced back to the closed door and waved toward it. “I hope you get what you need out of it.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He nodded as Dwayne passed by, then knocked and entered.

That was awkward. But Dwayne felt marginally better knowing he wasn’t alone in seeking help for shit he’d seen, experienced, been through. Of course, he knew instinctively he wasn’t. But it helped to know all the same.

He headed to his office and did a quick email check, sending some info that was time sensitive and writing down notes for the administrative assistant the captains shared. Then after a quick detour to the CO’s office, he headed down the hall to Tim’s door. Knowing his friend would be there—who was always in first? Tim—he pushed open and waited for his friend to look up from the computer.

“How did you know?”

Tim sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. “I’m afraid to ask, but I will anyway. Know what?”

“Know that you loved Skye?”

“Ah.” A satisfied look crossed Tim’s face. “That’s a kind of personal question, don’t you think?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, O’Shay.” He walked to the window and watched as the first trickle of morning traffic worked its way down the streets behind the battalion building, on their way to their own offices around base.

Tim chuckled. “You know, it’s just hard to think, physically, how a little thing so small as Veronica can take down such a big guy.”

“She’s small, but potent.” He smiled wryly. “And she’s got me tied up in knots.”

“Couldn’t tell,” was the smartass reply. “That right there should tell you something big. That she’s got the power to twist you around.”

“And that’s how you knew?”

Tim pointed to a chair. “Sit down, you giant. I’m not having this conversation with my head tilted up to stare at your tall ass.” After he grudgingly sat, Tim kept going. “I knew I loved her because I knew I could move on through life without her.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it does. Do you think I was going to trust some all-consuming sort of feeling where if I couldn’t have her I couldn’t go on? That sort of removal from all things controlled?”

Dwayne snorted. Feelings like that—the stuff that drove Shakespeare’s best work—would be Tim’s idea of hell. “You would have hated it.”

Tim stabbed the air with a pen. “Exactly. That sort of stuff, the dramatic, life-or-death fairy-tale stuff, it’s not real. It’s some manifestation of lust and a lack of logic.”

“Sort of like how you met Skye in the first place?”

Color swept over his friend’s cheeks. “Okay. Bad example. But the point is, I knew I could live without Skye. But I didn’t
want
to. That’s the difference. Or at least it was for me. The fact that I could go on. I could move on with my life and function and be okay. I just didn’t want to. Because all forms of future happiness, in my mind, were wrapped around that one stubborn, completely bizarre woman.”

He couldn’t hold back the laughter at the way Tim described his wife. And it was all true. “I see what you’re getting at now.”

“So do you love her?”

Dwayne raised a brow. “I think that’s something I should be talking to her about.”

“Well, have fun with that tonight.”

“Today,” Dwayne corrected. “Just got done with the CO. Told him I needed a few days off. Wedding stuff.” He winked and stood up, stretching his back as he did. “The idea of spending a few days curled up with Veronica and sleeping in are more appealing than I want to admit. I thought I bled red and gold, but damn. Now that there’s something to go home to—”

“You can’t wait to drop your boots at the door, can you?”

“Not at all. So I’ll be heading out now. I’ve got a woman to talk to.”

Tim glanced at his cell phone. “Well, you might have to save that convo for a few hours. She’s over at the old place with Madison and Skye.”

Dwayne froze. “What?”

Unaware of what he’d stepped into, Tim shrugged. “Yeah, Skye texted me a little bit ago. She’s not on ’til late tonight and Madison’s off for the next few days, so the girls are over at Madison’s helping Veronica pack up the last few things she didn’t have time to grab before.”

“She’s packing?”

“I’m sure they’re doing more talking than packing. You know females.”

“She’s
packing
?” Dwayne thundered. “What the hell?”

“It’s not a big deal; she’s—”

“Dammit.” Dwayne stormed out the door and let it shut behind him, cutting off Tim’s conversation midsentence.

Packing, for the love of Christ. She was supposed to be taking it easy! What the hell did she think she was doing? He would have packed for her. Hell, he would have done anything she asked.

He passed by Jeremy’s office, not stopping when his friend called out in greeting. A lance corporal scurried out of his way in the hallway, as if the sight of him freaked the Marine out. Luckily, he thought as he started up his truck, traffic heading out the main gate would be all but nonexistent at this time of the day. Because he had a bone to pick with his wife and it was not going to wait.

Skye held up another book. “This one?”

Veronica squinted. “No, donate.” She rolled over onto her back and sighed. “You guys, I hate this. Can I just do one box? The light stuff, no books.”

“No,” Madison and Skye said in unison.

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest,” Madison went on. “So stay up there on the bed and rest. Doctor ordered, nurse enforced.”

“Thanks, Nurse Ratched. I’m not an invalid. I’m just pregnant,” she grumbled back.

“Well, then the fetus needs to be on bed rest. And since he can’t rest on a bed without your help, I think that you would want to help him,” Skye pointed out in a softer, more reasonable voice.

“Oh. Right.” She laid a hand on her stomach, a little confused and a lot amazed that almost overnight, her mostly flat belly had morphed, now with a barely perceptible curve to it. You couldn’t even see it when she stood up, just lying flat on her back. But not like she’d eaten too many cupcakes. It was hard, firm to the touch. Definitely a new development. It still was beyond her comprehension how something so tiny would become a baby in a few months. But according to the book Madison gave her, that’s just how it worked.

A pounding sound echoed through to the back bedroom. Madison glanced up at Veronica. “Did you call someone to come over?”

Veronica shook her head. “No. The guys are all at work. I don’t know who that is.”

Madison shrugged and kept going through another box Veronica had put directly into storage when she’d first moved in.

The pounding continued.

Skye looked up at Madison, a sweater dangling from her hands. “Shouldn’t you see who that is?”

“I’m not expecting anyone. Probably a vacuum salesguy. I saw one of their vans in the complex yesterday. I’m not getting up to answer in my pajamas.”

“Hmm. Keep?”

Veronica nodded and Skye moved the sweater to the Keep for Storage pile.

“Veronica!”

She sat up quickly, then slouched down a little when Madison gave her a look that said either lie back down or I will strap you down. “Was that—”

“Veronica!”

Skye ran to the bedroom window and peered down a little. “Oh my God, it’s—”

“Open up the dang door, darlin’.”

“Dwayne?” all three asked simultaneously before Madison jumped up and shuffled to the hallway in her slippers. A moment later, the sound of a door opening and Dwayne’s disgruntled voice filled the apartment.

“Where is she?”

“Easy there, cowboy. She’s back in her old bedroom.”

A moment of thundering almost shook the walls before Dwayne, in full cammies, stopped in the doorway, his head and shoulders centimeters away from actually touching the frame. The scowl on his face probably should have had her knees knocking, but she just wanted to laugh at how disgruntled and adorable he looked.

“You mind telling me what you’re doing over here?”

Veronica spread her arms out across the bedspread, as if she were making snow angels. “Packing, of course.”

“Uh-huh.” He shot a hard glance at Skye, who was quietly giggling. “You shouldn’t be encouraging this.”

Madison snickered behind him.

Whirling around, he pointed a finger at her chest. “And
you
should know better. You’re the medical person.”

“Yes, medical person. I think that’s what it says on my state certification,” Madison said dryly.

“She’s on bed rest, for God’s sake!”

“Modified bed rest,” Veronica said. “And where am I?” She held up her hands to prove a point… that she was still flat on her back in bed.

“Exactly.” Madison slapped his finger away. “Don’t point, Casanova. It’s rude.” And she waltzed around him and plopped back down on the floor as if he hadn’t disrupted their morning of girl-time and work. “This book?”

“Donate. What are you doing here?” She propped herself up on her elbows.

“Took a long weekend.” With a sigh of what could only be resignation—Veronica bit back a grin at that—he thudded in with heavy feet and sat next to her on the bed. With one giant hand he gripped her ankles and dragged her feet into his lap, absently massaging her ankles.

She nearly wept with gratitude. Instead she fell back to the bed and let his hands work their magic.

“I don’t think you’ll have much to take with you at this rate,” Skye said a few minutes later. “I mean, you didn’t even unpack this stuff when you originally moved in here.”

“It’s because I didn’t want any of it,” she answered, closing her eyes and letting the amazing feel of Dwayne’s fingers seep in. “It’s just what I had with me when I came over to the U.S. and so I kept it.” Not sentimental, she knew. But something at the time hadn’t let her throw away the things from what she now thought of as her previous life. It was almost as if she knew eventually she would look back and see how far she had come. Like a scrapbook.

“I think we’re almost done then, unless you had anything stashed in the patio storage.” Madison stood and wiped her hands on her pajama pants.

“No, I think that’s—”

“What is that?”

She turned her head to look at Dwayne. “What is what?”

He pointed, then placed a hand over her stomach. “That.”

She covered his hand with one of hers. “That would be a stomach. It’s usually located above the hips but below the chest.”

“Oooh, I can play this game. Anyone want to know the scientific name for organs in there?” Madison bounced up and down with her hand in the air like an overeager first grade teacher’s pet.

He shot her a look. “Smart alecks. Both of you.”

“It’s why you love me,” she sang as she left the room, Skye hot on her heels. Apparently, under some unspoken agreement, they’d decided to give her and Dwayne some alone time.

“Why is it all bulgy?”

“You do make my head spin with your compliments.” When he raised one brow, she sighed. “It’s the baby. It just sort of… popped. This morning.”

His eyes grew wide and she laughed. “It’s supposed to happen. Calm down. Actually…” She pointed to a bag that was in the keep pile on the floor by the closet. “Go grab that for me, if you could.”

He shifted her feet off his lap gently and did as she asked. When he handed it to her, she pushed back. “No, open it. It’s yours.”

He did, letting the plastic bag flutter to the floor as he read the book’s title.

“It’s a book.”

That didn’t sound promising. He just kept staring at the cover, as if it was going to morph into something more exciting. “The guy at the bookstore recommended it.”

He kept staring.

“It’s supposed to be good for information, but funny too, sort of keeping you in the loop with humor. So you know what’s going on with the baby but don’t get all the emotional mushy stuff… or so said the bookstore guy.”

“Yeah.” He turned the book over in his hand, inspecting the back cover, the spine, flipping the pages quickly with his thumb.

“If you don’t like it, I can take it back.”

“No. No, don’t do that.” He set the book on the nightstand and leaned over her, one hand over her belly. “It’s great. Thank you.”

They were the right words, but what was he feeling? His face didn’t give anything away.

“Can I take you home now? I assume Skye drove you, since I’m praying you weren’t crazy enough to drive yourself.”

She smiled. “I’m crazy, but not stupid. Yeah, take me back home.”

***

An expectant father book. Jesus, the hits just kept on coming. He wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Well, clearly he was supposed to read it. But damn, she took him by surprise with that one. In a very good way.

After tucking Veronica in for a nap, Dwayne sat in the living room, wondering exactly how long he could hold on to his feelings. Keep control of them. Could he make it until he knew how she felt?

“Damn it,” he muttered, leaning over to unlace his boots. Something by the side of the couch caught his eye and he reached for it. Veronica’s tote bag, full of her stuff for school. Or, well, studying for the GED. He grabbed the huge textbook and flipped through it absently, remembering his own high school days. Now
there
was a distraction.

He felt sixteen again, hoping to win over the cute girl in fourth period by doing her math homework with her.

The book dangled from his fingertips and a loose piece of paper fell out. He reached for it, not intending to read the study material until his eyes caught the words
man
I
love
. Then he couldn’t go back.

Starting from the beginning, he read. And read again. And another time, until the sentiments were burned into his memory.

***

She awoke to the sounds of banging in the kitchen. After a quick side-trip to the bathroom, she weaved her tired way down the hall and squinted into the bright light.

“Morning, darlin’.” Dwayne turned to smile at her from behind the refrigerator door.

She stifled a yawn. “It’s like three in the afternoon. And I woke up from a nap, not from the night.”

“You say tomato… Sit down and let me get you something to eat. Juice? You want juice?” He scooted her onto a stool and flew around the kitchen, grabbing a glass of juice to sit in front of her before heading back to the stove to poke at… something.

“Dwayne? What’s in the skillet?”

“Eggs.”

They most certainly did not look like any eggs she’d seen before. For the most part, Veronica had taken over the meals, mostly because she didn’t mind working in the kitchen. Unlike what the books seemed to say, being around food all day didn’t dampen her desire to make her own meals at home. “Do you like to cook?” How odd that she still had to ask that, after agreeing to marry the man.

“Nah, I’m not much of a kitchen guy. I’ve sort of lived off takeout and frozen pizza. But I figured eggs were a no-brainer. Who could screw up eggs?” He set the spatula down, turned to face her, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You good with an egg sandwich for a late lunch?”

She gave it a moment to sink in and see if her stomach would rebel at the mere thought of eggs. But everything seemed calm on that front. “Sure.”

“Good. And after that, I’m hoping we can have a nice talk.”

“Talk?” The gulp of juice she’d taken expanded in her throat like a balloon, and she fought the urge to choke. “Talk about what?”

He propped a hip against the counter and looked completely at ease. “Things in general. How everything’s going. Our relationship.”

Tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she blinked rapidly to stall any tears. “Of course.”

He stared at her a moment, the infuriatingly blank look on his face, and then pointed to her glass. “Drink. I don’t know if you ate a good breakfast or not before you went over to Madison’s. Which,” he added with a pointed look, “I’m not all that thrilled about.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, but diligently picked up the glass and took another sip. This one went down better. “I’m capable of eating when you’re not here. I’ve done it enough times when you’re working late.”

Something that looked like guilt crossed his face. “That’s going to come up in our talk. But until then, just humor me and eat good meals, please?”

She smiled placidly. “I think your
good
meal
is burning.”

He froze, then turned around and grabbed the spatula, shoveling blackened egg around the skillet in a fruitless effort to save them from singing. “Well, hell.” He flipped the burner off with a flick of his wrist and tossed the skillet—egg and all—into the sink. With a sheepish smile, he shrugged. “How about cereal?”

“How about we talk? And then you can order a pizza for an early dinner.” She might have her appetite back, but her energy was still lagging a little. And fixing another meal wasn’t really on her to-do list at the moment.

She walked into the living room, propping herself up on the arm of the couch. Dwayne followed, surprising her by sitting on the couch with her rather than in the armchair on the other side of the coffee table. That had to be a good sign, right?

She motioned with her juice glass. “Talk.”

He blushed a little up the back of his neck, over the tops of his ears. “I have a confession first.”

Suddenly, her stomach roiled and she was glad she hadn’t had a chance to eat the eggs.

“I was flipping through your GED book, just thinking about stuff and wondering if you might need help, and a paper fell out. I shouldn’t have read it, but I did.” Leaning to one side, he reached in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The lightbulb turned on when he unfolded it and held it out.

Her hand darted out to snatch it away before she even knew she was moving. Her private, intense, overly emotional, hormone-driven thoughts. And he knew every single one of them.

“I’m sorry. I really am. It fell out, I meant to just shove it back in but something caught my eye and I couldn’t stop myself. It was wrong.”

She clutched the paper to her chest like a shield.

“I’ll ask for forgiveness in a minute, but I have to say something before that.”

“What?” she croaked out, fighting a losing battle to swallow down the lump in her throat.

“You were wrong.” His voice was low and husky, but carried perfectly. “I want something to do with you. I want everything to do with you.”

Confusion momentarily blocked out her embarrassment and she glanced down at the first line of her hastily typed message.

The man I love wants nothing to do with me.

“I might have given you that impression, and I know exactly how I did it. But I wasn’t staying away because of you. It was me. All me. I thought I needed distance to keep things square in my mind, but that was just bull.”

She waited for more, her heartbeat pounding a tattoo in her eardrums.

“And you were wrong about something else. In there you said you’d have to love enough for the both of us. But you don’t.” Reaching out, he gently pried one of her hands away from her chest and held it. “Darlin’, I love you. I have for a while; I just didn’t trust myself, my situation, my own self to say it. I let stuff from the past get to me because I wasn’t sure if I could believe. If I was ready to take that step, or if things were going to fall apart any minute. My mind was still in survival mode, even if my heart was five steps ahead of the game.”