CHAPTER 6
December 20
Cara could barely hold on to her emotions as Tyler helped her bring in the cupcakes they had made for her school children. Maria was there, helping with the children, all wriggling madly in their chairs. Cara watched them, listening to their high voices like a flock of chirping birds.
She had come back twice since her first visit, acclimating herself to “Cara 2.0,” as Tyler teasingly called it. Her struggles to recreate the teacher all the children loved was supporting her immensely. He’d told her the other day over breakfast that she was now 2.0 and she agreed: a new and improved version of her old self. Cara had started this Christmas bounty for her kindergarten class last year and it was the highlight of the year for them. She wasn’t about to disappoint them. Ali had left already, but it hadn’t caused Cara to dive into depression, such was the progress she was making on healing herself.
Tyler brought in the last tray and once again became a quiet, shadowy presence in the back of the room, near the door. He hoped that his presence was a small part of the reason for Cara’s progress. The children had gotten used to him being around and the boys, especially, liked coming over to ask him about who he was and why he was here whenever Cara arrived to the schoolroom. She was glad Tyler lied and told them that he was a good friend of her family and was here on a long visit with them. The children accepted it without any question, to her relief.
Her emotions seesawed between the thrill of preparing her Christmas gift party for the children and the closeness that was clearly deepening between her and Tyler. How little she realized that the day she’d spontaneously thrown her arms around his shoulders, hugging him in thanks, it had subtly changed the trajectory of their relationship.
She wasn’t a stranger to having a man in her life, although Colin had disappeared after she’d been kidnapped. There was nary a word from him, not that she’d tried to contact him, either. Those who had stood at her side since then had been her unwavering parents, her sister, Ram Torres, and now, Tyler. Her father had never been in the military but his love, his support of her through the ups and downs, never wavered—and neither had her mother, her sister, Ram, or Tyler. They had all accepted her symptoms as a natural matter of course, which was helping her to put them into perspective, as well.
The children were excited today, their voices high pitched, the boys positively restless, squirming around in their chairs and the girls smiling but patient, watching her every move. First came the Christmas cupcakes. Maria took one side of the room and Cara took the other. She and Tyler had worked two days on decorating these huge, white frosted chocolate cupcakes. They’d had a lot of fun and shared a lot of laughter during that time, which filled Cara’s heart with even more warmth toward him.
Tyler didn’t lose a shred of his masculinity when she tied a red apron around his waist. Making thick icing, coloring it, getting it into a squeezable tube, all held potential for lots of mishaps, trials, and errors—but it had been fun. She loved that Tyler knew the children now, and he seemed just as excited about decorating each cupcake differently with her. She would forever hold these memories in her heart.
She laid a red or green napkin in front of her charges, daintily taking a heavily decorated cupcake and placing one in front of each of them. Just the way their small, slender fingers wrapped around the dessert, almost reverently, made her feel good. The oohs and aahs as the children surveyed their special cupcakes echoed their constant surprise. She watched their eyes grow huge as they carefully surveyed their creative dessert. One had Frosty the Snowman on it, another, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and another, a decorated Christmas tree. It was almost a shame to eat and destroy the careful artwork she and Tyler had created together. It had been Tyler who had taken photos of the cupcakes for her, saying that such art should never be forgotten. She’d laughed, but she was glad he’d done it.
Other cupcakes had stars in a night sky, a camel with a wise man standing next to the animal, a holly wreath, several candles with flames, and a snowy hill with a child on a sled. Tyler proved to be a perfectionist, very careful, and very good at decorating. He said he’d gotten that skill from being a SEAL and paying attention to every last detail. They’d had a good laugh over that, too.
She couldn’t stop smiling these days. Sometimes, she’d lift her head after delivering one of those cupcakes to a child, to see Tyler watching her from afar. She wasn’t innocent, and she knew when a man was interested in her—and Tyler was, no question about that. Since that hug, he’d seemed more withdrawn though, and she wondered if she’d breached some unknown protocol between them. Maybe a bodyguard wasn’t supposed to be hugged? She didn’t know. But meeting his crystalline blue gaze, she felt her entire body and heart respond to him. There was a slight smile hovering around his mouth—the very same mouth she’d fantasized about since he’d come to guard her. Sometimes, she found herself wanting to take her fingertip and slowly, gently, trace the outline of its contours.
And of course, the next thought she couldn’t escape was, what would it be like to kiss him? Would he be rough? Tender? Hungry? Cara didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. She often saw him watching her, but it made her feel good, desired, and healthily attractive.
She’d found out the difference between positive and negative attraction. If Tyler looked at her, it felt right to her body and mind. But when one of those drug soldiers had stared at her like a salivating hyena, terror had shot through her, and she wanted to scream and escape.
Maddeningly, Tyler’s expression was always unreadable except when they were alone. Out in public, as he’d told her, his game face was in place. He didn’t want anyone reading his expressions or being able to know what he was thinking. Still, as she met his eyes right now, his smile grew broader, and he gave her a nod of acknowledgement. It had been so subtle no one else had noticed but her. Her lower body was growing achy over those burning looks he’d shoot her from time to time. This was the look of a man who wanted his woman.
As she handed out the last of her cupcakes, she gave him a merry smile, turned, and went to the front desk. She had a surprise for Tyler. Picking up the last cupcake she’d hidden from him, she walked the length of the room to where he stood.
“This is for you,” she said, holding it out to him along with a napkin.
Tyler straightened and looked down. He saw a pink heart with a white star in the center of it, surrounded by swirls of red frosting. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I didn’t know they had hearts at Christmas!” He looked up, meeting her winsome smile, and saw how her eyes danced with life. “Did you forget and think it was Valentine’s Day?”
She laughed and took a step back. “No, it’s just how I feel about you.” Her voice lowered, a slight quaver as she looked up, holding his shocked gaze. “Whether you know it or not, Tyler, you’ve helped me heal in so many ways. I thought Ram had done a lot for me—and he did, but you picked up where he left off.”
She barely touched his shaven cheek. “You’ve made me want to live again, and that’s a priceless gift. That certainly deserves more than a cupcake, but I know you’ll understand and accept my words into your heart.” She turned and quickly walked back to where Maria stood.
Tyler stared down at the huge cupcake in his palm. His cheek tingled where Cara’s soft fingertips had barely grazed his flesh. Her words were stunning and her honesty, gut-wrenching. She had said all the things he’d been wanting to share with her from his own heart—his hidden heart. And yet, he had to maintain that same veneer, even if every part of him wanted to let her know his feelings for her, the dreams he had of them together. When she turned and walked away, he watched her swaying hips and swallowed hard, knowing he could not have her—at least, not yet.
Cara gave the word for the kids to dig in and eat their cupcakes. Maria had already dispensed cold cartons of milk to each child, and for a few minutes, all that could be heard was children making happy sounds as they tore the silver foil off from around their cupcake. Frosting smeared their noses and cheeks, their tiny mouths full of bits of chocolate cupcake.
It was a golden moment for her as she watched, feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes. Cara pushed them away because today she did not want her children to see her crying. No, this was a day of celebration, not sadness.
As she stood there, she realized more than ever that life was precious. One moment she had been deliriously happy with her existence as she walked home to her parents’ house; and the next second, she’d been kidnapped, a needle jabbed into her shoulder. She’d lost consciousness and woke up in a van, terrified, unable to figure out what had happened or where she was.
Cara tried to push that memory away because it had no business arising on this wonderfully happy day. A new sense of gratitude flooded through her, an acknowledgement that life was fragile and that one should find joy by loving every moment, because there might not be another. Maybe it was the adaptogen that Dr. Dara McKinley-Culver had her on, the anxiety had left her three days after taking it. Since then, a new and welcome peace lived within her.
With the anxiety gone, so was the hyper-vigilance, and the paranoia about the drug lord coming after her again had also disappeared. This amazing substance had freed her up to get back onto the tracks of her life as she’d been before that incident that had threatened to change her forever.
She saw Tyler nibbling at the cupcake from beneath. He wasn’t eating the frosted top. Why? Smiling, she shook her head. Who knew what thoughts motivated her dear bodyguard. When he had his game face in place, all she could do was try to pick up nuances of what he might really be feeling. Why on earth was he not eating the frosting? That was the best part! Cara watched as her charges dutifully began wiping off their messy faces and sticky fingers with those huge paper napkins.
Their little faces showed even more excitement now that they knew what was coming next. Cara and Maria would go to the Christmas tree and read the tag on each gift, and then take it to the child to whom it belonged. Once the packages were distributed, they got to tear them open and see what kind of sweater Cara had knitted for them. The excitement was palpable in the room. Maria brought a small wastebasket around to each long table, taking the napkins and cleaning up each desk of crumbs so the surface was clean and ready for the gift to come.
One by one, Maria and Cara brought out the individually wrapped gifts. Each child struggled mightily not to open it. Rather, they eagerly ran their tiny hands around and around the colorful Christmas paper, curling the ends of the ribbons around their index fingers. The girls always touched the fancy bows, the boys turning their boxes upside down, shaking it near their ear, and trying somehow to see through it to look at the color of the sweater Cara had made for them.
Unable to stop from smiling, Cara knew each of her children as if they were her own. She knew each one’s favorite color. And she always knitted a symbol into the sweater that meant something to that child. Her love was overflowing now as she gave them the signal to open their gifts.
In seconds, wrapping paper was being ripped open, fragments flying through the air like confetti throughout the room. The boys tore off ribbons while the girls patiently untied the knot, savoring the silky ribbon and gently untangling it from the box, laying it aside. Cara laughed, and so did Maria. The boys took no prisoners. The girls wanted to save the ribbons and not tear into the pretty giftwrap. She cast a look in Tyler’s direction and her heart melted with the expression on his face. He was just as touched as she was.
There were cries of surprise as the boys yanked open the boxes to reveal another layer of red tissue paper wrapped around their gift. That got torn off in seconds, too. She wished she could watch all twenty-five of their faces as they saw their new sweater for the first time, but it was impossible. Manuel, six-years-old, held his black sweater up with a palomino-colored horse head on the front of it. His two front teeth were missing, and he was grinning from ear to ear. Cara was lost in a sea of children’s cries, yips, and shouts as they each held their soft, new sweater in their hands. The girls had lighter, pastel colors while the boys’ sweaters were darker, more conservative colors. But they all loved the individual symbol that Cara had knitted for each of them.
For Isabella, there was a stethoscope because she yearned to become a doctor. For Camilia, there was her gray kitty cat with a white blaze and white paws. And for Luciana, who dreamed of being a writer, Cara had knitted a pen and paper on the front of her bright red sweater.
The boys quickly pulled their sweaters over their heads, proudly tugging them down into place. The girls ran their small hands over the angora yarn, marveling at how soft it felt, holding it up, making happy sounds over the symbol Cara had awarded to each of them.
“Okay,” Maria called, clapping her hands, “time to put them on! We need a group picture! Ms. Montero has brought her camera. Come up to the front of the room. Tall children in back, shorter ones in the front!”
Cara walked to the rear of the room where Tyler was standing. Nearby on a table was her purse and camera. She smiled. “Well, what do you think? Isn’t this wonderful?”
“Sure is. Never seen anything like it.”
She eyed the top of the cupcake that was sitting on a napkin near her purse. “Aren’t you going to eat it?”
“No . . . not yet. Just want to kind of savor it for the moment.”
She saw intention in his eyes as she reached for her camera. There was thoughtfulness in his look and something else so deep that she couldn’t begin to fathom what it might be. But whatever it was, it made her feel special—and desired.
“Better watch out,” she laughed, “or one of those boys, probably Santiago, will spot that uneaten part of your cupcake and steal it out from under your nose.”
He laughed. “I’m watching it, believe me.”
Turning, she nodded and walked to the middle of the room where Maria was getting the children formed into a half circle, two deep. They all looked like pretty little meadow flowers, proud and happy in their new, larger sweaters. The boys kept turning and showing the other boys on either side of them the symbols on their sweaters. The girls were moving their small fingers up and down across the fuzzy, downy yarn, marveling at the colors, the weave, and how pretty their symbols were.
“Okay,” Cara called in English, “let’s try to stand quietly. I don’t want your face or your sweater blurred.”
Instantly, the children hushed, fully focused on her as she knelt down on one knee of her dark-brown trousers and lifted the camera up.
“Smile,” she called, laughing.
Instantly, twenty-five faces bloomed in such wide smiles that it dazzled Cara. She clicked the camera three times. The rest of their Christmas gift was going to be two-fold: first, she would have copies of the best photo taken of the group developed at the local drugstore. Then, she would take an individual photo of each child standing in front of a white background and it, too, would be turned into a photo. Only this time, Cara would use her own money to have copies made for each set of parents to put that new photo in their wallets or purses—each child would get a small, wallet-sized photo of themselves, too. A larger, five-by-seven photo would be framed and given to the family, where they could put it in a special place for all to see.
Cara would spend the next hour carefully taking photos from the waist up of each child. And then, when done with the photo session, a tray of sugar cookies that Tyler had personally decorated would be offered to them. After that, they would leave school for their holiday vacation.
*
Tyler enjoyed being a quiet shadow in Cara’s life. He had literally watched her bloom over the past few weeks. Getting to decorate the Christmas cupcakes had been another happy turn in their relationship. He’d never laughed so hard or as long as when she’d tell a story about one of her children. For the first time, he was getting to see the real Cara Montero, not the wounded woman they’d found in that drug lord’s villa in the Sierra Madres of Mexico.
Ali had told him that Cara had always had a boyfriend and now, he could see why. The woman he saw today in the classroom was stunning in every possible way. He wrestled with his selfish side, the side that wanted to let her know how much she meant to him, to share a moment where she felt safe and loved—but he could do nothing like that.
That evening, in the living room, the whole family gathered to decorate the newly arrived Christmas tree. The day before, Tyler, Cara, and Diego had gone up to Mt. Lemmon in the Santa Catalina Mountains north of Tucson. The mountain was over nine-thousand feet in altitude, the tallest one in the chain. Diego had gotten a permit to chop down a tree for Christmas, and Cara had gone with them because Tyler could not leave her alone as a PSD.
Tyler had watched with pleasure as father and daughter laughed, smiled, and looked at dozens of trees along one slope of the mountain. He had wanted to join them, but that wasn’t his job.
It was Cara’s breathy laughter, running in and around the trees, her arms out, fingers brushing the greenery as she skipped by them, snow flying off the limbs like magical fairy dust, that had made his heart yearn to be running at her side. She was more childlike today. Yesterday, she had played the role of a mother to her children in her classroom. How many other wonderful sides did Cara have that he hadn’t yet encountered? Since she’d taken the adaptogen and was no longer run by the anxiety, he was watching her change almost miraculously before his eyes.
Ali had told him in a Skype call from Virginia, that Cara was usually the cheerful one in their family. Of course, that hadn’t shown up until very recently. He looked forward to his weekly calls with Ali and Ram in the late hours of night, letting them know how Cara was doing. Ali was very excited because she said the “old” Cara was resurfacing once again, and she had been right.
Every day Tyler watched the woman who had hidden in the shadows, slowly begin to emerge in the light of day. It truly was like watching a seedling rise from the ground, and then grow, forming a bud and one petal at a time, opening and revealing who she really was when not avalanched by that soul-destroying anxiety.
Tyler watched from the couch, where he sat near Cara, as Diego brought out a medium-sized cardboard box marked “Navidad,” which meant “Christmas.” Setting it down on the kitchen table, the man straightened and gestured for him to come over.
“We must be men and string these lights so Mary and Cara can begin to trim the tree,” he said.
In the evening hours, Tyler wore an ankle pistol hidden beneath his jeans. That way, the family wasn’t always starkly reminded of why he was with them. “I think we can do that,” he told Diego, returning his smile.
“Ali and Cara, as children, just loved having lots and lots of lights on the tree,” Diego told him wistfully, opening the box and picking up a carefully wrapped group, then giving Tyler the other end. “I swear,” he said, shaking his head, “I think if we did not have the money for a tree, as niñas, all I would have had to do was buy lots of strings of lights, decorate their doorways and windows, and they still would have been in heaven.”
Tyler saw Cara with Mary pulling out a number of decorations and setting them around the box. “My parents had planted a small Scotch pine out in our yard, not too far from our picture window. Every Christmas my dad and I took waterproof lights out and decorated it.”
Diego helped him carry the lights to the five-foot tree sitting in the corner of the living room. “That way, you did not kill a tree,” he pointed out.
“Yes. My parents are very eco-conscious.”
“But where did they put your gifts?” he wondered, getting a step stool and starting at the top of the evergreen.
“My mother loves ceramics,” Tyler said, moving the string around the tree. “She made a two-foot high Christmas tree complete with lights. We always sat it on an antique Queen Anne desk that had come down a hundred years through my mother’s side of the family. It sat in a corner, near our flagstone fireplace. All gifts were placed around it.”
“I see,” Diego said, ladling out more of the string to Tyler. “Another way to celebrate Niño Christ’s birth. A very beautiful and practical way.”
“Yes, it was.” His family wasn’t very religious, mostly a mixture of beliefs. He liked working with Diego because the man was the epitome of kindness, sensitive to others, and such a hard worker for his family. In many ways, his own father, Bill, was similar. Diego was the manager of a pecan orchard near Marana, Arizona. His father dug his hands into the earth to make a living discovering sapphires in the rough. Both men were of the earth: tall, sinewy, and deeply tanned because they were out in the elements and weather daily.
Diego brought over the second string and they wound it around and around the tree. He glanced toward the kitchen where the women were laughing and chatting. Then, bending down, Tyler plugged in the string and the whole tree lit up. He straightened, his hands on his hips as he and Diego regarded their handiwork. Diego slid him a glance, his dark brown eyes glittering with laughter. “You see?” He waved his hand at the tree. “Did I not tell you? This tree looks like it belongs on the Las Vegas strip!”
Chuckling, Tyler said, “Yeah, for sure. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a tree that looked this gaudy.”
“You know children. Bright, pretty lights are awe-inspiring to them. I wish you could have seen our daughters when they had their first Christmas tree.” He placed his hand on his long-sleeved blue and white plaid shirt, over his heart. “Mary and I had tears in our eyes because we did not know they would be so touched by the lights. Ali was five and Cara was three at the time. From then on, they begged, pleaded, and cried for lots of lights. I really believe the lights outnumber the bulbs they will hang shortly.”
“Do you know of a woman who doesn’t like bling and glitter?”
Diego laughed heartily. “Sí, sí, that is true!”
As the women came over, praising both men, Diego took Tyler by the arm and guided him into the kitchen.
“Time for our ceremonial Yaqui hot chocolate,” he told Tyler, who was leaning against the counter, watching the women trim the tree.
“I like family traditions,” Tyler said. “Is there anything I can do to help, Diego?”
“No, no, just stand and watch. This is Mary’s recipe and she’s sworn me to secrecy, but you can observe.” His eyes gleamed. “My dear wife is proud of her heritage. And this recipe comes from the Aztecs.” He brought up a pan and set it on the gas stove. Quickly, he gathered the necessary ingredients. “Every Christmas I make hot chocolate while they decorate. Then we all have a cup of it at the table and admire the beauty of our tree.”
“Sounds good,” Tyler murmured, watching him take some ground vanilla, and chocolate from cacao plants, both originating from Central America. He added cinnamon from Sri Lanka, ground cloves, salt, brown sugar and some secret ingredient in an unmarked jar. As Diego began stirring the concoction in milk, the scent became intoxicating.
“Ummm . . . smells good, too,” Tyler added.
“Mary has already made us some cinnamon chocolate bark,” he said, pointing to a platter filled with dark-chocolate pieces. “There are pistachios, cashews, dried dates, and cranberries mixed into an Aztec dark chocolate from central Mexico. I am happy that you will be sharing our ceremony, Tyler.” Diego hesitated, and then said in a low tone, “My daughter cares very much for you. I don’t know if you realize that or not?”
Heart thudding once, he saw the kindness in Diego’s eyes as he regarded him while stirring the chocolate. “I didn’t know that, sir.”
“My youngest daughter,” he sighed, shaking his head, “was once a dreamer and an idealist.” His black brows fell as he stirred the mixture. “With the kidnapping, she changed dramatically and we were both shocked by her transformation. Ali and Ram kept us from going loco over it because we didn’t understand about trauma.”
“She’s gone through a lot,” Tyler agreed. “And people can change after such an experience.”
“My wife and I would drive over to the Dove of the Desert, Mission San Xavier del Bac. We go to mass there because of the beauty of it, the ancient history of this mission, and the feeling of peace that surrounds it. We went to mass weekly and prayed for Cara, prayed to God to help her. Our local Catholic church was helping, too. They arranged a prayer circle of parishioners after mass to pray for Cara’s healing, as well. My wife’s tribe performed a sacred ceremony for her.” He took a clean spoon, dipped it into the steaming mixture, and blew on it a moment before tasting it.
“Bueno,” Diego murmured, placing the spoon in the sink. “It’s just about ready.”
“Prayers are always welcome,” Tyler agreed, watching Mary and Cara. They were tittering excitedly like two lively, beautiful birds as they hung colorful bulbs on the limbs around the tree. “Does Cara know this secret recipe’s ingredients?”
“No. Perhaps we will let her know, but that will be in the future. Right now, since you gave her that medicine she has begun returning to her old self, the sweet daughter we knew before. I think you can see the changes, eh?”
“I can. It’s remarkable. Almost a night and day difference.”
“Now we know what trauma does to a human being,” Diego said sadly. “We have firsthand knowledge and I do not wish this on anyone. Ever. And we didn’t realize Ali had it too, this awful PTSD. But she handled it very differently than Cara.”
“Because Ali is a trained military combatant,” Tyler explained. “It protects us up to a point when we’re caught in a traumatic situation. Training helps and Cara had none. She was defenseless and innocent.”
“Yes,” Diego muttered. “You have no idea how horrible we felt, how guilty. We never thought for a moment that our beautiful daughter would be grabbed off a sidewalk two blocks from our home, drugged, and driven over the border, and then find herself about to be sold to some pervertido overseas.”
Tyler watched as he took the pan from the gas stove and carefully poured the steaming chocolate into the four bright-red ceramic mugs. “But you have her back now.”
“Yes, and things are settling back into what they were before.” He rinsed out the empty pan beneath the faucet. “Ram and Ali brought her through the worst of it. But you performed something equally important, Tyler.”
“What was that?” he wondered.
Diego handed him a bowl that had been in the fridge. “You are breathing life back into Cara.” He took off the lid, took a tablespoon and handed it to him. “This is thick, homemade whipped cream. Put a scoop into each mug, please?”
“Sure.” He frowned, being careful not to make a mess. Diego, who stood at his side watching, gave him a nod of approval. He licked the spoon afterward, grinning toward Diego.
“You are a man after my own heart,” Diego pronounced, clapping Tyler on the back.
As Tyler rinsed off the spoon and his hands, Diego moved a bit closer, lowering his voice.
“My daughter Cara has spoken to us about you. She said that you hold a special place in her heart. Has she told you that?”
Hesitating, Tyler pulled the towel off the hook near the sink, drying his hands. “No . . . she didn’t.”
Diego grimaced. “My daughter is winsome, beautiful, and has had many heartbreaks with boys in her life. I say boys, not men. The boys following her around wanted only one thing: her body. They did not care about her heart, her dreams, or her soul.” Diego looked into Tyler’s eyes. “I don’t know whether it is because of the trauma of what she survived or perhaps, as Mary and I hoped, she is maturing. We had hoped that she would fall in love with a man someday, not a boy.” He scowled, his voice lower so he could not be overheard. “Three days ago, when you and Cara were driving around and you were getting her used to being out and about?”
“Yes?”
“Colin showed up at our door.”
Tyler frowned. “Her old boyfriend who abandoned her after she’d been kidnapped?”
“The same,” Diego muttered darkly. “He said he’d heard Cara was teaching again. Now, this boy did not ask how Cara was, nor did he explain why he dropped her when he found out she’d been kidnapped. Or,” he growled, “if she was even interested in seeing him again. None of those things! I told him that whatever had been between them was gone. I ordered him to leave and never come back to our home or to think that Cara was available to him. Because she wasn’t. Not to him. Not EVER.”
Tyler heard the grinding rage in Diego’s voice, his dark eyes flashing. “Does Cara know he came over to see her?”
“Not yet. Mary and I will talk with her sometime tomorrow. I’m sure our daughter has no interest in a weak, spineless boy like him. She has eyes for another. A real man.”
“Oh?” Tyler said, surprised.
Diego poked his chest with his index finger. “Yes. You!”