CHAPTER 4
November
Cara awoke slowly, hearing laughter floating down the hall toward her closed bedroom door. Earlier, she’d begged off to go take a nap and Tyler had given her a nod and an understanding look. She sat up, pushing her hair away from her face, looking at the clock hanging on the lavender colored wall opposite her bed. It was three p.m. She’d slept more than two hours. Tired of being tired, she sat there wondering when she’d get her mojo back. When would her vitality and desire to leave this house return?
Her thoughts turned to Tyler Hutton and peace descended upon her, dissolving the heaviness that hung about her as she closed her eyes, picturing his face. His shy, boyish smile had captured her heart, and even when he remained serious and intensely focused, she thought of that first smile—the one that had made her trust him without question.
Feeling better, even a bit more energetic, she opened her eyes again, stood up, smoothed down the fabric of her trousers, and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Usually, she avoided looking into the mirror because what she saw scared her—the haunted look in her large brown eyes was more like an imprisoned animal than a human being. But this time for some reason, she went in, combed her hair, and regarded her pale face. For the first time since returning home, she actually cared about what she looked like. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a pink lipstick, added just a tad of blush to her pale cheeks, and immediately felt . . . prettier. Maybe it was a sign she was getting better?
Cara looked for symbolic small handholds, as if climbing a steep, unending vertical cliff within herself, each upward movement toward the top meant she was healing. Even if it was just a baby step forward, it was progress.
More laughter drifted past the door and she opened it, standing there, listening to Ram, Ali, and Tyler sharing stories in the kitchen, followed by more laughter. It made her smile. She loved Ram like a brother. He’d done so much for her. He was a true hero in her eyes, like her brave sister had always been. Straightening and squaring her shoulders, she decided she wanted to join them, wanted to feel like a part of something positive. Cara was so tired of crying, so tired of feeling weak and helpless. That just wasn’t her!
All heads swiveled her direction as she walked into the kitchen. Her heart thumped as Tyler gave her a warm, welcoming smile, pushing away from the kitchen counter, and walking toward her. She felt his protectiveness in his casual, relaxed movements, knowing that beneath that sports coat he carried a weapon.
“Hey,” she called to all of them, “what’s so funny? Can I laugh, too?”
“Oh,” Ali muttered, “did we wake you up, Cara?”
She managed a small smile. “No, I was already coming awake. You three sounded like you were having so much fun out here I wanted to be a part of it.” The softened look she saw in Tyler’s eyes fed her hope that she would get better. She looked up at him as he halted. “I’m okay,” she said, sensing his concern.
“I can see that. We were just making a pot of coffee and were going to sit down at the kitchen table. Come on over and join us?” He reached out, cupping her elbow, not possessively, but more to guide her toward where Ali and Ram were standing in the kitchen.
“I’d love to,” she said. Cara was always self-aware and used her intuition with her children. Now, she was using it to sense Tyler, who walked at her side. He wasn’t crowding her or trying to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do—unlike Colin. Frowning, she could see the difference between her missing-in-action boyfriend and this man. Tyler didn’t walk too close to her, but not too far away, either.
“Is this what a bodyguard does?” she asked him. He cocked his head in her direction, that same boyish smile appearing.
“Somewhat. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
She shook her head. “No, you aren’t.” But she wasn’t about to tell him how good, how protected, his closeness made her feel, either. Besides, she couldn’t explain all these magical, mystical sensations and feelings she received from another person. Ali understood it. Her mother, Mary, had the same thing, only she called it “being intuitive.” Ali said it was more than that, it was psychic ability to monitor others, situations, and her surroundings.
Cara wanted to tell Tyler about this family ability, but was afraid he wouldn’t believe her. He’d certify her as loco.
When they reached the L-shaped counter area, Tyler dropped his hand away from her elbow and she rested her hips against the counter next to her sister. Ram had just plugged in the coffeemaker. Tyler went to a nearby cupboard and retrieved four bright-blue mugs and brought them to the table. Ram brought over the cream from the fridge and sugar from the counter.
Cara looked over at Ali. “I could get used to this.” She saw her sister’s golden eyes gleam, that wolf-like grin stealing across her lips.
“SEALs are used to working as a team, Cara. They don’t stop to think if it’s a woman serving them coffee or not. They see the four of us as a team and whatever needs to be done by the team is done without thinking about it.”
“Nice,” Cara whispered.
“You look better.”
“Yes. I got some sleep. Made up for what I lost last night.”
Nodding, Ali said, “You look well . . . maybe happier.”
That was Tyler’s influence, but Cara said nothing. “Yes. Let’s go sit down.”
“Yeah,” Ali walked with her to the table. The guys finished setting the table, adding paper napkins and spoons, then sat down with the two women. Tyler sat opposite Cara and Ram grabbed a plate of cookies that Mary had baked last night: peanut butter, Ram’s favorite! Mary had made them especially for him because she knew his penchant for peanut butter anything. He’d found out from Ali earlier that she’d put the bug into her mother’s ear and Mary had gone out of her way to make these cookies for him. Ali sat at the head of the table with Cara at her right.
“Cookies,” Ram announced proudly.
Chuckling, Tyler said, “Watch it, ladies. He’s got them counted and he’s going to make sure he gets his share. Better grab yours quick or there won’t be any left.”
Cara laughed, enjoying the familial-like teasing. She saw Ram’s cheeks pink up and knew he was caught red-handed by Tyler. Ali had warned her that SEALs were constantly gigging one another like this. As Ram placed the plate between them, Cara picked up one and set it on her napkin.
“Are you three always like this?” she wondered, giving Ram a warm look as he straightened.
“Pretty much,” he said.
“How many cookies do I get?” Cara teased him.
“You can have as many as you want,” Tyler said, meaning it.
“Yes,” Ali chimed in, “you’re underweight and we want you to get some more meat on your bones.”
“Take her at her word,” Ram warned with a chuckle, placing two more cookies on Cara’s napkin.
“Oh, I can’t eat that many!” she exclaimed, holding up both her hands.
Tyler moved his chair back and walked over with the coffee pot. “Save ’em for later,” he suggested, pouring into her mug first, then Ali’s.
Ali giggled and gave Cara a comic look. “Tyler’s right. Ownership is nine points of the law.”
“Hey!” Ram called from the counter, “make sure I get at least a few. Mary made those for me.”
Tyler set the half-empty pot on a metal trivet in the middle of the wooden table and sat down next to Cara. “You know what they say about the early bird getting the worm, right, Torres?” He reached for a handful of cookies.
Groaning, Ram hurried back to the table, sat down, and saw there were exactly three cookies left on the plate. He gave them all a look of disbelief. “Oh, come on! Those are my fave cookies! Mary made ’em for me! Couldn’t you have left me more than three?”
“Hey, Torres,” Tyler deadpanned, his hand over his stash next to his mug, “There were a dozen there. The four of us get three cookies each. You weren’t cheated.”
Snorting, Ram gave Tyler a dark look. “Good thing the women are here.”
“Yeah, I know. We’d be fighting over those cookies if they weren’t!” Tyler laughed heartily, biting into the first one.
Joy threaded through Cara. It was the first time since coming home that she’d actually laughed. Touching her heart, she wanted to absorb this feeling like the first faint ray of sunlight finally piercing her inner darkness.
Ali slid her a merry look. “Guard your cookies, Cara.” She hoisted a thumb in Ram’s direction. “You don’t know it yet, but he’s the original cookie monster.”
Tyler snickered, his hand over his other two cookies because Ram was within striking distance of them. “That’s true. Ali, I remember one time when our team was working with yours in an Afghan village. Your mom had baked you some cookies, wrapped each one in foil, and put them into a three-pound coffee tin so they wouldn’t be crumbs by the time you got them.”
“Ohhhhh, that incident.” Ali rolled her eyes, giving Ram a hilarious look. “Yeah, Ram got wind of them, Cara. We had two people assigned to every hut within the village. I had hidden my coffee tin of cookies in my pack, in my hut. When I went in there to grab an MRE for lunch, I found Ram hanging around outside the hut. I asked him what was going on because at that time, we were not friends—and he wasn’t my roommate, so I got suspicious right away.”
“Why?” Cara wondered, seeing the guilty look coming to Ram’s features.
“Because he was going to go in there, riffle through my pack, find my cookies, and steal some.” She looked at Ram. “Weren’t you?”
“Guilty,” Ram admitted heavily. “You caught me in the act.”
Tyler snickered. “At least you’re honest about your thievery, Torres. That says something good about you.”
“But I hadn’t done it yet,” Ram defended.
Everyone burst into laughter, including Cara. She didn’t know what magic was happening, but she was sure it was because Tyler was there. She laughed until her stomach hurt, her hands pressed against her body. The amused look Tyler traded with her only made the moment more important to her. He was truly enjoying hearing her laugh.
Ali wagged her finger in Ram’s face. “Hey, I remember one of the other guys in the team telling me you were a cookie snatcher!”
“When I got transferred over to your team about two months later,” Tyler told Ali, “that was the first thing you warned me about: to hide any baked goods from my parents. I should dig a hole and bury them or else Torres was going to sneak in and take them all.”
Cara’s eyes rounded. “Ram! Really? Were you stealing everyone’s cookies and candy?”
Ram’s cheeks grew even redder.
“Come on,” Ali goaded, enjoying his discomfort, “tell them the truth!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll come clean,” he grumped unhappily. He looked across the table at Cara. “Yes, I had a real need of cookies and other home-baked goods. And yes, every once in a while, I’d filch a cookie or two from one of my teammates. But I never took all of ’em.”
“Every once in a while?” Ali howled. She bent over, giggling so hard she couldn’t speak.
Tyler snickered and slanted a glance over at Cara, who was positively shocked over this disclosure. “Ram has a serious sweet tooth,” he explained. “But because he didn’t take all the baked goods, we forgave him.”
“Yeah, I left a few behind,” Ram muttered darkly, defensive.
“Yes,” Tyler said, his grin huge, “but if there were two dozen cookies, the poor SEAL who later found their stash after you’d raided it, would have only one or two left for themselves.”
“Oh, Ram!” Cara said, her hand on her cheek, staring at him. “Did you really take that many?”
“Yeah,” he admitted growly, squirming in his chair.
“Didn’t your mom bake you cookies growing up?” Cara saw Ram’s eyes shutter, nearly closed, clearly uncomfortable as he refused to meet her gaze. She felt as if she’d stepped into an unhappy memory and wished she hadn’t seen the hurt on his face.
“No, not really,” he managed in a strangled tone.
Everyone at the table saw that she’d asked a loaded question and that it had upset Ram. “I’m sorry,” she offered, “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
Ram recovered and shrugged. “Hey, not every family is like Tyler’s or yours and Ali’s, you know?”
Ali became solemn. “No, you’re right, Ram.”
Cara looked at Ram and then her sister, feeling as if so much were being left unsaid. The set of Ram’s jaw was hard and implacable, but he wasn’t angry, just . . . well . . . defensive, as if trying to hold back a lot of sad emotions. She glanced at Tyler, who was also studying Ram but saying nothing.
The table fell quiet.
Cara couldn’t stand the tension. “Hey, since you’re all here could you help me wrap up the Christmas sweaters I knitted for my kids after we finish our coffee?” She gave them all a hopeful look.
“Sure,” Tyler said.
“Of course,” Ram seconded.
Ali offered, “When we’re finished with our coffee, Ram and I will clear the table. You and Tyler bring the sweaters out from your bedroom? I know where the boxes, wrapping, and ribbons are in the garage.”
“Good,” Cara said. She felt lighter. Was it Tyler’s quiet, steady presence? She didn’t know for sure, but he was the only new person in her life. She saw the happiness in his eyes. “I’m a big kid at heart,” she confided in a whisper to him.
Ali grinned. “You never grew up, Cara.”
She felt her face heat up as Tyler studied her, but she didn’t feel threatened. Instead, there was kindness in his gaze for her. It felt good—life-affirming—and filled her with hope.
“Hey, don’t pick on her, Ali,” Tyler chided. “I like a woman who can be like a kid when she doesn’t have to be an adult.”
“Well,” Ali retorted good naturedly, “that’s my sister for you. You should see her with her class. You’d swear there were twenty-six kids in there, not twenty-five.” She smiled, reaching out, gripping Cara’s hand and giving it a fond squeeze.
“Is that true?” Tyler asked her.
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured, looking over at Ram. “Did she ever descend into this kid while you were protecting her?”
“No, not really.”
“Tyler, take it from me then, she’s a child when she’s feeling better. The kids love her. She thinks like them and even talks with them in a language they understand.”
“I’m hoping to get that part back,” Cara admitted.
Ali patted her arm. “You will. It’s coming.”
Cara wanted her life back. Now, she was living in a before-and-after kidnapping zone.
“It will take a while,” Ram reassured her. “Just take it a day at a time, Cara. You can’t rush trauma that needs to be healed. Everyone has their own pace and timing with it.”
“And you can’t control it,” she muttered. “That’s what I hate most about all this.”
“One of the things you can do,” Tyler said, “is get back into the rhythm of the life you had before. Like knitting the sweaters for your kids, wrapping them up, and maybe taking them to the school to give to them.”
She looked down at her hands, gripping the mug in front of her. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go that far yet, Tyler.”
“In time,” he said, “you will.”
“I hope so.”
*
Tyler helped bring out the boxes with Cara a little while later, taking all the sweaters to the clean kitchen table. Ram and Ali had brought in a box of wrapping and another box of ribbons, and placed them at one end of the table. Each gift box had a label with a child’s name on it. He noticed the little things, such as Cara writing something special to each child. He could tell that she fiercely wanted to take back her life. The tremble in her handwriting showed him that she was probably at low tide within herself, not feeling very confident. Still, Cara persisted and he admired her courage and fortitude under the circumstances.
Stacking the boxes, he placed them on one side of the table. Ram took the chairs away, giving them room to work, and Cara brought out several pairs of scissors, tape, and colorful Christmas tags.
“These kids are going to love what you’re giving them,” Ali said, slipping her arm around Cara’s shoulders and giving her a proud look. “I know you do this every Christmas, but this is such a wonderful present for each of them.”
“I love doing it.” Cara chose a roll of bright-red and green paper. “Tyler, would you wrap these five boxes in this paper? Ali, you can put the ribbon on them. Ram, could you take the name off each box and fill out a tag for it?”
“Sure,” he said, gathering the tags that were in a small box. “And what are you going to do?”
She smiled a little and pointed to a card box. “I want to write each child a Christmas card and put a five-dollar bill inside.” She turned to Tyler to explain.
“My kids are Hispanic and Yaqui. They’re very poor. I save money out of each paycheck so I can afford to do this at Christmas for them. Five dollars might not seem like much, but to them, it’s huge!”
Tyler smiled a little. “I think you’re their special guardian angel.”
Shrugging, feeling embarrassed, Cara said, “Actually, those children infuse me with such joy every day that they’re actually the gift that keeps on giving. They don’t let me have a bad day. I might go in sometimes feeling down, but they always lift me up.”
“I can see that,” Tyler said, cutting the paper and sizing it for the first box.
Cara sat down at the other end of the table. “Just call out the name and I’ll handwrite the Christmas card for that child?”
“You got it,” Ram said.
Pretty soon, everyone was attending their jobs on this little assembly line. Cara loved all of them for helping her. There was such camaraderie between all of them. She tried not to look at Tyler too much, but he was ruggedly handsome. She wondered again if he was married. Surely, some lucky woman had taken him to be her own.
There was something about him that made her feel like he’d be a wonderful father. Did he have children? And in an assignment like this, he wasn’t even with his family at Christmas. She knew Ram would leave shortly to go back to Artemis, and Ali would be leaving in mid-December as well to start her new job for the security company. They would be together celebrating Christmas back there in Virginia with the Delos and Artemis employees.
“I don’t know much about bodyguards,” Cara said to Tyler, “but will you get time off to go home to your family for Christmas?” She saw him look surprised.
“No. A PSD means you stay 24/7/365 or until the detail is finished.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll miss your family.”
“The only family Tyler has,” Ram said, “is his parents who live up in Montana. They’re kind of used to him not showing up on holidays.”
“That’s right,” Tyler said. “When I come off a mission that’s long term, I fly up and stay with them for a couple of weeks.”
She frowned. “I thought . . . well . . . maybe you were married, had kids, and would miss Christmas with them.”
“Tyler is footloose and fancy free,” Ali said. “In our business, Cara, relationships aren’t long term, usually.”
“But yours is,” she pointed out to her sister. “You and Ram will be working at the same security agency.”
“Yes,” Ram said, “and we’ll be in the same department, which is good.”
“So that means you aren’t going out on missions any more, Ali?”
“Got that right,” Ali said, sounding relieved. She quickly put red ribbon on the wrapped box that Tyler slid across the table to her. “I’m done with missions. Ram and I will be working in the Mission Planning Department at Artemis as part of the Central and South America Division. We’ll be lending our knowledge and experience so that men or women going out into the field will be well educated to help keep them safer.”
“That way,” Ram told her, “people won’t get killed. Artemis has some of the most sophisticated, deeply experienced combat groups of black-ops military people who have left the service and now work for them. Our combined knowledge of a given country is like gold when it comes to intel sharing. For example, Ali is a Mexico specialist. She spent years in the CIA working in there.”
“And we never knew that,” Cara muttered, giving Ali a dark look. “We’d see you a couple times a year, which was always great, but you could never tell us anything. Not even where you were at or what you were doing.”
“It’s how it had to be,” Tyler said. “Everything we do in black ops is top secret or higher in the intel community.”
“I don’t see how you three do it—or anyone, for that matter. But if there weren’t people like you protecting our country, we wouldn’t enjoy what we have today.”
“There are always trade-offs,” Tyler agreed wryly, pushing another wrapped package toward Ali. “Freedom isn’t free, Cara. It never was. I’m sure you took history in college and you know that thousands of people during the 1700s gave their lives so we could establish a democracy here. You might consider today’s black-ops warriors as super patriots who are the shield between our enemies and the security of the democracy we have here in America.”
Cara stopped writing in one of the cards, holding his gaze. “When Ali went into the Marine Corps that was a shock to me. I just never saw her doing something like that.”
Ali grinned, pulling out a long green ribbon for another box. “I have Mama’s warrior genes, Cara. You know that.”
“Yes, and Mama continues to be a warrior to this day, fighting for our Yaqui nation as a steward and on the council.”
“She hasn’t picked up a weapon, though,” Tyler noted.
“Her intelligence, voice, passion, and heart are her weapons,” Ali said proudly. “Cara, there are all kinds of warriors on this planet. Not all are in the military. Mama is a peaceful warrior—and every type is important.”
“I’m just glad,” Cara murmured, giving her sister a loving look, “that you’re going to be staying home. I don’t want you to disappear from our lives so we don’t know where you are. That was so hard for all of us. We worried . . .”
“I know,” Ali whispered, giving her an apologetic look. “When there’s evil in the world, someone has to face it down, and not all people have that kind of warrior spirit, or are willing to do it. Ram, Tyler, and I have done that.”
“Yes, and no one except maybe for us, will ever know the sacrifices you all made.”
“That’s okay, Cara,” Tyler said, wrapping the next box. “We take pride in what we do and we know we are protecting our country. That makes us feel good. It’s all the payment we need.”
“I was looking at your hands,” Cara said, motioning toward Tyler. “You have so many scars on them—so does Ali and Ram.”
Ram chuckled. “You should see the rest of our bodies, Cara. On second thought, no, you shouldn’t.”
“Oh, I’ve seen those horrible bruises and swellings on Ali,” she said darkly. “Bruises that will never go away. Swelling here and there that won’t go away, either.”
“It’s the price of admission for being a combatant,” Ali told her. “It goes with the territory, Cara. We’ve talked about that before.”
Nodding, she signed her name on a card, slipped a five-dollar bill inside and closed the envelope. “I know we have. It just scared us that you were gone somewhere in the world and we didn’t know where.”
“Those days are over,” Ali sighed, smiling over Cara. “I’m home for good. It will be easy to catch a flight to Tucson, and you can come and pick me up at the airport. I can stay in my old room here at the house. Life is going to finally settle down for all of us,” she promised, her voice suddenly thick with emotion.
“I really want that,” Cara choked. “And so do Mama and Papa. We’re so happy to hear you’re going to work for Artemis. Now we won’t worry anymore.”
“It’s a Christmas gift,” Ali teased, “for all of us, believe me. My mission days are behind me. I’ll be happy to sit at a desk.”
Cara looked at Tyler. “Are you still going out on missions somewhere in the world?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you before you had to babysit me, or can’t you tell me?”
Tyler cut some dark-blue paper that had yellow, red, and green stars printed across it. “I was in Peru on an assignment.”
“Do you like doing this? I mean, always being gone, your parents worrying about you?”
Shrugging, he said, “No, but like anyone else, I need a job. I have to pay my bills just like you do.”
“Actually,” Ram said, “Wyatt Lockwood, who is the head of the Mission Planning Department, is trying to talk Tyler into working in the Medical Department.”
“I’m thinking about it,” Tyler said.
“How old are you?” Cara asked.
“Twenty-nine.”
“And his knees are almost as shot as mine,” Ram said. “Wyatt was a SEAL, and he knows most of them leave the service around that time because their bodies are so beat up.”
“You don’t look beat up,” Cara said.
Grinning, Tyler said, “I am. But it’s more emotional than physical.”
“You’re a medic,” Cara said, “and I’m sure you’ve seen some pretty awful things on the battlefield.” The look in his blue eyes changed, becoming shadowed.
Nodding, Tyler pulled tape from the dispenser, quickly wrapping the box. “We’ve all seen things we want to forget, Cara.”
Cara felt his emotional reaction, although it wasn’t written in his expression. Just a heavier tone in his voice, as if he were carrying some awful, unknown load.
Ram and Ali both silently nodded, becoming somber. They had all been through so much even though Cara knew nothing about their actual missions or the dangers they had faced. The secrets they carried were burdensome judging from the looks on all their faces.
“I’m just glad,” Cara told them, “that all of you are here, on US soil.” She glanced over at Tyler. “At least you’re not getting shot at by being here.”
A slight grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “No, this is a pretty safe assignment.”
“Are you glad to be here instead of in Peru?”
“Yes.” The word came out low, charged with emotion.
“Well,” she offered, “I’m glad you’re here, too.”
“So?” Ram said, “are you okay with Tyler taking over the position as chief guard dog around here? Are you comfortable with him instead of me lumbering around underfoot?”
Nodding, she saw Tyler glance over at her, as if checking her reaction to the unexpected question. “I’m comfortable,” she agreed. For a moment, she saw relief in Tyler’s eyes. The tension that had been there before, had dissolved. What did that mean?