After Gage left, Sophie showered and made herself a cup of tea. Boneless and utterly drained, she curled into a comfortable chair and let the minty fragrance of the tea soothe her ravaged senses. She tried not to think beyond the moment. With one more early morning rising before this month’s drill was over, she had only one more day to keep the secret and buy a little time to come up with the perfect way to tell Gage the truth.

Should she be straightforward and blurt it out? Or should she wait for an incredibly intimate moment to tell him, and then hope his senses were so glazed with passion that he might only feel relief?

Dream on.

No matter how she broached the subject, he was going to be angry. She just hoped he cared enough at that point, to eventually forgive her.

She finished the last of the cup and drifted to her bedroom, intent on getting a good night’s sleep. Instead, she tossed and turned in her bed for several hours, drifting in and out of sleep. Her mind wrestled with her predicament in dreams that made little sense.

In the first dream, she sat on the witness stand in a courtroom, wearing the slinky black dress and her black, thick-framed glasses.

The opposing attorney, who looked like Gage Jenkins, was questioning her. “Ms. Keaton, did you or did you not lie to my client, Gage Jenkins?”

He pointed behind him, where Sophie could see another Gage Jenkins, sitting behind the table with a frown permanently etched across his forehead.

“I did not lie to Mr. Jenkins. I just didn’t tell him the whole truth.”

“I object, your honor!” shouted Gage, the opposing attorney.

Sophie turned to the judge to plead for understanding, but she found no compassion in that face, either. Instead she discovered the judge was yet another replica of Gage Jenkins.

With a fierce frown on his face, he called out in a booming voice, “Objection sustained. Continue the cross examination.”

The attorney leaned toward her suddenly, “Are you, or are you not, living with Bryce Hamilton?”

She leaned away from him, intimidated by his nearness. “I am.”

“Are you, or are you not, having an affair with said Bryce Hamilton?”

“No, I am not. He’s my brother!” she cried.

The attorney pointed to the clerk, who was another Gage Jenkins. “Make a note that the witness has committed incest with her brother.”

“But I haven’t had an affair with Bryce,” she insisted again, but the attorney didn’t appear to hear her protest.

“What do you plead to the two counts this court has against you, Ms. Keaton?” Gage the judge asked.

Alarmed, her gaze swung back to the judge. “What two counts am I charged with, your honor?”

“The first count is for lying under oath, and the second is for committing the crime of incest.”

She jumped to her feet. “But I’m innocent—I’m innocent!”

Gage the judge banged his gavel on the bench. “Order. Order in the court!”

Then he turned to the jury, each member a stern-faced Gage Jenkins. “The jury will read the verdict.”

“Wait your honor, I haven’t been given a chance to explain,” she said, desperate to gain his attention.

One of the Gage jurors stood and unfolded a piece of paper.

“After careful deliberation, the jury finds the defendant...” he paused, then stared at her, condemning her with his gaze, “Guilty!”

The word resonated throughout the courtroom.

“But you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said. I’m not guilty,” she cried. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the truth.”

The judge raised his gavel and brought it to a thundering crash against the wooden bench, once more. “Order. Order in the court!”

Tears welled in Sophie’s eyes.

The judge pounded the gavel once more. “The defendant has been found guilty, and may God have mercy on her soul. I hereby sentence her to life...without love.”

Sophie’s heart sank and a hollowness filled her soul. “No. Oh, please, have mercy. I’m innocent.” She woke from the dream crying, “I’m innocent.”

She sat in her bed, and realized with relief it had only been a dream. With the corner of the sheet, she dried her tears, checked her clock, and then lay back down to try to get a little more sleep before her alarm went off.

She fell immediately into another dream. She stood in formation at the armory, wearing the black dress, the black-framed glasses and her combat boots, having forgotten what uniform she was supposed to wear that day. The soldiers wore camouflage uniforms, and she felt conspicuously out of place and exposed.

Captain Jenkins was performing an inspection, and she waited for him to reach her, dreading the moment. He would surely recognize the dress and put the two pieces together to figure out who she was. Finally, he stepped in front of her and looked her up and down. Then, he walked in a circle around her, before coming to halt in front of her once more.

“You’re out of uniform, Lieutenant.” That said, he turned and marched away.

With a feeling of relief, she finally fell into a deep dreamless sleep, shattered only two hours later by the incessant beeping of her electric alarm clock.

With a groan, Sophie rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower. She stood under the showerhead for a long time, letting the warm streams of water soothe her ragged nerves. Her head hurt, and her muscles ached from a lack of sleep and the strenuous activities of the night before.

Feeling somewhat revived from her shower, she slipped into her black jogging shorts and Army T-shirt, the uniform for the physical training test that would be conducted first thing that morning. After plastering her curly hair with mousse, she pulled it back into the same tight knot from the previous day. With her heavy, black-framed glasses positioned on her nose, Sophie surveyed her image in the mirror.

Cujo leapt onto the counter beside her, nuzzled her hand for a scratch, and then glanced at the woman in the mirror. The hair rose on his back, and he hissed at the image, before flying off the counter and running out of the room.

“I agree, Cujo. I do look pretty hideous. But it’s worked so far.”

She surveyed her figure in the mirror and sighed. She worried about facing Gage without the lumpy green uniform covering her figure. If she could make it through the PT test undetected, she was home free.

“That’ll only happen if the man is blind.” Sophie shrugged and headed out the door. Avoidance wasn’t going to get her through the physical training test.

Fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel of her vehicle, she drove to the armory, again parking at the rear of the building. She checked with the first sergeant to see if the scorecards for the test were ready, and then joined the gaggle of men and women waiting in their shorts in front of the building. She waited as the first sergeant called the group into formation. When they were ready, he turned control over to her to begin the morning’s training. For better or worse, she was in charge and the center of attention.

---

Gage stood at the back of the formation as Lieutenant Keaton launched into a series of warm-up calisthenics and stretching exercises. He couldn’t help admiring her trim figure and the shapely legs her shorts exposed. She was small, but everything was in just the right place, and in just the right proportions. In fact, she had a similar figure to Sophie. He wondered if they were related.

At that moment, he realized he still didn’t know Sophie’s last name. He had assumed it was Hamilton, since she and Bryce were living together, but that wouldn’t be true, since they weren’t married. He’d made love to the woman twice and still didn’t know who the heck she was. He’d fix that as soon as he got home that evening. That, and a few other things.

Watching the lieutenant only reminded Gage more and more of Sophie. He recalled seeing Lieutenant Keaton’s first name on the roster. It was Cathy or Catherine or something. He’d have to remember to ask Sophie about her. As attractive as the lieutenant’s bodily attributes were, she sure didn’t hold a candle to Sophie. Poor thing, someone really ought to help her out. A few classes on how to do her hair and face would go a long way. Maybe with some contacts and lessons on how to walk gracefully would help, too. Then he grimaced. His thoughts were anything but professional. Her appearance shouldn’t matter.

When the warm-ups were complete, each person was handed a scorecard. There would be two groups to process through the test. The first group would perform the test event while the other would count the repetitions and mark the scorecards. When the first group finished, they would trade places and count repetitions and mark scorecards for the second group doing the same event.

“Okay, buddy up and decide who will be first,” Sophie instructed the soldiers.

There were only three events on the PT test—pushups, sit-ups, and a two-mile run. The first event was pushups.

Gage partnered with Sergeant Schott then chose a place close to Lieutenant Keaton so he could observe her closely. He told himself he was doing it just to evaluate her skills. But he noted there were five or six men already gathered around her.

One soldier called out, “Lieutenant Keaton, will you be my partner for the test?”

“No, she’s going to be my partner!” argued another.

“No way, man, I asked first,” said still another soldier, as they elbowed each other amiably out of the way.

Cutting them off before their banter escalated into real roughhousing, the lieutenant walked over to Private Johnson.

“I appreciate the offers, guys, but I already have a partner. Isn’t that right, Private Johnson?”

The young private looked up, eyes wide, and blushed. Recovering, he nodded then thought better of it and added enthusiastically, “Yes, ma’am!”

Gage was perplexed watching the entire performance. He guessed it was only natural for the men to gravitate toward her when there were so few women about, no matter how homely. Although, he had to admit she had great legs with small tight calves and firm thighs.

“First group take your positions for the pushups!” shouted the First Sergeant.

Soldiers, whether male or female, were required to do as many pushups as they could complete, without resting, in the two minutes allotted, a minimum number being required for a passing score.

Group one assumed a prone position, with only their hands and toes touching the ground, the length of their bodies perfectly aligned.

From his front-leaning-rest position, Gage stole a sideways glance at the lieutenant and noted her form was, well, better than good, and she held the position with seeming ease.

“Ready...set...go!” shouted the first sergeant, hitting the button on the stopwatch to time the event.

Gage had prepared for this event by lifting weights and doing pushups regularly at home. He was confident he was as ready as he would ever be for the test. Concentrating strictly on doing a good job, he pumped his arms quickly and steadily for the first twenty pushups, lowering and raising himself effortlessly. Having established a rhythm, he broke his concentration, without stopping, to glance to the side to see how the lieutenant fared.

Most of the women he knew in the Army found this to be their most difficult event. A woman’s anatomy was structured differently from a man, with a lower center of gravity and, generally, less upper body strength. But, neither one of the differences seemed to affect the lieutenant. She kept up with him, matching pushup for pushup for the first full minute. She slowed halfway through the second minute, her face flushed, and her arms shaking with the effort. But with a determined look on her face, she kept going until the First Sergeant called time, at which point, she collapsed to the ground.

Gage climbed to his feet and watched with concern as Lieutenant Keaton lay on the ground for a few moments longer. He was about to check on her when she rolled over and sat up, taking a moment to gather her strength to stand. Gage offered her a hand and hauled her to her feet.

“I’m impressed, Lieutenant. Most women I know couldn’t do more than the minimum number of pushups the Army requires.”

“Well I am not most women,” she retorted, taking the scorecards from Private Johnson as he assumed the prone position.

Gage grinned at her spunky retort, his original impression of the klutzy lieutenant taking a turn for the better.

Private Johnson, along with the second round of soldiers, completed their pushups in the two minutes. Gage marked Sergeant Schott’s card with the number he’d completed and handed the cards to him.

The sit-up event required the soldiers to do as many sit-ups as they could in two minutes, again with a minimum amount required to pass the test. One soldier performed the test while his partner counted the repetitions. The soldier had the option of having his partner hold his ankles to keep his feet firmly on the ground.

Lieutenant Keaton lay back on the grass with her knees up, and Gage quickly sat down beside her.

“Do you need me to hold your ankles, ma’am?” croaked the young private.

“Yes, please,” she responded.

The embarrassed Private crouched at her feet and tentatively grasped her ankles.

“You’re going to have to hold on tighter than that, Private Johnson,” she said, smiling to ease his discomfort at being in such an intimate position with his superior officer.

Captain Jenkins admired Lieutenant Keaton’s smooth, tight calves and trim ankles, feeling an unusual stab of jealousy that he was not the one holding them. He kept a close eye on Private Johnson to ensure he wasn’t looking up the lieutenant’s shorts instead of paying attention to counting.

When the first sergeant announced the start, Gage actually found it difficult to maintain Lieutenant Keaton’s pace. This was obviously an event at which she excelled. There was virtually little difference in the standards between men and women on this event, and the lieutenant was proof of why.

When time was called, she had eight more repetitions than he had. In the process of this event, her hair had loosened some from the knot she had at the back of her head. Some wavy tendrils wafted around her face, softening her features. Laying flat on his back, Gage watched as Lieutenant Keaton pushed the ugly glasses up her nose from where they had slipped during the test. He caught a glimpse of her eyes before the lenses distorted the shape and color. They were remarkably pretty. Too bad they were hidden behind those hideous glasses.

This time the lieutenant stood over him, waiting for him to catch his wind. She offered him a hand up with a cocky grin, and then clapped him on the back. “Good job, Captain.”

Gage smiled back sheepishly. He knew she had seen him watching, and she had surprised him.

“Group two, take your positions!” shouted the first sergeant.

Lieutenant Keaton kneeled in front of the private when he took his place on the ground. She grasped his ankles firmly, causing the young man to turn every shade of red in his embarrassment.

Gage hid his amusement.

The private determinedly averted his eyes from the lieutenant as he rose and fell with each sit-up until he completed the event. She released his ankles immediately, and he scrambled to his feet to move a safe distance away. Gage noted that she smothered a smile at the private’s obvious discomfort.

When all the pushups and sit-ups were tallied, he watched the lieutenant walk jauntily toward the group gathering at the starting line of the timed two-mile run. The scorecards were handed to the soldiers who would keep time for the event. The runners jockeyed for places at the front while they waited for the command to begin. The course was marked along the road that led away from the armory. They would run out a mile, and then turn around and run back a mile to complete the event. Gage chose a position next to Lieutenant Keaton.

“On your mark!”

The lieutenant looked down at his shoes where he stood beside her and then looked up into his face with a grin. “Captain, your shoe is untied.”

“Get set!”

Smiling, as he recognized this age-old ploy to gain an advantage in a race, he refused to look down. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of falling for it.

“Go!”

The clock started, and Lieutenant Keaton leapt out ahead of him. Gage, on the other hand, took only two steps before his feet snagged on something, sending him forward to the ground. He looked at his running shoes and discovered the culprit. One of his shoes had indeed been untied, and his pride had landed him in an embarrassing heap on the ground, losing time on an event he usually maxed.

“Impressive start, Captain,” said the first sergeant, with a grin.

Laughing at his own stupidity, he quickly tied his shoe, jumped to his feet and sprinted to catch up. He could see the lieutenant a good quarter of a mile ahead holding a steady pace. As he drew nearer, he admired the view. He was becoming obsessed with the woman’s attributes. There was something about the sway of her hips and the spring in her step.

Shrugging, he finally pulled up beside her. “Thanks for the warning, Lieutenant. Next time, I’ll listen.”

She waved an acknowledgment but kept her attention focused on the course in front of her.

He increased his pace and passed her, running a little faster than was comfortable for him, to make up for the time he had spent tying his shoe and admiring the lieutenant’s behind.

Turning around at the halfway point, he headed back the way he’d come, passing her as she was still working on the first lap. He stretched out into a sprint for the last half mile to the finish line, and then turned to go back to add his encouragement to others who struggled to finish.

In the distance, he could see that Lieutenant Keaton had already made the one-mile mark and was heading back. Glancing at his watch, he realized she was making good time. He was going to have to revise his opinion of females’ physical abilities. He was pleased to note several of the women were out-performing some of the men.

A few paces in front of the lieutenant an overweight man fell to his knees, clutching at his chest. Already walking in that direction, Gage broke into a trot, watching to see if the man recovered. For a moment, the man remained upright on his knees. Then he crumpled to the ground on his stomach.

Lieutenant Keaton reached him first, while Gage increased his stride to an all-out run, closing the distance between them.

He watched as Sophie grabbed the man’s shoulders, and rolled him over, shouting, “Sergeant Baker! Sergeant Baker! Talk to me.”

When he didn’t respond, she pressed her fingers to the jugular vein in his neck, checking to see whether or not he had a pulse. Looking up, she snagged the attention of another soldier and began issuing orders.

“Olson, get back to the armory and call 911, pronto. Tell them we have a possible heart attack victim. Get Top to call Baker’s wife. Move!”

Captain Jenkins arrived as Olson lit out at a dead run for the armory. Others were gathering around to see what was going on.

She looked up at him. “Gage, I’ll need your help.”

She’d called him Gage. Something about the urgency in her tone was too familiar. He pushed the thought aside and concentrated on Sergeant Baker.

“He’s stopped breathing, and I can’t find a pulse. You take the compressions, and I’ll administer mouth-to-mouth. Got it? Good!”

Pinching his nose to close off the airway, she placed her mouth over Sergeant Baker’s and forced her air into his lungs. She turned her head to watch for his chest to rise to ensure the technique was working, then turned back to blow into him again.

Gage found the man’s sternum and placed the heel of his hand three fingers up from that point. He placed his other hand on top and clasped the fingers of the one positioned on the man’s chest, and straightened his arms. Then leaning his body over his hands, he pressed sharply on the man’s chest. He did this five times, then paused for the lieutenant to force more air into his lungs. They repeated this process for the next fifteen minutes until the local Emergency Medical Service team arrived and took over.

When Gage’s heart returned to a normal pace, he realized just how tired he was. The stress of the last few minutes had sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins, but the aftermath was draining. He looked over at Lt Keaton, standing several feet away talking to the driver of the ambulance that had arrived shortly after the EMS truck. The knot at the nape of her neck had slipped loose leaving a long ponytail of wavy dark blond hair hanging down her back. Absently, she removed her black heavy-framed glasses from her nose and wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. She glanced his way and squinted. She caught him staring in her direction and hurriedly pushed them back onto her face.

Gage frowned, but his attention was distracted by a medical technician who wanted to ask him questions.

With the patient stabilized and loaded, the ambulance pulled away, leaving the remaining soldiers to continue with their training. When Gage turned to look for Lieutenant Keaton, she had disappeared.

Something wasn’t right, and he was only just beginning to figure it out.