“We’ll stop at home for a few minutes. Then I’ll drop you off at Kathy’s, okay?” Aunt Barb asked after a series of phone calls.
There was a brief silence after the word “home” fell off her tongue. She appeared to grip the steering wheel tighter for an instant before she spoke again. She probably hoped I didn’t catch on. “Kathy said a few of the kids were staying overnight at her house.” Aunt Barb looked at me briefly, and then turned back to staring at the road in front of us. “The rest are staying at cabins. Did you know that?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure she saw me.
“She said you could stay at her house. I understand Melissa will be there.” She changed lanes, and then continued. “I don’t mind. I mean, I’ll probably go into the office. I might work late. You know… having been gone a few days.”
“Yeah, okay. That would be great.” Wow. Did she just say I could stay overnight? Dad would have never offered that.
We rode for a few minutes in silence before Aunt Barb turned on the radio. A familiar beat filled the air and put me in a better mood. It was my favorite song. I wanted to turn it up, but I didn’t dare touch the control. Glancing over at my aunt, I noticed she was mouthing the words. When I started singing, she smiled. She turned up the volume, and we sang loudly. I had no idea Aunt Barb knew the words or liked my kind of music.
Maybe living with her wouldn’t be so bad.
The thought came and left quickly, leaving me with a layer of guilt. Was I betraying my dad? When Aunt Barb smiled again, I knew Dad would want it that way.
The ride to Westport went faster than I expected. Our conversation and singing off-key helped pass the time.
When we reached Aunt Barb’s house on Lake Bell, I let Chester out of the SUV. Back home, he knew the boundaries of our yard and didn’t venture outside of them. I wasn’t thinking when I let him loose in new surroundings.
Chester ran nose to the ground around the side of the house and out of sight before I could get his name off my lips. “Chester!” I took off in pursuit. He was never a bad dog, just adventurous. By the time I caught up with him on the lakeside of the house, he finished his job and ran to the patio door at the lower level. Aunt Barb must have heard me because she was already opening the door for both of us to come in.
Inside, Chester was just as nosy. He went from room to room, though Aunt Barb didn’t seem to mind. “He’ll settle down. He’s just curious,” she said when I tried calling him back. It wasn’t the first time he’d been at her house. We brought him every visit. I just never paid attention to what he did, before.
Aunt Barb’s house looked the same as it did the last time I was there. Except that this time, things were different. “Put your suitcase upstairs,” she said while she flipped through the mail on the granite kitchen counter.
“Okay.”
I put my bag on the floor between the side-by-side guest rooms. After Mom died, Aunt Barb painted both rooms and replaced the furniture in the one where Dad slept. She didn’t want him to be overwhelmed with memories of Mom was what she told me when I asked why. Dad’s room on the right was painted a textured denim shade that resembled the weaves in his favorite worn-out jeans. The wooden-framed bed was replaced with a black, wrought-iron headboard and dressed with fluffy, white bedding and sheer curtains that blew with the breeze.
By comparison, the room we called mine had lavender walls and bedding with delicate purple and blue flowers that Mom used to call Laura Ashley. It took me a long time to realize that was the name of the bedding, and not the room’s name. After Mom died, I wouldn’t let Aunt Barb replace the comforter. Mom liked it too much.
I sat on the floor between the doors and drew my knees up to my chest. The Laura Ashley room seemed suddenly juvenile or old lady-like. Add a lace doily and I’d be in a grandma’s house. I almost laughed aloud with the thought.
Dad’s room was crisp and clean. I used to climb in his bed before the sun came up on mornings we stayed here. He’d tell me to go to sleep, and then roll over, facing away from me. A few minutes later, I would hear his gentle snore and knew I could put the television on low. The massive, black armoire housed more than just a few drawers for his clothes. Aunt Barb placed a TV in it for nights Dad couldn’t sleep. I overheard her tell him. Sometimes, I would hear muffled laughter and guessed he was watching some talk show well after the house was dark and quiet. That was right after Mom died, and I figured he was lonely without her.
I walked into Dad’s room and ran my hand along the thick wood trim of the armoire. It was heavy and masculine, yet full of details in its trim with dents and scratch marks that made it looked loved. I pulled open a drawer, checking what was inside. There, beside a clean set of sheets, was a dark gray t-shirt. I touched it gently, as if it would break. Tips of letters in navy-blue ink peeked from around the fold. I didn’t need to open it to know. The words read Just Do It. Dad wore it with swim trunks almost every time we visited. It was his favorite shirt. He had it for years. The band on the neck was frayed and the letters were starting to fade, but he didn’t care. I suggested he get a new one. He didn’t listen. He probably didn’t realize he left it behind.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone.
“I’m running to the Inn for a minute,” Aunt Barb called from the stairs. “I’ll be right back. Will you be ready?”
Her voice snapped me back to reality, and I quickly shut the drawer. “Yeah… yeah, sure,” I answered, stepping back into the hall. “Aunt Barb?”
“Yes?”
“I want to stay in my dad’s old room. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine, honey. That’s completely fine.”
I fought back tears, as Aunt Barb gave me a hug.
Chapter 17
Ben's Story
My phone hummed on the counter in a low pitch no human could hear.
I glanced in its direction and tilted my head. A transparent hologram appeared, hovering over the island in the gourmet kitchen where I sat.
“Good morning, Commander,” I said out of respect, and then sipped my morning coffee. I glanced at the time on the microwave. 8:42.
Benjamin. I heard a voice in my head and saw the dark-skinned man nod in the hologram image above me. Ezekiel Cain was smoking a pipe. His feet were propped up on a mahogany desk with a wall of shelves behind him. The room didn’t look familiar to me. “I trust you’ve settled well and are fully prepared for today.” His spoken voice was deep. Freshly polished auburn-tanned shoes reflected the light from his desk lamp.
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“Cut the protocol. It’s me,” the commander said. His casual, relaxed tone didn’t fit with his formal white suit with black pinstripes. He was an odd character to say the least, always in disguise, changing appearances regularly because he could. He preferred generational periods, reflecting on past eras and lives he lived or visited. “Are you ready?” His voice turned from rigid military tone to friendship. He was a century older than I was, if not more, though he rarely spoke of age.
“Yes, I am.” I nodded, glancing up at him, my nerves a bit on edge. “I’ve been briefed… staff’s in place. I’m ready.”
“Well, you’ve had time to monitor and train. I suppose the soccer camp was nothing compared to The Farm.” Commander E, as he was called by his direct reports, chuckled. His mind filled with combat exercises I endured under his training program, and then turned to images of me in a soccer uniform. He had a subtle way of pushing recruits to be the best agent they could be. Not everyone succeeded, but everyone respected him. A few called him the agency’s filter because he weeded out those incapable of handling difficult situations.
I laughed. “No, nothing by comparison!” Even though he was known as one of the toughest officers The Farm ever had, he was like family to me.
“Seriously, seventy years is a long time, Ben.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry you were on assignment when Elizabeth surfaced.” Commander E??
?s eyes looked droopy, as if the topic aged him twenty years. “Off the record?”
I nodded.
“I was torn about pulling you. I knew how much she meant to you. The officer in me couldn’t do it. You were making such progress in your mission… more than any other operative was. I couldn’t jeopardize that.”
“You did the right thing.” I could read his thoughts, and I knew he was sincere. It wasn’t often that Commander E released his shield. When he did, his genuine personality was exposed. “Elizabeth had to finish her contract, and she agreed to take on a new life immediately following her conditioning.” Her new life as Emma Bennett. “I saw her file.” It was filled with video clips and short briefs. The images burned in my mind. I had no idea the suffering she endured during her remaining years without me. It was no wonder she took her own life when she did and transitioned much earlier than scheduled.
There was a short pause. I saw images of Elizabeth in Commander E’s mind while she prepared for departure to this earthly world. She looked timid, her eyes sunken. Not like the Elizabeth I knew, the fun-loving, spunky girl that captured my heart back in 1931. Then again, she just finished years of counseling, part of her rehabilitation between lives, and was headed out to a troubled contract already outlined for her. She knew what she was getting into. She knew ahead of time that she’d be orphaned.
She just didn’t remember that now.
“You’re a good agent. One I want to get back on assignment as soon as possible.” Commander E flashed a grin and I felt the shield fall back into place, camouflaging his thoughts.
I nodded. Not too soon, I hope.
“I promised a year or two, Ben. Nothing more. There’s something brewing out west. The forecast looks like a recon squad will be issued in about eight to ten months. Probably need an operative undercover soon after that.”
I was silent. I knew my time was limited, but I didn’t like hearing the deadline before the project began. Couldn’t another operative go?
“And, Benjamin? One more thing. Don’t use compulsion unnecessarily again.”
Damn. I thought I got away with it.
“I’ll overlook it this time. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Make the most of your time with Emma,” Commander E replied. “You’ll be there for her through this aftermath. Then you move on and let her finish her life. I’m counting on you for this next job. I’ve got SOs in place. They’d make a good team for you.” A female voice in the background distracted him. I watched him motion his hands to someone out of sight, then direct his attention back to me. “Take advantage of your time.”
I knew he wouldn’t share more on the topic, so I dropped it. “Where are you exactly?” I asked, realizing the time and hearing music in his background.
“I’m out west.”
I raised an eyebrow. Commander E was always secretive with his agents, though more open with me.
His shield lowered again. “I’m in Honolulu.”
I glanced at the time, less than fifteen minutes passed since he called. “That’s about what? Four in the morning by you?” To say Commander E was social was an understatement. He was known to party all night. He’d tip a few back and enjoy the company of a lady, or then again, sometimes several ladies. They were all human, and he was not. Back then, a few guys talked about less-than-complimentary actions. Rumors flew about relationships he had that were kept under the radar. In the end, it didn’t matter. No one got hurt.
A scantily dressed brunette carrying an open bottle of champagne sat on Commander E’s desk in the hologram above me. Her high-pitched voice whined, “Aren’t you done working yet? I’ve been waiting for you!”
Commander E cleared his throat and nodded in my direction, though the sudden tilt was over before her human eyes could register the movement. He wished me well, shielded his thoughts, and shut down the link. The hologram hovering in my kitchen vanished in an instant with a sound only my immortal ears could hear.
Before he shielded me, I read his thoughts. He was encouraging me to cross that invisible barrier between professional and personal. Other agents crossed it. I knew that. Molly did it all the time and never thought twice about it. I used to tease her about her love-‘em-and-leave-‘em attitude. But, she was right—no one got hurt. Everyone moved on.
I didn’t know if I could do that to Emma.
Knowing our time together would be limited meant potential heartbreak for both of us if I let her back into my heart.
Chapter 18
Emma's Story
My palms were sweaty when Mrs. Warner opened the door.
Aunt Barb stood by my side with an armful of things I’d normally be embarrassed to bring. She loaded up a wicker basket filled with a casserole the Inn prepared, a couple loaves of French bread, some cheeses, and a bottle of Mrs. Warner’s favorite wine.
I never met Mr. or Mrs. Warner before, but they welcomed me like I did.
“I didn’t know you were related to Barb Carmichael. She’s really cool,” Lewis said after my aunt offered up Jet Skis from the Inn, for the day. Lewis led me outside to where our classmates congregated.
For a single second, I felt proud.
But when a guy I barely knew stopped talking mid-sentence to look at me, I realized I was that girl, the orphaned girl that left school abruptly a few days earlier.
Lewis didn’t seem to notice the silent stares I got, as he leaned over the deck railing in search of Melissa. Flagstone paths led past a volleyball court and wrapped around a fire pit. Mature trees and picture-perfect flowerbeds scattered the meticulously landscaped yard.
“She must be in the boathouse,” Lewis said.
I followed him down the stairs to the path. We were still a distance away when I saw Matt. He had his back to me and, suddenly, I found myself nervous to see him.
A football player at the table with Matt crushed a can in his fist. Frank was the type of guy that didn’t care what people thought of him. He partied a lot, told obnoxious jokes, and made a scene, all for fun. Aimee laughed at whatever was said, throwing her head to the side in an overdramatic motion. Melissa and I labeled it her signature move. The way she tilted her head was annoying, like time stood still and the spotlight was all on her.
The uncomfortable feeling I had earlier swept over me when Aimee leaned across the table and touched Matt’s arm.
Was she flirting with my boyfriend?
Omigod. What was going to happen after I moved?
Thoughts swirled in my head, and all I wanted to do was leave. I had to look away. I didn’t want to see if Matt flirted back. I focused on the boathouse and searched for Melissa. When I finally got the courage to glance at Matt again, he was no longer sitting with Aimee. Instead, he was on the pier talking to a blond-haired guy on a Jet Ski.
By the time Lewis and I reached the lakeside patio, Melissa saw me. She screamed my name and ran to greet me in a strong-gripped hug. Frank did the same, repeating the same words I’d heard for days, the words that triggered the resurface of tears—I’m sorry.
Melissa asked one question after another. When did you get here? How long can you stay? Did you hear about the island party? She rattled them off faster than I could answer, not to mention she barely took a breath.
When she finally paused, I told her I could stay overnight.
“Oh, I’m so happy.” She gave me another tight hug.
I lost track of where Matt was and if Aimee was watching him. Before I could worry about it, Lewis suggested we pick up the Jet Skis from the Inn.
Matt was untying the ropes at the bow of boat when we reached the pier. He didn’t notice Melissa or realize I was there. He stood and turned into me.
“Hey!” His tone was low, and I realized I startled him.
“Hi,” I said. The nervous feeling I had before went away when our eyes met.
I stepped into the boat, and Lewis started the engine. The gentle chug as it came to life and the s
ound of bubbling water made me feel at ease. The familiar scent of exhaust and mildew calmed me. I was suddenly content. I felt at home.
Lewis slowly backed away from the pier. The sun was hot on my skin. I took off my cover-up and settled into the bench seat at the back of the boat. Melissa sat in the bucket seat next to Lewis. The water glistened in the sunlight off in the distance, until a boat’s wake disturbed it. I was me again, out on the lake. All those happy memories of my parents and summers at the Inn came flooding back. I was in my own little world when Lewis increased the speed in the open waters. After Matt stored the ropes in pockets on the inside of the boat, he sat down beside me.
He reached for my hand and smiled.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered in my ear.
“Me, too.”
I wanted things to be the same, but deep down, I knew everything between us was different. When I looked into his eyes, I could tell he felt it, too. We were silent most of the ten-minute ride to the Carmichael Inn. Matt held my hand, his thumb rubbing gently on my finger. I guessed he didn’t know what to say any more than I did.
We rounded the point across from the island, and the Inn came into view.
“That’s my aunt’s house,” I said to Matt, pointing to a row of similar houses with matching siding and trim.
“Which one?”
“Third from the left,” I proudly answered. “All the houses are part of the Inn. Most are rentals. Except my aunt’s.”
When we neared the harbor, Lewis reduced the boat’s speed and Matt let go of my hand.
“Is Melissa taking a Jet Ski back with you?” Matt asked. His eyes were somber, and I guessed knowing I was moving was just as hard on him as it was on me.
“Can you come with me?”
When he nodded, his eyes seemed to smile. He began pulling out the boat’s ropes and prepared to dock.
The marina at the Inn was a friendly sight. Colorful shops lined the shoreline. Piers jutted into the water from a whitewashed boardwalk. There were enough slips to moor a couple of dozen boats at a time, and usually they were filled. The Carmichael Inn had great food, from the five-star restaurant to the Sports Pub ‘N Grill to the small stands on the beach that served Chicago-style hot dogs and deep-dish pizza slices.