He collapsed from my grasp and landed in a heap just on the other side of the creek.
"We can't stop now. I want pancakes, and bacon and fresh squeezed orange juice." I dropped to my knees beside him and wiped the soaked hair from his eyes. He really did have beautiful eyes and right then, they looked relieved and almost happy.
"We made it," he groaned and laid back into a puddle. The drops of rain relentlessly pelted down from the sky and I could see them hit his elated face one at a time. It seemed that everything slowed to slow motion and suddenly I was really…sad.
I heard the familiar whooping sound of a chopper just a couple of minutes after I realized that I was sad. And then suddenly I wasn't. I was so friggin' happy that I pulled Bella into my arms and jumped up and down as if I was at an N'Sync concert. "Oh my God," I cried into her hair. "We're going home."
She laughed and told me that she loved me and we hugged and hugged and looked up to see a big black burly ooking helicopter land in the clearing up ahead. Four soldiers with big guns jumped out and secured the area, and then two medics jumped out and helped Bella into the chopper, followed by Armand, Ryan and finally myself.
"Nice to see you again, sir," one of the soldiers yelled over the noise, and saluted Ryan. Ryan saluted the young man, smiled and leaned back in his seat. His eyes closed before we even lifted off and I was disturbingly sad again.
I sat back and held Bella in my arms as we lifted off the African soil. I closed my eyes at that point and trusted that God would not let us die in a helicopter accident after all we had been through.
***
What seemed like an eternity later, we set down on an aircraft carrier in the dead of night in a torrential downpour that didn't seem like it would ever end.
I kept Bella close as they helped us from the chopper. I saw some people brusquely shuffle Armand behind closed doors. I saw Ryan receiving the medical attention that he desperately needed, but I didn't see any pancakes or bacon. and damn if that didn't piss me off.
A uniformed officer introduced himself as a liaison and took Bella and me to a private area where we waited for directions as to what to do next. It wasn't my first time on an aircraft carrier, so I wasn't quite as awestruck as Bella was.
"I really need to call her father," I said to the MP who was guarding our stuffy room. It was a tiny cabin with two bunks and I don't know what or who they were guarding us from, but I wasn't getting any answers and I needed to use the phone. "Hey," I yelled again, but no one responded. Then, I just felt ignored and imprisoned to boot.
Bella was already asleep, curled up on a cot after devouring the sandwich they had brought her. I finished mine in four seconds flat and then pounded on the door again.
"Where's Ryan? I want to speak to Ryan."
A few minutes later, after I had given up on speaking to anyone with a pulse, a different uniformed officer entered our tiny room and stood at ease in front of me.
"Can I get a phone call?" I asked snootily, and played the deranged tourist card. "Can I call her father and call off the search party please?"
"You will be taken to Athens in the morning, just hold tight."
"Can I at least talk to Ryan?" I wanted Ryan. I wanted him to tell me that he was going to miss me. I wanted to see his face one more time.
The officer cocked a brow in confusion.
"Ryan McNeil, the man who came in with us. You know…don't you?"
Maybe he didn't know. Perhaps Ryan McNeil was just a figment of my imagination, so to speak. It was entirely possible that he was a spook, or just a friend I made up because I was so lonely. Perhaps, I have schizophrenia and I contrived him out of thin air like in that "Beautiful Mind" movie.
So, I was delirious and I then saw that there was more to life than movies. "Do. You. Know. Who. I. Am. Talking. About?" I asked my question clearly, so there was no mistaking what I was saying.
"Miss, I understand you have just spent a couple of hectic days away from home, but I don't appreciate your condescending tone."
A couple of hectic days away from home, huh, is that what just happened to me? I don't fucking think so. I reined in my anger before it got the best of me and got me thrown into a four-by-six room with a cellmate named Bertha.
Tears steadily streamed down my cheek and I nodded and gave up my battle. I was too damned exhausted.
I curled up on my cot and let it all out. I cried and cried until my tear ducts were dry and I could no longer breathe through my nose. I slept soundly for being in a windowless room with no fresh air. I was afraid to open my eyes in the morning because I was afraid that I was dreaming.
A knock on the door woke me before Bella opened her eyes.
"Miss, I have orders to take you and the girl to Athens now."
I wiped my eyes and could tell that they were mighty puffy that morning. "Can I call her father?"
"Not from here, Miss. You'll have to wait until you reach the mainland."
"Protocol smotocol, I just want to tell the poor man that his daughter is safe."
I don't think he appreciated my tone either. He groaned and left me alone, for the time being anyway. He came back with two more officers. I guess I was too much of a woman for him to handle alone.
I nudged Bella with my arm and woke her up gently so the three strange men standing in the doorway wouldn't frighten her.
"Can I at least see Ryan before we leave?"
"Ryan, ma'am?"
Why were they all so hell-bent on making me feel as if I were going insane?
"Okay, alright then, can I say goodbye to Prince Armand?"
Both sets of eyes darted from me to each other and back to me again.
The navy has a horrible way of showing hospitality to heroes at large. Then again, they had no idea that I was a hero. Wow, that's the first time that I had ever thought of myself that way, but I was. Cool.
I forced a smile. "I'm not leaving unless you let me see Ryan and Armand." I did my best at standing my ground and crossed my arms triumphantly in front of my chest. My clothes were filthy. That's weird; they didn't seem all that dirty in Africa.
Both men grunted and left the room. I was then escorted to the main deck by a young man who couldn’t keep his eyes off Bella's behind.
"She's twelve," I said spitefully, and placed a proprietary arm around the young girl's shoulder. "Pervert," I said under my breath, then turned the corner and met a very stern-looking man who did a wonderful imitation of my father.
"Look, I just want to say goodbye to Ryan and Armand before we go. He did save our lives after all."
The man said nothing and continued staring at me. He nodded to another man who escorted Bella from the room. I took a seat because the man asked me to and for once, I was doing what I had been told to do. No need for me to make a stink aboard an aircraft carrier that housed more soldiers then I could count.
"Charlie, is it?" He pushed a plate of muffins at me and poured me some coffee.
That coffee was the best coffee I had ever tasted. The muffin needed some work, but the coffee was heavenly. I sipped it slowly and appreciated every drop. "Armand sends his thanks and good wishes. He's already…well let's just say, he's safe now."
I got it. I was no longer privy to any information because I was a civilian and a woman.
I still need to work on that giant chip on my shoulder, don't I? "And Ryan?" I asked.
His eyes narrowed. "I'm not quite sure who you mean."
I slammed both my hands down on the table at that point and stood up in an aggressive manner. "The man that we were brought in with, you know… Secret Agent Man."
His head tipped back when he laughed. "Oh, him."
"Yeah, him, can I please talk to him?" I begged at that point.
"He's also…well--safe."
I let out an exasperated breath and choked back my tears. Ryan was gone, just like that, no, ‘Thanks again, Charlie, for saving my ass.’ No, “See you around,” no big hug goodbye. Hell, not even a, ‘Have
a nice life.’
"I guess we can go then."
"We have a liaison waiting for you in Athens. She'll take you to the embassy, where you can get cleaned up and make your phone calls."
"Thanks." I extended my hand, because it was the nice thing to do. "Thanks for coming to get us."
"It was our pleasure." He smiled and then winked. "Thanks for saving…his life."
So, Ryan wasn't his real name. I got it. I still felt sad, but I was glad to be going back in civilization.
I hoped they had good pancakes in Greece.
Bella and I had once or twice played a little game about turning our misfortunes into Hollywood box office hits and if my life were, in fact, a movie on the big screen, then the following might have happened.
One—the soldiers aboard the aircraft carrier would have lifted me onto their shoulders and paraded me around because I had helped save the day. It would have looked something like the end of "Top Gun" when Maverick and Iceman reunited with Hollywood and Wolfman and did that male bonding backslapping and all that.
Two—Steven Segal would have made me a big plate of pancakes and pepper bacon and most likely would have squeezed me some fresh orange juice using his biceps and forearms as the juicing-vice.
Three—Ryan would have run out onto the platform just as I was about to board the chopper, screaming my name. I would have turned in a dramatic way, not hearing my name over the whooping of the chopper blades, but rather sensing that he was coming for me. Once I reached his arms, the kiss would have been long and hard, demanding, yet tender. My knees would have buckled, I would've cried against his cheek and told him how much I wanted him…yada, yada, yada.
I can tell you this. None of those things happened. I extended my arm to the soldier who was helping me into the chopper and I turned just one last time to see if perhaps my luck had changed. I sighed deeply and turned back around, stepped up into the chopper and held Bella's hand all the way to Greece. The Mediterranean Sea looked amazing from high in the air. It felt as if we were only in the air ten minutes before we landed. I guess I was more excited than I thought.
***
The liaison's name was Brianna Stephanopoulis. How nice. She was gorgeous and very well put together. I, on the other hand, had just spent a week in Africa without tampons, mascara or a mirror. I was quite frightened about how bad I must have looked, and made sure that I avoided all mirrors in the town car, all windows that might have reflected my horrific image and I tried not to look directly into anyone's mirrored sunglasses. The drive to the embassy only took twenty minutes. We were asked many questions. My bag was taken from me and again, I felt I got the short end of the stick. So, what else is new?
***
I literally shrieked aloud when I finally looked in the mirror once we reached the embassy. Bella collapsed onto the bed and grabbed the phone.
"She said we needed to talk to the ambassador before we got to make any calls." I warned, and stripped down to my bare naked, dirty, grimy birthday suit. Man, the dirt that came off my body and out of my cracks was disturbing. Bella shouted every once in awhile that I was taking too long, but I didn't care. I still had dirt behind my ears, between my toes and ground so far down under my nail beds that it would take a backhoe to dig it all out. "Ahhh," I stood under the water so long I looked wrinkled beyond recognition.
A nice elderly woman, who reminded me of my grandma Sara, took our dirty clothes in exchange for robes, and if I had any other clothes to wear I would have told her to burn them, but I didn't. Besides, the jeans belonged to Secret Agent Man and they were the only shred of physical proof that what happened actually happened.
Wrapped in a towel, I sank down on the bed next to Bella who had just flipped on the TV. Teenagers do have priorities after all. She flipped the channels quickly, but something caught my eye. "Go back," I shouted and stood up in front of the TV. I had already chewed my nails down to the nub, but I managed to bite off a chunk to chew on. Bella found the station I wanted and turned it up when she saw her father's picture in the corner behind the newscaster. We both leaned toward the TV with wide eyes and listened to the blonde news commentator as she went on.
"All of Hollywood is still shook up by news of the death the daughter of action-film-star Roald Munson and his estranged wife, Nicole Harrison. A spokesperson for Munson says he is not taking any questions at this time, and would like to thank everyone for their thoughts and prayers. No word yet on how the charter plane went down in central Rwanda and there has been no comment from Nicole Harrison at this time."
We both looked at each other with wide eyes and dropped jaws. Bella burst into tears, but I remained okay. I just prayed that my parents hadn't been notified. Surely, no one would have thought to call them. I was positive that Roald was too busy mourning his daughter to make that phone call.
Shit, shit, shit. I let the tears roll down my cheeks, because I had sent that letter. What if my parents learned of my death and then read that letter? Ohhhh, I couldn't imagine how they must have felt, receiving a letter like that from the grave, no less.
"Calm down." I finally had to pull back from Bella because she sounded hysterical. "You aren't dead. You're alive and your mom and dad are going to be so happy to hear from you."
She looked up at me with tear-stained cheeks. "I want my dad."
"Me, too," I said. "Me, too."
***
We finished our debriefing with a couple of ambassadors, a French guy with bad teeth and a couple of men in uniform. I wasn't sure what to tell them and what not to tell them so I kept certain things to myself; like the fact that I killed some people.
One of the men was American, Air Force by the looks of his uniform. I pulled him aside when we broke for coffee.
"What do you know about Prince Armand?"
He looked at me as if I were speaking in code. "Miss Ford, we should be concentrating on reuniting you with your families, not with tall tales about Armand."
I got the distinct feeling that either he didn't believe a word I said, or it was so hush, hush that he might have to hire someone to rub me out because I knew too much.
I prefer my first theory.
When they finally gave us permission to make our phone calls, I dialed my father's number from the private office that they let me use and I got my dad on the fourth ring.
"Dad," I cried into the phone and began weeping uncontrollably. "It's so good to hear your voice."
"Did you get fired again?" he asked.
Evidently, he hadn't heard of my mysterious death and even more clearly, he hadn't received my letter. I don't know how long it actually takes airmail to reach Oregon from Africa, but it made sense that it takes longer than a week.
"No," I laughed and wiped my tears. "How is everyone?"
So, he probably thought I was having a breakdown of sorts, because I was asking all sorts of questions about Dave and Josh and their kids and I never do that. I went on and on and then told him that he had mail coming and if he would please take the time to read it without interruptions I would really appreciate it and then I asked to talk to my mom, but she was out. She's always out, good for her. The woman knows how to live.
I hung up completely satisfied and elated that news of my fiasco hadn't reached Bend, Oregon, yet.
Bella ran into the room a minute later, crying and screeching at the top of her lungs.
"He hung up on me."
"Who did?" I asked, clearly angered and confused.
"Thomas!"
"Thomas? Who's Thomas?"
"He's my dad's personal assistant. My dad never answers his own phone, he has people to do that and he…hung up…on meeee." Her sobs were long-winded and drawn out.
"What did you say to him?"
"I said, 'Hi, Thomas, can I speak to my dad?'" she moaned breathlessly. "And then he screamed at me that it wasn't funny and I shouldn't call again."
I couldn't help the laugh. I knew it was insensitive, but I should have insisted that I make that
phone call. After all, the man thought she was dead. He most likely figured it was a horrible, distasteful hoax.
"I'll call him. What's his number?"
I dialed and when Thomas finally answered, I flubbed my words a bit, and then blurted out that Bella was alive. That we were in Greece and please don't hang up.
He hung up.
We tried the number for her mother's assistant next.
"Hello, I'm calling from Athens, Greece, to let you know that Annabelle and her nanny are both alive and well, and she really wishes to speak to Nicole."
Click.
"We aren't doing too hot here, are we?" I shrugged my shoulders and then we both burst into laughter because it was so absurd. Then we calmed down, sucked down a couple of Italian sodas and put our heads together.
"We should just call the police in Greenwich, have them go to my dad's house and make him listen."
"Good plan, but is your dad in Greenwich?"
"Why wouldn't he be?"
I scratched my chin and I think I unearthed more dirt. I needed another shower. "I bet he's with your mom."
"Really?" She looked elated.
I'm a big boob. I just got her hopes up that her parents were reconciling when I just meant that they were probably together to plan her funeral, Big Boob. "Okay, so we need to find out where they are?"
Where the hell was Secret Agent Man when I needed him most?
"Gregory," I said as I snapped my fingers.
I called the house and got the machine. Probably not a good idea to leave such news on an answering machine, I coughed a couple of times and hung up.
"Your mom's house?"
She rattled off the number and I dialed and got a voice mail for Braden Booker and his slut of the week, which was Nicole Harrison. Sheesh, I had daggers for that woman and I had never even met her. I'm a tad on the judgmental side, especially now that I absolutely adore Annabelle.
Again, I didn't feel the urge to leave such a message on
Braden's machine.
I thought this would be so easy. I thought we would get home, take a shower, have some pancakes and go to the mall. I was so damn wrong.