I looked up from the collection of reports on my desk. Sally stood uncertain and apologetic in the doorway of my office holding a large soft package. I set down the report and motioned her in, remembering again the information Marshal gave about Sally's brush with death. Sally never brought it up. Never used it to gain respect or sympathy. Never. I motioned to the chair across from my desk, but she shook her head with a softly spoken "That's okay. I just needed to deliver this" and presented me the package.
I stared down at the address. Marshal. I vaguely heard Sally leave as I slowly opened the package. What fell out onto my desk were a collection of letters and a card. My throat tightened. I slowly reached out to pick up the card. Two pictures were affixed inside, one beneath the other. The first was the disastrous happening at the picnic when Marshal tripped over the camera. I smirked, remembering again the laughter and his ridiculous position. The ambrosia salad all over his face.
I gently touched the picture as I flipped it up to reveal the other. My eyes burned. The two of us within the cave. His hands on my shoulders; one of mine covering his. Even then I had felt the difference in the touch. Yes, it had been hard to accept, but it had been safe. I absently rubbed my fingers together. I could still feel that warmth. Even after almost two weeks.
I cleared my throat and looked to the right side of the card. 'Here's to happy memories' had been inscribed there. My face relaxed into a smile.
The sound of my door clicking shut drew my attention--My smile vanished and I blinked.
Marshal stood there in black jeans and a gray t-shirt. "Hey, chicklit," he greeted softly.
"Marshal," I returned, and the calmness of my voice surprised me. Especially considering the memories that burned my brain. Those blessed memories that saved me from a nightmare.
He stepped forward and sat in one of the chairs opposite my desk.
My fingers tightened on the card as I held that silver gaze. I still didn't know what to do. It seemed so long since I was the young woman who fancied herself in love with this young man.
"You're really pretty when you smile."
A memory rose from the rest. A young man with a tickle for a kiss who made me laugh. Who made me feel safe. Who said 'You're really pretty when you smile' and made me believe it.
Marshal held my gaze as he rubbed his hands together. "Ahndra, can we keep going from here?"
I swallowed hard. Having him there in my office. . . seeing him again after two weeks of. . . . "What?"
"I liked what we had. As kids. Then on this mission." Marshal stood and moved to crouch beside me. "Ana, I don't want to lose you again. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
I stared down at him, remembering so many things. Feeling more. "For weeks and months I. . . .”
Marshal slightly nodded as he lowered his gaze.
“That's why I enrolled,” I pressed, and the vague sound of desperation drew his gaze back. “I thought I--I thought you. . . ." My voice choked off and I lowered my gaze.
He altered his position and drew me tight against him. "I didn't know," he said gruffly. “I’d have come if I’d known. I swear.”
I wrapped my arms around Marshal's neck as I pressed my body against his warmth. He pulled gently back, brushing the hair from my face to tenderly remove the eye patch.
Then he pressed his lips against the scarring. "I'm so sorry, Ana." He kissed my scarred eye again and then drew back. I met his gaze. "You just tell me what you need. I'll do it. I swear."
I looked into those silver-charcoal eyes and got lost in the memories of a fourteen-year-old in love. "Don't leave me alone."
Marshal drew me tight against him, kissing my eye and my cheek. His heartbeat. His breath. His warmth so close and burning through me. Then he was caressing my cheek with his lips before placing a tender yet intense one on my mouth. My entire body shivered with the touch as my hands stroked the thick softness of his hair. and then he was whispering my name against my mouth.
I was a woman of few words, and Marshal knew them all.