Chapter 10
Many weeks passed and Sherelle heard nothing from Lennie. As she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she made up excuses for him. Maybe he had to work late, she thought. Or perhaps he switched jobs and moved away. But why hadn’t he phoned? How could he? He didn’t have her number.
What she saw of other courtships, men had a way of using whatever resources available to win a woman’s heart. Why hadn’t Lennie done the same? Sherelle rolled over, punched the pillow a few times then shoved it under her head. Maybe he wasn’t interested in her after all. Perhaps he had another date.
She tried to exert more time and energy into various managerial duties at The Nation’s News. Nothing helped. On numerous occasions, ladies at the office boasted about their pursuit of men with potential. Though Sherelle thought most went too far with their chase, she considered the idea. When images of her parents flashed before her eyes, Sherelle buried her face in the pillow. Her mother would frown at such behavior. The first thing her dad would ask: “How old is this fella?”
Frustrated by her lack of dating experience, Sherelle stared at flickers of light reflecting off an adjacent building. Late October winds rattled the windowpane. She pulled the covers to her chin and tried to reason that a relationship with Lennie didn’t seem practical. The negative side—it’d take too much time and energy and conflict with her job. Did a positive side exist? Sherelle shook her head. “What am I thinking? This will never work. I’ve got to stay focused.”
Next time she had a chance to talk to Randall Osborne, she would bring up the managing editor's position and express interest in it. Though The Nation’s News planned to solicit outside applicants, Sherelle didn’t care. Fighting for that position seemed easier than strapped with the onerous task to court a man. Anything proved easier than that.
But as she drifted into a deep sleep, in her dreams, she struggled to keep Major Laurence Williams alive. In the end, a soldier’s dark stare indicated Major Williams had died. Shivering from cold and rain, blood dripped from her hands. Sherelle woke from the dreadful dream and bolted up, her chest heaving, her eyes searching the dark for comfort.
###
Lennie lay in his hotel bed with hands pleated behind his head. He’d leave for Arizona tomorrow for another seminar. He didn’t want to go. He’d rather take Sherelle out on a date, maybe cook for her, take her sightseeing or to a movie. One thing was certain—he didn’t want a mere friendship, or hear another word about being acquaintances. He had a mind to hop a plane and return to D.C., tonight. Lennie scoured through his vocabulary for words he would use as an excuse to knock on her door. No matter how kind or apologetic the words rolled off his tongue, he knew she would send him away.
At some point, he had to step out on faith and do something. Soon. Or, God forbid, someone might seize the opportunity.
His first day into a second seminar, Lennie’s attention waned. The three-month mock military exercise bored him. He could teach this class with his eyes closed if they would let him. He would make it more interesting and less time consuming, too. In times like these, he yearned to fly. He made tiny paper airplanes instead.
Several times while taking notes, he scrawled Sherelle’s name on a separate piece of paper. He searched for the best way to describe her then wrote the descriptions next to her name. Regal. August. Charming. Sensitive. Sophisticated. Lovely. What made her lovely? Lennie closed his eyes for a moment then wrote the first thing that came to mind: “Innocence. Pure unadulterated innocence.”
Lennie gathered his things, left the seminar, and stood near a hallway window overlooking Arizona’s mountains. He entered D.C.'s area code in his cell then remembered—he didn’t have Sherelle's number. Lennie phoned The Nation’s News and within minutes he dialed Sherelle’s landline.
“Hello.” Sherelle said, annoyed.
“I can’t begin to tell you how nice it is to hear your voice.”
“Excuse me. Who is this? And how did you get this number?”
“It’s Lennie.”
Sherelle put her pad and pencil aside and tucked her left hand under her right breast. From a deep breath, she exhaled a long, “Hi,” and smiled. “How are you?”
“Lonely.” Afraid he sounded desperate and pathetic Lennie cleared his throat then added, “I’m out of town.”
“Where?”
“Arizona. At a seminar.”
“You know, I’ve never asked what you do for a living.”
“I’m a counterintelligence supervisor.”
At once, Sherelle thought of the European assassination plot. “When I think of counterintelligence, I think of secrets. Have you dug through my files?”
“I did that before I rescued you.”
“Oh.”
Twice Lennie cleared his throat. “I’m returning Thursday and I’d like to know if you’d ride with me through the country?”
“In Washington?”
“You haven’t been out much, have you?”
“Go easy on me, Lennie. I’m working most of the foreign affairs section of the paper. So, I know more about Middle East geographies than I know about Washington.”
“Let’s change that. Come with me.”
“Lennie, I’ve got deadlines running together. I can’t spare the time.”
“I know your work is important to you. What can happen if you leave it for a day?”
“I might get fired. My boss is pushing us for fresh stories. And as I told you before, we’re working shorthanded. If I lost this job, Lennie—”
“Then I could take care of you.” Lennie’s face seemed to go up in flames. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He pulled at his tie. When he didn’t cool off fast enough, he took off his jacket and let it fall to the floor.
“Lennie, I don’t need you to take care of me. You should know that by now.”
“I hardly know you at all. That’s what I’m trying to do here. Will you at least meet me halfway? Say you’ll come with me.”
If Sherelle said yes, and she had no idea that she would, Sherelle estimated her work hours between now and Thursday had to increase in order to get everything done. On the other hand, if she said no, Lennie might not call again. Asking her to give up a day of work made her wonder if he should call at all.
For once, she decided to be deliriously foolish. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“If I fall asleep in the middle of a sentence, you promise not to hold it against me.”
Lennie pumped his fist in the air. He bit down on his excitement before he spoke. “We have a deal. Think you can take off Friday, or at least leave early?” Lennie squinted and held his breath.
“That’s pushing it. If I don’t work, I don’t eat.”
Lennie relaxed and toyed with his goatee. “Understood.”
“Are you picking me up or do I need to meet you somewhere?”
“I’ll pick you up Saturday afternoon at one o’clock. Dress warm. Wear pants.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see. I’ll see you at one on Saturday.”
Lennie put his hands in his pockets and fixed his eyes on Arizona’s mountainous skyline. Then he pumped his fists several times in the air. “Hot dog!”
He left first thing Thursday morning, earlier than his scheduled afternoon flight. He phoned the garage where he sometimes kept his bike and requested they gas it, oil it, and clean it. He promised Karen, the receptionist who practically ran the garage, extra money if she’d see to it that his instructions were followed. After he arrived at the garage and inspected his bike, he slipped Karen seventy-five dollars.
Lennie parked his two-wheeler in the underground parking area of Washington Apartments then he phoned Sherelle with plans to leave a message on her voice mail.
“I thought I’d get your answering machine. Why are you home so early? I didn’t think you’d get in before seven,” Lennie said.
“I have a bad headache. I n
eeded to lie down. Someone is helping with the paper, but I’m worried.”
“Afraid they can’t fill your shoes?”
“Oh, you’re a smart one today. No, that’s not it at all. There’s so much to juggle, so many calls to make. My biggest concern is the validity of two stories we plan to run next week. The last thing I want to do is put a retraction in the paper. That would be embarrassing.”
“Tell you what, I’ll bring dinner over tonight for the both of us.”
“There’s no need to do that.”
“You have food in the refrigerator?”
“Of course not. I planned to order pizza like always.”
“I’ll be over at six. With dinner.”
Shorter than Lennie anticipated, the night ended the instant Sherelle greeted him at the door. She took the food, mumbled a few apologies, and bid him goodnight.
Late Friday morning he reserved two rooms at a cottage in Richmond, Virginia for Saturday evening. Then he packed rain gear then made a call to Maria Vasquez. He explained that he had a date and if she would pack him that picnic lunch she’d promised. He made a final call to General Carter who arranged for a private tour of the White House.
On Saturday, prior to picking up Sherelle, his phone rang. Lennie panicked. His first thought—she’d phoned to cancel their plans. Afraid to look, he closed one eye and squinted at the phone. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. Harold Butler’s name appeared.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while. Been out in the field?” Lennie asked.
“This one lasted one day too long. I’m glad to be home. We’re getting together this weekend. We want you to come out to the ranch. Can you make it?”
“Afraid not. I’ve got plans. I’m going to the country this weekend.”
“Aren’t you tired of making that drive by yourself? You stay alone too much. It’s not good. You see, that’s why I called you. To get you outta that rut you’re in. C’mon out Lennie so we can beat your butt in dominoes again.”
“Who says I’m going alone?”
“Whoa! You got a date?” Harold laughed.
“Yep.”
“Who is she?”
“You don’t know her.”
“C’mon, Lennie. Spill the beans.”
“Nope. I don’t want you or anyone else to ruin this for me.”
“It’s that serious?”
“No, it’s not serious.”
“But you want it to be?”
“Yes, I do. Now, get off the phone. I don’t want to be late.”
“Let’s get together next week. I want to hear about this special lady.”
“I might be tied up.”
“Are you kidding me? Wow! Are you that strung out over this girl? When did all this happen? And where was I? I need to call you more often.”
“Harold, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”
“Victoria will be mad that I didn’t get this mystery woman’s name.”
“If all goes well, she’ll get to meet her soon enough.”
After Lennie hung up, he checked the stove again, locked the doors then left.
# # #
Lennie stood in Sherelle’s doorway with two helmets in his hand.
Sherelle stopped wrapping her hair in a ponytail and stared at the monstrous-size headgear. “I-I’ve never ridden a bike before.”
“I wanted to surprise you. I hope it’s okay.”
“I do, too. I’m a little nervous. Motorcycles have always scared me.”
“Whenever you want to turn around and come back, we will. I promise.”
“You really want to do this, don’t you?”
“You’re safe with me. You’ll be fine.”
“Let’s hope so.” Sherelle looked him over. He had a thick goatee. She decided she liked it. Sherelle took a deep breath and picked up her purse. “Well, here goes. My first bike ride.”
Chapter 11
Gruff rumbles of the motorcycle ricocheted off the Blue Ridge Parkway and hung in the air. Whistling autumn winds sprinkled fall leaves like precious jewels onto asphalt.
Sherelle stuffed much of her hair into the crevices of her helmet before they left D.C., but stubborn strands escaped and flitted in the breeze. Impossible to bury her head in Lennie’s back, she gathered as much of his leather jacket as her hands could hold and she refused to let go. Once the bike bumped and collided with the road enough to lull her into a sweet peace, her fears subsided.
Lennie slowed on several occasions and allowed them time to absorb rustic sceneries. Twice he stopped to view rushing rivers, waterfalls, and gurgling rocky rivulets that resembled postcards rather than God-given wonders. They dismounted at the Rock Castle Gorge Trail, their last stop before they reached Richmond.
“Whoa! Steady.” Lennie grabbed Sherelle from behind after she got off the bike. “By the time we get back to D.C., you’ll be a pro at this.”
After regaining her equilibrium, she removed her helmet and dropped it on the ground. With her index finger, Sherelle pulled the silk scrunchie from her hair and placed it on her wrist.
“How did you find this place?”
“One day I just kept riding.” After Lennie picked up her helmet, he rubbed a small nick in the headgear then locked it to the bike. Out the corner of his eyes, he watched Sherelle use both hands to rake her hair. Once again, he imagined her in a white gown, her pretty face hidden behind a veil, her hair pulled up and covered with tiny white flowers.
“Ever got lost?”
“All the time. Almost ran out of gas once. Now, I think I can ride this stretch of highway in my sleep.”
“You come here often?”
“When I’m lonely or I need to think.” When Sherelle turned to marvel at the landscape, Lennie wandered off.
“This is a nice place for a picnic. It’s a little too cold, but still nice. I wish you’d told me where we were going.” When Lennie didn’t answer, Sherelle looked over her shoulder then followed him. “We should come here in the spring and have a picnic.” She stopped when he picked something up and moved toward her. “Are you kidding me?”
Lennie sat the box on the ground, spread out a blanket, and removed its contents.
“Before you go thinking I’m a genius, I have a confession to make. I had help. I have an old friend who promised me that if I ever brought a date to these parts, she’d make me a picnic basket.” With a sheepish grin and open palms, he shrugged. “You are the first person I’ve brought here.”
“How did she know where to place the box?”
“Each time I made this trip, we’d come here to make sure we had the right spot." Lennie pointed at the blanket. "Shall we?”
Sherelle sat and helped unload the basket. “Weren’t you afraid animals might rummage through the food?”
Lennie handed her a thermos. “Here. Sip this.”
Sherelle frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Go on. Drink.”
Sherelle sniffed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had apple cider. Then she swallowed. “Hot! Did she just leave?”
“I suppose so.”
“The two of you had this timed perfectly, I see. Who is she?”
“There’s a little café in Ashland, Virginia where I stop and have coffee. The lady who runs it is Maria Vasquez.” Sherelle’s dour expression disturbed him. “She’s married, maybe fifty years old, with two grown sons and a twelve-year-old daughter,” Lennie added. Sherelle smiled. Lennie relaxed.
After they ate, Lennie lay on his back. Sherelle did the same, in the opposite direction, their heads almost touching. Both gaped at the sleepy sky. It would be dark soon.
“Lennie, can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“I felt something in the middle of your back during the ride up here. What is it?”
“A gun.”
“You always carry it?”
“I’m never without it.”
“Part of your training I suppose.”
“You could say that.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Anything.”
“You miss flying?” For several long minutes, Sherelle only heard the euphony of forest melodies and fluttered wings overhead.
The question dropped Lennie in the middle of a heated battle. He wanted to fly again; blamed Sherelle for his inability to do so. He remembered the many jumps from helicopters and fixed wings into hostile territory. His many disguises that provided the right amount of camouflage. The scary time he spoke the wrong Russian dialect. How he once navigated his plane ten miles off course. And that faraway look in the eyes of those he rescued. Four straight years he lived and breathed Special Forces. Had no desire to do anything else. Until Sherelle.
Despite the fact he held her responsible for ending his career, he also wanted more than a friendship with her. Sherelle had consumed his dreams and suffocated his need to fly each time he laid eyes on her. She’s the first person who might say the sky is green and he believe it. Everything about her calmed him—ramblings about her job; childish defenses against a commitment. When she looked at him, though he knew she hadn’t realized it, she brought him to his knees. If she wanted the moon, all she had to do was ask. He would rope it nice and tight then place it at her feet.
But what he wanted conflicted with what he needed. Without a doubt, he needed Sherelle.
“I miss flying a lot. It’s been an adjustment for me.”
“What do you miss most?”
“My comrades. The adrenaline rush. The thrill of beating the odds to come out alive.”
Lennie watched Sherelle walk away and tuck her hands inside her pockets. He strolled with her along a rutted trail, trying to find words to explain his pain.
“Matter of fact,” he continued, “I’m surprised I didn’t get hurt sooner. We experienced a number of volatile missions. Went into places we shouldn’t have escaped. It’s amazing our unit only lost two men in those four years. We went through some grueling experiences.” Lennie stopped and watched as Sherelle moseyed ahead of him. “But you know what hurts more?”