The woman offered him tea, but he declined, unnerved by the intensity of her gaze and the sensation of heat it created in him.
But he felt drawn to her. Almost changed in her presence.
“Corina speaks highly of you,” he said. “Seems you came to her rescue when she arrived in town with no reservation at The Wellington.”
The woman’s eyes sparked. “Indeed. No reservation at The Wellington. Well, we think highly of her. And you.”
Stephen exhaled when Corina bound into the lobby, wearing a pair of jeans and a top, her hair back in a thick, sleek ponytail. Beautiful. Perfect for him. Princess on Monday night, soldier’s wife on Friday afternoon.
Too late. Too late.
They were quiet in the initial moments as Stephen made his way out of town toward His Majesty’s Bridge and the northern highway toward Dunwudy Glenn.
He had the radio on low for a soft serenade of music.
When he hit the open road and settled back, Corina opened the conversation. “How did you play rugby? Wouldn’t you be a danger to the players and the fans?”
“Keeping everything classified helped. But I almost left the team the first week of training, realizing the risk I placed on everyone, my teammates, the players, and fans worldwide. It was too much to bear. Though I was half crazy with desire to play. Rugby became my therapy. My way to forget. I needed to run,compete, make a try. Forthem. The six who died.”
“I get that, I do. I stayed home. Wasted five years thinking I could bring Daddy and Mama, especially Mama, out of her grief.”
He pressed his hand on her arm, ruing any implications of a tender touch. Telling her the truth bonded them. As friends anyway.
“Dad saw my dilemma, stepped in and organized meetings, spurring a great deal of discussion behind closed doors with Rugby Union, Brighton Eagles, and the defense minister. With a promise from the Rugby Union to heighten their own security, as well as ours, it was agreed I could and should play. When Brighton Special Forces knocked out the cell Asif had been a part of, we felt more confident my life was safe, and thus the rugby world.”
A bit more music in the silence, but he didn’t mind. It was peaceful.
“Hey, remember the dress I wore to the Military Ball and to our wedding?” She held no reserve about speaking of their past. Stephen peered over at her. She was different. Changed from just yesterday.
“The white one with the feathery skirt? Designed by some recluse designer?”
“But he took so long I never got to wear it for its intended purpose.”
“I remember you looked beautiful and, might I add, sexy.” His teasing laugh followed. She popped him lightly on the arm.
“Exactly. Thank you, and it was made for me. There’s none like it in the world. I went home for it before coming here.” She slowed her confession, thinking. “Mama donated it and it was sold at a charity auction. I’d only been gone from the house a few months.”
“Brutal. Did she give you a reason?”
“She made up something about me not needing it, but Stephen, it’s like Carlos died and she tried to bury me with him. She turned my bedroom into a quiet room. Mine. I’m the one still coming home. Not to mention the house has thirty rooms. But she turns mine into an indoor garden shrine to Carlos.”
“Much like my memorial?”
She regarded him for a second. “You two would get along then.”
“Though I agree she should not have taken over your room.”
“My room was across from Carlos’s, and we had this adjoining second-floor veranda that wrapped around our rooms. The windows opened right onto the porch, so we used to climb out at night with sleeping bags when we were supposed to be in bed and stare at the stars, dreaming. He wanted to help people as young as ten. In high school, he was always rescuing people, coming to the aid of the defenseless.”
Stephen swallowed, his skin hot with her confession. He powered down his window for a gulp of fresh air. He was the defenseless Carlos died for when he should have been the defender. He should’ve charged Asif and taken him down.
“You’re quiet. What’s wrong?”
“Thinking.”
“Of that day?”
“Of what a sacrifice you and your family paid.”
