Come Back To Me (5 page)

Suha contributed the fact that she was never pushed to marry to not only her father’s respect for her desire to be something more than a house maiden, but also to their long conversations and the camaraderie that they shared. She could never replace her mother, but she knew her father saw her mother somewhere inside her, and she also knew that he would never want that likeness far away. She had readily stepped into her mother’s shoes, cooking their meals, cleaning the house, and shopping for necessities. She did all that a daughter could do in such a situation. Her father was a man of loyalty. He’d missed her mother terribly, and as far as she’d known, he’d never longed for another. There was no need to marry Suha off, no need for extra money. The inheritance his father, and his father before him, had left him had been ample for the simple lifestyle they had chosen. As Suha grew to a young woman, her father had asked her often if she wished to be married. Suha had never longed for a different life. With her education ensured and supported by her father, and his ability and desire to protect her, as fathers (and brothers) should, she’d been happy. Eventually, her father had stopped inquiring.

She’d enjoyed many years by her father’s side, studying, listening to the cases he shared with her, and, she realized now, learning how to be a good person. Suha’s world came shattering down around her when she lost her father in the third year of the war. He’d been eighty-six years old and taking the short walk from the hospital to their home, as he had done for all of the years Suha could remember. He’d taken that short journey so often that he’d worn a literal path in the ground. He’d insisted on walking, even after the war began and the streets had become unsafe. He’d insisted as vehemently as Suha had insisted on continuing to work in the hospital during the war, even with the unsafe conditions.

They’d met for a brief lunch of goat stew and rice, which Suha had prepared the evening before for supper and which she had carried with her to the hospital earlier that morning. This had been their practice, meeting each day around two o’clock in the afternoon for the largest meal of the day. On that unusually warm, gray afternoon, her father shuffled down the path toward his home, too slowly for a group of angry, impatient insurgents who had been terrorizing families in the neighborhood with their guns and loud voices, scavenging and eying the women as if they were just awaiting the right moment to attack. Suha knew of women who had been raped and killed—women without husbands, fathers, or brothers to protect them. A neighbor had seen trouble brewing—loud, irate threats toward the old man. He’d run to the hospital to fetch Suha. Her father had made it to within thirty feet of their front door before the heartless insurgents destroyed Suha’s life—without an ounce of remorse. At the moment of his death, she’d been running down the path toward her home as fast as she’d been able, panting, her heavy bosoms swaying painfully against her ribcage. She’d prayed aloud for his safety as she ran. Her dark abayah stuck to her large body from the unrelenting heat of the sun. Her house had come into view. She’d thought he’d made it. As the door had come into view, her eyes drifted toward the ground, and she’d collapsed to her knees at the sight of her father’s bullet-ridden body. She sobbed, rocking back and forth, and screamed into the road,
Baba!
Baba!
Blood pooled around him, and his face—the face of the only man she’d ever worshiped, the face of her protector, the face which, forever more, she would recall as blood streaked and lifeless—lay still, distorted and filthy, against the cold, hard earth.

Chapter Six

The evening loomed like a forbidding forest. Tess had known the time would come when she’d have to go back to work. Her bills would not pay themselves. She stared into her closet at her business suits, their creases fresh. The feel of them used to give her an energized high. Now, just the thought of taking charge, being responsible, pained her. How would she ever be ready to face the world by tomorrow? Tomorrow! She threw herself down on her bed and let out a frustrated sigh. Tears came easily. “Oh, Beau,” she said softly. She contemplated the bottle of Xanax that had helped her through the difficult nights, then kicked them off of the nightstand with her toes. She wasn’t going to become
that
woman. She dropped her hand to her abdomen. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she rolled over and punched the pillow. The thought of pitiful looks and people using words that had taken on new meanings, words like
sorry, passed
, and
accident,
made her as angry as it made her sad.

Tess remembered Beau’s promise, made the days before he left for Iraq. “I’ll come back. I promise,” he’d said with feeling.

“I know you will,” she’d answered, without as much confidence as she’d hoped.

Beau had gently pushed her back from his chest so he could look into her tear-filled blue eyes. “Baby,” he said, “what have I told you since we decided that I should take this opportunity?”

Tess looked down at the floor and said in almost a whisper, “You’ll come back to me.”

He tilted her chin up so she couldn’t help but look into his eyes. “And I will. I promise you that.”

“But you can’t make that promise,” she said quietly. “There’s still a war going on, Beau.”

“Don’t doubt me, Tessie. I love you, and I promise, come hell or high water, if I have to walk and swim back from Iraq, I will come home.”

Tess took Beau’s hand and outlined in his palm, lightly, with her index finger, the letter
I
, the shape of a heart, and the letter
u.
He smiled and kissed her cheek. They had done this silent ritual for many years, in the darkness of theaters, reaching under the table when dining with others, in the darkness of night just before they fell asleep.

She sat up and wiped her tears. “Goddamn it!” she yelled, and wrapped her arms around herself. “How am I supposed to do this, Beau?” she asked the empty room. Silence pressed in around her until she felt claustrophobic and hauled herself off the bed. She opened the top drawer of Beau’s bureau, reaching past his nicely-folded boxers and rolled socks, and withdrawing his unwashed blue cotton t-shirt that she’d stashed. She pressed it against her nose and breathed in the familiar smell of Beau’s scent. A smile spread across her lips, and she exhaled, as if she’d taken a deep drag of a spectacular drug.
I can do this
, she told herself.
I have to do this
.

Alice rushed around the small office. Tess would be there any minute, her first day back since Beau had died. Alice wanted everything to be perfect. She hoped Tess would slip right back into her old routine without stress or what she feared most, having to watch her friend fall apart before her eyes. She knew Beau’s memorial was a source of contention for Tess, she’d spoken to Beau’s parents, Carol and Robert. They wanted to hold a service for Beau, and Tess wanted no part of it. She wasn’t sure how, or if, she’d be able to help with that situation. At this point, she just hoped the day went smoothly, without any tearful breakdowns. Alice was good at pushing through, but she wasn’t very good at hand holding. Her mother had never coddled her, though she knew her mother’s love was as deep and pure as love could be. One didn’t have to coddle, she reasoned. One only needed to express love for another, be there for them, be strong for them—and Alice could do that for Tess.

She smoothed her blue pencil skirt and glanced in the mirror on the wall. She stroked her hair and smiled. She loved her hair. It was her strongest feature. Sure, she had a slim, toned body, but that was easy to come by with hard work and a little discipline. Good hair, on the other hand, that was something that you could only be born with. It fell just below her shoulders, straight and full. Her natural color, somewhere between Asian pear and just-ripe banana, was cool and soft. She had worn it in the same style since she was seven: center parted, blunt across the back. If something worked, why change it? She ran the edge of her finger under one eye, then the other, though her eyeliner never needed repair.

Satisfied with her appearance, she pulled the new coasters she’d purchased from her Coach purse (one of her guilty pleasures) and laid it on Tess’s desk. She set a tall Styrofoam cup of Tess’s favorite drink, French vanilla cappuccino from 7-11, on the coaster. It never failed to boggle her mind that her friend’s favorite beverage could be purchased for a dollar seventy-seven from a convenience store.

Tess stood in the hallway, staring at the office door, wishing she could just hide forever. Reality, however, pressed on, even if you were scared, alone, and spending every second of the day waiting to hear your husband’s voice.
He’s coming back to me. He promised
, Tess told herself. She knew she had to put on a brave face for Alice, and she was determined not to have to deal with the looks that Alice and Kevin hadn’t realized she’d seen, the eye rolls and pity-filled glances. She took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. Beau would expect to find her whole, with her business still intact. For him, for when he returned, she would be strong. The feigned eagerness felt like an ill-fit jacket—too loose and too tight for comfort.
He’s coming back
.

Tess breezed into the office. “Hey, Al, how’s it going?”

Alice answered tentatively, taken aback by Tess’s quick turnaround. She looked healthier than when Alice had last seen her, fuller in the face, the drawn, gaunt look she’d held was gone. “Fine.”

“I can’t wait to get back to work,” Tess said. She flung herself into her chair and thanked Alice for the cappuccino. She moved the cup to the side of the desk and picked up the coaster, turning the warmed ceramic in her hands, running her fingers over the taupe, green, and peach flowers.

 “This is gorgeous! Where did you find it?” she gushed.

“You know that little women’s market, on Wisconsin Avenue?”

Tess nodded. “By that handmade rug store.”

“Yup. I found it last week and knew you’d love it.” Alice smiled. She was relieved to hear the happiness in Tess’s voice.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Tess put the coaster in her top right desk drawer and sipped her drink.

Alice watched with disbelief. “Aren’t you going to use it?” she asked.

Tess scrunched her face and shrugged her left shoulder, “Nah, but I do love it.”

Alice was uncertain if she should be concerned about Tess’s newfound freedom from coasters or if she should be happy about it.

“What’s happening around here?” Tess skimmed through the stack of messages on her desk.

“Beau’s parents called.” Alice watched Tess’s face tense and knew it was not the time to bring that up. “They, uh, were just making sure we didn’t need anything here in the office.”

Tess’s shoulders relaxed, “What else?”

“I hadn’t wanted to worry you, but we’re getting close to having issues with payroll. Everyone understands, but payroll is payroll.”

Tess’s face grew serious again. “Right. Payroll.” She dropped her gaze, thinking, then popped up from her chair. “Well, we’ll have to push some new clients through. What’s happening with Mr. Mason?”

“He’s ready. He was waiting for you to come back.” She sifted through the folders until she found the one marked
Mason Press
. “Mid-level manager, fifty-five, maybe sixty-K.”

“Did he agree to the twenty percent?” Tess asked.

“Yup. He’s all set. Just needs you to go down and finalize.”

“Great, set it up. How about that Tole guy? The one that was referred but didn’t return my calls? Any word from him?” Tess asked.

Alice shook her head.

The corner of Tess’s lips turned up, and in a conniving voice, she said, “Oh, he’s ours. Don’t you worry.”

Alice laughed. “Oh, I’m not. I figured you’d pull him in.” She left Tess’s office and came back with a stack of five blue folders. “I’ve been going through our mid-level management résumés. I think these are good matches.” She handed them to Tess.

“I’ll look through them now. Can you get me Tole’s number? And set up a meeting with Mason for Wednesday, three o’clock.”

Alice felt a surge of adrenaline. Tess was back!

On her way back from sealing the deal with Mr. Mason, Tess was on fire, enthused to be accomplishing her goals instead of pining away at her computer. She could do this—the pregnancy, waiting for Beau to return.
Yes
, she thought,
I can do this
. No longer would she try to convince Alice and Kevin of Beau’s being alive. It was a futile effort. She’d noticed how Alice had watched her every move the last few days, and how she’d scoffed when Tess had made reference to Beau’s return. They were too closed-minded to understand that had Beau been dead, Tess would have known—and the one thing she knew for certain was that he was not dead. He couldn’t be. He was just…detained, and that thought gave her the strength to get up each day and reclaim her life.

Tess turned onto Wisconsin Avenue and headed toward Bethesda. She was on top of her game, and if Mr. Tole wouldn’t return her calls, she’d knock on his door.

The fine leather furnishings and expensive hardwood that adorned the accounting office of Tole and Whitcomb would be intimidating to most, but to Tess, a woman who had built a company from the ground up with nothing more than sheer will and an idea, the pricey façade was merely an ego boost for the people within. Tess didn’t care much for over-inflated egos, but her business needed the income. The six weeks she’d taken off had stretched their bank account about as far as it could go. Sure, the insurance companies were sending her letters and calling her, trying to get her to file the necessary paperwork in order for her to claim the life insurance that Beau had so thoughtfully left behind, but Tess would not take a penny of it. Doing so would validate Beau’s death.

Tess held her head high and approached the middle-aged secretary who glanced up from behind rectangular red glasses.

“Tess Johnson for Mr. Tole, please,” she said.

The secretary scanned her day planner and then looked at Tess disapprovingly. “What time is your appointment, Ms. Johnson?”

“I don’t have one,” Tess said. The attitude and smug sneer of the secretary did not dissuade Tess. She handed the woman a business card,
Top Staffing Consultants, Tess Johnson, President
. Instantly, the woman’s sneer morphed into something vaguely reminiscent of a pleasant smile.

“Just a moment.” She stood, settling an efficient telephone headset upon her perfectly cropped, coiffed, and recently-dyed honey-blonde hair. She towered above Tess’s five-foot-seven-inch frame and sauntered as if she were on a runway, straight backed and smooth gaited, into the next room.

Tess peeked over the top of the reception desk and quickly eyed the calendar. Mr. Tole had no appointments until 3:30 P.M. She glanced at the clock behind the desk,
1:42
. Tess smirked.

A moment later the receptionist returned, sat her capable self down behind the desk, removed the headset, and donned a fake smile. “Mr. Tole will be right with you. You can wait on the sofa, if you’d like.”

Tess thanked her and remained standing. She’d learned early on that sitting gave the client an advantage, and she’d wanted the upper hand in this initial meeting. She’d arrived on his turf. She’d have to establish her ground quickly. She took a deep, empowering breath, the scent of leather reminding her of her deceased father. She bristled. Not now.

 A man about Tess’s age neared the doorway. He stopped to speak to a younger man, who, unlike him, was dressed in a suit. Tess assumed he was a client. It wasn’t uncommon for clients to show up for appointments in any office in jeans and a t-shirt. She turned away and glanced at the paintings on the wall.

“Ms. Johnson?”

Tess turned around and was met with the jean-clad man. “Yes?”

He reached his right hand out to her and smiled, “Louie Tole. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tess shook his hand and couldn’t help but look over his clothing.

“I know,” he laughed. “My mother tells me to dress like a grownup all the time.”

Tess blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” His smile was warm and welcoming, his disheveled brown curls brought a softness to his rugged face. “C’mon back to my office. Let’s chat.”

Tess hurried next to him.
Chat? What man used the word chat?

The large, mahogany desk was in complete disarray, cluttered with files and loose papers. Tess eyed the empty Styrofoam cups piled on the Indian print chair in front of the desk.

“Let me get those,” he swept the mess off the chair and into a small metal trash can.

“Thank you for seeing me without notice, Mr. Tole.” Tess settled into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

“Louie, please,” he said and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “What can I do you for?” he asked. His glance at her crossed legs did not go unnoticed.

Tess questioned her choice of the black, above-the-knee skirt she wore. It had given her confidence when she’d put it on that morning. Now, however, she wondered if that skirt should be kept just for Beau. She smoothed it down toward her knee, and Louie smiled.

“You were referred to me by Katelyn Rafael of Layona Farms?”

“Katie,” he nodded, “of course. She’s always sending pretty ladies my way.”

“She didn’t refer me for…that,” Tess said, irritated.

He laughed again and brought his seat back to its upright position, lowering his hands to his lap. “I know. I’m sorry. It was meant to be a joke. Katie’s an old friend of mine. I know who you are.”