E
DEN MADE A MENTAL NOTE
to adjust her camera setting to accommodate the dark paneling, circa the 1960s, that covered the walls of the VFW hall.
“Damn, boy, you found yourself a looker, didn’t you?” a bald man with the cane said. Eden thought he’d been introduced as Charlie O’Hannigan.
A man in the wheelchair, sat up a little straighter. “A hooker? She’s a hooker? She don’t look like a hooker. How much does she cost?”
“Turn up your hearing aid, you old fart,” Charlie snapped. “I said looker, not hooker.”
She was pretty sure the man in the wheelchair was Jack Phillips. Jack’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh. Too bad.”
Mitch’s grandfather snorted. “Too bad my foot. You’ve been on blood pressure medicine for years. You couldn’t get lucky if you wanted to.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Damn straight I do.”
Eden laughed, thoroughly enjoying the interplay
between the men. Mitch’s grandfather still had the erect military carriage that became instinct to most career military men. Mitch bore a striking resemblance to his grandfather, George Lavelle. It was no mystery what Mitch would look like in half a century. The notion gave her a funny feeling in her tummy.
She moved around the room, snapping photographs as the old war dogs positioned themselves at the round table. Jack Phillips was in a wheelchair, having lost his legs to diabetes, according to Mitch. Charlie O’Hannigan walked with a cane. However, the other two men, Tex Rogers and Dickie Turner were still in very good shape considering they were all pushing eighty.
Soon they were drinking beer, gnawing hot wings and meandering into full-blown reminiscing mode. She’d faded into the background which was always her goal in situations such as this.
Mitch had become background, as well. Actually, he was in waiter mode, fetching beer and food refills. She sent a smile his way. “So, how much of being so good to these guys is to be nice, and how much is to monitor their alcohol consumption?”
He grinned, “Busted. About fifty-fifty. The only way Jack’s wife would let him come was if I promised her he wouldn’t get wasted. Apparently Jack likes to wheelchair race when he’s pounded a few too many. He’s always been the cutter in the group.”
Eden smiled. Every once in a while, Mitch’s Southern boy upbringing came through. She found it charming.
“Your grandfather’s the leader, isn’t he?”
Mitch nodded. “He was their ranking NCO. The old man never talks about it, but the other guys love to tell how he saved their butts when he roused them all to move out in the middle of the night. They found out the next day the Chinese were right across the Yalu River.”
“Korea?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s got that same air of authority you have.”
“We’re a lot alike. These guys were always my heroes growing up. It’s men like them who made our country what it is today. I hope one day I’ll be sitting here, listening to my grandson say the same thing about me.”
Eden had an instant snapshot of Mitch’s grandson-to-be appear in her head. She saw a striking replica of Mitch…only with her coloring. A shiver ran through her. That was definitely dangerous territory to wander into. He shifted and she realized he’d just revealed perhaps more than he’d meant to.
“I have no doubt your grandson will be saying exactly that one day,” she said softly.
His gaze snared hers and she could swear he was seeing the same possible grandson. Her heart tripped against her ribs. Mitch looked away first and Eden struggled to regain her composure. This never happened to her.
She trained her camera back on the group and fired
off a shot. That’d be a wash. Her hand had been unsteady and blurred photos didn’t work.
Mitch replenished the hot wings and joined the men, settling back in his chair and stretching his legs out before him. He didn’t join in the conversation but took a long pull of his own beer and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the tall tales being swapped.
Watching through the lens, she saw the looks that passed between him and his grandfather. Affection. Respect. Understanding. A shared love of service to country and fellow man. Click. Click. Click. And she knew. That was the good stuff she wanted. Needed. And then she narrowed the focus of the lens until it was all Mitch, only Mitch.
In the instant, in the moment she snapped his picture, her heart echoed the same click. It wasn’t so much a conscious thought as it was a total state of being. She loved him. Loved the strong line of his jaw and the masculine yet tender regard he had for his grandfather. And fast on the heels of her realization came the absolute certainty that the two of them had no future.
She didn’t belong in Mitch Dugan’s world. And Mitch Dugan’s world was everything to him.
“I
LIKE HER
,” the old man said as Mitch walked up the sidewalk leading from the parking lot to the assisted-living center beside him. Eden had insisted on staying in the car and catching up on phone calls. Mitch was
certain, however, that she was simply giving him and the old man time alone.
His grandfather leveled a frank look his way. “You need to hang on to her.”
“I just met her four days ago.”
“I saw your grandmother across the room and I knew. She’d come to a dance with her cousin Edna. I was married to that woman fifty-eight and a half years.” The old man never failed to include that half year. “I saw the way you looked at this girl. Nothing wrong with my eyesight now that I’ve had those cataracts removed. Don’t tell me you don’t know, too.”
Mitch opened his mouth to deny it and realized he couldn’t. He simply didn’t know. He was used to black and white. Cut and dried. He was used to making a quick assessment, a decision, and living with that. However, Eden wasn’t so easily pegged. Plain and simple, Mitch was confused. It was a struggle, hell it was downright painful to admit it to the old man, but he did.
“I don’t know.”
Another one of those laser looks from the old man. “All right then. But you better not take too long to figure it out cause gals like that don’t come your way every day.”
They entered the front door and headed down the hall.
“I’ve never met anyone like her before.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Where’s that ability to make snap decisions that made you a Lieutenant Colonel at thirty?”
The old man was proud as hell of that. Mitch was frank with his grandfather in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. But then again, no one else would’ve dared pose that question to him. “It seems to have deserted me.”
A sly humor glinted in the old man’s eyes. “Boy, if that doesn’t tell you what you need to know…. Are you waiting for someone to hit you over the head with a brick?” He unlocked his room door and Mitch followed him into the apartment that held a fraction of the furniture and mementos that had made George and Cherie Lavelle’s house on Winnow Street in Charoux a home.
The old man retreated to his recliner and Mitch took a spot on the love seat next to it. Then he gave the old man the whole story. He briefed him on Eden, her father, her background, her reaction to the military. “And I saw her house and studio in New Orleans. You’ve never seen a person more where they belong than she did there. And she’s so damned talented it’s scary.”
Now his grandfather would understand. Now he’d tell Mitch the only logical course of action was for her to go her way and Mitch to go his.
“If you want something bad enough, you figure out how to make it happen. The problem isn’t in the situation. The problem is in how bad you want it.” He offered a sharp nod, dismissing the matter, having spoken his piece. “You did good with that get-together, boy.” The subject change was the old man’s way of
telling Mitch that the topic of Eden was closed…for now. “The beer was cold, the wings were hot, and Jack’s old lady can’t complain.” The old man snorted. “Well, she can and she will, but that’s just the way she is.”
“Glad you had a good time.”
“If I don’t kick the bucket in the next twelve months I’d like to do it again.”
“How about six months?”
“Scared to push it, boy?”
“Can’t see the downside to it.”
“This had to set you back a pretty penny.”
He’d covered the costs of flying in the other guys and their wives and putting them up at the local motel. It’d been worth every red cent. “It didn’t break my bank.”
“Then we’ll see if Jack’s old lady will let him out to play again in six months’ time. Now I need to rest and you need to get back to that gal of yours.”
Mitch had to say it was a good feeling to know Eden was waiting out for him in the parking lot. Not just for the sex he knew was coming but for the conversation. He was eager to hear her take on the evening.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“I know you will.”
The old man stopped him as he opened the door leading to the hall. “Boy…”
Mitch turned. “Sir?”
“Don’t let her get away.”
“Ten-four.”
What the old man didn’t understand was that not letting her get away would destroy her.
A
FEW HOURS LATER, THEY SAT
in Eden’s parlor, sharing the sofa. But the intimacy of the last few days had disappeared. Mitch had been reserved, distant on the drive back home. She’d reminded herself all the way back to New Orleans that this had been inevitable. Still, it didn’t make it any easier. And she didn’t understand why he’d suddenly built a wall between them.
“Thanks again for coming along today,” he said. “Your assistant will send them along with a bill?”
“We’re not having the bill discussion,” she said, her throat growing tight with what felt like, correction, what
was
goodbye. “It was an honor to be there.”
“The guys certainly enjoyed you being there. They may be old but a man never gets tired of looking at a beautiful woman.”
She opened her mouth to correct him. She wasn’t beautiful. She dressed to her strengths and aimed to look her best but…. Then again, Mitch Dugan wasn’t a man with a glib tongue. If he wanted to tell her she was beautiful, by God she’d take that.
“Thank you. Mitch…” She paused. She’d never told
a man she loved him before—well, her junior high crush didn’t count and this was nothing like the puppy love she’d had for Rodney Metcalf at fourteen. Maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision she’d ever made, but it seemed wrong to feel this way about someone and not tell them. In her book, love and joy were meant to be shared, even if they weren’t reciprocated. And it wasn’t as if she’d taken the safe, wise route with him from day one, had she?
“Yes?” he prompted but she didn’t miss the guarded note in his voice.
“I wanted you to know…” She stopped and tried again. “Do you come back often to visit your grandfather?”
“Seldom. Usually once or twice a year. He said if he hasn’t kicked the bucket—his terminology, not mine—in six months he wants another reunion.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome to stop over.”
His eyes were as unfathomable as those of her courtyard statue. “That could get awkward, couldn’t it?”
“How so?”
“What if you were involved with someone else?”
“What if I wasn’t?”
“There’s no reason to think you wouldn’t be.”
How did she tell a man she’d only met days ago that she’d fallen head over heels in love with him without coming across as some needy stalker chick? Especially since he wasn’t exactly coming across as being interested in moving forward. But how did she walk away
from what she felt for him, what she felt between them, without trying?
“Yes, there is. There’s every reason. All you have to do is ask me.”
“I don’t have that right. I live in North Carolina. Near an Army base. You know what that means.”
Yes, she knew. It meant limited leave time. Limited time of his own in general. It meant all the rules she’d been so happy to escape from as an adult. But she felt they could find a way to work through it, if only he could see things as something other than black and white.
She took a deep breath and leaped off the edge of the cliff. “It’s funny how life has a way of handing us exactly what we think we don’t want. Maybe that’s what I want.”
Mitch shook his head slowly and his gaze swept the room. “This is where you belong. Just like the Army is where I belong. We both know they’re worlds apart.”
“Does it matter anywhere in your assessment of our situation that I love you?”
There was a flicker of joy, of acknowledgement in his eyes which he quickly banked. But she had seen it, felt it. Whatever came out of his mouth, he loved her, too. “It doesn’t change the outcome.”
It didn’t surprise her, but it hurt nonetheless. “There are some people who have jobs that they get up and go to and at the end of the day, they’re done. We both know that’s not us. What we do is who we are.”
She did love him as surely as the sun would rise in the East in the morning and set in the western sky. An offer hovered on the tip of her tongue—to move to North Carolina, to Fayetteville and become part of his world. A cold sweat broke out over her skin. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t say it. She was where she belonged, as was Mitch.
Tomorrow he would leave. Tomorrow she’d only have memories of the last few days and nights. Tomorrow and all the days that would follow, she could mourn what couldn’t be. But tonight she would spend making memories.
Eden linked her arms around his neck and kissed him, loving him enough to let him go, hoping her actions spoke louder than words.
T
WO WEEKS LATER
M
ITCH SAT
at his desk and opened the overnight packet. The old man’s reunion photos. Only the photos weren’t the first thing he looked at. He picked up the sheet of paper on top. Eden had included a brief note, telling him she hoped he was pleased with the photos and asking if all was well with him. He could swear he caught a whiff of her scent from the paper.
“What you got there, Lieutenant Colonel?” Murdoch asked, dropping into the chair opposite Mitch’s desk.
“Pictures from the geezer get together.”
“How’d they turn-out?”
He was in a piss-poor mood. The only upside to
being back at work was that he’d learned that McElhaney had finally pissed off the wrong person and was now facing a disciplinary hearing. Still, it didn’t give him the satisfaction he expected to feel. He looked back at the photos. “I just opened them, Murdoch.”
Murdoch, however, remained unfazed by his abruptness. “Well then, let’s see.”
At the bottom of the packet, was a bubble-wrapped package with a sticky note on top.
For your desk
. Mitch opened it. A simple, stark black frame held a candid shot of all of them sitting around the table. But it was more than that. It was as if, for that moment in time, she’d captured the history, the shared experiences, the brotherhood that bound the five men.
“Damn, that’s nice.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Mitch thumbed through the photos. He’d really look at them later. “She does good work.”
“You talked to her?”
“No.”
“You haven’t called her?”
“I’m busy. She’s busy. She’s got her career. I’ve got mine. It was never meant to be anything more.”
He said aloud what he’d told himself over and over since he’d returned from New Orleans. He should’ve come back to Bragg and stepped back into his job, picked up his life. Only it hadn’t happened that way. Mitch, the man who’d always had spectacularly singular focus, couldn’t get Eden Walters out of his head.
Murdoch grew uncharacteristically somber. “I wasted a couple of years and damn near walked away from the best thing that ever happened to me. Eden scares the hell out of you, doesn’t she?”
There was no room for fear in Mitch’s life. He’d been trained to set a desired outcome and move forward on that mission. But as much as he wanted to tell Murdoch it was none of his damn business, much as he wanted to deny it, Mitch wasn’t a coward. “Yes. She scares the hell out of me.”
“That’s because she’s your weak spot. There’s no armor in the world that can protect you against her. And the sad news, buddy, is that it’s not going to change, no matter how damn hard you try to deny it. You’re done for. Been there. Done that. Got the badge…and the ring. Don’t sit around and lose the best thing that ever happened to you.” Murdoch pushed to his feet. “I’m outta here. Tara’s dragging me to a movie.”
“Close the door on your way out.”
Mitch sat at his desk and it was as if a mortar shell had just landed next to him. He felt shattered. Disoriented. Damn Murdoch to hell and back. He loved Eden. Walking away from her hadn’t changed a damn thing. He still loved her. Ignoring the old man’s advice hadn’t mattered a hill of beans. He still loved her. And he always would. Yeah, she was his weak spot, his Achilles’ heel and that might be uncomfortable as hell, but it was what it was.
So, he loved her and she loved him. But how the hell
did they make this work? The framed photo on his desk caught his eye. She’d printed it in black and white but he realized that it was all the shades of gray on the glossy paper, all the in-betweens that gave it the depth and the meaning she’d captured with the lens.
Their future, their relationship didn’t have to be black and white. Maybe it was in exploring the shades of gray that they’d find a way to make things work. She’d asked him once if he would have came looking for her and he’d said no. That was about to change.
He’d accrued plenty of leave time over the past few years. He just needed a favor or two to get it pushed through pronto. He picked up the phone.
He had to get back to New Orleans. And Eden.