Sixteen

Jackie took each step slowly as she descended into the basement of the hospital, clutching the hand rail, her legs barely holding her weight. Could she do this again? The metal doors loomed before her with the word Morgue stamped in dark red letters. As she approached, ready to pass through the doors, the letters began to bleed. Beside the steel gurney, the sheet floated back. No, not Roger! “There’s no mole.” She looked around. “There’s supposed to be a mole.” She was alone in the cold room with the body. “Where’s the mole?” No one was listening to her. “This isn’t right.”

Jackie bolted upright from her regular nightmare. It didn’t come as often anymore. She and Roger in a burning building and she couldn’t get him out, or he died at the hospital because they didn’t think he was really hurt, or Martin Sweeny shot him. Sometimes it was all three. But they all ended with her a widow in the morgue.

She rolled toward Roger’s side of the bed. Cold and empty. A moment of panic rippled through her. Roger couldn’t be gone again. No, he was here, and this house was proof of it. ICOM Electronics had given him a sizable reward, ten percent of what he had saved them, for all the work he had done on their behalf. A mortgage-free house, four bedrooms, three baths, and a huge yard for RJ to play in along with all the brothers and sisters Roger planned for him to have.

Once everyone who would have wanted to harm them was behind bars, Roger explained to her that he’d had to go on the run from her to distance himself and the danger that pursued him. That he would come back to make sure she was indeed safe. He told her that Martin Sweeny had found out about her and RJ and threatened to harm them if Roger didn’t cooperate. And when she had questions about his absence, and she had a lot, he answered her directly and fully, no more vague answers.

She wrapped her robe around herself and headed down the hall. RJ’s bed was rumpled but empty. He was probably watching Willie the Operatic Whale for the seven hundredth time. Roger had some catching up to do in the children’s video department. As she entered the kitchen, something in the dining room caught her eye. She walked three steps in reverse.

Four of the largest red roses she had ever seen sat in the middle of the table with four heart-shaped boxes of chocolates circling the vase. On each box was a different penguin, and each penguin held a helium balloon that said I love you on it. Beside the plethora of gifts was a note. She picked it up.

Happy Anniversary!

One rose for each year. I love you with all my heart.

RJ is at your parents’. Enjoy a quiet day to yourself.

I made reservations at Manny’s for 6:30. See you there.

All my love,

Roger

She read the card that had been hiding under the piece of paper. It echoed her own heart.

The rift between Roger and her parents was healing. They got along better now than ever. The long nights of talking things over had helped. Roger had been candid and honest with them. He told them about helping his friend Jim Moore, about Sweeny and the troubles with ICOM Electronics. Even her mother had warmed to him. She liked the idea of her son-in-law being a hero, though Roger flat out denied he was any kind of hero. Her mother had actually cooked his favorite food on his birthday last month, barbecued spare ribs. When Jackie had started to cry and Roger asked her about it, all she could do was squeak out the word happy.

A whole day to herself. She hadn’t had a whole day to herself in a long time. What would she do? She could finish unpacking those boxes in the corner of the basement and make banana bread before the three bananas were too ripe. And the laundry always needed to be done.

But if Roger was leaving her to her own devices, she knew exactly how to spend her day—shopping! Top on her list was a dress to wow Roger, have her hair and nails done, get a facial. . . .

She almost bought a little red satin dress, but red wasn’t her color. Instead she found a black velvet dress with faux diamond rhinestones, long sleeves, and a neckline that scooped just enough to show off the diamond cross necklace Roger had given her on their first anniversary. The piece de resistance was the back of the dress. In place of fabric a lattice work of faux diamonds was strung together.

She had thought about wearing a dumpy old dress or a faded T-shirt and holey jeans for leaving her alone all day on their anniversary. Two things stopped her. One, he’d remembered their anniversary. She recalled that her dad had been in the doghouse a number of times for forgetting. He’d tried to cover up with a hastily purchased card and a promise of a special dinner. Mom was never fooled. Two, she had spent almost enough money today to make up for his absence. But after her nightmare, she still felt that uneasiness of not seeing him and holding him. She couldn’t wait.

First glimpse of the entrance to Manny’s flashed her back to the doors in her nightmare. She wished Roger was with her and not meeting her here. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open. Roger was not in the entrance waiting for her as she had expected.

The host approached her. “Right this way.”

“I’m waiting for someone.”

“Your table’s ready.”

She followed him. Roger must already be at the table. But how did the host know who she was?

“Your table.” He pulled out a chair for her.

The same one. She sat down. She looked across the table at the empty chair. Where was Roger? Her breaths came in short, quick puffs. She could do this. Roger would be here. The chair almost seemed to push her out, but she willed herself to stay. She would trust Roger, but more important she would trust God. God had brought Roger back to her. She forced herself to take normal breaths, slow and even.

A waiter came and set a plate of grilled salmon, rice pilaf, and steamed vegetables in front of her. Across the table, he set a medium-well sirloin steak, baked potato with extra sour cream and chives on it, just the way Roger liked it, and the same kind of steamed vegetables. It was the very thing they had ordered last time. But she hadn’t ordered. She didn’t even have a menu yet. She turned to tell him so, but he was gone, and Roger was gazing down at her.

She jumped up to give him a hug as he leaned over, and she caught his chin with her shoulder. He grabbed his chin and mouth.

“Oh, Roger, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” His grimace contradicted that. “I don’t want anything to spoil tonight.”

She wrapped her arms, carefully this time, around Roger. She didn’t care if people were staring. If they knew how long she had been waiting to spend just one anniversary with her husband, they would understand.

After they sat, Roger bowed his head and asked a blessing for their food, their anniversary, and a future filled with many more anniversaries together. She gave a hearty amen to that.

A cell phone rang at the next table. They both jumped, then laughed.

“No phones, no interruptions. Tonight is all ours.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I wanted to pretend this was our first anniversary, but I want us to move forward into the future and not live in the past.”

“I never want to relive our first anniversary.” She lifted her water glass to him. He took her cue. “To the future.”

“The future.” He clanked his glass against hers.

She sipped the water and set her glass down then turned as four men in white shirts and red bow ties approached their table. One man put a small metal thing to his mouth and blew. A tone like that of a harmonica came out, and all four men hummed.

“Let me call you sweetheart. I’m in love with you,” they sang in perfect four-part harmony.

Roger reached across the table and took her hand. She gave his a squeeze, listening to every word of her serenade.

When the quartet had left, Roger came around the table and kissed her. “I have been wanting to do that since I saw you get out of the van.” He sat back down. “And there is more where that came from when we get home.”

She felt suddenly warm.

The waiter interrupted then. “Is everything to your liking?”

“Just fine,” Roger said with a lopsided grin.

The waiter turned to her.

She kept her gaze locked with Roger’s when she spoke to the waiter. “Could we get these to go?”