My Hero (30 page)

Suddenly he remembered something else Penny had once written in her column about him as the most eligible as well as most elusive bachelor in the White House. He'd taken more than a little ribbing about that in the West Wing. Now a tiny light bulb went on somewhere in the dim recesses of his skull.

“You had it all planned?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Right from the start? Beginning with that red eye flight from LA.?”

Diana didn't even have to answer. Her feline smile, somewhere between a cougar and an alley cat, was far more eloquent than any words she might have spoken.

“You married me on a fucking bet,” he muttered, slapping the steering wheel with the flat of his hand.

“Well, we had some great moments, darling. Oh, come on, Cal. You've got to admit that. And if you're worried that someone might find out, don't. Trust me, no one knows a thing but Penny and me. I'm certainly not telling, and I've got enough dirt on Penny to guarantee that she won't ever say or print a word of it. Not to worry, love. And I meant what I said, you know. You really do look sexier than ever.”

After that remark, it hadn't really surprised him when Diana had suggested a farewell tryst in the rest room at the bus station. Cal had politely declined. Actually what he'd told her was that by the time his Viagra kicked in, she'd already be halfway to Dallas. Her look of pity and disgust was exactly what he'd expected, and he figured that would preclude any further invitations for Olympic-class sex from his soon-to-be ex.

After he put her on the bus for Dallas, Cal thought about what she'd said while he was driving back to Honeycomb. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved to know that the marriage hadn't been his idea, or ashamed to discover that he'd been so thoroughly duped, beginning in an airplane lavatory at 35,000 feet above the earth.

He almost laughed out loud, recalling the look on Diana's face when he'd mentioned the Viagra. He'd have to remember to tell that Viagra thing to Holly. It was almost as good as the Creeks and Greeks and the goats, if he did say so himself. God, how he loved to hear her laugh. Well, on second thought, maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Holly, despite her vibrant sense of humor, probably wouldn't think it was so damned funny, his being hit on by another woman. Particularly Diana.

Or maybe Holly wouldn't really give a shit. Maybe she was one of those women who just loved the one she was with. Him in Texas. Somebody else when she got back to New York.

After what he'd just learned about his marriage, who was he to judge a woman's wiles or whims or motives? He'd made a mess of that even before he'd gotten shot.

The little round clock on the dashboard told him he had eight hours before the Hec Garcia bust went down this evening. One good thing. His problems with the women in his life had certainly made him forget all about the butterflies in his stomach.

There was no mistaking Cal's tread on the fire escape or the accompanying acceleration of Holly's pulse. She'd spent the past few hours, while waiting for him to return, filming B roll of the annual parade on Main Street, where it had begun to feel less like the Fourth of July than Old Home Week, only far better than her actual old home.

Nita Mendes called out and waved to her from the back seat of a red Caddy convertible that was draped with blue and white crepe paper. Bobby Brueckner from the bank leaned down from his two-story-high palomino in order to present Holly with a little plastic flag. Coral, stationed in front of the Longhorn, handed her a doughnut with red, white, and blue sprinkles and wouldn't even consider letting Holly pay.

“Pardon my asking, hon,” Coral asked with a telling roll of her eyes, “but where's that too-sexy-for-her-clothes ex-wife of Cal's who was with y'all at breakfast?”

“Gone,” Holly said, licking patriotic sprinkles from her fingers. “Long gone. He drove her to Kingsville to catch a bus.”

“Good riddance,” Coral said. “Though I'd rather you said he'd put her in a gunny sack and taken her down to the creek and pitched her in.”

Holly laughed, then asked the waitress to move out into the sunlight so she could get a better picture of her.

Coral patted her blond beehive and scooted her chair out of the shade. “You gonna put me in your movie, hon?”

“Sure,” Holly said, even as she realized that she was doing most of this filming for purely personal reasons. It wasn't extra footage for Cal's story. It was for herself. For her own private archives. She wanted to remember everything about this day in Honeycomb. Everything and everyone.

Especially the one who was coming up her fire escape right now. She opened the door before he had to knock.

Cal stepped over the threshold, gazed around the rose-papered room, then drew Holly into his arms and whispered, “I hate to admit it, but I'm starting to develop a fondness for this damned wallpaper.”

Holly laughed, loving the feel of his arms around her, the hard warmth of him against her, the way his lips drifted over her hair. “We're probably the only couple in the world who doesn't have ‘Our Song.’ We have ‘Our Wallpaper’ instead.”

She began to pull away, but Cal drew her even closer against him.

“Holly. Listen to me, baby. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings.”

She shook her head against his chest. “It's my fault,” she said. “I should've known better than to believe anything Diana said. I'm a journalist, for God's sake. I should've checked my facts.”

“Next time, just ask me, okay? I'll never lie to you.”

She angled her head up, grinning even as she grimaced in mock horror. “There's going to be a next time?”

“Not if I can help it.”

As long as her face was properly tilted and just a few convenient inches from his face, Holly lifted on tiptoe and pressed her lips to Cal's. “Mmm. I've been wanting to do that ever since breakfast,” she said. “I've been wanting to do that ever since I left here last month, actually. I missed you. Oh, God, I missed you, Cal, even when I was mad as hell at you.”

Cal took her face in both his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “I missed you, too, babe. I had myself convinced that you, well…” He lifted an eyebrow. “So there's nobody in New York I need to beat to a pulp or put out a hit on?”

“Nobody,” she said, planting little kisses from one edge of his smile to the other. “Well, except maybe the people in charge at work. The ones who keep cutting back on my budget for the piece about you on Hero Week. I'm half tempted to beat them to a pulp myself.”

“Holly, this hero business…” His expression turned from sexily sweet to almost grim. He swore harshly, then reached for her hand, led her to the big walnut bed, and sat her down. “As long as we're being so honest, there are some things you really ought to know.”

“Wait!” she exclaimed, feigning a look of horror. “Oh, God. Oh, no! You're not about to tell me you don't have a Superman costume on under your clothes, are you?”

“I'm serious here.”

“So am I,” she said, unable to stop laughing even as he glared at her.

When he sat on the bed beside her, Holly reached for the top button of his shirt. “Well, I guess I'll have to look for myself. Just think of me as Lois Lane, checking out her facts.”

He caught her hand in his, pressed her palm flat against his chest where Holly could feel the strong and solid beat of his heart. “Be serious for a minute and listen to me, will you?” he said. “This is important.”

“All right.”

Holly sucked in a breath. It wasn't easy, sobering up her expression. She was just so damned happy to be with Cal that it was all she could do not to skip around the room, stripping off her clothes, piece by piece, while whistling “Happy Days Are Here Again.”

“There.” She exhaled slowly. “Okay. What is it that's so important?”

Cal brought her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “It's about this hero business. I haven't lied to you, exactly, but…Well, I haven't given you the whole truth, either.”

“Which is…?” Holly knew a lot of things about Cal that he hadn't told her himself, but she didn't have a clue what he was about to confess, and his serious demeanor was starting to make her nervous. Very nervous.

“I've probably given you the impression that, once my medical leave is over in September, I'll be resuming my duties with the President right where I left off last year.” He paused to clear his throat. “That…uh…that might not be the case.”

Now that she knew exactly what he was going to say, Holly didn't want to hear it. She'd heard it before from just about everyone in town, most notably Cal's brother-in-law, Dooley Reese.

About the only one who thinks he's got a chance to get back is Cal himself.

“Holly, listen…”

She touched a finger to his lips. “No, you listen to me. I don't think I've ever told you about my daddy, did I?”

He shook his head, blinking, as if to say
What the hell does your daddy have to do with any of this?

Holly scooted back on the bed and patted the place beside her. “Come here. Just stretch out and close your eyes and listen to me.”

“All right.” There was a note of skepticism in his voice, but he settled beside her, taking her hand in his. “I'm listening.”

“My daddy lost a foot in Viet Nam. His platoon wandered right into an ambush one afternoon. Their point man, Harris—he was a Private first class and only with the unit a few days—was hit first, a terrible wound I guess because he lay there screaming while the others dived for cover wherever they could find it.”

Holly paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. She hadn't revisited her father's war story in such a long time. He'd never told it to her himself. Not one word. She'd spent years uncovering the story herself, combing through the papers her mother had saved, tracking down and interviewing the men who'd been in Corporal Bobby Ray Hicks' outfit.

“As I understand it, they were caught in a crossfire with the bullets coming so fast and furiously that nobody could even raise up on an elbow to fire back. This went on for two or three hours, and all the while Private Harris was screaming.”

“Jesus,” Cal breathed.

“Their lieutenant radioed for a helicopter, and told everybody to hold their positions until it came, which was probably a wise call since he didn't want to lose any more men. Well, to make a long story short, when the chopper landed a few hundred yards south of them, everybody started running for it. Except my daddy, who started running north to where Harris was.”

Holly sighed. “The reports from the men who made it to the helicopter were all identical to the last detail. Daddy came crashing out of the underbrush with Private Harris slung over his shoulder. He took three steps, and then a land mine exploded and blew off his foot right there.”

Cal muttered a quiet curse and held her hand more tightly.

“If he'd been six inches either side of it, everything would've been different, and I don't think he ever got over that,” Holly said. “He survived, of course. Harris survived, and apparently tried half a dozen times to express his gratitude but my father wouldn't listen. Daddy got a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star and a bitterness in his heart that ruined his life more than the loss of his foot.”

“So, that's why his daughter doesn't believe in heroes.”

“He didn't believe in them. He thought of himself as a fool. A loser. Not that he ever said so. At least not to me. But when he came home to Sandy Springs, he ripped down the bunting hung to greet him, he threw his medals in the trash, and pretty much quit living. Loving, too, for that matter.”

Holly turned toward Cal, levered up on her elbow. “And the point of that long digression is what I'm focusing on in my piece about you. It's not about the heroic deed itself. It's not about what somebody does in the blink of an eye. It's about what he does with his life afterwards.”

Cal reached up to twist one of her curls around his finger. “How'd a self-pitying bastard like that ever have such a smart and thoughtful little girl?”

Ignoring his question, Holly continued. “The point isn't whether or not you take up at the White House right where you left off in September. The point is that you're fighting so hard to do it. If there is such a thing as heroism, then that's the essence of it.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I don't know.”

“Well, I know. I've seen you out there on the track when you didn't know anyone was watching. I've seen you fall and get back up. Again and again. That's what it's all about.”

“Yeah, well, I'll tell you a little secret, Miss Holly Hicks.” Cal levered up on his elbow now so their faces were nearly touching. “All that work I've been doing…making it back to the level where I used to function doesn't seem as crucial to me as it did a month or two ago. Back then I didn't have anything else in my life but the job.”

“And now?” she whispered, thinking she knew what he was going to say.
Hoping
she knew what he was going to say.

“And now there's you.” The fingers just toying with her curls slid more deeply into her hair and he brought her face even closer to his. “Holly, I'm half in love with you.”

Oh. Her heart felt as if it were opening like a rose within her chest. An entire bouquet of roses. A million blossoms crowding out the air in her lungs. For a moment she couldn't even speak, but only gaze at her own reflection in Cal's bluer-than-blue eyes…

…which suddenly began to look worried.

“Did you hear me?” he asked, sounding as worried and uncertain as he looked. “I said I'm half in love with you, Miss Holly Hicks.”

God. She was so happy, so ridiculously joyous, so incredibly over the moon that all she could do was burst out laughing and ask, “Which half?”

Cal would've been content to spend the next twenty-four hours in the big bed on Ellie's second floor. Hell, he wouldn't have minded spending the next twenty-four years there as long as Holly was with him. They'd missed lunch and dinner, and Cal found himself wishing they could dial up room service so they didn't have to leave the bed, or get dressed, or even loosen their embrace.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, sliding his hand along Holly's smooth, warm flank.

“Mmm. I'm basking in the throes of afterglow here.”