The Sea of Aaron (19 page)

***

“Hey, Valerie. How about you and me taking a little walk,” Drew said.

He had just finished helping Aaron load their luggage into the SUV and was approaching Valerie, who was standing at a slight distance from the hotel, casting her final glance at the Sea of Galilee. They would be heading for the airport soon.

“What's up?”

“Got a little surprise for you.”

He held up a large brown paper bag. “Quick. I don't want the others to see.”

What was he up to? Valerie couldn't help melting at the way his eyes lit up, his boyishly handsome smile—a smile that appeared much more frequently on his face than on his father's. She followed Drew around the back of the hotel as he ducked into a narrow alleyway where three huge garbage dumpsters were lined up.

“Nice romantic spot,” Drew said cheerfully.

“Very.” She wrinkled her nose at the pungent aroma of putrefying food. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“I present you with…”

He let his voice trail off as he set the bag down and extracted a large picture frame. Valerie gasped as she recognized the empty frame that had been in Uncle Gabriel's hallway of heroes.

“You
didn't.
”

“Yes, ma'am. Step back, please.”

She stepped back as he swung the frame like a baseball bat against the dumpster, shattering it into a million glass shards. Valerie began to laugh deliriously—laughter that was really a mask for emotional tears. He picked up the remaining pieces and tossed them in with the rest of the trash.

“Make no mistake about it,” Drew said, taking a bow. “No demented old coot is going to sit back and predict my father's death.”

“Amen,” Valerie said. And she hugged him for all it was worth.

They were still smiling as they returned to the car.

While hanging out in the airport lobby awaiting their flight home, Aaron slouched in a chair reading the Hebrew print newspaper he'd picked up at one of the stands while Drew entertained Valerie and Muffy with a few navy stories as well as some hilarious childhood tales of growing up in Blue Heron, South Carolina. Valerie learned that Drew was the only grandson in his family and that he was close to his grandfather, Lee McDade, a wealthy retired businessman. She was especially surprised that he had grown up in Blue Heron.

“It really is such a small world,” she said. “My mother and my aunt came from there. Back in the 60s, my grandmother worked as a maid for some wealthy family called Sumner.” She chuckled. “That was before she realized slavery had ended.”

“No kidding,” Drew said. “The Sumners used to own the paper mill. Old man Sumner died years ago, but the family's still around. I used to beat the crap outa Brad Sumner when we were kids.”

“Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?” Muffy asked, nudging him.

“In his wildest dreams,” Drew said. “Forget those people. They were the most arrogant, bigoted bunch you'd ever want to meet. Real blue-blooded Southern stereotypes.”

Aaron suddenly looked up from his paper at Valerie. “What became of your grandmother?”

“Never met her. She died before I was born. As a matter of fact, I believe the Sumners buried her. They were her whole life. She lived in a small cottage on their property.”

“Your mother told you this?”

“No. My mother never told me anything. My aunt did. Both my aunt and my mother moved north, but my grandmother chose to stay in Blue Heron because she was so devoted to the Sumners.”

“That's so sad,” Muffy said. “Why didn't she move north with her own family?”

“I don't know.” Valerie shrugged, suddenly realizing that her family background was almost as baffling as Aaron's. “I think my grandmother still had the slave mentality. People were weird back then. It was before the civil rights movement really gained momentum.”

“Racial tolerance has come really slowly to Blue Heron,” Drew said. “Some of the townspeople still fly confederate flags. The old ways aren't practiced anymore, but people still have their mental attitudes about segregation. I mean, on the surface everyone gets along, but many people still practice their own form of segregation by choice.”

“Aaron, have you ever been to Blue Heron?” Valerie asked, noticing that he'd tuned out of the conversation.

“No. And I have no plans to.”

“Then you've never met Drew's grandfather?”

“We've met. It happened when we were both in Miami on business. He's a good man. A fair one.”

Valerie glanced at Drew. “What kind of business was your grandfather in?”

“He was in the navy during World War II, and after the war he managed the shipping port in Charleston. He's always been connected to the sea in some way. Still owns and sails his own ketch at eighty.”

“He sounds amazing.”

“You'd like him,” Drew said.

“And your grandmother?”

“Gone. She died when I was a kid. He remarried.”

The conversation continued with Aaron perfectly content to remain silent, until an announcement was made that they were to head for the departure gate.

***

Valerie wished Drew could have stayed around longer, but his leave time from the navy was limited and he didn't return with them to New York.

Valerie accepted a part-time job caring for a stroke victim that didn't interfere with her personal life, and was pleased that Aaron didn't immediately resume international travel. In the weeks that followed, he shuttled between his New York office and the two Avian hubs at JFK and Newark. She got to see him at least three nights out of the week, and on Sundays he was usually around most of the day. She was also pleased that he had put aside his cautious cynicism about Martha Cates, making it easier for the lawyer to set up the trust fund for Mr. Allard's grandson. The boy became the recipient of most of the money, with Valerie retaining only a comparatively small amount.

The renovations on the house were in full swing also. With newly erected scaffolding attached to the back and sides, the estate appeared to beam at the prospect of its resurgence into the twenty-first century.

On an unusually warm Sunday morning, Valerie and Aaron began painting the living room ceiling of their soon-to-be-inhabited house. The project had been her idea because she thought it would be fun to work on something together. But instead she had to deal with his perfectionism, and he teased her for being a klutz. In the end, she became so frustrated that she threw paintbrushes at him and they wound up in a very messy play fight.

Later, Noah and Jasmine dropped by to help them paint and the serious work was undertaken. The day passed very quickly.

***

The velvety warmth of the night wrapped around them as they lay bundled up together in a sleeping bag on the living room floor. Thanks to teamwork, the living room and the smaller parlor area had been painted and, after Noah and Jasmine departed, Aaron had conceded to Valerie's wish to spend the night.

While he appreciated her sense of spontaneity, he felt vulnerable and edgy lying in the empty room surrounded by naked windows that gave free rein to the macabre dance of shifting shadows from outside. In his mind, it was the setting for the perfect hit. He visualized a sniper crouched in the cover of the night drawing a bead. In actuality, the scene was a byproduct of his paranoid imagination. He knew it was not going to happen. Not here in the United States. Here he was simply Aaron Weiss, business mogul, not Nigel Solomon, Arif Salaam, Tarek Abdul, or whatever persona from the Middle East or Africa he chose to personify.

Valerie was not in any danger at all. He never would have married her if he had even an inkling that she would be in jeopardy by default. But at the same time, she didn't know that he had a gun with him, hidden beneath a throw rug within his reach. She also didn't know that he had two armed security people patrolling the grounds. Ridiculous, yes, but he liked the added assurance. Maybe one day he would completely drop the paranoia, but not tonight.

“I'm suddenly remembering what it was like to be ten years old and camping out in the backyard,” Valerie whispered.

“Is that a good memory?” he asked.

She burrowed closer, one hand resting against the hard flatness of his bare mid-section “Yes. My next-door neighbor—her name was Meg—we had a tent in the back and her yellow lab was with us.” She chuckled at the thought. “My mother was appalled, but my father allowed us to do this. Meg and I didn't sleep a wink that night. All we did was tell ghost stories and run back and forth from the tent to the house, stealing junk food. By morning we were sick.”

“Must've been a lot of fun,” he said wryly.

She laughed. “Trust me, it wasn't as bad as it sounds.”

“Valerie,” Aaron said reflectively, his mind completely out of sync with what she had been talking about.

“Yes?”

“Do you know why your father gave up his military career to become a minister?”

“Umm…I've always wondered that myself, but he never…well, almost never talked about his army days. At least not to me.” She toyed with the chain around his neck. “I suspect he saw some casualties…maybe even had to kill in self-defense. And I don't think a good person can take a life without feeling remorse, even if the victim is evil.”

Aaron's initial silence was deafening. “Only a sociopath can kill and feel nothing. It's never easy to be judge, jury, and executioner, even if duty calls upon you to do it.”

He was horribly guilty of bloodshed, but the repercussions of not acting would have been far worse. Still, it was disturbing to consider the grief felt by the innocent, unsuspecting wives and children of the slain terrorists.

“I think my father realized that military strength was not the way to achieve peace,” Valerie said. “And he likely became a minister because he was seeking forgiveness and redemption.”

“Did he find it?”

“Yes,” Valerie answered with conviction. “I'm positive that God in His goodness and mercy extended it to him.”

“How do you think your father would have felt about his daughter marrying someone like me?”

This was definitely not the kind of introspective questioning he usually indulged in, and Valerie was aware of it. Up until now, she had probably gotten the impression that he didn't care one way or another what anyone dead or alive thought of him, and to a degree that was true. So why was he asking her?

“I think,” she said slowly, deliberately, “I honestly think he would have liked you…in time.” She searched for his expression in the darkness.

“In time,” Aaron repeated and then fell silent again.

“Why?” Valerie nudged him. “Why are you talking about this?”

His arm slid around her. “No reason. Does there always have to be one?”

“Not for some people, but you rarely say or do anything without one.”

“Then consider this one of those rare moments,” he replied.

Her questioning silence indicated that she wanted him to elaborate, but he had no such intention.

“The moon and the stars are giving a command performance tonight,” he whispered in her ear.

She looked past his shoulder at the towering windows, to share his view of the active twinkling in the onyx sky. The stars and the full moon, fat and comfortingly yellow, reminded her that there was a cohesive force at work in the universe—a force that was far loftier than humans and very much in control.

“I wish we could just stop time and hold this moment forever,” she said softly.

Aaron stared at the stalking black shadows of pine trees, visualizing what would be the best angle for a sniper to attack—what angle he would take if he were the sniper. “A moment…even a good moment held forever would get boring,” he said.

“Aaron, don't say that.” Valerie gripped him by the forearm “Stop being so uptight and just see the world for what it is…a beautiful work of art by a loving Creator. You make things much more complicated than they need be.”

Had she read his mind? He certainly hoped not, or she would probably come to the conclusion that he was suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome or worse; still, all cynicism aside, she was right. If he could view life the way she did, it would certainly be more joyous and definitely less stressful, but he doubted if he'd ever get the spiritual angle behind her philosophy.

“Sorry,” he said. “You're right. It's a nice, peaceful moment and I'm happy to be sharing it with you.”

“Much better,” she said, kissing him on the mouth.

On the day of Denise's wedding, Valerie awakened to a gray sky and an unsettling premonition that something was about to go wrong. She didn't normally have premonitions or panic attacks, but from the moment she stumbled out of bed feeling slightly nauseated and dizzy, her world seemed off kilter. It didn't help that Aaron was in Singapore on business—or so he told her, when he'd called two days ago. But worrying about him was an exercise in futility. Perhaps the feeling was centered on fickle-minded Denise, who might change her mind at the last moment and pull a no-show.

Fortunately, as the day progressed, her mysterious malaise lifted and she was able to write off the nonsense as rainy day superstition. Except for some easily resolved wedding gown malfunctions that occurred right before arriving at the church, everything went off without a hitch. Denise and Tony were married in Aunt Marilyn's church, even though the groom wasn't a member and Denise hadn't attended since she was a child.

The reception was as loud and obnoxious as Valerie had expected, but she was able to tolerate the endless toasting, drunken dancing, and badly behaving relatives because Jasmine was with her. Jasmine was husbandless as well, since Noah was also out of the country.

After the partying into the wee hours—long after the bride and groom had slipped off en route to the all-expense-paid Hawaiian honeymoon that Valerie and Aaron had given them as a wedding present—Jasmine returned with Valerie to her Englewood apartment instead of taking the longer drive back to her home and they spent the night there.

When Valerie woke up the following Sunday, the apartment was quiet. She pulled on a robe and slipped soundlessly into the kitchen, hoping not to awaken Jasmine in the guest room. Maybe a steaming mug of tea with ginger sprinkled in it would ward off the shaky, nauseous feeling that was plaguing her again.

“Hey.” Jasmine appeared in the kitchen, startling her. “The sun's not even up yet. Why are we?”

Valerie smiled. “We? I don't know about you, but I'm up because I couldn't sleep.”

“Too much partying last night, huh?”

Valerie grimaced at first, then hid a smile. Despite her obvious pregnancy, Jasmine looked like a little girl in an oversize pink Tweety Bird T-shirt and blue stretch pants.

“Are we about to pop this morning?” She addressed Jasmine's belly.

Jasmine yawned. “I wish. Feel like I've been pregnant forever. Can't wait to get this little darling on the outside.”

“Less than two months to go,” Valerie said. “And I'm betting it'll be a lot sooner than that.”

“Hope you're right.” Jasmine reached into the cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal. She glanced at Valerie, toying with the tea. “Is that all you're having?”

“Yeah. I don't know. Just the thought of food is nauseating.”

Jasmine laughed. “If I didn't know better, I would think that you were pregnant, too.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Don't even joke about that. It's probably a hangover.”

“Hangover from what? You hardly drank at all. Plus, you complained of feeling nauseous before the wedding. Maybe you're coming down with something.”

Valerie stirred the liquid, clinking the spoon noisily against the sides of the mug. “I'm sure it's more like something called Aaron anxiety. I'm going to have to stop worrying about him so much, but every time he leaves the country, I have this nagging fear that he won't be returning.”

Jasmine's eyes met hers. “Don't say that. It's not like you to think that way. I'm the one who suffers from chronic pessimism. Besides, you knew the score when you married him.”

“True, but I'll stop worrying only when he tells me straight out that he's never going to get involved in special ops again.”

Jasmine sat at the table. “You don't really think he's on a mission now, do you?”

“No.” She shook her head and tried to console herself. “He said the business involved Avian freight. I'm sure he wouldn't lie to me.”

“Then you'll just have to take his word for it.”

Valerie nodded again and sipped the tea, which tasted horrible.

“You know,” Jasmine said, changing the subject, “I was hoping you'd build a house close to us, but I'm really loving your Long Island place now. That house has such character. It's actually starting to personify you and Aaron.”

Valerie smiled slowly. “How do you personify Aaron and me?”

Jasmine looked puzzled, realizing that there were no words to describe the couple, and they both laughed.

“Can you believe we've been married for almost six months now, and I'm still alive and reasonably sane?” Valerie said.

“And you still love him,” Jasmine added, covering a cagey smile with one hand. “I've been pretty vocal with my doubts, but now I totally get the two of you together. Oh, he's still got his dark, brooding thing going on, but he's a little more down to earth…more appealing since he's learned how to laugh, and he seems to have a higher tolerance for small talk and ordinary people in general.”

Valerie adjusted her sunglasses. “So it really is noticeable? His little…er, transformations have seemed so small to me.”

“Trust me, girlfriend. He is changing. Just keep working on him. Noah notices it, too.”

Valerie knew she should be pleased, but instead, she felt apprehensive, the feeling she got when she realized everything was going perfectly and she knew she should brace herself for a storm to come rolling in. She did not want to discuss Aaron. Her thoughts and feelings about him were too complicated, too deep, and too wrought with emotion.

“Let's talk about your baby. I'm sure he's going to be beautiful.”

“Healthy is good enough for me,” Jasmine said. “And I'm praying that he's nothing like Diego.”

Jasmine had learned a few months ago that the new baby was going to be a boy, and while she hadn't voiced her preferences openly, Valerie sensed that she would have preferred another daughter. The irascible Diego had no doubt influenced that sentiment.

“He'll definitely be calmer,” Valerie assured her, “because this one will be yours and Noah's. Let's face it, Diego's got a whole set of genes that you didn't contribute to. But I still think he'll outgrow his behavior problems.”

“Hmm. In the meantime, I think I'll give him to you and Aaron to raise.”

Valerie laughed and then shuddered. “God forbid. If Aaron had him, the boy would morph into a frightened rabbit.”

Jasmine frowned. “At least he'd be quiet for more than two seconds.”

“Don't worry about it,” she said. “Things will work out.”

But even as she said the words she felt like a slightly bubble-headed Disney cartoon character. Everyone knew that things didn't always work out.

***

By afternoon, Jasmine had returned to her own home and Valerie felt like her old self again. She chided herself for not going to church. It seemed that she had fallen into the pattern of not attending way too easily, and she wondered how much Aaron's influence was causing that tendency. She would have to rectify this soon because losing her spiritual connection was not the way to go.

She stopped to visit her mother and found Ruth Ann sitting in her room before an untouched food tray. Surprisingly, though, her mother looked up attentively and made direct eye contact as Valerie entered.

“Hi, Mom. How are you today?”

“Fine,” Ruth Ann said, squinting, craning her head, and looking somewhere beyond Valerie's shoulder.

“What? What are you looking for?” Valerie asked, realizing that the unusual alertness had little to do with her presence.

“Where's your father? Is he coming to see me today?”

The wind went out of Valerie like a deflated sail, but she quickly recouped. What did she expect?

“He can't come,” Valerie said flatly. “He'd like to, but he can't.” She wanted to blatantly remind her that Joel Redmond was dead, but it seemed cruel.

“He
told
me he would come,” Ruth Ann said, her tone petulant. “He told me the last time I saw him.”

“What do you mean last time? You haven't seen him for years…” Valerie stopped herself. Clearly, she was out of sync with her mother's delusions. Ruth Ann was not talking about Joel; she was talking about Aaron.

“The man you're talking about is
not
my father, he's my husband, and he can't come to see you right now because he's out of the country on business.”

“Out of the country? Business? Why is he out of the country?”

“He does that a lot, Mom. It's his job.” Valerie sat on the edge of the bed, facing her mother, who was seated in a chair with the food tray in front of her. “Here, aren't you going to eat any of this?”

“I don't like that stuff. It has no taste.”

She had over-cooked fried chicken, mashed potatoes, carrots, and some kind of juice, Valerie wasn't sure what. In truth, the meal didn't look all that appealing.

“Would you like me to get you something else instead?”

Ruth Ann shook her head mutely.

“Oh, come on, Mother. How about if I stop by that deli down the road and get you a hero sandwich? You used to like those.” Her mother wasn't on any special diet, so she could pretty much have what she wanted.

“No. I don't want anything, and I don't feel like talking to you right now.”

And it's good to see you, too, Mother,
Valerie thought, rising abruptly. There was no point in trying to continue a conversation. “I'll see you on another day, then. Maybe you'll be in a better mood.” She started toward the door.

“When you come back, bring your father,” Ruth Ann said.

***

That evening, Valerie began cleaning out the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, willing the phone to ring, hoping that Aaron would call her, yet knowing that he probably wouldn't. She tossed an empty bottle of peroxide into the trash, along with a decades-old bottle of aspirin, and then she stopped and stared at a foreign object—an unopened box containing a home pregnancy test. She frowned. What was that doing there? Then she laughed, remembering that Denise had abandoned it after a visit nearly a year ago, when the diva had had an unwanted pregnancy scare. Denise had never used it because she had been too afraid to see the results. Good old Denise, the drama queen, now married and probably having the time of her life in Hawaii. Valerie picked up the box and was about to add it to the trash, when she remembered her earlier conversation with Jasmine.

“No,” she told herself aloud. “No way could I be…” She shuddered, unable to finish the sentence, but instead of throwing the test kit away, she left it sitting on the counter.

***

In the morning, she tumbled out of bed, dreading that she had to go to work because the now-familiar nausea was back. What was going on with her? It was true, she had missed her period, but for her, periods were normally inconsistent and unpredictable, so she hadn't thought much about that.

Beyond frazzled, Valerie stumbled to the bathroom and picked up the pregnancy test. She followed the directions carefully and, to her shock and dismay, when she looked at the indicator stick it revealed a blue line. Positive.