Shelter in a Soldier's Arms

Chapter Three

“They’re very good,” Maggie said earnestly.

They stood in the cereal aisle of the large grocery store just down the hill from Jeff’s house. He’d never been inside in all the time he’d lived in the neighborhood. He doubted Maggie had been here, either, yet she led the way like an expert, wielding her miniature shopping cart around other patrons, calling out names of favorite brands and making decisions with the ease of an executive. Now she held out a box of Pop-Tarts and gave him a winning smile.

“I had them at Sara’s house. Her mom fixed them for us. She said only kids could eat something that purple.” Her smile broadened. “I said that the purple is the best part.”

He looked doubtfully at the picture on the box. It showed a toaster pastry covered with vivid purple frosting. Just the thought made his stomach tighten. In this case, he’d have to side with Sara’s mom.

“You really want those?” he asked, not sure how that was possible.

Maggie nodded vigorously, making her dark curls dance around her head.

“Does your mother buy these for you?”

Big blue eyes suddenly turned away from him. She became intensely interested in the contents of her cart, rearranging the three frozen kid meals he’d bought her. Finally she returned her gaze to him and slowly shook her head.

“No.”

Outside of his abilities, he didn’t count on very much in the world, but he would have bet his life that Maggie Churchill was incapable of lying—whether because of her age, her character, her upbringing or a combination of the three. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone like her before.

“Would you really eat them if we got them?”

Questions filled her eyes. Questions and hope. She practically vibrated her assent.

“All right.” He tossed the package into her tiny cart. “If you’re sure.”

She gazed at him as if he’d just created a rainbow right there in the grocery store. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his legs and squeezing tight.

“Thank you,” she said fervently. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

He hadn’t known she could be anything but.

They continued their shopping, going up and down each aisle. Jeff found that buying bread for sandwiches also meant buying something to go in between the slices of bread. Maggie favored peanut butter and jelly. He thought her mother might appreciate something more along the lines of sliced turkey or beef. Which meant an intense discussion on mustard versus mayonnaise, and an interpretation of whether or not Maggie’s shudder at the thought of pickles meant her mother didn’t like them, either.

The girl’s cart was already full and his was nearly so when they turned the corner and found themselves in the pet food aisle. Maggie touched a can of cat food and sighed.

“Do you have a kitty?” she asked, sounding hopeful. “I didn’t see one but maybe she was asleep.”

“Sorry. No pets.”

“Why? Don’tcha like them?”

“Cats?” He’d never thought about them one way or the other. Dogs could be a problem. Dogs made noise, alerting people to the presence of intruders. More than one mission had nearly been compromised by the unexpected presence of a dog. But cats?

“I travel a lot,” he said, then hesitated. Conversing with Maggie was both easy and difficult. He didn’t mind spending time in her company, which surprised him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. How did people talk to children? He only knew how to talk to adults.

“Pets are a big responsibility,” he continued. “It wouldn’t be fair to the animal to leave it alone all the time.”

She considered his statement, then nodded slowly. “Mommy and I are home plenty, but she says we can’t have a kitten just yet. They can be expensive. Not for her food, but if she got sick or somethin’. Mommy gets sad about money sometimes. She cries in the bathroom.” Maggie pressed her lips together. “I don’t think I’m supposed to know, but I can hear her, even with the water running. Can you make Mommy not be sad?”

He wasn’t sure what to do with the information Maggie shared. Based on the little he knew about Ashley’s situation, he wasn’t surprised by her financial concerns. But he also wasn’t willing to take on responsibility for her emotional state.

“Your mother isn’t sad now,” he said, sidestepping the issue.

Maggie thought for a moment, then nodded her agreement. “Mommy’s happy.”

Jeff thought that might be a stretch. Ashley might be relieved to be out of the shelter, but he doubted she was pleased with her present circumstances. His guess was she wouldn’t rest easy until she had her life back in order.

While Jeff heated soup in a pan on the stove, Maggie watched her frozen kid’s dinner as it warmed in the microwave. The entrée had come with a small toy, which she clutched in her hand as she danced from foot to foot, waiting for the timer to beep.

“I like chicken,” she announced. “And macaroni and cheese. I’ve never had them together before.”

It didn’t sound like much of a treat to him, but then, he wasn’t four. After stirring Ashley’s soup, he returned to the task of putting away the rest of the groceries. As the pantry shelves were bare, it didn’t take long. He put milk and juice into the refrigerator, along with several cartons of yogurt. Frozen foods went into the freezer.

Grocery shopping and cooking had to be two of the most normal activities, and yet they all felt foreign to him. He didn’t eat yogurt from a carton. The last time he’d had the stuff had been during a covert operation in Afghanistan and the goat responsible for the yogurt had watched him warily, as if to make sure he swallowed every spoonful.

He stirred the soup again, then checked on Maggie’s dinner.

“Twenty more seconds,” she told him, never taking her gaze from the timer.

He dug through kitchen cupboards, pulling out a bowl from a set of dishes he doubted he’d ever used. He also unearthed a wooden tray. After rinsing and drying the bowl, he poured the soup, then, along with a spoon, set it on the tray, next to some toast and a glass of juice. When the microwave beeped, he lifted Maggie’s dinner onto the tray, along with cutlery and a drink, and started toward his guest’s room.

“I get dessert later, right?” Maggie asked, confirming the reality of her purple Pop-Tart.

“Absolutely. We’ll get your mom settled first, though.”

“Okay.”

He waited while Maggie pushed open the door, then he stepped into Ashley’s room. Light spilled out from the bathroom, but the bedroom itself was in twilight. He could make out her still figure on the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even.

He was about to retreat, taking Maggie with him, when the four-year-old flew at her mother and pounced onto the mattress.

“Mommy, Mommy, we brought dinner. There’s soup for you and chicken pieces and macaroni and cheese for me. And Mr. Ritter got me Pop-Tarts and they’re purple!”

Ashley came awake slowly. She opened her eyes and smiled at her daughter, then shifted her gaze so she could take in the room. He both felt and saw the exact moment she noticed him. For a second she looked confused, then she blinked and the questions in her eyes were gone.

Jeff was pleased she didn’t appear frightened. He doubted the circumstances were to her liking, but she was in no condition to change them. He’d said and done as much as he could to convince her she was completely safe in his company, but it would take time and experience for her to learn that she could trust him.

“I brought dinner,” he said as he flipped on the floor lamp. “Do you think you can eat?”

“I’m going to eat with you,” Maggie said, sliding off the bed and walking to the small table by the window. “Is here okay?”

“It’s fine, sweetie.” Ashley shifted until she was in a sitting position, her back against the headboard. She rubbed her eyes, then looked at the tray. “I’m not hungry, but I haven’t had anything since dinner last night, so I should probably try to get something down.”

He served Maggie first, carefully putting her entrée in front of her, then setting out a fork, a glass of milk and three napkins. When he carried the tray to Ashley, he noticed that she’d changed her clothes while they’d been gone. She’d traded jeans for sweatpants and her blouse for a loose T-shirt, both in faded navy.

She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Sleep had mussed her dark hair. While it wasn’t as curly as her daughter’s, it was thick and wavy, falling just to her shoulders.

“Maggie promised that you like chicken soup,” he said adjusting the tray so the legs bracketed Ashley’s slender thighs.

“What’s not to like?” she said, picking up a spoon and taking a sip. “It’s great.” She paused and looked at him. “You’ve been more than kind. I really appreciate it. We’ll be out of your hair by morning.”

“I doubt that,” Jeff told her. “You’re sick. You’re going to need a few days to get your strength back. I want you to feel comfortable enough to do that here.”

Her hazel eyes seemed more blue than green or brown. Was it the hour of the day or a reflection of her navy T-shirt? Her arms were thin…too thin. Maggie had a sturdiness about her, but Ashley looked as if a slight breeze could blow her away.

As he continued to stare, he noticed a flush of color climbing her cheeks. At first he thought it was from her fever, but then he had the sudden thought that she might be uncomfortable with his scrutiny. He shifted his attention to her daughter.

“Maggie was a big help at the grocery store,” he said. The little girl beamed at him.

“I can only imagine,” Ashley said dryly. “She convinced you to buy Pop-Tarts.”

“I wasn’t a hard sell.”

“Mr. Ritter has a magic car,” Maggie said between bites of chicken. “A lady spoke to us from the air and everything.”

Jeff pulled out the second chair at the small table and sat down. “I called my assistant from the car, using the speakerphone. I needed some menu ideas.”

“She was very nice and said hello to me,” Maggie added.

The girl had finished most of her macaroni and cheese, although she wore a good portion of the sauce on her face and hands. Jeff studied the shape of her eyes and her mouth, then glanced at her mother, trying to figure out what traits they shared.

Ashley’s features were slightly more delicate. The eye color was different, as well. Did Maggie’s blue eyes come from her father?

Ashley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, using her left hand. Jeff had already noted that she didn’t wear a ring, but now he looked to see if there were any telltale marks showing one had recently been removed. He didn’t see any tan lines or indentations. A divorce? he wondered. Although having a baby didn’t require a woman to marry, Ashley struck him as the marrying kind. He didn’t think she would have chosen to have a child on her own. Not without a good reason.

“Is there anyone I should phone?” he asked. “A relative out of state, a friend?”

She paused in the act of drinking her juice and carefully put down the glass. “You mean to let them know where I am?”

“Yes.”

A shadow slipped across her eyes and she looked away from him. He could read her mind as clearly as if she spoke her thoughts. The truthful answer was that she was all alone in the world. If there was no one to care about her, then there was no one to worry if she and her daughter disappeared.

He leaned toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ashley.”

She smiled without meeting his gaze. He hated that the fear was back in her eyes. “I know. I wasn’t thinking that at all. You’ve been very good to us.”

“Your parents?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t pry.

“Grandma’s in heaven with Daddy,” Maggie piped up. She’d finished her dinner and was carefully wiping her hands with a napkin.

Ashley a widow? Jeff frowned. She was too young, barely in her mid-twenties. What had happened? A car accident? Murder? Did her husband’s death account for her difficult financial circumstances?

Before he could decide if he could ask any or all of those questions, his cell phone rang. He excused himself and stepped into the hall.

“Ritter,” he said into the instrument.

“It’s Brenda,” his assistant said. “I have been my normal efficient self. Are you ready?”

“Just a second.” He pulled a notebook and a pen from his suit pocket and started walking toward his study downstairs. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve found a sitter for Maggie tomorrow afternoon. It’s one of her teachers from the preschool. So not only is the woman qualified and trustworthy, but Maggie already knows and likes her. Next, I have Ashley’s schedule of classes in front of me. She has two tomorrow. They’re advanced classes and don’t have Internet lecture notes so I’ve been in touch with an off-campus service that specializes in taking notes. They will attend both lectures for her and provide me with typed notes by two tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’m impressed,” he said, sliding behind his desk and settling on his leather chair. “How’d you find her class schedule?”

Brenda chuckled. “I was about to get all high-tech and then I remembered she works here. Her Social Security number is on the job application in her personnel file. After that, it was easy. After all, I’ve learned from the best.”

“Do you mean me or Zane?”

“I refuse to answer that,” she said, her voice teasing. “I’ll drop by about seven tomorrow morning to help get the little one ready.”

“Do you think that’s necessary? She seems fairly self-sufficient.” After all, she’d talked him into getting just about everything she wanted at the grocery store.

“Do you really want to deal with getting a four-year-old girl ready for school? I’m talking about picking out clothes and doing her hair.”

He hadn’t thought that part through. “I guess not. Seven sounds fine. I appreciate this, Brenda.”

“I know. I just wish you’d let me go into the field. I’d be great.”

“Your husband would kill me.”

“Probably, but I’d have a fabulous time.”

He tried to imagine his fifty-something assistant slinking along the banks of a Russian river, waiting to make a drop.

Brenda sighed. “I know, I know. I don’t speak any languages, I’m wildly out of shape, but hey, a girl can dream, right?”

“Absolutely. And comfort yourself with the thought that I’d be lost without you.”

“I know.” She chuckled. “See you in the morning, boss.”

“We’ll be here.”

He pushed the “end” button and terminated the call, then went back upstairs so he could return to Ashley’s room and collect the tray.

He found the larger guest room empty and the sound of running water and laughter coming from the bathroom. Jeff quickly picked up empty dishes and set them on the tray. He was nearly out the door when Ashley appeared.

“I thought I heard you return,” she said, leaning against the wall by the bathroom. “Thanks for making dinner. I’m going to give Maggie a bath, then come down with her while she has her dessert. We’ll read for a bit and both be in bed by eight.”

Weariness darkened her eyes and pulled at the corners of her mouth. She was attractive, in a slender, delicate sort of way.

“You look like you could use a good night’s sleep,” he said.

She studied him. “I can’t decide if I should ask you again why you’re bothering, or simply be grateful.”

“How about just thinking about getting well?”

She tilted her head slightly. “My daughter thinks you’re a very nice man.”

“Your daughter is trusting.” Too trusting.

“She hasn’t had a chance to learn otherwise.”

She’d made a statement but he wondered if it was also a warning. As in Don’t teach her differently. Don’t give her a reason not to trust.

Jeff wanted to reassure her that he had no intention of destroying Maggie’s illusions about the world. Time would take care of that, and far too quickly for his taste. Oddly, he liked knowing that somewhere a four-year-old little girl laughed with glee because there were Pop-Tarts and kittens.

“Who are you, Jeff Ritter?”

No one you want to know. But he didn’t say that aloud because it would frighten her. “A friend.”

“I hope so. Good night.”

She turned back to the bathroom. He left her bedroom and walked down to the kitchen where he loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher then thought about fixing dinner for himself. There were sandwich ingredients and frozen dinners, soup, chili and a couple of apples.

But instead of preparing a meal, he walked into the living room and stared out into the night. The light rain had stopped although clouds still covered the sky. Jeff looked into the darkness, trying to ignore the sense of impending doom. He felt the familiar clenching of his gut and knew that trouble lay ahead. As he wasn’t on a mission, he didn’t know what form the trouble would take. Obviously it had something to do with the woman. With Ashley.

Even from this distance, he could sense her in the house. Her soft scent drifted through the air, teasing him, making him wonder how it would feel to be like other men.

His footsteps crunched on the path that led through the center of the village. It was night, yet he could see everything clearly. Probably because of the fire.

The flames were everywhere, licking at the edges of the shabby structures, chasing after the unwary residents, occasionally catching someone off guard and consuming them in a heartbeat.

The fire was alive, fueled by dry timbers and a chemical dreamed up in a lab thousands of miles away. Jeff was familiar with the smell, the heat and the destruction. He hated the fire. It showed no mercy. At times he would swear he heard it laughing as it destroyed.

It was only after he’d gone into the center square of the village that he became aware of the sounds. The crack of timbers breaking as they were consumed, the gunshot sound of glass exploding, the screams of the villagers. The soft crying of a lost child.

He knew this village. Every building, every person. He knew that just beyond the rise in the path was the river. He could walk through the fire again and again and never be touched. Because this village was a part of him, a creation of his mind and he was drawn to it night after night. No matter how he fought against the dream, it pulled him in, sucking him toward hell as surely as the fire crept toward the truck at the edge of the square and caught it in its grasp.

A sharp cry caught his attention. He turned and saw a teenage girl running from a burning building. A support beam creaked and tipped, then fell toward her. Jeff saw it happen in slow motion. He took one step, then another. He reached for the girl, determined to pull her to safety. He put out his hand.

She reached toward him in response. Slowly, achingly slowly, she raised her head until she could see him. Then her mouth opened wider and she screamed as he’d never heard another human being scream before. Sheer, soul-numbing terror.

She jerked away from him and ran toward the river. The support beam tumbled to the ground, narrowly missing her as she fled. Jeff took a step after her. Only then did he notice that all the villagers were racing away from him. They pointed and screamed, acting as if he were a threat worse than the fire.

An aching coldness filled him. Unable to stop himself, he walked toward the river, toward the small pool fed by the flowing water. Fire raged all around him, but he remained untouched by the destruction. People ran past him, screaming, darting out of his way. A mother raced by, a toddler in her arms. The small child cried when he saw Jeff, then ducked his head into the curve of his mother’s neck.

They ran and ran until he was alone. Alone and standing by the pool. And even though he didn’t want to look, he couldn’t help himself. He knelt by the still water and waited for the smoke to clear enough for him to see his reflection.

Then he knew why they ran, why they screamed in terror. He wasn’t a man. Instead of his face, he saw the cold metal features of a mechanical creature. A robot. A metal being not even remotely alive. Fire danced over him, but he couldn’t feel it. Nor did it hurt him. He couldn’t be burned or damaged in any way. He could only terrify…

Jeff woke in a cold sweat, the way he did every night after the dream. There was no moment of confusion. From the second consciousness returned, he knew exactly where he was and what had happened. He also knew he wouldn’t sleep for several hours.

He rose and, in deference to his company, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Then he left his bedroom, prepared to wander through the house like a ghost. Silent, alone, living in the shadows. He tried not to think about the dream, but he was, as usual, unsuccessful. He knew what it meant—that he didn’t see himself as human. That he considered himself little more than a machine of destruction. But knowing the truth of the message wasn’t enough to make it stop.

As he moved down the hall, he felt a change in the night air. Not a disturbance, just something…different. He could sense the presence of his guests.

Unable to stop himself, he headed in the direction of their rooms. Maggie’s door was partially closed. He stood in the hallway and looked in on her.

She slept in the center of the double bed, a small figure guarded by her menagerie of stuffed animals. She was curled up, the blankets tucked around her, sleeping soundly, breathing evenly. A dark curl brushed against her cheek.

He remembered her trust, the sound of her laughter, her delight at the speakerphone in his car. She was a magical child, he thought gruffly, as he noticed one of her fluffy cats had tumbled to the ground. Silently he stepped into her room and put the toy back on the bed. Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he moved through the connecting bathroom and into Ashley’s room.