Chapter 7
E than wound through traffic at a dizzying speed. Amelia held on to his waist, pressing her cheek to his back. Eventually they stopped. She sat up and looked around at a part of the city she’d never seen before. He took her hand to help her off the bike.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she replied. “I love motorcycles. My friend from back home had one and used to sneak me for rides whenever my mother wasn’t looking. Sadly, she was almost always looking.”
“You seemed a little frightened,” he said.
“No, I wasn’t scared at all,” she said.
“That’s strange because you were holding on tightly, pressing against me, almost like you were trying to melt into me,” he said.
She was glad it was growing dark so he couldn’t see her cheeks heat with a blush. “I was under the impression that was proper motorcycle passenger etiquette.”
“I guess that explains why your friend used to try to give you so many rides,” he said.
“Her name was Shelly. Things got awkward,” she said, and he laughed.
He led her up some steps and then they climbed for a bit until at last they spilled out onto a cliff overlooking the Potomac. All around them graffiti had been sprayed on the rock walls. It wasn’t the sort of place Amelia would frequent by herself, but with him she felt safe. Scary people might come to this place, but Ethan was far more lethal than anyone they might encounter. They sat and watched in silence as the sun sank low over the river.
“Beautiful,” Amelia murmured.
“It is,” Ethan agreed.
“Come here often?” she asked.
“Nah. When I was a kid and used to travel to DC for various reasons, I scouted out all the cool, out-of-the-way hangouts. Now that I’m elderly and settled, I don’t have time to revisit them. I probably haven’t been here in five years.”
“Since you were my age,” she reminded him. “What were you like then? How have you changed? Because sometimes it’s hard to imagine being any different than I am now, but I know people grow and mature as they get older.”
“Not all people do. Some people seem stuck in a perpetual childhood, like Peter Pan. Only the really good ones are constantly growing and changing,” he said.
“True,” she agreed. “So, tell me, how have you grown and changed?”
“I used to have a bigger chip on my shoulder, like I had something to prove to the world. I don’t feel that way anymore. I’ve learned to let a lot of little things go, to not view every cross word or piece of advice or discipline as a threat to my manhood.”
“So you were a hothead,” she clarified.
“Yes, and thank you for using the past tense on that. I’ve been trying to do better on that front.”
“You’ve succeeded. I don’t view you that way at all.”
“How do you view me?” he asked, grinning.
She regarded him but didn’t answer. He poked her leg, albeit gently. “Still waiting.”
“Settle in, it’s going to be a long wait,” she said.
“Is there a particular reason you don’t want to answer the question?” he asked with a cocky, knowing smile.
“Would you answer, if I’d asked you how you view me?” she challenged.
“Yes,” he said.
“Go ahead then,” she said, leaning back onto her hands as she awaited his answer.
“You, Amelia Eldridge, are like one of our famous cherry blossoms in the spring. Bright, colorful, beautiful, attractive, good smelling, sweet. And the temptation is there to think that’s all there is, a pretty little flower. But then winter comes and the blossoms fade, and you see the true beauty of the tree, the way the branches spread and the trunk twists, and you realize the tree must have crazy deep roots to produce that kind of fruit, year after year after year.”
“Okay, I was expecting something flippant, and you almost made me cry. Thank you,” she said.
“It’s still your turn,” he prompted.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m seeing someone, and it wouldn’t be fair to him.”
“Now I’m a little glad you won’t say because what I’m imagining is probably better than the reality,” he said.
“Believe me, it’s not,” she said. The atmosphere bottomed out between them and the usual tension that was at a simmer suddenly jumped to a rolling boil. They remained silent for a moment, waiting for things to return to normal.
“What do you and Piedmont do on dates?” he asked after a while.
“He has a lot of social engagements, work events, charity things, networking stuff. It’s a lot of dressing up, going to parties, dancing, eating tiny food.”
“That sounds right down your alley,” he said. “Getting fancy, dancing, eating.”
“At first it was fun. No, it was a blast. But I’m kind of reaching that point where I’ve rotated the same three dresses so many times I’m either going to have to spend a paycheck on a new dress or get a reputation as some kind of frugal clothes recycler. And the food isn’t as good as you might imagine. They make it ahead of time in mass quantities, so by the time I eat it, it’s lost all flavor and appeal. The dancing’s always fun, but Piedmont has to spend so much time talking to so many people we’re lucky to eke out one dance per event.” She paused. “Listen to me, complaining because the gourmet food is bland and my clothes aren’t posh enough. First world problems much, Amelia? Sorry, I wasn’t trying to complain. It is fun. I guess I was making the point that not everything is as shiny as it appears, even fancy parties.”
“But you and Piedmont get along?” he prodded.
“Absolutely. He’s by far the best, most attentive guy I’ve ever gone out with, but not in a cloying way, you know? It’s like the perfect amount of attention and space. He’s kind, funny, thoughtful, smart, interesting. I find myself cynically searching for flaws because, so far, he seems like the perfect man. I feel lucky he’s turned his attention to me when he could have anyone in this city.”
“Wow, that was fun, thanks for the information. Be right back, going to go cut off my ears now,” he said.
She laughed. “You asked.”
“That’s because I’m a moron. Plus I was hoping you’d highlight all his flaws, tell me he’s boring and picks his teeth with matchbooks, yells at waiters, makes small children cry. Instead he sounds like a less-pudgy Buddha.”
She laughed again, clutching her stomach. “Oh, Ethan. You’re so funny.”
“Super. Your boyfriend’s a saint, and I rank up there with Zippo the Clown.”
She laughed harder. “Stop it. You’re going to make me tinkle.”
“Amelia, I’ve been on submarines with sailors whose language could peel the skin off an armadillo, so when you say ‘tinkle’ in normal conversation, it’s the oddest and most adorable thing ever.”
“You can thank my mom for that. She was very choosy about how we were allowed to talk at home. She called bad language ‘talking blue.’ I still have no idea what that means, but anytime we encountered someone cursing in public, she would literally take our hands and steer us around them announcing, ‘Let’s walk this way, girls, they’re talking blue.’”
“I love that. I can picture little you and little Maggie all wide-eyed at some foulmouthed street person,” he said.
“Yes, but what you don’t realize is how extensive her barred vocabulary ran. In addition to curse words, we weren’t allowed to say anything she considered crude. To this day, I have never once uttered the word f-a-r-t.”
“Are you joking?”
“I just spelled it, and you think I’m joking.”
He closed his eyes, smiling. “You’re like the antidote to military life.”
“Wait, you mean to tell me that people in the military actually say the word f-a-r-t?” she asked.
“And sometimes darn,” he added, and she gasped.
“Somewhere my mother is crying, and she doesn’t know why. You should have seen her when Johnny went through the phase where he didn’t know curse words were bad. Kids at school would tell him things to say, so he’d come home and blurt them at dinner. My dad almost had to Heimlich my mom four times that year.”
“Little punks,” Ethan groused. Having met Johnny, he’d do serious damage to anyone who tried to hurt or take advantage of him.
“Maggie took care of them,” Amelia said.
Ethan laughed. “Maggie? Sweet, sugar-loving Maggie?”
“Clearly, you’ve never seen her angry.”
“What did she do?”
“She was an office aid, so she slipped a paper into the announcements and had them called to the science lab. When they got there, she’d taped a note stating that the principal wanted to meet with them and it was serious so they’d better sit down and shut up. Then she taped a note on the outside of the door saying someone had thrown up and everyone should stay away until the janitor could get to it. It was Friday, and our janitor had Fridays off because he came in Saturdays and did a big clean. Anyway, our science lab could be padlocked from the outside because it had so much expensive equipment and chemicals in it. So she locked them in. Everyone went home. This was before cellphones were ubiquitous in school, so they had no way to make contact. They weren’t found until almost midnight, after their parents raised the alarm and someone finally figured it out and tracked them down.”
“Geez,” Ethan said, laughing. “Did she get in trouble?”
“She got suspended, but only for one day because the principal liked her and the kids were jerks. And they never bothered Johnny again.”
“I have new respect for your sister,” he said.
“She looks sweet and cuddly, but don’t underestimate her.”
Ethan nodded, agreeing for reasons she couldn’t know. The first time he’d gone shooting with Maggie and Ridge remained one of life’s more shocking events. The woman could probably shoot an ant off a dime, given the opportunity. Feeling bad about yourself as a trained operative, huh? Ridge had asked when the afternoon was over. And as a man, Ethan had added.
They talked for a long time, until it grew so chilly she began chafing her hands up and down her arms for warmth, until Ethan began surreptitiously checking his watch and calculating how few hours sleep he’d get before work.
“We can go,” Amelia said, the third time she saw him sneak a glance at his wrist.
“I’m sorry. If I didn’t have work tomorrow…” he let the thought trail off and grimaced. “I really am an old man now.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Amelia said, stifling a yawn. “Maybe I’m getting old, too.”
He held out his hand to her, and she took it, allowing him to help her up. They had been talking so long her legs were numb and night had fully fallen. The moon was a speck, barely providing enough light to line their path. Amelia turned to Ethan to say something, but the words stuck. His face was rigid, tense, expectant.
“What…” she began but he let go her hand and turned, facing a man who had come up fast behind them. Amelia hadn’t even heard him approach until it was too late. Ethan, however, was prepared. The man’s hand barely had time to emerge from his coat pocket before Ethan grabbed it, twisted it behind the man’s back, and shoved him face first against one of the graffiti-strewn cliff walls. He frisked the man, spreading his feet apart with one leg.
“What are you doing, man, I was just out for a walk. I wasn’t doing nothing,” the man said, breathing hard as Ethan squeezed the air out of his lungs. His words confused Amelia. As far as she could tell, the man had done nothing wrong except walk too close to them. Did Ethan have some kind of hair trigger that could be set off by someone invading his personal space?
Then he pulled a gun out of the man’s waistband, along with several wallets from his pockets and a wicked looking knife. He palmed the gun, chuckling. “What is this piece of garbage? Did you steal your grandma’s gun to rob people?”
The man’s tone changed. He began hurling a few nasty epithets at them until Ethan wrenched his arm tighter, ending the tirade by making the man squeal in pain.
“Are you going to run away like the scared piece of human waste you are, or do I have to break your arm?” Ethan asked, giving the arm another twist.
“I’ll go, I’ll go,” the man cried. Ethan released him. Sniveling, he took a step back and rubbed his arm. “Can I have my stuff back?”
“I’m going to give all these wallets to the police so they can go back to their rightful owners. Do you want your gun back?” Ethan asked.
The man nodded.
“Absolutely,” Ethan replied before hurling the gun over the cliff and into the Potomac. “Go and get it. You want some help?” He took a step toward the man who ran off whimpering, disappearing into the inky blackness.
“Um…” Amelia said. It was the first thing she’d uttered since the ordeal began. Ethan seemed to come back to himself and remember she was there.
“So…sorry about that.” He scratched behind his ear, seeming to have no idea what to say next.
“Um, that was…” Amelia began again, but she also seemed unable to continue.
“Disturbing?” he guessed. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Yes, disturbing. That’s the word I was searching for. I find you deeply, incredibly disturbing right now. Icky. Yuck.”
He laughed and held out his hand to her so they could resume the walk to his bike. “I didn’t even hear that guy. How did you know he was coming, and how did you know he was going to try and rob us?”
“Years of training. You get a sense about people and their intentions,” he said. “Sort of a sixth sense when it comes to danger.”
“I don’t know how you function like that. All I could think was that my mom would not approve of his language.”
“It was blue,” Ethan agreed.
“The bluest. It might have veered into violet,” Amelia said. They reached his bike. “Hey, Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for that, thank you for protecting me.”
“You’re a life worth protecting, Amelia. Makes my job a lot easier.” He lifted her onto his motorcycle and re-tied her dress. Amelia watching him with a quiet sort of intensity, hoping the moonless night hid most of what she was thinking.
The drive to her apartment seemed shockingly short, and then they were standing in front of her apartment door, trying to find the best way to say goodbye.
“Traditionally, I think I’m supposed to get a birthday kiss,” he said.
“I’m seeing someone,” she reminded him.
“Birthday tradition, Amelia. I don’t even want to know what might happen if that gets broken,” he said. Slowly, he reached for her, settling his hands on her hips. She pressed her palms to his chest, stood on her toes, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
“A cheek kiss, really?” he said.
She was still in his arms, tantalizingly close to his face. Her thumb smoothed over his bottom lip. “Kisses with you are like potato chips. You tell yourself you’re only going to have one little one, and then it’s the next day and you’ve eaten the entire bag. Goodnight and happy birthday, Ethan Becket.”
“Goodnight, Amelia Melly,” he said. Reluctantly, he opened his arms and let her go. She back stepped out of his embrace until she bumped the door. After one final smile, she turned and went inside. When he was certain she was safe, he turned and made his way downstairs. He’d have to call Ridge and let him know he was right. It was, hands down, the best birthday of his life.